This Heart of Mine (5 page)

“Go after Velvet, my love, while I think this thing out,” Conn said, pouring himself a healthy dollop of good Archambault Burgundy, then lowering himself into a large comfortable chair by the fire so that he might consider this thorny new development. He didn’t even hear Aiden close the door behind her as she hurried off to find Velvet.

Lord Bliss ran a big hand through his hair and sighed. When his sister, Skye, and her husband, Adam de Marisco, had asked him to keep an eye on their only beloved child more than two years ago, it had seemed a simple enough thing. He knew that although Velvet was spoilt and headstrong she would be safe here on her parents’ estate. She had, in fact, spent most of her life at
Queen’s Malvern
, except for several long summers in France at her father’s chateau,
Belle Fleurs.
It hadn’t even been necessary for Conn to bring Velvet into his own home, the lands of which bordered those of
Queen’s Malvern.
The child had stayed on in her own house with Dame Cecily, Robbie Small’s sister, her nursemaid, and all the servants
who had known her since babyhood. Everything had run smoothly until that blasted letter had arrived!

Conn swallowed the remaining wine in his goblet, then absently twirled the bejeweled gilt cup in his hands as he puzzled out what to do next. He was a big, bluff man with midnight black hair and gray-green eyes. Born an O’Malley of Innisfana, he had come to England with his sister almost fifteen years ago. As the youngest O’Malley of them all, he had been wise enough to realize that there was nothing for him in Ireland. So with no more than his extraordinary good looks, his charm, and a quick wit to recommend him, he had arrived at Elizabeth Tudor’s court. These small assets had been enough, however, to earn him the queen’s favor, for Bess Tudor appreciated a handsome man with a silvery tongue. Conn had been appointed to the queen’s own personal guard, the
Gentlemen Pensioners
, and from there he had begun his climb up the social ladder. The little share of gold he received from his elder brothers’ privateering ventures was invested in his clever sister Skye’s trading company. Soon he was a wealthy man.

Money and his position in the
Gentlemen Pensioners
overcame the drawback of his Irish heritage in the minds of the members of court. Conn held the queen’s favor so strongly that even when he addressed her as “Bess” he was never reprimanded. He was charming and roguish without being unscrupulous. He was considered a very eligible fellow and actually had his pick of any number of lovely young ladies and restive matrons. But Conn, rather like a large bumblebee, spent a great deal of his time flitting from flower to flower rather than settling down.

Overconfidence, however, has brought many a man down, and suddenly Conn O’Malley found himself in the center of a rather naughty scandal involving a noble lady, her twin daughters, and an ambassador’s wife. With the injured gentlemen involved both demanding the queen’s justice, Elizabeth Tudor had no choice but to send
“the handsomest man at court,”
as Conn was known, from her charmed circle. Before she did so, however, she tempered her judgment with a final kindness. She married Conn to a royal ward, Mistress Aiden St. Michael.

Aiden was at court as a maid of honor, having been placed in the queen’s custody at her father’s death. When Elizabeth Tudor wanted a bride for her favorite, she had remembered that Aiden’s lands bordered those of
Queen’s Malvern
, the
estate to which she had exiled Conn’s sister, Skye, and her husband, Adam.

The St. Michaels were not of the bluest blood, nor were they considered of first-class eligibility in the marriage market. Aiden’s great-grandfather had been a wealthy London merchant who had done a great personal favor for Henry VII, and had been rewarded with a title and estate for his troubles. Three generations later Aiden St. Michael was all that was left of her family, and the one condition that her dying father, Lord Bliss, had begged of the queen was that the bridegroom she eventually chose for his daughter would take over his name. The queen had agreed, for it was not an unusual request, and as far as Conn O’Malley was concerned, it was a reasonable one. There were, after all, shiploads of O’Malleys. Conn would not be missed at all, and he would have a title in the bargain.

Aiden St. Michael was not a great beauty. She was taller than the average woman, and somewhat bigger boned. Her skin was fair, and she had copper-colored hair and gray eyes. She was educated far beyond most girls of her day, even more than her bridegroom. But Aiden was bright and amusing, and she loved Conn O’Malley with her whole heart. Their early years together had been difficult, but now they lived the kind of life Conn had always dreamed of living. They were wealthy and the parents of a fine family.

Life had gotten
too
comfortable for them, he thought somewhat wryly. So comfortable that when they had agreed to look after his niece, he had believed that it wouldn’t disturb their peaceful existence. Conn grinned to himself. He really should have known better. Velvet was, after all, Skye’s daughter, and hadn’t his big sister been the hell-raiser of all time?

He shifted himself in the chair. The message addressed to Lord de Marisco had arrived only yesterday. Dame Cecily had brought it to him herself, for, having recognized the seal of BrocCairn, she suspected that it was an important communiqué. The old woman well remembered Velvet’s betrothal ten years before and how worried Skye had been about it. Skye, remembering her own childhood betrothal, which had culminated in a disastrous first marriage for her, hadn’t wanted to risk the chance that her daughter would suffer as she had. Still, Adam had wanted it so very much, and he had promised his wife that should Velvet and young Gordon not suit once she was grown, the match would be called off. Velvet was, he reminded his wife,
his only child, his beloved daughter.
Skye had at last agreed, for she loved her husband and knew he would never hurt Velvet.

Conn had debated about opening the missive addressed to his brother-in-law. Adam was probably still some months from returning, and the communiqué might be important. Conn felt that Adam would certainly understand. Breaking the seal Conn opened the parchment. Quickly scanning the message, he was shocked to learn that both the old earl, his wife, and his second son were all deceased. He was equally disconcerted to learn that Alexander Gordon, now twenty-eight, wished to marry Velvet as quickly as possible so that he might sire a male heir, there being no others in his family to carry on the Gordon of BrocCairn name. The letter was almost brusque in its tone.

Astounded by this turn of events, Conn nonetheless understood the gentleman’s position. Still, he didn’t feel he had the right to force Velvet into marriage with a virtual stranger. He was not her parent, and at that thought he heaved a mighty sigh of relief. He knew his sister’s feelings on the subject, and he also knew that Adam would not want his only child married off willy-nilly despite the official betrothal agreement. It was not Conn’s responsibility, and yet it was.

The earl would be arriving from
Dun Broc
within the next few weeks, but Adam and Skye were most inaccessible. The earl was within his rights to press for an immediate wedding, the betrothal having been officially celebrated. It was all very neat and quite legal. The only thing not considered or taken into account in the situation was Mistress Velvet de Marisco, a most unwilling bride.

“Uncle Conn?” Velvet had slipped quietly back into the room, and, coming across the floor, she settled herself into his lap as she had done so often when she was just a wee girl. He noted that she was no longer so wee, for she stood five feet nine inches tall in her stockinged feet.

“Ah, Velvet lass. Now don’t go trying to wheedle me, poppet. I’m in a quandary about what to do as it is.”

“But I don’t want to get married, Uncle Conn! I want to stay at
Queen’s Malvern
with Mama and Papa.” Her reasoning still sounded like that of a protected child.

“All girls marry eventually, Velvet. You’re going to be fifteen in a week, sweeting. Remember that your mama was first married at fifteen. ’Tis no great thing.”

“Mama hated her first husband!” Velvet said explosively. “She says he was a horrible beast, and that is why I should
never
marry without love! Mama promised me, Uncle Conn!
I will not marry without love, and I will not marry without my parents here!”

Conn shifted his niece in his lap so that he might look at her. God’s bones! he thought, startled. Her logic was childish, but she certainly didn’t look like a child! When had she gotten so beautiful? She had always been a pretty little girl, but the face now before him was incredible in its perfection. There was no sweetness about it as there was with his sister’s face. Velvet’s was elegant and oval in shape; her forehead and sharply sculpted cheekbones high; her nose her father’s long Norman one; her well-spaced eyes almost almond-shaped and green. They were marvelous eyes with sooty lashes so thick that they tangled amongst themselves; eyes that threatened to snare any man foolish enough to gaze into them too deeply.

Velvet’s chin was small and square, Conn noted. Her mouth was wide and sensual like her father’s, but she had Skye’s fair skin. He marveled at her hair, for though she had been dark as a child, it had become a deep rich auburn as she grew older. Her French grandmama allowed that her own mama had had auburn hair. Velvet’s hair was a luxuriant mop full of long, silky tresses that was greatly admired and envied by her cousins. Conn decided that though she had the family features she frankly looked more like herself than like either of her parents. He was also suddenly very discomfited to notice that she had developed a rather lush female form for all he still thought of her as a child.

“I’m sure your mother never meant for you to marry without love, Velvet. As I remember the marriage agreement, you were not to wed until you were sixteen. But the earl, because of the deaths of his father and brother, must marry quickly now and beget heirs,” Conn explained.

“Marry? Beget heirs?
Uncle, I haven’t even been to court yet! I know that Mama meant for me to have a little time at court before I married. I’ve never been anywhere or done anything in my entire life! My whole world has been here at
Queen’s Malvern
, or at
Belle Fleurs
, or at my grandparents’ chateau at
Archambault.
My whole social life has consisted of family parties. I’ve never been to London, nor have I even seen Paris! I will not be rushed willy-nilly into marriage before I have had a chance of doing these things! This wild Scotsman will not carry me off to that cold, wet land of his to imprison me in some damned dank castle simply to have babies! I won’t go! I won’t! You cannot let him take me! We
must
wait until Mama and Papa get back. It won’t be long now, I’m sure!” Her young voice was edged with panic.

Conn understood her plea. She had been very sheltered by her parents who adored her so very much. Velvet’s very birth had been a miracle, and until this trip neither Skye nor Adam had been content to let her out of their sight.

“We will explain everything to the earl when he comes to
Queen’s Malvern
, Velvet. I’m sure he’ll understand and be reasonable,” Lord Bliss promised, silently hoping that he was right.

Velvet kissed her uncle’s smooth cheek, then slipped from his lap. Though she led him to believe otherwise by her docile submission, she had no intention of sitting quietly and waiting for fate to sweep her up. She knew very well that if she allowed the earl to make the decision he would insist on celebrating the marriage immediately. She had seen how men looked at her of late, and it would be no different with this betrothed husband she had suddenly found she had. She was not that big a fool! Men thought they owned women.

“I am not getting married,” she muttered mutinously to herself. “At least not yet, and not ever unless I love the man!” Then she smiled mischievously. Uncle Conn had seemed so very relieved, innocently believing that everything was settled. Sweet old Dame Cecily thought Velvet was an angel, and would never suspect that she could be devious. There was no one to bother or interfere with her for several days, of that she was certain. It was time enough to put into action the plan she had been thinking of ever since she had digested the news of the Earl of BrocCairn’s impending arrival.

Although Velvet’s sister, Deirdre, was six years her senior, they had always been very close. Deirdre and her husband, Lord Blackthorn, lived just a few miles away at
Blackthorn Priory.
On the first of May they would be entertaining the queen, who was beginning her annual summer’s progress. Velvet had never met the queen that she could remember, although her mother said Elizabeth Tudor had seen her as a baby. The English queen was one of her two godmothers, the other being Queen Margot of France.

Deirdre had been half-promising for months that Velvet could come and get a peek at the queen when Elizabeth stopped overnight at
Blackthorn Priory.
Velvet’s scheme involved meeting the queen and becoming one of her maids of honor. The Earl of BrocCairn could scarcely go against Elizabeth Tudor’s wishes and take a royal maid of honor from court without the sovereign’s permission, and Velvet knew the queen’s attitude toward gentlemen stealing her maids away. She chuckled to herself, quite pleased with her own
cleverness. In the queen’s service she would be safe until her parents came home and the matter of this betrothal was straightened out.

“I’m going to ride over to
Blackthorn Priory
to get a glimpse of Her Majesty,” Velvet told Dame Cecily on the morning of the first of May. She had just come in from gathering an armful of flowers, and they were still wet with the dew. “Perhaps I may be of help to my sister, for she is surely very busy right now.”

“What a love you are, Velvet pet,” returned the old lady, “but have your forgotten, child? It’s your birthday. Do you want to spend it helping Deirdre with last-minute chores?”