“And if she decides to send you to your father? Or back to the convent?”
Katherine lifted her chin. “Then so be it.” But she had no intention of being sent into a lonely exile in Southwark, or an equally lonely existence in a nunnery. She was prepared to beg for her future if need be.
His mouth twisted. “So I am the greatest of all evils.”
She stiffened. She had not said that. “Do you deny who and what you are?”
His expression was mocking. “How could I even try?”
His words disturbed her. He disturbed her. “You are a pirate, O’Neill, and we both know it,” she said angrily. She was not going to feel any sympathy for this man. She must not. “Will you take me to London? Or am I your prisoner now, regardless of my refusal?”
“Katherine, if you were but my prisoner, and if I were naught but a pirate, I would have taken your lovely body against your will—with or without rape.”
Katherine said nothing, knowing better than to refute him.
“But there are degrees of bestiality, it seems,” he said. His smile sardonic, he shrugged. “However, this beast, who has not hurt you, nay, who has even rescued you from abuse at the hands of your dear and noble friend Hugh, will accede to your wishes.”
She did not move.
“You wish to go to the queen and beg for her help? Mayhap you are right. Mayhap she will decide to intervene, even arrange a marriage for you.” His eyes glittered. “Mayhap, in all of England, there is some gentleman who will not care that you are destitute, that you are Irish, that you are Catholic, and that you have lost your name.”
“I am hoping so,” she managed huskily.
His gaze held hers, cold and angry. “You will never give up, will you?”
“No.”
“That makes you exactly like your father.” Liam turned his back on her and shouted out an order. Men began toscramble up masts, and slowly, the boat began to come around. Katherine watched him return to the helm. Telling herself that she was only being just to herself—and that it did not matter if she were unfair to him. He was a pirate, he was Shane O’Neill’s son. He had chosen the life he now lived—while she had not chosen hers at all.
And although she was doing what was right, when the ship finally sailed south, she could not help but feel trepidation. There were no guarantees. Queen Elizabeth had been kind to her once, but at their first meeting she had accused her of conspiracy and treason. Whether she would be kind to her this third time they met was a matter of great speculation indeed. Katherine knew she might very well be sent to Southwark, to reside there as a prisoner with her father for the rest of her life.
And the thought teased her—perhaps the pirate’s offer would then be a better thing.
Two days later they sailed up the Thames toward Whitehall. Katherine could not help but be astonished that Liam would bring his pirate ship right to the queen’s palace. True, he had been pardoned, and charged with escorting her to Ireland, but it seemed incredibly bold given who and what he was. Needless to say, by the time they reached the palace, word of their arrival had preceded them, and they were met by one of the queen’s men, who informed them that Her Majesty would see them posthaste.
As it was not yet dinnertime, the queen had not yet descended to the Presence Chamber. But they were required to wait for almost an hour outside the doors of her private apartments, where she still dressed. Katherine rehearsed her plea. With every passing moment she grew more anxious and more afraid. Liam appeared bored.
The queen’s door opened and a tall, dark, handsome man appeared. Katherine had to look twice. Other than Liam, he was by far the most splendid male she had ever laid eyes upon. He saw her and also looked again, then smiled and bowed. His smile faded when he discovered Liam, and a moment later he was gone.
Katherine stared after him. “Who was that?”
Liam eyed her. “Robert Dudley, the earl of Leicester.”
Katherine had heard all of the stories about him. Rumors that the queen was going to marry Dudley had abounded in the first few years of her reign—until she had offered him to her cousin and rival, Mary Queen of Scots. Mary had refused the man reputed to be her cousin’s lover and swain, and Dudley himself had been furious—but then Elizabeth had entitled him with Leicester, raising him up to a rank suitable to marriage with royalty—and some said that his being offered to Mary had been a ruse to begin with, in order that Elizabeth might elevate and ennoble him so she could marry him herself. But still, years later, the marriage had not come about.
It was clear, though, that from the first, Elizabeth had favored Dudley, that she was enamored of him, and she spent many moments alone with him—or so the gossips said. When they had first met, Dudley had been married to Amy Robsart, forestalling the possibility of marriage, but a few years later she had fallen down the stairs and broken her neck. The courts had deemed her death an accident, but many said that Dudley was behind it, hoping to free himself so that he could marry the queen—and still others said that the queen herself had planned the murder with him. In any case, Amy’s untimely death had made it impossible for them to wed, for to do so would raise the accusation of murder.
Katherine had never paid attention to the gossip, which had reached her in the nunnery in France, as the doings of royalty interested everyone, everywhere, and most especially ladies isolated in a convent. Now, staring after Dudley, she could well imagine that the queen was in love with him. But murder? Having met Elizabeth but twice, nevertheless she felt strongly that it could not be possible.
“You are still staring, Katherine, although he is but long gone,” Liam said coldly.
Katherine jerked and flushed.
Liam turned away, his anger obvious. Katherine knew it was small of her to be pleased with his obvious jealousy. After all, she did not want him, not in any way—not his jealousy, nor his lust, nor his love, should a man like thatbe capable of such a romantic emotion, which this man in all likelihood was not.
A moment later a lady appeared and ushered them both inside the antechamber. Elizabeth was not present yet, so they stood waiting silently. Finally she appeared from within her bedchamber. Through the open doorway, Katherine could see into the room, which was very dark, having but one window. Yet through the glass Katherine could see the Thames, where many colorful barges passed amidst a flock of floating swans and one small naval vessel. Even now, in tribute to the queen, the galleon was firing a round of cannon.
Katherine could not help but stare into the queen’s most private chamber a moment more. The ceiling was entirely gilt. But Katherine gazed at the large bed. How striking it was, composed of woods of many different colors, with quilts of silk and velvet, embroidered in both silver and gold. Indian silks hung down from the bed’s far side.
