Liam had no desire to bed his queen. As far as he knew, despite the rumors about her and Robin Dudley, whom she had made the earl of Leicester, and those about her and her cousin Tom, she was a virgin and intended to remain that way. Still, he was a man, one with experience, and he knew she found him very attractive. This was not their first privy meeting, ’twas not the first time that she had flirted with him, touched him, and cast sidelong glances at him. Yet the signals this night were stronger than ever.
With both Leicester and Ormond, the two men whom she had loved for many years, she was far more openly affectionate—which was why the gossip ran so rampant about them. Leicester often enjoyed the queen’s company unattended in daylight hours—much the way Liam did now, at midnight. And sometimes Elizabeth would refer to Tom as her “black husband,” causing much speculation that he shared far more than just her company. No one could ever know for certain what passed behind Her Majesty’s closed doors. If any man were her lover, most likely it was Leicester, for it had become clear that she favored him over Ormond.
Liam was well aware that becoming the queen’s lover would help him politically, now. In the future, it could damage him. Somewhat foolishly he hoped that tonight she wouldnotdecide to take him to her bed—if she were in such a habit of taking lovers. For no man, he knew, could refuse a queen. He would not be able to refuse her either.
But he did not wish to use her. That was not the way in which he would repay her for all that he owed her.
Elizabeth sat very still, looking at her hands. Then she glanced up at him. Naked desire gleamed in her eyes.
Liam was frozen but a moment, then he acted on instinct. He pulled her close, hoping she would come to her senses. “Bess? Is this truly what you want?”
Her gaze darkened. Her mouth parted. He expected her to mouth the word “yes.” Then she cried out incoherently and lunged to her feet, very much like a frightened virgin. Or a Virgin Queen. She paced. Liam took a deep breath, relieved.
“Still,” she said, her back to him, her shoulders shaking, “the truth hardly absolves you of your other crimes, Liam.” She faced him, as a mother might face a wayward child. “You can not abduct noblewomen and get away scot-free. Even if they are the daughters of defiant, treacherous, disgraced earls. And this one is a virgin, one convent-raised.”
“I confess to the error of my ways,” he said easily, unrepentant. They both knew it.
“What punishment shall you be forced to pay?”
He rose lazily to his own feet. “Have I not suffered enough? A ball in my shoulder—a night in the Tower?” His tone was soft.
“You have hardly paid for terrorizing poor Katherine.”
Liam smiled wickedly. “She has hardly been terrorized.”
Elizabeth regarded him, her expression stiffening. “No, I imagine she did not object to your kisses and caresses.”
He met her unwavering gaze, no longer smiling. He felt hemmed in by the queen on one side, and Katherine on the other. Was the queen jealous of his interest in Katherine? “If she did not object, it does not condemn her, only me.”
“Yes—it condemns you for a lusty rake, one too experienced for his own good,” the queen said peevishly.
She was jealous. ’Twas not a good sign for Katherine. ’Twas not a good sign for him. “Would you have me be something less than a man?”
Elizabeth’s glance skidded down his body, skimming his groin. “You know I would not.” She jerked away. “You cannot have the girl.”
Liam was careful not to reveal any dismay. He had not counted on the queen’s being jealous of Katherine. “YourHighness, the French merchant was the fifth I have taken this year.”
She faced him, jaw flexed. “Do not think to bargain with me!” she cried. “I know damn well how many French vessels you have seized, you pirate! The French ambassador has repeatedly asked me for your head! Catherine de Medici has placed a bounty on it, as well—has even written me directly!”
Liam had to chuckle. “And what, pray tell, did you reply?”
She eyed him. “I replied that, if I could capture the Master of the Seas, he would come to trial, but that so far he has eluded my navy, just as he has eluded everyone else on the high seas.”
Liam grinned.
“Do not become too cocksure! You know well that if another nation captures you, there is naught I can do to free you, jackanapes!”
“Indeed, I am well aware of what fate awaits me should I wind up in a French prison or on the Spanish rack.” His gaze was hard. “I am ever loyal and you know it, Bess. I have done more for you this year than your whole damned navy. Five French ships, two of which were bound for Scotland, supporting the rebels there, and three Spanish vessels, one a galleon laden with silver plate destined for the Netherlands. Come, I deserve a reward.”
“And you think I will reward you with the girl?”
“She is of no value to anyone now. She has no station, no dowry. I will treat her well. I will not abuse her.” And the intriguing thought flashed through his mind—that perhaps he might dare to marry her in time. If he could play the game he had just begun—and win it well.
“She is betrothed.”
“That betrothal is ancient, made years ago. I doubt Hugh Barry is expecting to wed her.”
“Nevertheless, it stands, and I have agreed that she shall return to Ireland to marry him.”
