Conor. Ruth Langan

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      “With all that goes on in the palace, the question may never again come up. If it should, I think your safest explanation is that you are feeling adrift, so far from home.”

      “Aye. ’Twould not be a lie.” For a moment her thoughts strayed, but to her credit she managed to compose herself. She hugged her arms about herself and lifted her face to the sun, breathing deeply. “Each time I step out of the palace, I feel as if I’ve been freed from a prison.”

      “If you feel so strongly, why are you here?”

      She began to move beside him along the stone-paved walkway. “To please my stepmother.”

      “What about your father? Has he nothing to say about it?”

      “He...also wishes to please her. Like her cousin, the queen, Celestine is a strong-willed woman.”

      Conor paused beside a curved bench and waited until Emma sat before seating himself beside her. “Will you ever return to Ireland?”

      She looked away to hide the trembling of her lips. “It is my fondest wish. But I couldn’t leave without my father and sister. And I fear they will never leave England.”

      “Because your father has made a new life for himself here in England with his bride?”

      “Aye.”

      He stretched out his long legs, enjoying the sunshine. And the company. It occurred to him that there were few in England with whom he could converse. “Perhaps, if your stepmother could be persuaded to visit our island, she would learn to love it as we do, and your family could settle down in Ireland.”

      Emma shook her head. “Celestine is like so many in this land who have already hardened their hearts against Ireland. They see no reason to ever visit its shores or get to know its people.”

      He nodded. “Aye. And the feelings against our land continue to grow. Dunstan is urging the queen to send more soldiers, to bring the Irish rebels to their knees.”

      She held her breath, wondering if what he had just revealed might be important to her stepmother. Gathering her courage she asked, “And what do you urge the queen to do?”

      He shrugged. “What I always urge. Patience. Compassion. But Elizabeth is not a patient woman. And her closest advisors agree with Dunstan. I stand alone in this battle of wills.”

      “Oh, you’re hardly alone, Conor O’Neil.” Emma turned to him, and he was aware that all her shyness had somehow disappeared. In its place was a strange mix of emotions. Anger seemed the strongest, along with a strength he hadn’t noticed before.

      “And what is that supposed to mean?”

      She had no idea why she was experiencing this sudden rush of temper. This man was nothing more to her than a means to an end. But just thinking about his relationship with Elizabeth of England had her blood boiling. It wasn’t jealousy, she told herself. It was righteousness. He was a son of Ireland, openly courting the Queen of England.

      She stood, shaking down her skirts. “From what I’ve heard, you have the queen eating out of your hand like a favorite pet. And, if what I witnessed this morrow in the queen’s chambers was typical, I’d say you’ve found many ways to win her with your charm.”

      Though he was annoyed, he hid his feelings behind a lazy smile as he got to his feet, towering over her. “Haven’t you heard? Women can’t resist me.”

      She turned on her heel and started back along the path. “You’re very sure of yourself, Conor O’Neil.”

      He merely chuckled as he kept pace beside her. “Does that annoy you?”

      “I care not one way or the other about you. But I am grateful that you managed to deflect the queen’s questions.”

      “Aye. I thought the rose was an especially nice touch.”

      “It was all an act?” Stunned, she suddenly stopped and turned to him.

      When he said nothing in his own behalf she studied him more closely. “What arrogance, that you would use even the queen in this fashion. What favors do you hope to obtain for yourself, I wonder?”

      Without thinking he caught her roughly by the shoulders. “Beware my temper, Emma. Though I keep it on a tether, it breaks free from time to time. And when it does, it is a most unpleasant sight.”

      She lifted her chin, refusing to back down, though the mere touch of him caused her heart to stutter. “And you avoid all unpleasantness, don’t you, Conor O’Neil?”

      “Aye.” He hadn’t meant to touch her, but now that he had, he couldn’t think of any good reason to release her. Up close she smelled as fresh as the flowers in the garden. Her hair gave off a fragrance of rose water. “You might consider doing the same, Emma Vaughn, if you know what’s good for you.”

      “Is that a threat?” Her eyes narrowed. Gone was all pretense of the shy, timid young woman she showed to the rest of the world. And though her blood was pounding in her temples, she refused to back away.

      “Call it whatever you wish. If you’re wise you’ll take care not to make enemies among the queen’s friends at court. There may come a time when you’re in need of a friend.” He found himself staring at her pouting lips. Lips that were made for kissing. That thought had the blood rushing from his brain.

      “Are you suggesting that I should allow an animal like Lord Dunstan to do with me as he pleases?”

      “Of course not.” At the moment, there were any number of things he would be pleased to do with her himself. None of them polite. All of them far too tempting. “But you would be well-advised to find a way to hold him at arm’s length while not incurring his wrath. Dunstan is much favored by Elizabeth. Should you arouse his ire, you arouse the queen’s as well. And those who are not favored by this monarch sometimes find themselves and their families in grave danger.”

      “Then you need not worry, Conor, since you are obviously much in Elizabeth’s favor. Everyone at court whispers about her strange alliance with her...” Emma’s tone lowered in scorn “...her charming rogue.”

      She saw the sudden change in his eyes. She knew she had said too much, had gone too far. Alarmed, she tried to push free of his hands. But it was too late. The last thread of his frayed temper snapped.

      “Do you know how weary I am of that name?” He dragged her close and saw her eyes widen.

      Ignoring her little cry of distress, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

      Heat flowed between them. Heat that softened her lips, and tightened his hands on her arms.

      She tried to pull back, but her strength was no match for his. And then, as his mouth moved over hers, she was caught up in something so new, so powerful, she lost the will to fight.

      She had been kissed before, but never like this. At first, the kiss was harsh, demanding. Filled with anger and impatience. But even as she absorbed the first jolt, the kiss suddenly softened, gentled, causing her even greater distress.

      Conor lifted СКАЧАТЬ