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 well- traveled 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 p
leases 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 leftout. "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."
He bowed gallantly. "Then I shall have to lose, just so you can claim
them, madam. But they will prove to be far too big for your delicate
hands."
"Ever-'the gentleman. So." Elizabeth glanced from Conor to Emma.
"Are we agreed that the winner will demand an article of clothing
from the losers?"
Connor couldn't help laughing. "I doubt that either of you ladies
would have anything I might care to wear. But, since I intend to win,
She nodded as she pulled herself into the saddle. "I quite agree, since
I intend to be the winner. Am I allowed to claim the queen's riding
gown?"
"If you win, Emma Vaughn, you may claim whatever you please."
Elizabeth's tone was haughty enough to assure she had no intention of
losing this race.
The three positioned their horses while the queen outlined the course
that they would take.
' 'We will ride across the meadow to those tall trees, circle them and
return to the starting point. The first one back here shall be declared
the winner."
As soon as the others nodded their agreement, Elizabeth gave a shout,
spurred her horse into a gallop, and the race was on.
The horses were evenly matched. Though Elizabeth's mount was
slightly ahead, the other two kept up an even pace. As they rounded
the trees and headed back across the meadow, Conor's horse managed
to take the lead. Conor glanced over his shoulder and could see that
Elizabeth and Emma were gaining on him. It was Elizabeth's horse
that passed him first. She gave a shout of laughter as she raced, ahead.
Moments later Emma's mare streaked by, and she was soon straining
to catch the queen's horse.
In spite of the fact that he was losing, Conor couldn't help grinning at
the sight of the two women. It was a grand sight, watching the queen
and the Irish lass pouring heart and soul into a simple horse race.
It appeared that Elizabeth's mount would win. But at the last moment
Emma's mare gave a final burst of speed and began to overtake the
queen's horse.
As he watched, Conor ca
ught sight of a glint of sunlight reflecting off
something shiny just beyond the finish line. Though the flash of light
was too blinding to make out anything more, he thought he saw a blur
of movement beside a tree. Could it be an animal? A deer, perhaps?
Or a man?
Suddenly his attention shifted as he heard a cry, and saw Emma
tumble from her horse.
He spurred his mount into a frantic run. By the time he was leaping
from the saddle, Emma's crumpled form lay in the grass, as still as
death. Out of the corner of his eye Conor could see Elizabeth sliding
from her saddle and rushing forward. But all Conor's attention was
focused on Emma. So pale. So fragile. So motionless.
"By heaven." He was beside her in the blink of an eye. And as he
gathered her still body against his chest, his heart forgot to beat while
he pressed a finger to the pulse at her throat.
"Is she...?" Elizabeth dropped to her knees beside him. "Conor, is she
all right?"
"She's alive." As he began to examine her, he stared in dismay at her
arm, where an arrow had pierced the flesh.
"How can this be?" Elizabeth reacted with first shock, then slow,
simmering anger. "My soldiers knew that I would be riding here
today. They were ordered to see that no hunters were allowed in this
forest or meadow." She glanced around. Except for the nervous
pawing and stomping of their horses, there was no other sign of life.
But just beyond them loomed the forest, thick with trees and
underbrush. Any number of hunters could take cover there and never
be spotted. Her tone was strangled with fury. "Heads will roll for
this."
"Aye, Majesty. As well they should. But for now, our most
immediate concern must be for Emma."
In softest tones Conor crooned to her. "Emma. Can you hear me, my
lady?"
"Aye." Her lids fluttered, and she managed to look at him through a
blur of pain.
"We must get you back to the palace as quickly as possible. It will
mean a very long and painful ride. Can you manage the discomfort?"
She nodded weakly. "I...I think so."
Elizabeth got to her feet and stood watching as Conor draped his