Bertrice Small - All the Sweet Tomorrows

He had never heard her sound like this, so spiritless, so lacking in enthusiasm for everything, life in particular. He would have rather she had screamed and raged at the heavens for Niall's death. He would have far preferred she sobbed and wept at her loss. This cool detachment was a little frightening. Adam prayed it would pass with time.

She was wrong, he thought. Her children did need her, and more important from his point of view, he, Adam de Marisco needed her. Once he had lost her; once he had deliberately let her go. Now he had no intention of ever letting her go again. She didn't know it yet, but he was never going to let Elizabeth Tudor use Skye again. He would never again let her be helpless in the face of the Queen's demands. Skye would not return across the channel until she was his wife. Once she had accused him of not loving her enough to fight for her. This time he would fight any and all who tried to take her away from him. Skye was his for now, and for all time!

Edmond de Beaumont sighed sympathetically. "Of course Skye may bury her husband in the cathedral, M'sieur Robert. Pauvre belle! How is she?"

Robbie shrugged. "She grieves, but shows it not. Her mien is strange and distant, but I have known her for so long that I know she is in shock over the suddenness of Lord Burke's death."

Edmond nodded. "Will she see me?"

"Of course," Robbie said, "but she did say that you must tell the duc she'll not set foot in this castle."

Edmond nodded. "I understand, but I doubt he will."

"He has a wife?" Robbie prayed the answer would be yes.

"But of course!" Edmond said. "We could not take the chance of the French claiming Beaumont de Jaspre. Three months after Skye left him Nicolas was married to Madelaine di Monaco. Their first child is due within the next few weeks."

"Good!" Robbie said. "She's poised on the edge of insanity, Edmond, and she'd not be able to cope with the young duc spouting a lot of passionate nonsense at her. I'm glad that Nicolas is happy."

Edmond nodded again, but said nothing. It was better that Robert Small not know that Nicolas still hungered for Skye. He had done his duty to the duchy by marrying a young daughter of Monaco's Prince Honore. The Duchesse Madelaine was a lovely child of sixteen with pale-gold hair and soft, brown eyes. Where Skye had been tall and slender, Madelaine was petite and round. The two women were alike only in their sensitivity and intelligence. Edmond had chosen his uncle's bride carefully, seeking someone who would understand Nicolas's disappointment, and be willing to wait for it to ease. He had found the perfect candidate in Madelaine di Monaco, who adored the young duc from the first, but sensing his pain sought to soothe it.

"I hope for your sakes the babe is a boy," Robbie said pleasantly.

"Yes, we all pray for it," Edmond answered. "Still, both Nicolas and Madelaine are young and healthy. They should quickly fill the nursery of the castle."

The door to Edmond's library opened, and a lovely blond girl entered the room. "Petit ami, I heard that we had a visitor."

"Yes, Madelaine. This is an English lord, my friend Robert Small. Robert, may I present to you Madelaine, the Duchesse de Beaumont de Jaspre."

Robbie, his court manners elegant, bowed low over the little duchesse's hand. "Madame," he said. "I am honored."

"Merci, M'sieur Robert. I hope your stay in Beaumont will be a happy one."

"Alas, Madame la Duchesse, my mission is a sad one, but it need not concern one so fair."

"Robert has asked our permission to bury one of his passengers, an Irish nobleman who died aboard his ship. The gentleman's widow asked he be buried here rather than at sea," Edmond explained.

“The poor lady!" Madelaine exclaimed. "Is there something that I might do for her? Something that would give her pleasure even in her grief?"

"Merci, Madame la Duchesse," Robbie said, genuinely touched by the young girl. "Lady Burke needs nothing at the moment but a bit of peace. This incident has been very hard on her, as you can well imagine."

"I will go with Robert now, Madelaine," Edmond said, hopping down from his chair. "Where is Nicolas?"

"It is his day to sit in the Cours des Aides, Edmond. It should soon be over, though. I peeked earlier, and there were not many cases to be heard or judgments to be rendered today."

"Will you ask him to come to me when he is finished, Madelaine?"

She nodded, and then turned her sweet smile on Robbie. "Will you stay and dine with us, M'sieur Robert?"

"Alas, Madame la Duchesse, I cannot. My thanks, however." He made her a polite leg, and the young duchesse nodded toward him before departing the room. "She's lovely," he said to Edmond. "He ought to be damned happy with her!"

"She loves him," was the simple reply.

"Does she know about Skye?"

"Only that there was another woman, and that the woman and Nicolas could not marry," Edmond said. "No one in Beaumont de Jaspre would take it upon themselves to tell her about Duc Fabron's wife, for they would not hurt Madelaine."

"Good! Then with luck she need never know who Skye is."

"Unless Nicolas makes a fool of himself, Robert. He is not entirely over losing Skye."

"Surely he wouldn't risk hurting the lass, especially since she is soon to give him a child?"

"No, no, of course you are right," Edmond said, and prayed that Nicolas would behave sensibly. He walked to the table, stood on his toes to reach a decanter, and poured them each a small goblet of Beaumont rose. Then Edmond handed Robbie his glass, regained his chair, and, lifting his goblet, said, “To better days, mon ami!"

"Aye," Robbie agreed, and together they downed the wine.

As the cool, sweet liquid slid down their throats the door to Edmond de Beaumont's library swung open again, and Nicolas St. Adrian, Duc de Beaumont, strode into the room. "Where is she?" he demanded, his green eyes flashing with impatience.

"Sit down, mon oncle," Edmond warned the duc. "Sit down, and you will be told what you need to know."

Nicolas flung himself into a chair, and with a gesture of frustration ran his hand through his auburn hair. "Please," he said to Robert Small, "where is she? Is she all right?"

"Lady Burke is aboard her ship, which is anchored at quaiside in your harbor, monseigneur," Robbie said. "She has returned to Beaumont de Jaspre to ask that you allow her to bury her late husband, Lord Niall Burke, in a niche in the cathedral. She intends in several years, when the flesh has left his bones, to return those bones to his own home in Ireland. In the meantime she must inter him where she can retrieve him when the time comes. M'sieur Edmond has graciously agreed to allow Lord Burke burial space."

"Ma pauvre doucette," Nicolas said softly. "I must go to her!" He stood up, and was gone from the room before the tiny Edmond could prevent his leaving.

"Nicolas!" the dwarfs voice followed his uncle.

"Don't fret yourself, Edmond," Robbie said, an amused smile creasing his face. "Do you remember Lord de Marisco?"

“The black-haired giant? Indeed I do!" Edmond replied.

"He is with her aboard her ship, and he will not allow Nicolas either to hurt her or to make a fool of himself. It is better this way, my friend. The young duchesse will not be party to any of what transpires between those three, and Nicolas will understand once and for all that Skye is not for him."

Edmond relaxed back into his seat. "You are right, Robert! It is better this way. More wine?"

And together the two sat companionably quaffing the Beaumont rose while Nicolas St. Adrian called for his horse and then hurried from the castle down through his tiny capital to the harbor. It wasn't hard to find her vessel, for the pennant flying from its mast, the gold sea dragon upon a field of sea blue, was as clear a signal as a beacon on a black night. As he stamped up the gangplank he was met by Bran Kelly.

"M'sieur le duc," Bran said, bowing politely. "It is good to see you again."

"And you, Captain Kelly. Your good Daisy is well, I trust."

"Yes, monseigneur."

"Announce me to your mistress, Captain."

"As you will, monseigneur. Please to follow me." Bran led him across the deck to Skye's quarters, knocked at the door, and, entering, said, "Duc Nicolas to see you, m'lady."

"He may enter," came her voice, but Nicolas was already pushing past Bran into the cabin.

"Doucette!⁰

"Monseigneur." Her voice was impersonal, her gaze equally so.

Nicolas St. Adrian felt some of the confidence drain out of him. The pale, beautiful woman garbed in black who stood before him was somewhat forbidding. His remembrance was of a passionate creature whose every movement, every gesture, every word was filled with life and love. The lady before him was, however, quite distant and cool. He recognized the face, and the exquisite form, but as for the rest… "I welcome your return to Beaumont de Jaspre, madame," he said feebly.

For a second her manner softened. 'Thank you, Nicolas. I am so sorry to inflict this pain upon you, but there was nowhere else I might go. You do understand?"

He nodded slowly, and then he said quickly, "I have never stopped loving you, doucette! Never!" and his arms were about her, drawing her close to him.

"I, however, stopped loving you the moment I knew that my beloved Niall was alive!" she said harshly, pushing him away, freeing herself from his unwanted embrace. "For shame, Nicolas! Do you think that because my husband is dead I shall come running to you? What of your bride? What of the child she carries?"