a matter of hours all could be lost. He found it ironic that he, who had
pledged his life to the freedom of Ireland, would feel compelled to
save the life of the English queen. But unless he was successful in his
attempt, everything he had worked for would be in shambles.
The successor Dunstan had chosen, Huntington, had already made it
clear that he was sympathetic to the cause of those who desired war in
Ireland. A war that would further Dunstan's ascent to wealth and
power.
Dunstan was a man driven purely by greed. He had spent a lifetime
using his friendship with royalty to enhance his own fortune. What a
fortune he would amass if he could assume the estates of the
vanquished Ulster leaders.
Conor knew that many lives were depending on the outcome of this
ride. Especially the lives of his father and brother. Their safety and
that of his countrymen, was always uppermost in his mind.
He swore viciously and urged his mount even faster.
"My lady, I was worried about you." Nola, embarrassed at having
been caught napping on the chaise, got to her feet when Emma
entered her chambers. "I couldn't imagine where you could be at this
hour..." Her words died in her throat as she stared in surprise at her
mistress's strange garb.
"I..." Emma saw the way the little servant was studying her. "...went
for a moonlight ride."
"I see." Rather than ask questions, the maid bustled about, laying out
Emma's nightshift and pouring water into a basin. "Let me help you
prepare for bed."
The two worked in awkward silence.
When she had finished her ablutions, Emma crossed to the bed and
climbed between the covers. "Thank you, Nola."
"You're welcome, my lady. Will I lay out your hunting outfit?"
"Aye. Thank you, Nola. Good night."
"Good night, my lady." The servant set out her mistress's clothes for
the morning, then crossed the room and let herself out.
Emma lay in the darkness. But her mind was too restless to permit
sleep. She had known from the day her father wed Celestine that the
woman was heartless. And her first encounter with Dunstan had left
her no doubt that he was a blackhearted villain. Still, he proclaimed
himself friend to the queen, while plotting her death. Had Emma not
heard his admission with her own ears, she would find it ludicrous.
That would be the reaction of the queen, as well. She would demand a
confrontation with the one accused of such a horror. And unless
Conor could find the proof of such a thing, Elizabeth would dismiss
their claims as the ravings of lunatics. Emma prayed Conor would
make it back to Warwick in time.
There were so many things about him that were a mystery. Why he
stayed in England, when his heart lay in Ireland. Why he agreed to
this life as a spy. Perhaps the biggest mystery of all was Conor
himself. Though she had no doubt that he loved her, she had no idea
who he really was. Beneath that charming, cultured person was
someone much tougher. He was more than a spy. Much more. There
seemed to be something dark about him. Something totally ruthless.
Who was this man who had won her heart? One thing was certain. He
was not merely the man he showed to the peacocks at Court. A man
who spent his life doing nothing more compelling than telling
humorous stories. A man who chose to, live far from the home and
family he claimed to love, in order to win a few smiles from a
shallow, selfish queen.
A man of many secrets.
Still, that wasn't as terrible as it sounded, she reminded herself. After
all, she, too, had become adept at lying, thanks to Celestine. And
lately, she had learned to swallow her fear and do things she would
once have never dreamed of. Things like sneaking away from the
palace to save her family. And hiding in a wardrobe in order to
overhear the whispered secrets of two villainous lovers.
If truth be told, she was learning to enjoy the keen edge of danger.
Though her heart often threatened to explode with fear, she was
discovering new strengths within herself. Strengths she hadn't even
known existed.
As she hovered on the verge of sleep, she played over in her mind all
the amazing things that had happened to her in the past months. Of all
of them, the most amazing was the love of Conor O'Neil.
* * *
As dawn light threaded its way through the darkened sky, Conor
pulled himself into the saddle and turned his mount toward Warwick.
Even as he pushed the horse to its limits, he knew he was fighting a
losing battle. There was no way he could make it in time to stop
Dunstan. But his one consolation was Emma. He offered a prayer of
thanks that he had one member of the queen's court in whom he could
place his trust. Were it not for his beloved, he would be fighting this
battle all alone. And losing.
He leaned low over the horse's head and raced across fields and
meadows. He hoped Emma would be clever enough to stay close to
the queen once she had told her the tale. There was no telling what
Dunstan would do when he learned that his plan had been foiled.
Desperate men often took desperate measures. And a man as evil as
Dunstan, once the truth was known, would be dangerous indeed.
The sun was high in the sky by the time Conor arrived at Blystone's
estate in Warwick. When he reached the stables, he noted that most of
the stalls were empty.
With a feeling of dread he slid from the saddle and made his way to
the queen's chambers. Inside he found her maid folding linens.
"Where is Her Majesty?" he demanded.
The servant glanced up. "Why, she is hunting, my lord. Her Majesty
was quite annoyed that you absented yourself without her leave...".
Conor spun on his heels, without even acknowledging the rest of her
words. He stormed down the hallway until he came to Emma's
chambers. When he threw open the door, Nola looked up in surprise.
"Oh, my lord. You startled me."
"Where is Emma?"
"Why, she's hunting, my lord. With the queen's party."
"And she left no message for me?"
"Nay, my lord."
Conor spun away, hurt, puzzled. Why would Emma have broken her
promise to him?
Nola, watching him leave, called after him, "My lady wasn't going to
go on the hunt at first."
Conor paused, turned. "At first?"
"Aye, my lord. She had me take a message to the queen that she
wished to speak with her about some urgent business. But when I
went to relay her message, Lord Dunstan met me in the queen's outer
chambers and demanded to know the manner of my business with the
queen. When I told him, he said he would personally relay my lady's
message to Her Majesty."
Conor's heart nearly stopped. "And then what, Nola?"
"When I returned to my lady's chambers, Lord Dunstan and Lady1
Vaughn were already here. They said that the queen had asked that
they personally escort my lady to the stables."
"Did she go with them willingly? Did she say or do anything th
at
would indicate that she was in any danger?" Conor's throat was so
constricted he couldn't seem to catch his breath.
Nola thought a moment. "She spoke not a word. But she seemed...a
bit confused. She stumbled near the door, and both Lord Dunstan and
Lady Vaughn had to assist her as they took their leave."
Conor caught sight of the tray on the bedside table. It held three
goblets, but only one was empty. "Did you bring this?"
"Nay, my lord. It was here when I arrived."
He lifted the empty goblet and smelled it and knew instantly that it
contained the same potion Celestine had used on Emma's father and
sister.Nola remarked absently, ' 'They left in such a hurry, they left
my lady's hunting bonnet here on the bed."
Conor stared at the bonnet, with its adornment of feathers and lace,
remembering the last time Emma had worn it. And then, in his mind's
eye, he saw the way she had looked when she'd taken that hideous
tumble from the back of her horse.
That was nothing compared to what Dunstan would do to her now,
knowing she was privy to his plans.
He whirled and fled along the hallway and out the door to the stables.
On his face was a look of fierce determination.
"You must have ridden your mount at great speed, my lord." The
stable lad looked up from the stall, where he was busy toweling
Conor's lathered steed.
"Aye." At some other time, Conor might have bristled at the note of
censure in the lad's tone. But right now he was nearly crazed with
thoughts of Emma and the queen. Spotting another horse nearby,
Conor grasped the reins and pulled himself into the saddle. "Where
does the queen and her party hunt?"
"In the north field, my..."
Conor nudged the horse into a run, heading straight for a hedge. The
animal easily cleared it, then raced on, splashing through a pond,
scattering ducks and geese as he went. Horse and rider sped up a hill,
then tore across a meadow. And alLthe while, Conor scanned the
distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the queen and her party.
Far ahead he could see a flutter of cloth. A skirt perhaps. Or a bonnet
belonging to one of the ladies-in-waiting. He urged the horse even
faster, his heart pounding as loudly as the horse's hooves upon the
hard-packed earth.
When he drew near he recognized the young woman, who was riding
slowly beside a handsome duke.
"Amena." His tone reflected his relief at seeing a familiar face.
"Where is the queen?"
Surprised, she merely stared at him for a moment before saying, "Her
Majesty is greatly annoyed at you, my lord."
"Aye. So I've been told. Where is she?"
The young woman pointed. "Far ahead, my lord. She leads the hunt."
"And Emma?" He held his impatience in check.
She shrugged. "I have not seen her, my—"
He didn't wait to hear more. With a flick of the reins, his horse broke
into a run. When Conor spotted more horses up ahead, he urged his
mount even faster.
The party of hunters looked up at the solitary rider approaching.
Conor scanned their faces, feeling a wave of bitter disappointment.
Neither the queen nor Emma was among them.
"Where is the queen?" he called to her ladies-in- waiting.
' 'Her Majesty has gone ahead with the Earl of Blystone and several of
her soldiers. The hunt master spotted a magnificent stag in the forest.
The queen demands the right to fire the first arrow."
"And Emma?"
"Emma Vaughn did not ride with us, my lord," one of the women
called.
"Have you seen her?
One by one the women glanced at each other, then shook their heads.
One of them said, "I saw her early this morrow, riding with her
stepmother, the queen's cousin and Lord Dunstan."
"And you haven't seen her since?"
The woman shook her head.
The dread within him was growing, like a boulder lodged in his chest.
He headed his mount toward the looming forest. His heart was being
torn in two. He could search for the queen, and, hopefully save her
from assassination. Or he could search for Emma, in the hope of
sparing her life. Common sense told him he couldn't possibly do both.
Besides, he had no way of knowing if Emma was still alive.
I would know, he thought fiercely, as he urged his horse faster. If
Emma were dead, how could my own heart continue beating?
In the end, it wasn't common sense or even love that decided his
choice. It was, as always, determined by duty.
"Stop your struggling. It will do you no good." Lord Dunstan hauled
Emma roughly from the saddle and dumped her unceremoniously in
the wet grass. He checked the bindings at her wrists and ankles,
noting the bruises where she'd fought furiously to free herself. All to
no avail. Now he drew the bindings so taut, her hands and feet began
to turn blue. Blood oozed from a dozen different scratches and cuts,
inflicted by thorns and brambles.
Satisfied that she couldn't work herself free, he got to his feet. "Your
stepmother should have given you a stronger dose of the potion. I
warned her you were a headstrong little fool."
"Celestine is no longer my stepmother." Though her words were
slurred, and her movements halting, Emma continued to rail against
her bonds. Much of the morning was a blur to her. She remembered
struggling with Celestine and. Dunstan, and being forced to swallow
a foul- smelling liquid. But now, gradually, her senses were
returning. "Celestine is nothing to me now."
"And you are less than nothing to her. She will not grieve when you
are...disposed of. Nor will anyone else, for that matter." His eyes
glinted with an evil light. "A pity I don't have more time. I'd finish
what we started that night in the palace." He saw the telltale flush on
her cheeks and felt a stab of pleasure that, even now, he could hurt
her. "After I kill the queen, I'll be forced to put an arrow through your
heart and the heart of Blystone as well. And when I return to Warwick
with Elizabeth's body, all of England will hail me a hero, for having
killed the traitor, James Blystone, who robbed them of their beloved
queen. As for you, Emma, when the forest predators are through with
your carcass, no one will even recognize you. Nor will anyone ever
hear of you again."
At his words Emma shivered. They had traveled deeply into the
forest. If it weren't for a shaft of sunlight filtering through the trees,
she wouldn't know if it was daylight or dusk. She heard the rustling in
the brush as creatures of the wild watched from all around them.
Nearby a bird shrieked, sounding for all the world like a woman
screaming. The sound would drown out any attempt she might make
to call for help. She knew it would also compete with any sounds that
might alert the queen to danger.
The queen, Emma thought with a wave of guilt. She had been so
reluctant to agree to come to the queen's aid. She had only agreed for
Conor's sake. She closed her eyes and struggled against the tears that
threaten
ed. For Emma, this was the most painful thing of all.
Knowing that Conor would forever hold her responsible for the
queen's death, and the collapse of all his carefully laid plans for the
freedom of Ireland. He had warned of a bloodbath if Huntington were
to assume the throne of England. And now, because of her weakness
in the face of danger, all was lost.
She watched as Dunstan picked up a bow and tested its strength.
Satisfied, he bent and retrieved a quiver of arrows. Then he walked a
short distance away and positioned himself behind a tree, to watch
and wait for Celestine's signal.
Emma began frantically rocking to and fro, struggling to loosen the
bindings just enough to reach the small knife concealed at her waist,
though she feared it was an impossible task.
The forest was so dense, Conor had been forced to dismount and lead
his horse. At first, all he could hear was the silence around him. But
gradually, as his senses sharpened, he became aware of so many
things. The whir and hum of insects. The cry of a bird, and the
answering call of its mate. The rustle of leaves and underbrush as
small animals scurried out of his path.
And then something else. Not so much a sound as a blur of
movement.
He tensed, then let out his breath when he caught sight of Celestine up
ahead. She wasn't alone. A man in the garb of a huntsman was with
her.
Leaving his horse, Conor dropped to the ground and began crawling
forward. Concealing himself behind a log he watched and listened.
"You say the queen is coming this way now?" Celestine's voice was a
conspiratorial whisper.
"Aye, my lady. The beaters are driving the stag toward yonder wall of
rocks. There it will be trapped, and thus easy prey for the queen's
arrow."
"And her soldiers?"
"They will remain some distance behind, to give Her Majesty the
chance at first arrow."
"You will never know how grateful I am." Celestine took a heavy
pouch and opened it, spilling gold coins into the man's hand.