Conor. Ruth Langan
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I don’t—” Emma began.
But Conor interrupted by stepping forward and holding up a perfect red rose. “On my way here I plucked this for you, Majesty.”
Elizabeth was so startled she merely stared at it. Then she wrinkled her nose. “You smell of horses.”
“Forgive me, Majesty. I was out riding on this splendid morning. But if I offend, I will go now and change my clothes.”
“Nay.” She placed a hand on his sleeve to stop him. “Being surrounded by so many women, I rather like the smell of a man. You will stay.”
“As you wish.” He pressed the flower to her hand.
She couldn’t resist accepting it and lifting it to her nose, breathing deeply. On a sigh she asked, “How did you know I love roses?”
“I didn’t. But since you are England’s rose, I hoped it would appeal to Your Majesty.”
She was smiling now, her earlier temper forgotten. “Sit with me. Both of you. We will break our fast together while we talk.”
Conor held a chair for Emma, then settled himself beside her. A mistake, he quickly realized. He was far too aware of her. Of the way her knees were trembling beneath the table. Of the way her eyes kept darting to the queen’s face, then away, to stare at a spot on her plate.
At a nod from the queen, her servants began circling the table, offering quail, pork, venison, as well as crusty rolls and goblets of wine or mead.
As she ate, the queen’s spirits continued to rise. Her appetite was amazing. She ate slowly, deliberately, washing everything down with more wine.
When she was finished she turned to Conor. “So, you like to ride, do you, Conor?”
“Aye, Majesty. There is something about giving a steed its head and racing across a meadow. It allows the mind, the heart, the very soul to soar wild and free.”
She was watching him, clearly enthralled. “Why is it that everything sounds so much better when you describe it?”
He shot her a wicked smile. “Perhaps because I believe in what I say. Would you care to ride with me one morning, Majesty?”
She considered a moment, then nodded. “I believe I would.” She turned to the timid young woman. “Do you ride, Emma?”
“Aye, Majesty.” Emma was relieved to speak on a topic about which she was knowledgeable. “On my father’s estate outside Dublin, we have some of the finest horses in all of Ireland.”
“A woman after my own heart. Then you shall join us for an early morning ride. And we will see if our English horses measure up to yours.”
Emma gave a shy smile. “I’d like that, Majesty, for I’ve missed the horses.”
In the doorway the queen’s butler cleared his throat. She looked toward him with annoyance.
“Majesty, your Keeper of the Treasury and your financial advisors have assembled for the meeting you requested with your Lord Chamberlain and your Lord Steward.”
She gave a look of distaste. “Why can I never have enough time for my own pleasures?” She took a deep breath. “I must be about the business of England. A pity. There was much I wished to discuss. Such as why Dunstan came to me last night, disturbing my rest. After I’d finished my litany of insults, he told me a wild tale that you, Conor, were the one who had sent him to my chambers.”
Instead of offering an explanation, Conor merely gave her his most charming smile.
Dazzled by him she turned to Emma. “And I’d hoped you would explain what Lord Dunstan told me about you.”
“M...Majesty?” Emma paused with the goblet halfway to her lips.
“That you caught your heel and fell against the wall, tearing your gown. Then you fell into a fit of weeping for which you couldn’t be comforted.”
“Homesick, no doubt,” Conor muttered aloud.
Some of the wine sloshed from Emma’s glass, and she began to wipe at it.
Before she could speak the queen gave an exaggerated sigh. “Ah. No matter. I must attend to more important matters.” She lifted the rose and inhaled its perfume, then got wearily to her feet.
At once both Emma and Conor stood.
“Stay,” Elizabeth commanded sternly. “Finish your meal. And tomorrow, while the others are still abed, we shall ride. Do I have your word on it, Conor?”
“Aye, Majesty. I shall see to the arrangements myself.”
She nodded. “A dawn ride then. I am eager to see if my mind and heart and soul will actually soar as you described.”
With a swish of skirts she was gone.
While the servants began to clear the table, Conor picked up his goblet and drank. Emma did the same. Her hand, he noted, was trembling.
She turned to him. “What do you think...?”
He gave a firm shake of his head and the question she was about to ask died on her lips.
He waited until the servants were about to leave. Setting down his goblet he offered his arm to the young woman. “Perhaps you would care to take a walk in the gardens, my lady?”
“Aye.”
Conor glanced at the back of a retreating servant, then added, “I believe the sunshine will be quite refreshing.”
They moved stiffly out the door and down the long hallway to the stairs. Once outside Emma turned to him. “You don’t trust the queen’s servants?”
“I trust only myself. And you should do the same.”
“Aye.” Good advice, she knew. Especially in the game she’d been forced into playing. She took a breath. “How am I to explain my tears to the queen?”
“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