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A set of young lords took up the spoons next as Jane, one of the kitchen maids, ran out onto the floor with rags to wipe up the mess. She looked a bit haggard from the game.
Elizabeth sat talking with Leister on her dais. Walsingham nodded to Greer as he continually surveyed the room. The man must never have a moment of peace. He was always on guard.As I should be.
Greer walked along the perimeter, and Lucy caught sight of him. Her smile relaxed as her gaze followed him, making his groin tighten. Her simple look would render him hard. Perhaps tonight he would teach her another position. Neither of them had mentioned a third night together, but their mutual desire seemed a bloody good predictor.
His smile faded. What if she became with child? He should stay in London until it was clear that she was not. Aye, he’d write about his findings to Lord Moray and send word to his mother that he must delay. ’Twas the honorable thing to do.
Honorable would mean he should also stop tupping her.Mo chreach.
“Why such a frown, Highlander?” Queen Elizabeth called. “’Tis a day of gifts and laughter.” She raised her arms in the air as if declaring everyone to be merry.
He bowed his head to her. “I fear I am always serious, Your Majesty.”
She blew her exhale out from between her dark red lips. “You and my spy master are cut from the same lot.” She nodded to where Walsingham frowned at the table set up with sweet meats. He gestured to several that the servers had to sample.
“If it were up to Walsingham,” Leister said, “he would have the servers eat all our food first. Then if they didn’t die, he’d order them cut open to retrieve your safe fare.”
“Don’t be grotesque, Robin,” she chided.
“I have a gift to present to ye from Lord Moray on behalf of King James,” Greer said and bowed, holding out the one gift for the queen.
She took it with her long, uncovered fingers. “Interesting ribbon,” she said.
“’Tis a strand of spun Highland wool, colored by the heather flower that grows on the moors.”
“How appropriate,” she murmured and unwrapped the woolen cloth to reveal a chain of gold with a ruby hanging from the center. She smiled at the rich gift, lifting it out to dangle from her beringed fingers. “Lovely,” she said and looked to Greer. “I will send a letter of appreciation, but please also relay how pleased I am. I believe that Lord Moray and I are on the page of peace, and I am glad for both of our peoples.”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” Greer said.
“How lovely.” Lucy’s voice pulled Greer around to see her standing behind him. Even though she spoke of the necklace, her gaze rested on him.
He nodded to her. “Happy New Year, Lady Lucy,” Greer said.
Behind him Elizabeth snorted, and Greer saw Leister whispering something in her ear. The queen nodded and looked between Lucy and Greer. “Well, Lady of Misrule, perhaps you will receive something as lovely from Master Buchanan. There are whispers that you two have been seen in each other’s company muchly.”
“I am but helping Master Buchanan stop the assassin he was sent to London to find,” Lucy answered without hesitation, reminding Greer what a talent she had for lying. “Since my predecessor was killed by chance, ’tis in my best interest, as well as yours, to help him succeed in his mission.”
Elizabeth tilted her head while studying Lucy. “Well said, Lady Lucy.” Her smirk said that she wasn’t convinced. Elizabeth looked past them where the minstrels had begun a jig. “Take me to dance, dear Robin.”
Leister stood, offering his arm, and the two walked away, Lucy curtseying as she passed. Greer stopped beside her. “I have a gift for ye, too, but I don’t know where or when I can give it to ye.”
“I have a gift for you as well,” she said, her gaze shifting outward on the room as if they simply happened to be standing next to one another. “Count to one hundred and meet me in the chapel.”
Perhaps the reminder of a condemning God would keep him honorable.
She walked away, speaking with several guests. Her scepter swept over a group playing Snapdragon in the corner and ladies shrieked and laughed as men kissed them soundly. Slowly she made her way to the door and slipped out into the corridor.
Greer walked along the sweetmeats table. Most of them were untouched. Would they be given to the poor if not eaten? Lord, he hoped none were tainted.
Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.
Greer strode out of the room and walked directly into the chapel. He would use restraint and then tell her he would stay in London until they knew she was not burdened with his child. The grand chapel, pews lining the center aisle, seemed empty. His boots clicked on the marble floor as he walked toward the front where a movement in the shadowed alcove caught his eye.
Lucy stood in a small, boxed room partially behind a curtain. It must have been a confessional back when Queen Mary renovated the chapel. He walked over and took a deep breath. “Lucy, lass—” he started but her hand curled into his tunic, pulling him into the tight space. She pressed her body against his, and his blood jumped to life once more.
There was no holding back, even if his soul was at stake. His arms wrapped around her, and his mouth descended on hers as she stroked down his back, squeezing his arse through his plaid. They kissed and touched there, tucked away from spying eyes.
His hands raised to cup her face. “Lucy,” he murmured. “I want to take ye right here.”
