Katherine trembled with relief. But once again, she saw the queen exchange knowing glances with her men.
It was late. Soon the church bells would toll the midnight hour. Liam listened as he heard the door to the small chamber he had been confined in being unlocked. It could have been worse. The fact that he was in a veritable chamber with pallet and nightstool indicated that he could extricate himself from royal suspicion. He was not surprised to be summoned now.
A cloaked man opened the door, offering no explanation. Liam did not ask for one. He tossed his bloody cloak about his shoulders, wincing slightly as he did so, and followed the man without a word. They descended the three stories and exited onto the wharf which butted into the river. A small barge awaited them. Liam climbed in, as did the queen’s agent. Two oarsmen began to row them upriver to Whitehall.
Although he had been confined in a small, airless space for an entire day, he avoided breathing in the river and night air too deeply. With the advent of warm weather, there was little pleasant about the Thames, even on a cool night. And mentally, he prepared himself for what was to come.
Sometime later he was ushered up the Whitehall Stairs, through the River Gate, and upstairs into the queen’s private apartments. When he finally entered her withdrawing room, he saw that she sat, fully dressed in crimson, at her small writing table, penning some note or another. She saw him and attempted a scowl, which soon fell apart, and she smiled.
“Sometimes you are very naughty, Liam.”
So the queen had changed her tune. More sure of himself now, Liam sauntered forward, took her hand, and kissed it. His lips caressed her skin. She withdrew, blushing like a virgin—which she reputedly was. “That will not get you anywhere, rogue,” she chided.
She was in a playful mood tonight and he was pleased.Far better that she be playful than suspicious, but now he was suspicious, too. Did Bess play a game, or was her changed mood merely the result of her mercurial nature? He smiled, his eyes twinkling for her. “How pleasingly soft your hands are, Bess,” he murmured. He captured one elegant hand again. Everyone knew how vain she was, especially of her beautiful hands. “How soft, how lovely.”
She was pleased and could not hide it, and she smacked his wrist lightly and gestured for him to sit. “I must apologize,” she said baldly.
Liam remained silent, waiting for her to speak, knowing he must be very careful not to make a false move. He was just barely innocent of the charges of conspiracy, it was only a matter of degree. For he was forming plans. Yet even were he entirely innocent, innocence did not always serve the victims of injustice well. He needed to know if she thought him innocent, or if she played a game of chance with him instead.
“I have witnesses to your plunder of the French ship and your abduction of Katherine FitzGerald,” the queen said.
He doubted the veracity of what she said, for it would take some time to locate witnesses, but he did not say so. If this was the basis for her sudden empathy, then she still believed he was teetering on the brink of treason. Elizabeth hadalwaysbeen clever.
“I am relieved. But my heart is still sore, Bess. That you would think me a traitor toyou.”
“Myheart was sore,” she retorted, leaning toward him, her eyes searching his face.
He knew then that despite her doubt, she wanted him to be innocent. He took her small hand in his and gripped it too warmly. His fingers kneaded her soft flesh. “I am your friend,” he said, low and intimate. “Always.”
She allowed him to hold her hand and she pressed against him, her arm to his arm, as if ardent. “I hope so, dearly do I hope so, Liam.” Their gazes held, and he was fully aware of the power he exercised over her. Her lips were parted slightly and they trembled; she sighed again. The air coursed with sudden heat. “Liam,” she murmured.
His jaw flexed. He gazed into her eyes and saw the yearning there. The queen was gone, and in her place was a woman, a woman he had known his entire life. He sipped an arm around her. “Bess,” he repeated, “I am your friend.”
And it was true. He would never forget all that she had done for his mother, when he was but a small boy. He would never forget that, even before she became queen, she had been kind to his mother, unlike most of the other ladies at court. But he had never felt desire for his queen. Even though, for a man like him, for any man, it could be advantageous.
She pressed against him, her body quivering noticeably. “Liam, I have missed you. Why have you stayed away so long?”
He smiled gently at her. “My life is hard, Bess. I have no grand palace to lure me to this island; I earn my bread at sea.”
She whispered, unsteadily, “That could change.”
Liam froze.
Elizabeth began to blush, but she did not drop her gaze.
His pulse pounded now. “Even should you give me a grand palace, that would not make me an Englishman.”
“You are half-English.”
“Yes.” He touched her lower lip with his finger. “And my father was—and will always be—Shane O’Neill.”
“But you are not like him.” Her stare was bold. “Or are you?”
“No.” He held her gaze, knowing that if she gave him one more sign, he would have to kiss her.
She laid one of her palms on his chest, atop his pounding heart. Their gazes locked. “I am sorry for thinking you a conspirator with FitzGerald, but surely you can understand, for the meeting appeared so strange. Now, of course, knowing the truth from my witnesses of Katherine’s abduction, I comprehend you were but seeking a ransom. Obviously the girl, beauty that she is, was pleasant company on your trek, and no hindrance.” She smiled too warmly, but her gaze dropped from his eyes and movedover every feature of his face—finally lingering on his mouth.
Ah, Bess, he thought,the tale sounds absurd even from your lips. You do not believe me innocent, although you wish to. And do your ardent glances, filled with longing, mean that you wish to take me as your lover—after all this time?
