Skye O'Malley: A Love For All Time Part 3

"And ye, Conn O'Malley, are a b.a.s.t.a.r.d with an unquenchable itch! I hope ye never find a woman to satisfy that itch!" She clawed down his broad back.

She was right, he thought, and d.a.m.n her for it! He adored women, adored making love to them, adored giving them pleasure, and although he never failed to gain a physical release in his lovemaking, he had never yet met a woman who really satisfied him. He had never yet met a woman he could love. Angrily he jammed his knee between her soft, white thighs forcing them to part for him. Brutally he drove himself into her pushing himself as deeply as he could go, ramming into her over and over and over again; wanting to hurt her as her astute knowledge of him had pained him.

Instead Lettice urged him on with moans of white-hot desire. "Ahhh, G.o.d's c.o.c.k, Conn! Yes! Yes! Yessssss!" She writhed lewdly beneath him encouraging him to give totally of himself. "Fill me full, my wild Irish lover! Stuff me till I burst! Ahhh! G.o.d, Conn! 'Tis not enough! Don't stop! Don't.'" She thrust her hips up at him in a rapid rhythm, never ceasing her l.u.s.tful litany. "Do it to me, Conn. Use me! Ahhhhh! Ohhhhh! Yes! Yes! Yesssssss!" This last word moaned in a pitch that rose in intensity until it was almost a scream, and then Lettice stiffened for a brief second, and he felt her pa.s.sion break as his own poured into her hot body in fierce staccato bursts that left him momentarily defeated.

Then suddenly Lettice said, "G.o.d, I'm going to miss ye, ye randy b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Dudley fancies himself a great lover, but Conn, he doesn't know the half of it!" She laughed throatily down into his face and unable to help himself Conn laughed, too.

"What a hot b.i.t.c.h ye are, Lettice," he gasped. "Thank G.o.d 'tis Elizabeth Tudor who's queen and not ye!" Rolling off her he slid off the bed, and walking across the bedchamber to a sideboard poured them each a goblet of dark, sweet red wine. He returned to the bed, and handed her one of the two goblets.

"What time is the wedding?" he demanded.

"Just before dawn in my family's chapel," she said.

He laughed again. "Yer going from my bed to yer wedding with another man? Have ye no conscience, woman?"

"Of course I do," she said indignantly, "but what I do before my marriage to Robert is not his business, Conn."

"I hope ye have reliable witnesses," he remarked. "Don't forget that Douglas Sheffield claimed marriage to Dudley, yet the priest could not be found when she sought to have her first child legitimatized."

"My father, the Earl of Warwick, the Earl of Lincoln, and Lord North are witnessing the marriage which will be performed by our own family chaplain," Lettice Knollys said smugly. "They are all sworn to secrecy. There will be no doubt as to the honesty of my marriage lines, or the legitimacy of my children, Conn."

"I should not have underestimated yer determination, sweetheart," he answered her.

"What I am determined to, Conn darling, is to have ye at least half a dozen times this night," she murmured seductively placing her goblet upon the bedside table, and lying back against the pillows.

"Ahh, Lettice love, ye've always been overgreedy for the finer things that life has to offer, haven't ye? I'm not sure we have all that time as much as it saddens me to disillusion a lady." His finger teasingly encircled one of her nipples.

" 'Tis just past midnight," she said, "and it is not necessary that I leave ye till five." Then she pulled his head down so she might kiss him.

He chuckled deep in his throat. "Lettice, I can but try. It would grieve me deeply to disappoint such a worthy opponent," and then he gave himself up to her greedy lips.

One minute blended into another as the night progressed, and Conn didn't even remember falling asleep, but suddenly he found himself waking with a start, and he was alone. The place where she had lain next to him was still faintly warm so she was not long gone. He pulled the coverlet up, and over his big frame, and snuggled down into the warmth. Good Fortune, Lettice, he thought sleepily. Yer going to need it, especially when Bess learns of what ye have done. She'll not hold her precious Lord Robert responsible, my pet, but rather 'tis ye who will bear the entire blame of this episode. Then he fell back asleep.

When he opened his eyes again Cluny, his body servant, was drawing back the draperies of the bedchamber. "Good morning, m'lord Conn. G.o.d grant ye had a good night, and from the looks of ye, ye did." Cluny's brown eyes twinkled in his wrinkled face. He had the look of the little people about him.

"How many times have I told ye that I'm no milord, Cluny?"

"Well, ye will be in time, I'm certain." Cluny always had the same answer for Conn, and Conn usually laughed.

This morning, however, he didn't feel like laughing. His mouth was dry. His whole body in fact had been wrung dry by his greedy partner of the night before. "Get me some wine," he groaned. "That vixen nigh killed me."

Cluny cackled knowingly, and did his master's bidding, but as he handed him the goblet he gently scolded him. "Ye can't go on like this forever, wasting yer youth, exhausting yerself on white English thighs, m'lord. 'Tis past time ye were married. Look at yer brothers. They're all married."

"Cluny!" The sharpness of his own voice made him wince. "Dammit, man, don't be holding up the fine example of Brian, Shane, and Shamus to me. Have ye looked at their women? None of them are much past twenty, and already they're worn out and faded. Thank ye, no!"

"Life isna easy on Innisfana," Cluny reminded him.

"No, it isn't, and that's why I came to England. I had no mind to go pirating with my brothers, and what else was there for me? Here in England I have a position of respect as a member of the queen's personal guard. My investments with my sister's trading company have made me a rich man. I'm content for now."

"A rich man needs a wife to give him sons. Ye have gold, but no land to call yer own. Even this house in which ye live belongs to yer sister, and were she not barred from the queen's court ye'd not have even that, m'lord."

"Yer beginning to sound like my mother," grumbled Conn.

"Yer mother is a good woman, and yer father, may G.o.d a.s.soil his soul, Dubhdara O'Malley, him of sainted memory, married young so he might breed up a fine crop of sons."

"And didn't stop until he killed one wife with his excesses, and given my mother four sons in as many years. Had he not died when he did my own mother might not be alive today. Dammit, Cluny, have not my three brothers given the O'Malleys enough heirs for the next generation?" Then he chuckled. "I could almost wish my father were alive to see it. Five sons he finally bred. One a priest, three no better than he, pirates all with randy c.o.c.ks, and me! The Handsomest Man at Court!" He burst out laughing.

Cluny, however, did not laugh with his master this time. Rather his face was disapproving, and finally, he said, "Yer not like yer brothers, m'lord. Yer like yer sister, Lady Skye. She is nothing like her sisters. You two are the rare birds in Dubhdara O'Malley's nest."

"What of Father Michael and Sister Eibhlin, Cluny? Surely yer not putting them with the others; the three pirates and the four disapproving goodwives our father sired?"

Cluny shook his head. "They went to the church, m'lord," he said as if that explained everything. "Church people are always different. What I mean was that ye and yer sister, Lady de Marisco, are the ones with the ambition. Look how far she's gone, and her just a mere woman."

The admiration in Cluny's voice for Skye bordered on the worshipful, thought Conn, but he couldn't blame his man. He, too, adored his older sister. She was intelligent and wise and loving. The d.a.m.nedest, and the most incredible woman G.o.d had ever created. She met life head-on which was something he had to admit to himself that he didn't. He was more cautious, looking for his opportunities, taking them quickly when they appeared. He wasn't a stupid man, he knew, but he relied a great deal upon his appearance and his charm to carry him through life. Perhaps he relied on those things a little too much, he thought suddenly. As quickly, however, he shook his guilt off, and said easily, "I shall try to reform, Cluny, but not today. Today I am going to sleep off the excesses of the last few nights. I am not due at court until tomorrow, but when I return there, I had best be in very good form. The queen does not like a dullard, and our fortunes are, after all, tied to those of our Gloriana."

Cluny nodded. He, too, was no fool, and he knew that his master spoke the truth. Still he wished that Conn would marry and settle down. He was apt to burn himself out if he continued on his self-destructive path much longer. He owed a great deal to Conn O'Malley. Conn had taken him into service when a ship's mast had fallen on him in the drydock where he had worked as a carpenter. His arm had been crippled in the accident, and he was unable to continue on with his craft. He might have starved to death, and his mother with him, but for Conn O'Malley. Conn had a.s.sured him a weakened arm would not hinder him in his work as the young O'Malley's valet, and had taken him on. His elderly mother had died soon afterward, but her death had been a peaceful and a comfortable one thanks to Conn O'Malley, and Cluny had felt no distress in leaving Ireland and following his young master to England when Conn had come with his sister several years ago.

Cluny had grown up on Innisfana Island where Dubhdara O'Malley's family had their stronghold. They were his family. He was their man. Like Conn he was a man who look opportunity when it presented itself, and service with Conn O'Malley in England offered him a world such as he had never seen before. England itself had been a revelation with its fertile, well-watered valleys and its great city of London. He went to court with his master, and knew all the great names that went with the n.o.ble faces. He was on speaking terms, and in some instances drinking terms, with servants of the oldest and greatest names in England. His was a position to be envied. If he regretted anything it was that he could not write all these wonders to his friends back home, but then had he been able to, they could not have read his letters. Cluny would have liked to tell them how this year at the Feast of All Hallows her majesty had appointed his master the Lord of Misrule for the entire holiday season which began that very night of October 31, and would run until Candlemas on February 2.

The court could not remember a more fun loving Lord of Misrule than Conn O'Malley. He was constantly inventing wonderfully funny games and penalties which he imposed upon the court. Having been duly "crowned" by her majesty he then picked a bodyguard of twenty-five young gentlemen of the court, and dressed them at his own expense in liveries of gra.s.s green and scarlet, gold ribbons tied about their arms, and tinkling bra.s.s bells about their legs. They were equipped with gaily painted hobbyhorses, or dragons; and wherever Conn went, he and his followers were followed by a group of musicians hired for the season by the Lord of Misrule.

One Sunday morning Conn and his followers accompanied by their musicians playing upon drums and pipes burst into the queen's chapel during services. Crowned with a tinsel crown Conn was borne in upon a litter while about him his attendants capered and danced down the nave, and up the chancel halting to demand "proper obeisance" from not only the royal chaplain, but her majesty as well.

"Conn O'Malley!" scolded Elizabeth Tudor, "do ye dare make a mockery of our Lord G.o.d?"

Conn slid from his litter, and towering above the queen looked down at her saying, "Nay, Gloriana. I am merely making a joyful noise as the Bible says!"

About them the congregation t.i.ttered, the solemnity of the service having been destroyed. Even Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself, and rapped him sharply upon the arm with a small jeweled mirror that hung from her waist upon a gold chain. "Yer a disrespectful rogue, Conn!"

"Nay, Gloriana, 'tis ye who have shown disrespect to the Lord of Misrule, and as a forfeit I claim a kiss of ye." Then before the queen could protest Conn bent down, and engaged her lips in a most ardent, and drawn-out kiss.

Elizabeth was riveted to the spot for a long minute while about her there were gasps of surprise and shock. She did not, however, pull away from him; and when finally the kiss ended she was rosy in color, turning an even deeper hue when Conn whispered in her ear so only she might hear, "Isn't it nice to know yer still alive, Bess?"

The queen burst out laughing, but Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, snarled, "Ye go too far, O'Malley! Perhaps a visit to the Tower would help to cool yer heels."

"Since ye'll never be king, Dudley, 'tis not yer decision to make, is it? At least in me Bess finds an honest man."

"Gentlemen, enough!" The queen's voice was sharp. She was annoyed at Leicester for having broken the spell. Conn O'Malley was a virile and handsome young man, and she had enjoyed his daring kiss; a kiss he would have never given her were he not protected by his office. "It is the season of joy and goodwill, gentlemen, and I will have no squabbling about me. Rob, yer too quick to take offense where there is none. As for ye, Conn O'Malley, yer much too bold."

"And ye would have me no other way!" Conn quickly riposted falling back onto his litter; and quickly he signaled his bearers, and was borne off out of the royal chapel while behind him the queen laughed heartily at his antics.

The eleventh of November was St. Martin's Day, and as the venerated saint had ordered slain a noisy goose who had interrupted his sermon, it was goose that was served in all the best households. Conn found offense in almost every great name at court that day, and gathering them all up he had his a.s.sistants herd them along, the n.o.blemen forced to waddle like geese, and cackle, too. The rest of the court was convulsed with laughter, and most of Conn's victims were, too, when their tempers cooled.

The twenty-fifth of November brought the Feast of St. Catherine which was usually the time of the apple harvests, and so was celebrated with apple dishes and cider. There was dancing, and bear baiting, and Conn terrified the ladies 6f the court by dressing up in a bear's skin, and rushing amongst them growling fiercely which caused them to run shrieking and screaming while he chased after them, and catching them kissed and tickled them.

December brought St. Nicholas' Feast on the sixth, St. Lucy's on the eleventh, and St. Thomas' on the twenty-first. Conn oversaw all the feasting and hilarity of the season with as good a will as anyone had ever known in a Lord of Misrule. It was up to him to plan and see executed all the masques, and mummeries and entertainments of the holidays. Greenwich was decorated with garlands of greenery fashioned from ivy, hay, and laurel leaves which were interspersed with red berries. Enormous candles of the purest beeswax were placed upon mantels and sideboards; slender columns of creamy wax were set in the silver candlesticks and candelabra.

Elizabeth couldn't remember ever having laughed so hard as she did the day the Yule log was dragged into the hall, Conn dressed in scarlet silks and cloth of gold, perched upon it singing loudly a popular song of the season: Wash yer hands or else the fire Will not tend to yer desire: Unwash'd hands, ye maidens know, Dead the fire though ye blow!

Everyone rushed to help with the log, lord and lady alike, as well as the servants for it was considered good luck for the coming year to aid in bringing in the Yule log. Although Elizabeth usually preferred Christmas festivities in which others partic.i.p.ated while she watched, Conn's wild revelry reminded her of her childhood in her father's court with all its unbridled gaiety, and she was frankly enjoying it. He was an exciting man, her wild Irishman, and far less complex than his elder sister, her enemy and her friend.

Christmas Day began with the entire court attending services in the queen's chapel. Most had been up all the night, helping to ring in Christ's birth as midnight had come, and bells all over England pealed joyously. Afterward there had been a great deal of drinking, and too soon it was time to attend chapel. The queen had had the good sense to get a few hours' sleep as did some of her women.

St. Stephen's Day followed Christmas, and then St. John's Day, The Feast of the Holy Innocents, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, and finally the Feast of Twelfth Night. Each evening saw dancing, and feasting, and masking, and games as the court cavorted happily. On New Year's Day Conn O'Malley, the Royal Lord of Misrule, presented the queen with a brooch so magnificent that it was talked about for several days. The design was that of a crowing c.o.c.k that had been carved from a solid ruby. The bird's wing and chest feathers were outlined in gold. He had a bright diamond eye, and was crowned with a golden c.o.xcomb that was tipped with diamonds. The c.o.c.k was then placed upon a round golden sunburst whose rays were studded with tiny diamonds. The brooch had been presented in a carved ivory box that had been enclosed in a cloth-of-silver bag.

Elizabeth was visibly astounded, and delighted by the magnanimity of his gift. The queen was in a particularly good humor today. For several months she had borne a painful ulcer upon her leg which, as suddenly as it came, now healed. For a moment she could not find her voice, and when she did she said, "Yer a rogue, Conn, but yer a rogue with exquisite taste."

He smiled. "The ruby came off a Portuguese galleon that my brothers took. They thought I should enjoy the stone, and so they sent it to me. I, however, thought of the design, and had my jeweler execute it. I am the c.o.c.k, but ye, my Gloriana, are the sun without whom I could not crow. Remember me whenever ye wear the brooch."

The queen nodded thinking as she did that she couldn't ever remember amongst all the flattering tongues that spoke to her one that spoke with such sincerity. There was nothing hidden in Conn's nature, and she found it a relief.

When Twelfth Night came Conn was wise enough not to try to surpa.s.s his New Year's gift. He gave the queen a simple chain of gold and diamonds to which her brooch might be attached thus serving a double purpose for the jewel. It might be either pin or pendant. The queen was delighted, and the other men of her court envious of the current influence held by Master O'Malley.

"Ye'd think he was to the manor born instead of a bog-trotting, ignorant Irishman," sneered the Earl of Leicester to Lord Burghley.

William Cecil smiled a frosty smile at Robert Dudley. "I find Master O'Malley quite harmless both politically and dynastically. He pleases the queen with his antics, and asks nothing in return. It is a refreshing att.i.tude on the part of a gentleman of this court, and an unusual one. What is there to dislike in the man, my lord?"

"He is a commoner! He has no right to be here at court rubbing elbows with his betters, even making mock of them in his exalted position."

"Yer jealous," observed Lord Burghley, "but lest that jealousy overcome yer memory, remember who created ye Earl of Leicester, Robert Dudley. It is the queen who is all-powerful here, and who says who may come, and who may stay, and who may be an earl. She could just as easily create yon handsome Irishman a duke." Then with a smile William Cecil looked out upon the wild game of Blind Man's Bluff currently being played in the queen's presence.

Conn O'Malley, blindfolded, was stumbling with outstretched arms amongst the queen's maids of honor who scampered shrieking all about him. He stopped for a moment, listening, attempting to determine a near victim. Then suddenly he swung completely about, and reaching out his hands closed about a supple waist. Without even waiting to draw the blindfold off his eyes he pulled the girl toward him, and found her lips with his own. To his very great surprise, the generous mouth beneath his was stiff with inexperience, but his prisoner made no attempt to escape him. She had to be one of the youngest girls serving the queen, but yet she could not be for she was tall against him. Expertly he molded both his body and his mouth against the girl, and then felt her lips soften beneath his while at the same time she trembled; a reaction which immediately brought out a protective instinct in him. Who was this wench?

He loosened his grip upon her just slightly, and murmured against her lips, "Don't be frightened, sweetheart," and reaching up he removed his blindfold to see the girl. He didn't recognize her at all, and as his green eyes met her gray ones she blushed scarlet, and with a little cry fled to the queen's side. The other girls were now giggling, and he asked one of them, "Who was that?"

"Mistress St. Michael, the queen's latest ward. The queen made her a maid of honor when she dismissed Althea Tailleboys, and sent her home."

He looked to the girl who now sat on a stool by the queen's chair, her slender fingers now busily, almost too busily, untangling the rainbow-colored threads from the queen's embroidery basket. He couldn't ever remember having seen her before, but then there was nothing about her to distinguish her. She had never been kissed before, of that he was certain. Yet he could see she was not the very young girl that most of the queen's maids were. How did it happen that a girl of her age hadn't been kissed before? Her lips had been incredibly sweet. It was her innocence, he supposed, though he thought her rather old to be so innocent. Then with a shrug he replaced the blindfold, and began anew to play Blind Man's Bluff amid the giggling girls of the queen's inner circle.

He didn't think about Mistress St. Michael until later, and then only briefly as Lady Glytha Holden kissed him with such a pa.s.sionate expertise he was almost left breathless. How different, he thought, as he loosened his mistress' laces so he might fondle her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, how very different Glytha's kisses are from the little wench I kissed earlier.

Glytha stirred in his arms. "What are you thinking of?" she demanded of him.

"I'm thinking that you have the most beautiful t.i.ts," he returned, bending to kiss each nipple of the firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s she presented him. She really was a lovely woman; small-boned, and not too tall, with fine white skin, and gold hair that held just a hint of red; eyes as blue as a lake. She had a pious Puritan husband who having gotten a son and heir as well as twin daughters upon her preferred being on his knees in prayer to being on his wife's body in pa.s.sion. Though her daughters were of marriageable age and Glytha herself was past thirty, she was still filled with l.u.s.tful fires. Conn was not the first of her lovers, nor would he be the last. Even now they were becoming bored with each other, and Conn had only recently noticed what delicious and ripe miniatures of their mother Grace and Faith Holden were.

"Yer a liar," Glytha said petulantly. "Yer thinking of another woman, aren't ye?"

"What woman?" he countered.

Glytha sniffed. "I don't know what woman, but not me, Conn. Every b.i.t.c.h at court is sniffing at yer tail. I low can I hope to keep yer interest when all the others buzz about ye like bees about a particularly sweet flower?"

It was the perfect opening, and he took it. "Are ye saying that yer leaving me, Glytha?"

"I think it's best, Conn."

They made love that night, and in the morning parted amicably. Glytha Holden, however, would have been furious to learn that her twin daughters, learning quickly that their mother had discarded yet another lover, began to stalk the handsome Irishman. The twins looked like angels, but they had lost their virtue at thirteen to cousins who were delighted to discover how l.u.s.ty and eager for pa.s.sionate play Mistress Grace and Mistress Faith were.

Reared in the country because their father feared their contamination by the wicked world the twins and their brother had been left to the haphazard care of servants while their parents followed the court. Lord Edwin Holden, Baron Marston, was a financial wizard whose expertise was necessary to Elizabeth Tudor. When his son, Edward, had been seven, and the twins five, the boy had been fostered out to another n.o.ble family to begin his education. His sisters, however, had remained home in the Kent countryside until one day two years ago their mother had realized that unless they came to court it would be hard to find them suitable husbands as there were no young men of ranking families near their Kent manor.

Grace and Faith had taken to court easily. They had been trained all their lives for this, and they joined in with little difficulty or discomfort. The young gentlemen of the court found them particularly adept at naughty games although clever, they did not give a great deal lest they spoil their chances of a good match. Conn O'Malley, however, was another matter. He was not a man that their father would consider for either of them being Irish and Catholic to boot. The ladies loved to talk about him, but they had never heard it said that Conn talked about his conquests. They knew that they might have their little fling with him, and no one the wiser. It had been two years since they had indulged in carnal play with their cousins. Both twins were adept at giving each other pleasure, but it was not, they both agreed, like having a man inside you. They decided that the direct approach was best, and Conn arriving home after being on duty for three days, in addition to his duties as Lord of Misrule, found two naked nymphs in his bed.

"Jesu!" he swore softly, his green eyes glittering with antic.i.p.ation, his weariness suddenly evaporating. "Cluny, go to bed!"

The manservant cackled, and without a word disappeared from the bedchamber, closing the door to the room firmly behind him as he went.

Conn felt a grin splitting his face. "Mistress Grace and Mistress Faith," he said. "How nice of ye both to come and visit. I wonder, however, if yer mama and yer papa know of yer whereabouts."

The twins giggled, and then Grace said, "We're neither of us virgins, and since we've come to court we haven't f.u.c.ked."

"We don't dare for fear papa will find out if we do, and then we'll not be given fine husbands," chimed in Faith. "Ye won't tell on us, will ye?"

"Nay, sweeting," said Conn pulling off his clothes so he might join them in the bed. "I'm rather flattered that ye think me man enough to satisfy ye both."

"Oh, we know how to keep a man's c.o.c.k good and stiff," said Grace matter-of-factly. "Our cousins taught us, and we practiced enough on them before we came to court. There'll be enough of ye for both of us."

He was somewhat nonplussed by her, but then he sandwiched himself between the two girls, and pulling Faith to him he kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging into her mouth while Grace took him into a warm mouth, and tugging upon his manhood sent darts of purest desire shooting into it. His hands found themselves filled with soft, warm flesh, but Faith was pulling away from him to rub her pink-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s over his face. He groaned and captured a nipple to suck upon. Then Grace was mounting him, and plunging down to encase him within her hot sheath while Faith straddled his head offering him her hidden flesh to feast upon.

The twins had not lied when they claimed proficiency in the arts of love. Each time he believed himself close to release they seemed to sense it, and they would pull back, switching places to begin anew with him until he thought that he was going to burst so fierce was his pa.s.sion. He realized that he was not in control of the situation, and he found it an uncomfortable position to be in for it was Grace and Faith who were manipulating his condition. Only when they deemed it permissible was he allowed release.

Once roused they were wild women finding nothing too strange, or daring to do. Conn was, at first, enchanted with his good fortune, but then as the night wore on he began to realize they would kill him with their loving if he did not regain a mastery of their circ.u.mstances. He began by pushing Grace away from him as she sought to mount him once again.

"No! I'll do my own f.u.c.king, sweeting," he told her, and when she protested he sat up, and pulling her across his lap spanked her across her plump bottom, and pushed her from the bed onto the floor. Surprised Grace began to weep, but Conn paid little attention to her instead yanking the more compliant Faith beneath him, he mounted her, and thrusting himself into her, moved furiously upon her until he was at last able to spill his seed in a glorious wild burst that left him exhausted and drained. "Get me some wine, Grace," he commanded, and she rushed to do his bidding. Within minutes he had been revived, and he gave to Grace that which he had given her twin sister. Then firmly sending both girls home, he fell asleep.

In the morning Conn vowed that never again would he entertain Mistress Grace and Mistress Faith Holden. He felt as if he had been battered, and his lean and long body was covered with bite and scratch marks. After he had bathed in a hot tub that Cluny prepared he stood nude before the pier gla.s.s examining himself with shock. He had not felt them marking him. His handsome face was unmarked, and as he stared into the gla.s.s his green eyes stared back from beneath heavy black brows. The Handsomest Man at Court, he thought, looking at himself closely as if he expected to find something different or unusual. He knew that he was a handsome man for he was neither a fool, nor coy. He was clean-shaven, the better to show off his chiseled, somewhat squared jaw with its dimple. He had a long, straight nose in perfect proportion with his size for he stood six feet four inches tall in his stocking feet. His cheekbones were high, and sculpted giving him a look of vulnerability that was borne out in the high forehead, and his mouth which was almost too delicate for such a big man, being thin-lipped rather than wide. He was very fair-skinned for a man which only made his dark hair seem all the darker, particularly as one errant lock of hair persisted in tumbling over his brow, giving him a boyish look he deplored. Long legs, long torso, broad chest and shoulders that needed no padding-he looked magnificent in his clothing. His brother-in-law Adam de Marisco had said when he had first seen Conn in decent clothing, "By G.o.d, the women will be throwing themselves at his feet," a statement quickly borne out for truth. He had also said that they would end up in altercations with many of the gentlemen at court due to Conn's handsomeness.

Conn, however, had managed to avoid fighting with possibly outraged husbands and fathers by his utmost discretion in matters of the heart. He was wise enough to realize that brawling, particularly public brawling, would lose him royal favor, and he knew that gold could get him only just so far. He owed his position to Elizabeth Tudor, but that which Bess gave so freely she could take away as easily. He had come to England to find his fortune as had many Irishmen before him. As the youngest son in his family there was nothing for him in Ireland, particularly an Ireland ruled by England. He knew his fate was here, and he had no intention of endangering his future. Consequently the Holden twins would have to be forgotten. Instinctively he knew that pa.s.sionate pair held an element of danger for him, particularly since he had only recently courted their mother. He would seek a less flamboyant arrangement for the court was full of lovely and willing ladies.

Ladies like Signora Eudora Maria di Carlo, the wife of the amba.s.sador from San Lorenzo. A most toothsome wench who had spent the weeks since her recent arrival in England staring at him with her marvelously expressive amber eyes, and brushing against him as they pa.s.sed. The amba.s.sador's wife was tiny and plump, and he doubted not, a delicious armful. The thought of the chase ahead sent a tingle of antic.i.p.ation down his spine. Last night had given him a distaste for bold and forward women. He far preferred sweet surrender and melting charms to the demands of Baron Marston's daughters. He intended avoiding them if at all possible, but then perhaps it would not be possible, and he certainly could not cause a scandal. It was a difficult situation, but he had cleverly avoided worse in his lifetime.

Chapter 3.

"There is no help for it now," said Lord Burghley to the queen. "The scandal has been caused, and by not acting to punish Master O'Malley ye make it appear as if ye condone his actions. Yer apt to be tarred with the same brush that tars him. Remember the Dudley scandal. Ye cannot afford it, madame."

The queen sighed deeply. "I know yer right, my dear friend. Ye have always had only my interests at heart, but I cannot help but be saddened. I like Master O'Malley!"

"I know that, madame, and I would tell ye that I like him also. There is really no malice in him at all, and the fact that he has been caught in this situation is unfortunate for there are those here at court who do worse daily, but are never found out. Conn O'Malley is a good-hearted young man, but he has not learned, forgive my bluntness, madame, to keep his c.o.c.k confined to his codpiece, and it is that sin that has brought us to this moment. The amba.s.sador from San Lorenzo is outraged as he has every right to be. There is no doubt he has been insulted, which means his tiny, but valuable to England, country has been insulted. We cannot have him return to his master, madame, and break off relations with us."

"What am I to do then?" Elizabeth Tudor fretted. "I have had Conn confined to the Tower, but I cannot keep him there indefinitely simply because he was caught kissing the amba.s.sador's wife in a hidden corner."

That, of course, was not quite the matter, thought William Cecil, and the queen knew it. Conn had been found wrapped in a torrid embrace with Eudora Maria di Carlo, whose ample bosom was bared to his caresses, whilst the lady had ardently fondled the Irishman. It was in fact the amba.s.sador's wife's delighted little cries of pleasure that had drawn attention to their dark corner in the first place. A knock upon the door to the queen's private closet brought one of her secretaries into the chamber.

"Madame, Baron Marston, and his family are without. The baron says it is urgent that he speak with ye. It pertains, he says, to the Conn O'Malley matter."