All the Sweet Tomorrows (14 page)

“No, Robbie!” Skye cautioned.

Edmond de Beaumont had quickly realized his mistake, but he was a proud young man, and Robert Small’s furious tone had begun to offend him. It was up to her to defuse the situation. Reaching out, she touched Robbie’s hand in a gesture of conciliation. “Edmond meant no harm, Robbie.” Then she turned to the younger man. “I was not aware that you misunderstood the situation, m’sieur.” Her tone was cool.

“You said he was your
cher ami
, madame,” was the reply.

“I said he was one of the two best friends that I had in this world, Edmond.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “God only knows what you will think when you meet Adam de Marisco, my other friend.”

“I will think him a very lucky man, madame, and I beg that you forgive me. You also, Sir Robert. In Beaumont de Jaspre a woman is not a friend. She is a wife, a mistress, a mother, or a servant. You understand what I am saying?” He looked very anxious.

Robert Small shook his head. “You can’t do this, Skye. Even for the Burke lands, you can’t marry this duc. You hear his nephew. They have no respect for a woman’s intelligence in this place. You will be a thing to this man, an animal to be bred, no more. I can’t allow you to destroy yourself in this manner.”

“Robbie, I must obey the Queen! I cannot fight off the Anglo-Irish and their English friends. I need a strong ally, and Elizabeth Tudor is that ally. Her price is high, but pay it I must. If I balk now she will destroy me entirely. It will be all right, you will see. The duc and I shall come to a comfortable arrangement between us.”

Robert Small looked to Edmond de Beaumont, but now the
young man’s face was smooth and devoid of emotion. “Well, M’sieur de Beaumont,” Robbie demanded, “will Skye be able to come to an agreement with your uncle, or will it be as I have said?”

“My uncle is an old-fashioned man, Sir Robert, but he has a good mind. He is intelligent, and although Lady Burke’s independence will come as a bit of a shock to him, he will come to understand that this is the way she is, and I think he will even enjoy it. His first wife was a distant cousin from Florence, and a very timid lady. My uncle’s second wife was the daughter of a neighboring nobleman. She was a vapid little thing, really more a child than a woman.

“You, Skye, are far different from either of those ladies. Be patient with Uncle Fabron. It will take you a little time, but I know that you will win him over, and he will appreciate your intelligence as well as your beauty. You are the perfect wife for him. You must not be concerned, for I live at the castle and I will always be there to be your friend.”

“I’ll be there also,” Robbie said. “Be warned, M’sieur de Beaumont, that I will be making my home in Beaumont de Jaspre until I am sure that Skye is safe and happy.” He put his arm about her. “This is the daughter I never had, and she is most dear to me and to my sister. Her eldest daughter is my heiress. For all our lack of blood ties, she is my family, and I will not have her hurt!”

Edmond de Beaumont could not help the admiring look that crept into his violet eyes. He had not doubted from the moment he had first seen Skye that she was a woman that men loved, but that she could command such loyalty was indeed impressive. “You may trust me, Sir Robert,” he said. “Skye will be happy in Beaumont de Jaspre. I promise it.”

The doors to the salon opened, and Dame Cecily and the children entered. Edmond de Beaumont noted the proud, loving look on Skye’s face, but remembering her manners, she introduced him to Sir Robert’s sister before drawing her children forward to meet him. Dame Cecily, warned to his size, greeted him courteously before turning to her brother, saying, “I heard you roaring like a lion all the way to the second landing, Robert. I hope that you are not giving M’sieur de Beaumont a bad impression of England and the English.”

“On the contrary, madam,” Edmond de Beaumont quickly interjected. “Your brother has given me the very best possible impression of the English.”

“I want you to meet my children, Edmond,” Skye now said. “This,” she gestured gracefully with her hand to a tall boy who looked so very much like her, “is my son, Murrough O’Flaherty.”

The boy, dressed elegantly in black velvet, white silk, and lace, bowed beautifully, a lock of his hair falling across his forehead as he lowered his head. “M’sieur de Beaumont, I am pleased to greet you,” he said in a voice that Edmond could hear was but newly changed.

“And I you, sir,” Edmond replied courteously.

“My daughter, Willow,” Skye said, and Willow, gowned in red velvet, curtseyed prettily.

Edmond de Beaumont bowed in return. “Mademoiselle Willow.”

“My son, Robin, the Earl of Lynmouth,” Skye said.

“M’sieur de Beaumont.”

Edmond looked at the slender boy in sky-blue velvet and exquisitely done lace. His features were incredibly beautiful, if slightly arrogant. The boy had dark blond hair and unusual lime-green eyes. He was obviously his father’s son. “My lord Earl,” Edmond de Beaumont said politely, and then turned to Skye. “You have fine children, madam, if these three are an example. I only wish my uncle could see them.”

“Should our mother’s marriage to your uncle prove a felicitous union,” Murrough O’Flaherty said, “then your uncle will meet us all, m’sieur. Our duties here in England can spare us for a short time.”

Edmond de Beaumont was amused. The older boy was obviously spokesman for his younger brother and sister, despite the disparity in their ranks. The children were obviously disapproving of their mother’s marriage, and who could blame them. “I hope you will come to Beaumont de Jaspre soon,” he said. “You will like our small country. The weather is like summer most of the year round, and the sea bathing most delightful.”

“I have never bathed in the sea,” Willow said.

“Ah, mademoiselle,” said Edmond de Beaumont, looking up at her, “I shall take you myself when you come. Our sea is the blue of your English sky, and as clear as crystal. The water is warm, and the sea bottom golden sand. Can you swim?”

Willow shook her head.

“Then I shall teach you, mademoiselle! Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes, m’sieur!” Willow’s face was pink with pleasure,
and Edmond noted to himself that she, too, must favor her father.

“Will you teach me to swim, too?” Robin asked.

“Indeed, my lord, it would be my pleasure,” Edmond replied.

“I know how,” Murrough said loftily. “My brother and I learned early. We are a seafaring family, m’sieur.”

“Can you sail, sir?” Edmond de Beaumont demanded.

“I can.”

“Then you, also, will enjoy Beaumont de Jaspre. The sea about us makes for excellent sailing.”

“Perhaps, m’sieur, but I doubt that your waters can equal our fine Irish seas.”

“Murrough!” Skye was somewhat shocked by her elder son’s intractable attitude. “Please tender your apologies to M’sieur de Beaumont.”

“For what?” The boy looked surprised. “Our Irish seas are true seas, worthy of our seafaring talents. I have been told that the Mediterranean is naught but a placid Turkish lake.”

Edmond de Beaumont laughed heartily. “Indeed the Turks seem to think so, young Murrough O’Flaherty; but would you not enjoy going Turk-hunting in your own ship someday?”

Murrough’s face lit up with a smile. “Indeed, m’sieur, I would!”

“Then perhaps you will use Beaumont de Jaspre’s fine harbor facilities for your home base. After all, young Murrough, your mother will be our duchesse.”

The boy nodded. “It is a good deep-water harbor, m’sieur?”

“It is.”

Murrough smiled again. “Then perhaps I shall not find your Beaumont de Jaspre such a dull place after all, m’sieur.”

Skye looked in annoyance at her elder son. “I don’t know what has gotten into him,” she said to Edmond.

“Growing pains, I suspect, plus the fact that he really doesn’t like to see you leave England,” Edmond remarked.

“He is very protective of me,” she said softly. “How funny it is that my son should be so.”

Murrough had moved away from them now, settling himself with his younger siblings. Robbie and Dame Cecily were having a cozy chat by the fireplace. Skye sat herself down in a black oak chair with a tapestried seat and back. Edmond de Beaumont sat by her side.

“I do not think it strange that your son is protective of you,” he said. “I find it charming and very touching.”

“I am going to miss my children, Edmond. This is what makes it hard for me to go willingly to your uncle.”

“It will only be for a short while,” he reassured her. “You have been separated from them before. My uncle loves children, and will welcome yours. You will give him children of his own, too. You are a healthy, beautiful woman, and he needs you very much. Let me take you to Beaumont de Jaspre, to a man who will love and cherish you. My Uncle Fabron needs you, Skye. He truly needs you!”

She sighed. “We will travel on my own ship,” she said, “and the Queen must give us an escort to get us safely past the Barbary pirates.”

“And we leave?” He cocked his handsome head to one side.

“Will the beginning of May suit, m’sieur?” There was a small smile upon her beautiful face.

“You will not regret your decision to come to Beaumont de Jaspre, Skye!” he said fervently.

“I hope not, Edmond,” she said quietly. “I hope not.”

A
DAM
de Marisco had read Skye’s message, and his first thought was to refuse her. Another meeting between them was sure to result in one of their passionate couplings. He had never known a woman who was so sexually attuned to him. To even think about her was to want her unbearably.

“Damn!” he growled softly. He loved her so terribly, but he had always known that he would never have her permanently. His small kingdom, this island of Lundy, was all he had ever really claimed. Oh, he had had his time in the outside world. His lovely mother was a Frenchwoman, and he had spent many years at the elegant French court, but in the end he had returned to this small, lonely rock that was his heritage, and his inheritance.

He had known for many years that his seed was barren, the result of a childhood fever, and so he had never married. He enjoyed women, but until he had met Skye O’Malley there had never been one he wanted to keep; but he wasn’t enough for her. Oh, sexually he was more than her equal, and his family tree was as noble as hers, but he was a simple man, an island lord, a man of no power or influence. He might have been. He had the wealth necessary for both power and influence; but he had chosen to avoid such responsibilities. Court intrigues were simply not in his nature; not that they were in hers, but she was a beautiful woman, a woman who had had several husbands of
wealth and stature. That was her right. It never occurred to Adam de Marisco that Skye would have been happier living a quiet life. He loved her too deeply to see clearly.

In the end, however, his great love for her won out over his common sense. He traveled to London to bid her farewell. It was very likely that they would never see each other again. He would return to Lundy, and she would travel on to a small Mediterranean duchy where she would undoubtedly live out her life, the wife of a wealthy lordling who would be welcome at both the French and the English courts. His big heart leapt in his chest as he entered Greenwood and she flung herself into his arms in greeting. With a helpless groan he buried his face in her hair, her glorious perfumed hair.

“Adam! Oh, my darling Adam! I
knew
that you would come. I told Robbie that you would!” She snuggled into his arms.

“When do you leave?” he asked her, dreading the answer.

“A few days.” She squirmed from his bearlike grasp and looked up at him. “Don’t I get a kiss?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he said slowly as all his good intentions and his willpower disappeared. “Yes, I think you most certainly do get a kiss,” and then his shaggy head dipped downward, his mouth found hers, and he mercilessly took possession of it. Her lips softened beneath his, parting just slightly, enough to pleasure, enough to tempt him onward. “Witch,” he muttered against her mouth. “How is it you can wreak this mayhem with me?” His big hand gently caressed her upturned face.

“I’m so glad that you came,” she answered him. “I don’t think I could have borne to go away and never see you again.” Then quick tears came to her eyes. “Oh, Adam! Why are you so stubborn? I have been bartered into a marriage with a stranger! If only you had married me I should not be forced from my homeland and my children!”

“What could I offer you, Skye? Lundy?” He laughed harshly. “I once told you that I was not a star catcher, and you were a bright and brilliant star. How could I pen up a star, Skye? You have always deserved more than I could give you.”

“I don’t need things, Adam. You could have given me the one thing in this world that I need. You could have given me love, my darling.”

“But you could not have given me the same in return, Skye,” he said seriously. “We have been over this a hundred times, and it always comes to the same thing. I love you as I have never loved another woman in my life, and you love me. You do not,
however, love me as a woman should love a man. You love me as a friend, and that is not enough, little girl! I have my pride too, Skye O’Malley.”