Skye's gaze met that of Elizabeth Tudor, and neither of them wavered. Then Skye curtseyed low and prettily as, by her side, her husband bowed with incredibly elegant flair; a flair not missed by the Queen, who appreciated such graces and good manner.
"I have said more than once, Lord de Marisco, that you were wasted upon that island of yours. You are indeed a man fit for my court."
Adam smiled warmly. 'Thank you, madam, but if I had my choice I should prefer my rock to your court. I am a simple man, and such radiance is too overpowering for me. I far prefer the quiet life."
"But your choice of companion, sir, is indeed not conducive to peace and a quiet life." The Queen looked defiantly at Skye.
"As I have said, madam, I am a simple man. Simple men follow their hearts, and I have followed mine, as I know you would follow yours were the burden of England not upon your frail shoulders. How fortunate your people are in their Queen."
"And are you, Lord de Marisco, fortunate in your Queen?"
"You have my loyalty, madam, until death."
"But not your heart?"
"No, madam, not my heart, for I cannot give what I no longer possess. I long ago gave my heart to Skye O'Malley."
"I could clap you in the Tower for that remark, Lord de Marisco. I could send you both there, but I suspect it would not make one bit of difference to either you or that Celtic jade you have married in France, in a Popish ceremony!"
A small grin teased at the corners of Adam's mouth, and he strove mightily to keep it from bursting into full bloom. "Madam, I must plead guilty, and I must beg your forgiveness and your indulgence for both my wife and myself; but in all honesty, neither Skye nor I would change anything we have done."
Elizabeth Tudor burst out laughing, and with surprising familiarity she gave Adam a friendly punch on the arm. 'That, my lord, is what I like about you!" she exclaimed. "You are just what you seem, and there is no deceit in you! Very well, you are forgiven your marriage, for I am forced to admit that looking at the pair of you I can see you are meant to be together." She turned to Skye. "As for you, madam, we have other, more pressing business."
"First I want my daughter," Skye said bluntly.
"What, madam?! You would bargain with me?” Elizabeth looked outraged.
"Would you not bargain with me?" Skye demanded. "Why else have you taken my daughter?"
“The child is safe at Hampton Court, madam. She will be returned to you."
"When?"
The Queen looked at Skye closely, and then sighing, said, "I will send a messenger out tonight."
"Your word is not enough, madam," came the shocking reply.
Adam put a hand on his wife's arm in warning while Cecil thought for a moment his heart had stopped. It was a fierce insult, and Elizabeth Tudor's gray-black eyes narrowed in anger. At that moment she looked very much like her father.
"Madam, must I remind you that you are my subject, and I am your Queen?"
"You are the Queen of England, madam, but I am Irish. To protect my Burke son's lands I did you a favor, a great favor, madam. I left my homeland and my children to marry for England's sake. The husband you chose for me, madam, was a cruel and unhappy man, but I offered no complaint, for you promised me that you would protect Padraic Burke's lands and his rights. You have given those lands to an Englishman, madam. My son is bereft of his heritage despite your promise to me." Skye looked defiantly at Elizabeth Tudor. "I kept my word to you, madam. Would that you had done the same."
"You are a thorn in my flesh, Skye O'Malley," the Queen said, "and you have ever been thus; but I need your aid now, and I will have it!"
"Return what belongs to me and mine, madam, and you shall have that aid. I want my child, the Burke lands, and Lundy Island. In return I shall do your bidding."
"Your child I will send for this night. The Burke lands I cannot return for fear of offending a loyal Englishman who serves me well, but I will give your son lands here in England. As for Lundy, I return it with one stipulation. You may not live on it, either of you. I'll give you no island base from which to strike out at me again! I will, however, my lord de Marisco, give you lands and a manor house of equal value, for I suspect that in marrying this termagent you have actually done me a service."
"My son is an Irish Burke!" Skye cried, for despite the fact that she knew the Queen was being overly generous, she ached at the loss of Padraic's inheritance.
"Precisely, madam, and by resettling him here in England as a child I shall have one less rebel to contend with in my old age, for he will grow up to be a loyal Englishman I have no doubt!" Elizabeth Tudor laughed at the irony of her victory over Skye. "Now, madam, I have done much for you, you must in return do something for me."
"Give over, little girl," Adam said softly. "You'll not beat her in this. She's been generous where she might have been harsh." Skye looked up at him, and he saw the sadness in her eyes, which were wet with diamond tears she would not shed. "You cannot always win, Skye," he said, and she nodded. This time their battle was a draw.
"Very well, madam," she answered, but her very agreement was edged in defiance, "what can I do to help you?"
"Your brothers and the O'Malley fleet have joined with that great rebel, your kinswoman, Grace O'Malley, to wage war against me. They harry the shipping lanes, which hurts this nation's commerce, and they encourage rebellion in Ireland. It is impossible, madam, to stop them for they are, I am forced grudgingly to admit, marvelous sailors. I sent Drake to Ireland a year ago, and even he cannot catch them! You could. You could stop your brothers, madam, and if you do you will cripple Grace O'Malley. That woman is a menace to England, and I would have her stopped!''
Skye pretended to consider the Queen's request, and then she said, "If I can stop my brothers, madam, I will need pardons for them all. I will not betray my family even for England's Queen."
"Granted."
"Then I shall try, madam," Skye said with feigned innocence.
"You had best succeed, madam!" came the sharp warning.
"I can only do my best, madam."
"Then God help your brothers," the Queen cackled, her good humor suddenly restored. She peered closely at Skye. "You took your time in getting here, madam. I was told that your ship arrived at midmorning."
"I could not appear travel-worn before England's Majesty, madam. I went home and took a bath," came the calm reply.
"You kept me waiting while you frolicked in your bath?" Elizabeth was outraged.
"I should have done Your Majesty no honor had I not bathed and attired myself in my finest clothes, madam. I am not so ill bred as to arrive before you smelling of sweat and the sea."
"You claim to do me honor, madam, and yet I sense that you actually defy me," Elizabeth grumbled. "But enough! You will stay for the evening meal, and you will tell me about the Duc d'Alençon. He seeks to marry me, y'know."
"In France they speak of nothing else," Skye said demurely.
Elizabeth Tudor preened, and then with girlish enthusiasm asked, "What is he really like?"
"He is an amusing man, madam. I believe you would find him quite compatible."
"Amusing?"
"He has wit, Majesty, or at least as much wit as any son of Catherine de Medici could have."
"They say he is badly pock-marked."
"He grows a beard even now to disguise it, madam. He is an attractive man, and a great favorite with the ladies."
Cecil listened to Skye and marveled. One moment she gave to the Queen, and in the next instant she took away. The duke was charming, but he was his mother's son. He was pock-marked, but handsome. He longed to be with Elizabeth, but the ladies of the French court would be desolate when he left them. Cecil smiled. This woman was definitely the Queen's equal, but that was a thought he would keep to himself.