Liam’s face paled. An instant later he was furious, and he could not contain it. “And my reward?”
Elizabeth grabbed the papers on her desk and thrustthem upon him. “Here! The letters of marque you have been begging for. AgainstallSpanish vessels, not just those aiding the papists in Scotland and Ireland and Flanders. What? Are you not satisfied? You are legal now, Liam. At least, in regard to the Spaniards you so love to plunder.”
Liam held the letters authorizing him to prey upon all Spanish ships, in effect thwarting any official Spanish claims against him. In England he could no longer be prosecuted for plundering Spanish ships, and at sea he could become more ruthless and more daring than he was in his dealings with the French. He had no letters of marque against them, just a careful understanding with Elizabeth, who hated Catherine de Medici, hated and feared her, yet was unwilling to aid the French Huguenots openly as she had once done.
“Are you not pleased? Come, Liam, I cannot believe you want one particular girl so badly. She is hardlythatspecial.”
Liam did. He had thought about little else other than the beautiful, fiery, intelligent Katherine FitzGerald since he had captured her. He had wanted her the moment he had first seen her. He was still livid about having won a prize, only to have it taken from him. He had been outmaneuvered. It was a rare event. Truly rare. But if he kept his head, and waited, then surely he could emerge the victor as he usually did. Tonight, clearly, was not the night to press the queen for the other woman.
But how could he emerge triumphant?
He could not abduct Katherine again. Already Elizabeth suspected him of conspiring with FitzGerald, and he dared not arouse her suspicions any further. No, he must be more careful than that, more clever. Elizabeth must be maneuvered to his side in this cause. But how?
One fact was clear. He could not allow Katherine to wed Barry.
He bowed his head, contrite. “I am pleased to gain the letters, Bess. Pleased and grateful. You will not be sorry. I shall keep the Spaniards under heel, as you wishme to do.”
Elizabeth nodded, but her gaze was sharp.
Liam looked her in the eye. “And you must forgive me. I am a lusty man.” He paused significantly. “’Tis not easy to be a man, to have lust aroused…and then denied.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened. “You are an intriguing man, Liam. A rogue to the very bone—and you know just how enticing it is.”
He smiled into her eyes. “And you are an intriguing queen, madam.”
She smiled, too. “I have a favor to ask of you. I had intended to make it your punishment, but now…’twould be a boon for me. And—a sign of how I trust you.”
He bowed. Inside, he tensed, expectant. “I am at your command.”
“You brought her here. I ask you to escort her now to Barry.”
Liam quickly hid his surprise—and his pleasure. Inwardly he was triumphant—for now he knew he would win this battle after all. “As you wish, Bess.”
Elizabeth smiled, and Liam realized she was just as pleased as he was.
8
Katherine took her dinner just before noon the following day with some hundred other courtiers in the Banquet Hall. The room was huge, supported by thirty great “masts,” each forty feet high. The canvas walls were painted to look like stone and were festooned with holly, ivy, and flowers garnished with spangles of gold. The ceiling was painted to look like the sky, complete with the sun, stars, and clouds, and from it hung pendants of wicker flounced with exotic fruits. There were ten tiers of seats for spectators, and most of the seats were occupied. The hall also boasted 290 windows.
Dinner was a deafening and wondrous affair. Katherine could barely believe her eyes. She found it difficult to eat, and not because she sat on a bench crammed between two large gentlemen who eagerly introduced themselves as Sir John Campton and Lord Edward Hurry, of Campton Heath and Hurry Manor, respectively. There was just so much to see.
But Katherine soon found herself trying to dissuade the gentlemen from their obvious overtures, which became lecherous when she had, reluctantly, given her name. “Such a fine and beauteous Irish lass,” Hurry crooned. “So far from home, my dear?”
Katherine managed a nod, tearing a hunk of warm bread dripping with butter into two pieces, careful not to encourage him. Elbows jammed her from either side. Hurry made another comment but she ignored him. She chewed thebread, unable to enjoy the sweet, raisiny taste. Her gaze kept wandering, first to the other courtiers, a resplendent sight, then to the painted heavens above, and finally to the animated crowd of spectators seated along the walls, who kept calling out to the diners below.
She gave up trying to eat. She had no appetite. After dinner her escort was to arrive, and her journey home would begin. As interesting as court was, how excited, how thrilled, she was to be leaving. Soon she would be at Askeaton, and she could imagine the proud castle with its round towers and square medieval keep set upon its island looming above the thick forests surrounding Lough Shannon. She could hardly wait.
Soon she would be reunited with Hugh. She tried to envision his surprise. Perhaps he had thought her lost to God after all these years. She almost laughed aloud at the thought of herself becoming a nun. Marriage and babies was what she wanted.
Undoubtedly she was off to a sunny and bright future as Hugh’s wife. Hugh Barry would have turned into a brave and strong man. His father and cousins had all been well formed; none had been ugly. And she loved Hugh. Once she was in his arms, she would forget all about the golden pirate so aptly called the Master of the Seas.
But Katherine could not imagine lying in Hugh’s bed, in his arms. But surely that was because she had not seen him in such a long time, and had thought him dead.
Too, once wed, she would try to find a way to free her father. It was intolerable that he remain an impoverished prisoner at St. Leger House. The queen was proving herself a kind friend. Katherine decided that she would return to court to plead her father’s cause before the queen, to convince her of the injustice of his confinement. While Katherine knew there was no hope of his title or land being restored to him, at the very least he might be able to return to Ireland—to Askeaton, where he had been born.
Katherine glanced around the incredible hall once again, and knew that she would not mind returning, not at all.
Finally Katherine pushed her pewter plate aside, unable to avoid her misgivings. She had to face the real reasonfor her lack of appetite. Although she was thrilled that Hugh was alive, and that she was to marry him, she was frightened, too. She had not seen him in years. What would their reunion be like? What if he no longer wanted her? Why hadhenot sent for her in all these years?
