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He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. Like all in his family, he’d always known that his temper was a source of trouble, and so he always kept it under tight control. But once loose, it took over his will, taking him places better left untraveled.
At the first touch of her, everything had speeded up. His pulse. His mouth on hers, tasting, devouring. His hands on her body, wanting to touch her everywhere, needing to feel her in every part of himself.
One small section of his mind was shouting a warning. It was midmorning in the queen’s own garden. Any number of people might see them. All his plans could be spoiled by this one foolish act. But another part of his mind ignored the warning. He didn’t want to stop holding her, kissing her. He would pay any price, forfeit any success, to go on like this forever.
He took the kiss deeper and was rewarded by her sigh. Her hands, which had been pushing against his chest, were now clutching him to her. Her body was pressed to his, imprinting itself on his flesh. Her full pouty lips were as eager as his to taste, to feast, to devour.
He was, in the space of a heartbeat, fully aroused. He wanted more. Wanted all. A most dangerous situation, he knew. He needed to step back. To think. To breathe.
Sweet heaven, to breathe.
One last touch, he promised himself as his hands moved along her back, stroking, soothing, exciting. One last kiss, he vowed, as his mouth moved over hers.
At last, drawing on all his control, he managed to lift his head.
Filling his lungs with air he took a step back, breaking contact. “Let that be a lesson to you, Emma. Even the most charming of rogues has a limit to his patience.”
“Aye. A rogue. An arrogant, pigheaded....” Her words came out in a rush, threatening to choke her. She would never let him know how difficult it was to speak. “But there is nothing charming about you, Conor O’Neil. And I’ll remind you that I am not one of those brainless little butterflies who flit around the men at court, hoping to play at love. If I were, it would be with a heroic figure, like...like Heaven’s Avenger, who saves helpless maidens, and certainly not with the likes of you.”
She drew back her hand to slap his face. Reading her intention, he caught it and dragged her close.
His breath was hot against her cheek as he whispered, “Aye. That’s why you refused to cooperate in that kiss, isn’t it, Emma?”
She was stung by his jibe. It hit too close to the mark. She knew she’d wanted what he’d offered, and had made no move to stop him. But now that she had her wits about her once more, she was feeling shamed and embarrassed. It was one thing to pretend to be interested in him, in order to learn his secrets. It was quite another to allow herself to get caught up in any real emotion for this man.
In order to cover her rush of feelings she said, “You’re no better than Dunstan. Like him, you think all women will fall at your feet. Well, I’m not the queen, blushing and giggling at your every word, Conor O’Neil. I intend to save myself for a real man, not some pompous peacock.”
She turned and caught at her skirts, racing as fast as she could toward the palace. Leaving him standing alone in the sun-drenched garden. With the taste of her still on his lips. And the scent of her filling his lungs.
Chapter Five
“Good morrow, sir.” The stable lad had seen Conor coming and was already leading his mount from the stall.
“Good morrow, Meade. I hope you haven’t forgotten that the queen will be joining me.”
“Nay, sir. I’ve forgotten nothing.” The boy’s smile was dazzling. It was a rare opportunity to serve his monarch. “I have Her Majesty’s mount saddled and ready. And a third horse suitable for the young lady you mentioned.” He looked beyond Conor. “I believe this must be your young lady now.”
Conor turned. Emma was striding toward him, looking slightly uncomfortable in a heavy riding gown the color of green leaves. As with all her clothing, it was obviously borrowed from one of the other ladies-in-waiting, since it was as ill-fitting as the others. Her long hair was tied back with matching ribbons. Perched on her head was a most fetching bonnet, adorned with feathers and lace.
When she drew close he called, “Good morrow, Emma.”
“Good morrow, Conor.” She avoided his eyes, feeling the old shyness take hold. She had managed to avoid him since that scene in the garden yesterday. But this morning she had awakened with a sense of excitement. It wasn’t the knowledge that she would be spending time in this man’s company that had her pulse racing. After all, she could hardly tolerate Conor O’Neil. She was convinced that her eagerness was really caused by the opportunity to ride in the open air.
The stable boy led a spirited mare from its stall, and Conor studied the horse with suspicion. “Are you certain you want such a headstrong animal, Emma?”
“I’ve told you I’m an accomplished rider.”
“Very well.” He offered his hands, and she placed one dainty foot in them. She was boosted into the sidesaddle, where she quickly arranged her skirts. The heat she’d felt at his touch was merely generated by the excitement of the ride, she assured herself.
As for Conor, he took a moment to enjoy the sight of shapely ankles and legs, before her skirts tumbled down to hide the view. When he heard the sounds signalling the arrival of the queen, he turned.
Elizabeth bustled along the walkway, accompanied by a maid, a footman, a butler and several ladies-in-waiting, who were all talking at once.
“Good morrow, Majesty.” Conor bowed. “Will we saddle more horses for the others?”
“Conor. Emma.” Elizabeth, in high spirits, lifted a hand in greeting. “Nay, these others have merely come to see me off on my little adventure.” She studied Conor and added, “How is it that you manage to look so handsome this early in the morning?”
“The same way you manage to look so regal, Majesty.” Conor cast an admiring glance at her scarlet riding gown with matching jacket and hat.
“Ah. I see.” Elizabeth gave him a knowing smile. “You were born to it?”
From her position in the saddle, Emma gritted her teeth. The queen and her Irishman were equally adept at flattery.
Conor merely laughed and turned to the stable lad. “Fetch the queen’s mount, Meade.”
When the horse was led from its stall Conor said, “I hope the chestnut mare meets with your approval.”
“Aye. And well she should. She was a gift from Philip of Spain. He was hoping to win favor so that he might press for a betrothal.” She gave Conor a sideways glance as he helped her into the saddle. “Does that bother you, my Irish rogue?”
“That the King of Spain desired you? Nay, madam. All the world desires Elizabeth of England.”
She laughed as he stepped back and her maid arranged her skirts and petticoats. “As always, you know just the right thing to say. Come. Let us be on our way. I wish to ride.” She waved to the others, then wheeled her mount and led the way toward a distant meadow.
Conor pulled himself into the saddle and followed.
The horses moved in single file, following a welltraveled path, with Elizabeth in the lead, Emma in the middle, and Conor trailing behind.
It was a perfect summer morning, with the grass damp with dew, and a misty haze hanging over the edges of the forest that ringed the meadow.
As the path gradually widened, Elizabeth slowed her mount until the other two drew abreast. They rode up a steep incline, then came to an abrupt halt. Ahead of them was a small herd of deer grazing. For the space of a heartbeat the entire herd seemed to freeze. Then, as several does and their young took off at a run toward the shelter of the forest, the buck stood his ground. Only when his herd was safe did the buck follow.
“Magnificent.” Elizabeth watched as they disappeared into the underbrush. “How I long for my bow and arrows. But I have ordered no hunting in this forest today.”
“A wise move. You shall hunt another time, Majesty. For today, it is enough that we are free to ride.” Conor pointed to a falcon riding the breeze high above them. “As free as the birds.”
“Aye.” Elizabeth gave a little laugh. “I’ve always wished I could fly. Come then, my friends. Let us fly across the meadow to the far side where the forest begins.” Without waiting for their agreement, she urged her mount into a gallop.
Emma’s mare, eager to run, took off at a thunderous pace. For a moment Conor held his mount steady, enjoying the sight of her astride her horse. The fact that she was a skilled rider made the sight all the more pleasurable. Her hair streamed out from beneath her hat as she bent low over her steed’s head. Her laughter filled the morning air.
At last, feeling the tug on the reins, he gave his horse its head. Halfway across the meadow he caught up with her. As he rode alongside, he felt a jolt of pleasure at the sight that greeted him. Emma’s cheeks were a becoming shade of pink; her eyes were warm with excitement.
A peal of delighted laughter rose up from her throat. “Oh, how I’ve missed this. I hadn’t realized just how much until now. I do thank you, Conor.”
“You’re welcome, my lady. It pleases me to see you so happy.”
Gone was the awkwardness that always seemed to set her apart from the others at court. Here, astride a sleek animal, she was definitely in her element. There was such grace and poise in this young woman who turned to him with a smile of pure pleasure before she spurred her mare into a gallop.
Seeing her, the queen followed suit.
Conor watched, then urged his horse to follow. Just ahead of him the two horses remained neck and neck.
Emma called over her shoulder, “Look at me, Conor. I’m flying.”
Emma’s horse began to inch ahead. Conor urged his steed into a last burst of speed. But even that effort couldn’t overtake the lively mare. She fairly flew across the meadow, slowing only when Emma reined her in. As soon as Conor and Elizabeth joined her, they began congratulating one another on an excellent ride.
“Oh, Conor.” Emma’s eyes were shining. “It was as you said. I felt as though I were flying.”
“I do believe that was as close to it as you’ll ever be.” He turned to include the queen. “Both of you looked as though your steeds had sprouted wings.”
Emma leaned down to run a hand affectionately over her mare’s neck. “It has been too long since I’ve enjoyed this pleasure.”
“Is this how you spent your childhood?” Elizabeth asked.
Emma nodded. “Riding wild and free across the green meadows outside Dublin. Oh, Majesty. If you could but see the wild beauty of my homeland. It truly takes the breath away.”
“I’ve not heard much about the beauty of Ireland from Lord Dunstan,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Most of what he has relayed is about the savagery of its people. Especially this Heaven’s Avenger who seems to have spawned a twin on our shores.” The queen glanced upward, watching the path of a falcon as it glided across the sky. “Come. I wish to fly again.” She wheeled her mount and took off at a brisk pace, leaving Emma and Conor to follow.
As they started off Conor held his horse to a more gentle trot.
Emma, keeping pace beside him, turned to him with a worried frown. “Do you think I offended the queen by mentioning my home?”
Hearing the concern in her voice he shook his head. “I’ve learned that this queen is accustomed to saying exactly what’s on her mind. If she had been offended by your words, she would have told you. At the moment, the only thing that concerns Elizabeth is the feel of sunshine warm on her face, and a strong, solid horse beneath her.” He reached over and placed his hand on Emma’s. At once he felt the jolt and was startled by it. Why did the touch of this simple young woman arouse him so? “Let’s do the same, Emma. We’ll put away our worries, and enjoy the day.”
Her smile faltered. Just the feel of his hand on hers brought a strange ripple of pleasure. What sort of power did this man have? Whatever it was, she wanted none of it. She had to remember that all she wanted from him was his secrets.
With an impish grin, Emma nudged her horse into a gallop, determined to escape his charm. Over her shoulder she called, “I do believe my mare can outrun your mount, my lord.”
For a moment he was so surprised, he could only stare after her. Then, he threw back his head and roared with pleasure as he spurred his horse into a gallop. Halfway across the meadow Emma’s horse passed the queen’s. A few moments later Conor’s mount did the same. By the time he reached the far side of the meadow, Emma was standing beside her horse, watching his arrival.
“I knew I could beat you.” Her voice, still breathless, rang with pride.
“That was fine horsemanship, my lady.” Conor remained in the saddle, enjoying the color that suffused her cheeks.
The queen rode up, clearly pouting at having been left out. “Had I known this was to be a race, I would have won it easily. I demand another. And this time I must be included.”
Conor nodded. “Fair enough, Majesty. But a race is not a race unless there is a prize to be won. What will we race for?”
“Gold always works,” the queen said regally.
“Alas, I have none.” Emma’s cheeks reddened.
“I see.” Elizabeth pondered for a moment, then said, “I have it. The winner shall choose an article of clothing from each of the losers.”
“An article of clothing?” Emma looked perplexed.
“Aye. For instance, if I should win,” Elizabeth said with a glint of teasing laughter in her eyes, “I should require of you that delightful riding hat, for it is far more fashionable than mine. And no one should look more fetching than the queen.”
Emma blushed. “The hat isn’t mine, Majesty. It belongs to Amena.”
“I thought I recognized it.” The queen’s laughter grew. “All the more reason why I desire it. Amena owes me a gold sovereign from an earlier wager.” She turned to Conor. “And from you, my dashing companion, I would require those riding gloves.”
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