in their household, blossoming under their loving care. In the past months he had grown more than an inch in height. The beginnings of muscles could be seen beneath the sleeves of his tunic.
Conor tousled the blonde hair and dragged the lad close. “Next time I leave, maybe you can go with me.”
“You mean it?”
“Aye, lad. Though I think, when I return from England, I’ll be home to stay.”
Conor turned to his little sister, Briana, who was openly weeping. “No tears now, lass. I’ll be home before you have time to miss me.”
“I miss you already.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But when the Queen of England issues an invitation, it’s really a royal command. I must go.”
“She isn’t my queen.” Briana pushed from his arms and stomped her foot. She’d inherited her temper, as fiery as her hair, from her father. “Nor is she your queen, Conor.”
“True enough. But I’ve learned that ‘tis ofttimes more prudent to lull an enemy with sweet songs than to approach with sword raised. So I’ll go to England, lass, and watch and listen.” He shot her that charming smile that had broken the heart of many a colleen. “And even croon a minstrel’s song of love to the lady on the throne, if that’s what it takes to keep my people safe from English swords.”
He pulled himself into the saddle and saluted his family smartly. Then, with a last wave at the servants who had assembled to wish him godspeed, he turned his mount toward Dublin.
Before he reached the village he turned for a lingering look at Ballinarin. The sun had burned away the last of the morning raindrops. The sky was awash with feathery clouds that seemed to brush the highest peaks of Croagh Patrick. A waterfall cascaded down the side of the mountain, sending up a misty spray. A flock of sheep undulated across a hillside. This land was so green, so beautiful, it seemed like an artist’s rendering.
He thought of his little sister Briana’s words to him and felt a sigh well up from deep inside. He wasn’t yet gone, and already he missed the land of his birth. At times he felt like a nomad. Since boyhood he’d spent as much time away as he had at his beloved home. He’d lived with a tutor in a villa in Rome, where he’d mastered the classics. Learned to speak fluent Spanish in a monastery. Could converse in French after two years in Paris. What he longed for, more than anything else, was to spend the rest of his life at Ballinarin. Hearing words spoken in a soft, soothing brogue. Riding his horse across the green, verdant hills. But he had a duty. To his father. To his country. This was what he had trained for. What his mother had prayed for. What his father and brother had fought for.
He would do his best to turn away from his legacy as a warrior and become, instead, an advocate for peace. But if peace could not prevail, he would never submit to the oppressor. He touched a hand to the knife at his waist. A knife that had spilled too much English blood.
There was no turning his back on his destiny.
Clermont House, Outside London.
“I grow weary of waiting for the throne.” Henry, Earl of Huntington, paced back and forth. “Elizabeth grows more popular with her subjects every day.”
His sister put a hand on his arm. “Queens have a way of dying.”
He turned on her with a snarl. “Elizabeth is young and healthy. She could live for years.”
“She need not die of...natural causes.”
He studied her with new interest. “What are you planning?”
“What I have always planned. What we have always planned, brother. You will be king.” She turned to the other man in the room, who had remained silent throughout their exchange. “You, Dunstan, will get richer. And I...” Her smile bloomed. “As the new Lady Vaughn, I hold power over a certain someone who will do exactly as I say.”
Her brother Henry’s frown deepened. “How can you be certain your stepdaughter will spy for us, Celestine?”
She walked to the window and pointed. “You see? Even now she rides up the lane. The girl is as predictable as the English rain. She thinks herself smart and strong. But I intend to prove her wrong.” She touched a hand to his arm. “Leave Emma Vaughn to me. And put your fears to rest. Prepare, instead, for your reign as King of England.”
Huntington’s voice was rough with impatience. “I am not prepared to wait forever.”
“Nor am I,” Dunstan said. “For I have a few plans of my own.”
“Then see to them. But if your plans fail, mine will not.” She left her brother and Lord Dunstan and went to her chambers to prepare herself for her performance. It was an art that she had perfected.
When she was ready she descended the stairs and made her grand entrance. “Foolish, defiant child. I ordered you to stay away. It is enough that I permit you use of your father’s London townhouse.” Celestine swept into the parlor with the polished air of a courtesan. Her gown had been artfully designed to show off her lush figure to its best advantage. Her eyes blazed as she confronted the young woman who was pacing before the fireplace. “Did you think the servants wouldn’t tell me you were lurking about?”
“I am not lurking.” Emma stopped her pacing and lifted her head to stare at the older woman. “I’ve come to see my father and little sister.”
“I’ve told you before, Emma. You are forbidden to see them.”
“You have no right, Celestine.”
“I have every right. I’m your stepmother now. Yours and little Sarah’s. And your father’s wife. It is a wife’s duty to look out for her husband.”
“Husband.” Emma’s hands knotted into fists at her sides. “You care not a whit about being a wife to my father. All you care about is securing his wealth.”
The woman gave a chilling smile. “It is my wealth now. I’ll use it as I see fit. And you, my girl, will not see a farthing.”
“I care not for my father’s wealth.”
“If that is true then leave.”
“Oh, I shall. But first I will see my father and little sister.”
“I forbid it.”
“You cruel, wicked creature. If my father knew what you were doing, he would renounce this farce of a marriage and have you publicly flogged.”
“Beware that idle tongue, my girl. For I am the mistress of Clermont House now. And I am telling you that your father and sister do not wish to see you.”
“That’s a lie. My father loves me. He would never turn away from me. Sarah adores me. I’m like a second mother to her.” With an anguished cry Emma crossed the room and caught the older woman’s arm. “What have you said to them? What have you done to turn them against me?”
She looked up into those narrowed eyes and saw a flicker of amusement. “They don’t know, do they? You’ve never told them
