"What a pity," Adam said, "that you and Elizabeth Tudor cannot be friends. You have that sharpness of intellect that the Queen admires."
"She needs too much fawning upon, Adam, and I have not the patience. Neither have you, for that matter. Would you really enjoy spending your days dancing in constant attendance upon a very stubborn lady in her middle years? She would give us no time for ourselves, Adam, and I, for one, could not abide that." Skye gave her head a final touch, and putting the brush aside, she flung her hair back with a graceful motion. "There," she said, "'tis finished, and I hear Daisy coming. Open the door for her, my darling."
With pleased confusion and a rosy blush Daisy re-entered the bedchamber carrying a heavy tray of food. "Oh, m'lord! Thank you!"
"'Tis nothing, lass, and it is good to see your pretty face again," he answered the tiring woman gallantly.
Daisy flushed again with pleasure, and said, "I've brought cider for you, m'lady, but I knew his lordship would appreciate some good nut-brown English ale. 'Tis a while, I'll wager, since he's tasted it." She set the tray down on the table by the fireplace as they drew their chairs forward.
"Daisy, lass, you've the soul of an angel and the heart of a loyal Englishwoman!" Adam exclaimed. "My stepfather may bottle some of France's finest wines, but I far prefer honest English ale! Thank you, lass!" he said, and bending from his great height, he gave her a hearty buss on the cheek.
"Ohh, m'lord!" Daisy grew redder, and then she scolded, "Sit down, m'lord, and eat. The Queen will be in a fine, tearing temper as it is."
The tray that Daisy had brought them contained thick slices of bread upon which had been set slices of pink ham and wedges of good English Cheddar that had then been toasted. The cheese was yet soft and burning, and the meal delicious to their taste in its simplicity. When the last crumb had been eaten and the ale and cider all drunk, they sat back for a minute in their chairs, smiling across the small table at one another. Another knock at the door brought them the news that Sir Christopher and his men were growing restive.
"I suppose we must get dressed and attend the Queen," Skye said.
"I think so, little girl," Adam replied, rising from the table and walking across the room to the connecting door between their rooms. With a grin he blew her a kiss before re-entering his own quarters.
A delighted smile touched her lips, and then Skye rose with a lazy yawn. "Is the black sapphire gown still in fashion, Daisy?"
"Aye, m'lady. I'll fetch it immediately."
It took almost a full hour for Skye to dress completely, but when she had finished she was well pleased with the results. The blue velvet of the gown was so dark it seemed almost black in color. It had a low, squarish neckline trimmed with two loops of pearls that were sewn in such a fashion as to outline her bosom. From the sides of the neckline protruded a fan-shaped neckwisk of delicate gold lace, and the full gold beribboned sleeves had beautiful matching cuff ruffs of the same lace. The overgown was plain, the under-gown of the same material and color, heavily decorated in pearls, gold beads, and golden threads that had been sewn in an intricate pattern of flowers, bees, and butterflies. The bodice was done more simply, being decorated only with pearls.
Skye's hair was gracefully fixed by Daisy into its elegant chignon, and dressed with loops of almost pinkish pearls. She wore a strand of matching pearls about her neck, from which bobbed one enormous sapphire teardrop that nesded between her full breasts. There were pearls in her ears, and even her dainty handkerchief was edged in the jewels. The buckles on her velvet shoes were carved from mother of pearl, and her heels had been covered in the iridescent shell.
With a smile Skye pirouetted for her husband as he entered the bedchamber. "What think you, m'lord? Am I formidable enough to discomfit the Queen?"
"Aye, little girl, and make her jealous as well." He struck a pose. "And what of me, madam? Do you approve my costume. Am I fit to be by your side?"
"Aye, m'lord!" she said with heartfelt admiration, taking in his black velvet costume, the doublet of which was outrageously and heavily decorated in diamonds and gold thread. About his neck Adam had chosen to wear the de Marisco pendant, a large, round golden medallion with a raised sea hawk, wings spread, done in enameled colors with a ruby eye. Between his great size, and the complete fashion of his costume he was really quite magnificent.
"Are you ready, madam?" he demanded, noting with some amusement that despite the richness of her jewels, she had chosen to wear upon her hands only his betrothal and wedding rings. Her subtlety delighted him, and he knew the Queen would notice, for Elizabeth Tudor rarely missed a thing.
As he watched them descend the staircase to the main floor of the house, Sir Christopher Hatton caught his breath. They were a simply stunning pair, and the Queen's captain could not help but wonder why they had never been to court in his time. He caught Skye's hand as she reached the bottom step, and raising it to his lips, he said with total honesty, "Madam, you are more than well worth the waiting for, if, my lord de Marisco, you will allow me the compliment to your wife."
"We accept the compliment in the spirit in which it was given, sir," Adam said softly.
The footmen hurried up with their capes, and Skye and Adam were enveloped in the fur-lined cloaks, Skye's with a fur-trimmed hood. Escorted by Hatton, they hurried outside into the crisp wind of the late afternoon and climbed into their waiting town coach. Immediately the door was shut upon them, they were off, their carriage surrounded and escorted on the road to Greenwich by the Queen's own Gentlemen Pensioners.
"Where in Hell is she?" Elizabeth Tudor swore for the hundredth time that afternoon. "Her damned ship anchored hours ago! Where is Hatton? This is intolerable, Cecil!"
"Patience, madam," counseled William Cecil, Lord Burghley. "She will be here shortly." He already knew that Skye O'Malley, that marvelous and impossible woman, had gone to her house on the Strand. He knew exactly what she was doing, but in this particular instance he had no intention of informing his mistress, for Elizabeth would only fly into a temper, and her anger could ruin everything. Lady de Marisco was as stubborn as the Queen. Cecil smiled to himself. He had thought of Skye O'Malley as Lady de Marisco, and indeed, despite the Queen's petulance in the matter, she was. That, he knew, would be the first order of business between them. Cecil smiled to himself again, and a small chuckle escaped his lips. It was going to be an interesting evening.
"What do you find so amusing?" Elizabeth snapped, but before Lord Burghley was forced to answer there was a knock upon the door and a maid of honor popped through it to announce, "Lord and Lady de Marisco are here, madam."
Elizabeth whirled. "Surely, Mistress Ann, you mean Lady Burke and Lord de Marisco," the Queen snarled.
"Y-yes, madam, your pardon," the maid of honor quavered. She was going to be in a great deal of trouble if the Queen found out about her liaison with Lord Dudley, and Lettice Knollys, the bitch, had seen them and was threatening to tell.
“They may come in," Elizabeth said regally, and quickly sat down in a high-backed, thronelike chair. As quickly she stood again, remembering the height of her guests and not wanting to be at any disadvantage.
Cecil, knowing her thought, hid a smile behind his hand as Skye and Adam swept into the room. By God, Lord Burghley thought at his first sight of them, this time she has truly found her mate! We'll not beat her now.