He chuckled. "She is our daughter, sweetheart."
Skye smiled back at him. "You will not feel so indulgent when she is older, and the men begin to crowd about her," she teased.
"That's a long time away," Adam said smugly. "She's just a baby, barely a year old."
“The time goes quickly, Adam. Ewan is eighteen now, and I don't know where the years went."
"Madame, you are depressing me," he said. "Let us go to bed now before we are too old, although I have been told by authorities on the matter that one never grows too old. Based on the wisdom of your vast age, what do you have to say on the matter?"
"Come to our bedchamber, monseigneur, and I shall explain my thoughts to you in detail," Skye promised with a seductive glance at her husband as she went from the hall.
These were the times she loved the best; the times when they might retire to the delicious isolation of their apartment. In the big bed that he had had made specially for them-an enormous oak bed with its eight-foot-high headboard all done in linenfold paneling, its carved and turned posts, its natural-colored linen hangings with an embroidered design of grass green velvet-they could lie for hours in the nude, caressing each other leisurely, and making long, slow love until the fire burned down to nothing but glowing ashes and they were forced to retreat beneath the down coverlet.
For them the lovemaking grew better each time, particularly after Velvet was born. Adam could not love her enough, and Skye adored her giant of a husband when he lay his naked length against hers, pressing her deep into the mattress. She reveled in the firm flesh of his thighs against hers, the tickly feeling of his furred chest against her breasts, the hardness of his very maleness seeking to mate with her. There were times when she could not get enough of her handsome husband, and she would shamelessly awaken him with delicious kisses across his big, sleeping form. Several times Adam awoke to find she had roused him while he slept, and now sat astride him. Reaching up, he would caress her beautiful breasts until they thrust forward with taunting invitation. Yet with the incredible passion that blazed between them was also a profound sense of peace, as if both Skye and Adam understood that what was between them would be forever.
Charles IX died, and his next brother, Anjou, who had the previous year been made King of Poland, fled his adopted country like a thief in the night to return to his beloved France. Anjou, however, stopped in both Vienna and Venice to be royally feted before finally gaining his native borders, where his irritated mother awaited him. Elizabeth of Austria retired from court, and because her retinue was smaller now, Skye's daughters came home to Belle Fleur that summer. Ewan arrived from the university in Paris; Murrough appeared bronzed and taller, home from his first voyage; and even Robin appeared suddenly one day to surprise them all.
A great deal of fuss was made over the baby, although Skye begged her older children not to spoil Velvet. "She is already quite impossible, mes enfants,” their mother said with an indulgent smile.
After several months back in England, Robin was once more the perfect English courtier. "You should really let me take Padraic back with me in the autumn, Mother," he said to Skye. "He will be close to six then, and should begin his education at the Tudor court. The Queen may have taken his lands, but my brother is still Lord Burke."
"No!" Skye said. "As long as Adam and I are not welcome at the Tudor court then none of my children except you, Robin, shall go. A nobleman without lands is nothing, and until the Queen restores the Burke lands to the Burkes I want nothing to do with either her or England. Besides, Padraic is still a baby."
"I am not!" Padraic Burke, his father's image, glowered up at her.
Skye looked down at Niall's son, and smiled at him. "In time, my darling," she promised him. "Be patient for now." Then she looked around the hall, and said, "I am so glad to have you all here again. This is how I like it best, my children about me, Adam by my side."
"I can only stay a month," Robin said. "I promised Her Majesty that I would rejoin the court in its summer progress at Hardwick Hall. I have given my word."
“I’ll be returning to Ireland when Robin goes," Ewan said suddenly.
"What?!" Skye looked sharply at her eldest son. 'This is rather sudden, Ewan, isn't it?"
"I've been in correspondence with my Uncle Michael for over a year, Mother. He's done the best he could, but he's a priest. My other O'Malley uncles have not been interested in Ballyhennessey since they joined with Grace O'Malley to fight with the Queen. I have to go home, Mother. My lands need me," he finished, then he looked at his mother. "I want to take Gwyneth with me, Mother. It is time for us to marry."
"But she is just fifteen!" Skye protested. The twins had celebrated their birthday on June 4th.
"You were fifteen when you wed my father," Ewan said quietly.
"I was too young!"
"No, Mother, you were not too young. You were simply wed to the wrong man. That is not the case with Gwyneth and me."
"I cannot bear it if Ewan leaves me, madame," said the quiet Gwyneth. "I am past ready to be a wife."
"I, also," Joan said.
"But Murrough has just begun to learn seamanship. If he is to make it his life, he cannot stay home to husband you, Joan." Skye was beginning to feel besieged by her offspring.
"MacGuire is not sailing again for almost two months, Mother," Murrough said. "His ship needs repairs. Joan and I can be wed, and even have time together before I must leave. Whenever she weds me she still has to get used to having a sailor for a husband. I will buy us a home in Devon, near Lynmouth."
Robin coughed a bit, and looked a trifle uncomfortable. "All right, Robert Southwood," Skye snapped. "What else is there?"
"I bring an invitation from the Queen for Willow. She is invited to join the maids of honor."
"Ohhh," Willow shrieked esctatically, and then she turned on her mother. "You promised me that one day I might! You promised, Mama!"
"You've been to court!"
"A French court," Willow scoffed scornfully.
"No!"
"Please, Mama! Soon I shall be too old to go! Please!"
Skye looked at the children all ranged in a row, and seemingly allied against her. Ewan, Murrough, Gwyneth, Joan, Willow, Robin, and Padraic. They all wanted to leave. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she cried, "But I have had you such a short time!" Then toning from them, she ran from the hall.
Adam watched her go, his own eyes saddened, and then he said, "Of course you must follow your own destinies, mes enfants. You are all quite old enough now, but it is hard for your mother to understand this. Leave her to me, and I will make it all right for everyone."
Adam found her weeping piteously on their bed, and quietly gathered Skye into his arms. She sobbed for some minutes as he gently rocked her back and forth, and then gradually her sobs began to fade away. "It will be dull without them, I know," he said soothingly.
"I like dull," she said. "I have had enough adventure to last me three lifetimes, Adam! Why, when it is finally as I want it, does it have to change?"
"Because the years have flown, little girl, and they arc grown, or half grown. They are their mother's offspring, for they wish to strike out on their own, and why shouldn't they? I know that it is hard for a mother to admit that her sons are grown, but your O’Flahertys have become men, my darling." He chuckled. "If you had eyes in your head, Skye, you'd see at least three of their bastards on this estate. High time that they were married, I say!"