CHAPTER ONE

Late August 1578

Hampton Court, Surrey EnglandQueen Elizabeth’s birthday is September 7, and Hampton Court was a throng of activity, preparing for the continuous stream of royal and elite guest from all regions. Allies and enemies called armistice as a show of respect and hopefully possible future political favors for their consideration.

It was a beautiful summer day; lines of elegant coaches adorned with family colors and insignia clattered and threaded along both major roadways and down narrow tracks that led through a large gateway with imposing wrought iron gates.

On up the driveway they traveled past lush green lawns, cloistered trees and acres of gardens. The aromatic perfume from thousands of multihued flowers floated on the breeze tantalizing the crowd’s already hyperactive senses.

Lord Ethan Clare and his childhood friend Sir Lucian Gilbert sat patiently in their hired coach choosing to ride together.

"Each year it becomes more like a spectacle. I wished I stayed out to sea till all this was over," Ethan spoke freely about what he was thinking. It was easy to do so with Lucian; they told each other everything.

Lucian gave him a sidelong glance of utter disbelief.

"How can you possible say such? Do you not get to see the lovely Lady Lizabetha during your stay at Hampton Court?"

"That is another thing which galls me to no end!" sudden anger lit Ethan’s bluish-green eyes. "I hardly know her, Lucian, yet I have been betrothed to her since she was thirteen."

"It’s a worthy match. She has grown in to a fine beauty of seventeen with golden hair to match your own. She has the bluest of blood in her veins," Lucian remarked his dark eyebrows arched mischievously. "You are to marry in the spring so take this time to get to know her … better, if you know what I mean."

Ethan’s mouth dipped into an even deeper frown.

"I do not befoul the innocent. Beside I am nine and twenty, Lucian, and have no desires to marry again." He leaned back in the black leather seat and closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

Time passed in companionable silence while each man rocked gently to and fro from the motion of the coach. It was Ethan to break the silence once more.

"They should have betrothed her to my younger brother Thomas. I lost one wife to childbirth. What if Lizabetha gets with child and I have to go through that nightmare again? I can’t hazard another loss of child and mother."

Leaning forward in his seat Lucian touched his friend’s hand in silent understanding. He remembered Ethan’s pain. Ethan and his first wife both were young and fortunate to have administered a love match with the approval of all.

Now, with Lizabetha, it would not be so and there wasn’t much Lucian could say to change the facts. Of course Ethan had titles to go along with his wealth, which made him a more acceptable match. Still, Queen Elizabeth predestined all men and women of wealth to be her human pawns forced to marry and breed into resilient powers she could call on in times of war. Ethan was one of those pawns and unfortunately his choices were no longer his own.

Their coach came to a halt and both men released deep sighs of relief for they would finally be able to ease their full bladders and stretch out their exceptionally long legs. A brandy to soothe the day’s dust from their tongues would also be most welcomed.

"This heat is unbearable," Lucian complained as he stepped down from the coach, adjusting his pease-porrige-tawny, brownish-green, colored paned slops from the sweating cheeks of his backside. "You know dressing as a gentleman is no easy achievement during this time of year."

Lucian stepped aside for Ethan to step down from the carriage as he continued to straiten his attire. The matching garters on his knitted silk hosen had nearly slid to his ankles and he figured he looked very foolish as he bent to tug them in place, but what was one to do at times such as this? He knocked the dust from his pleated tall hat with emerald brooch trim and two white ostrich feathers and placed it on his head to rest in a jaunty tilt.

Ethan stood by staring at Lucian in amazement. "I don’t see how you do it. I would go mad if I had to worry with that hat and those garters. " Ethan’s mouth quirked with humor as he touched his forehead slightly in a mock salute. "You have my utmost admiration, my friend; though, I prefer my garters on a pair of well-formed feminine legs. Preferably thick of thighs."

"You only wish you could look so pleasing, my friend." Lucian rolled his eyes.

"And I bet on days like this you wished you hadn’t taken the road of fashionable apple-john," Ethan said mockingly.

"Go to hell." Lucian smiled politely and punched Ethan playfully in the shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards.

"Ouch, you idle-headed idiot! It’s hot, crowed, and I don’t need you nearly ripping my clothes off!" The shrill cry came from a woman as she fought to keep her balance.

Ethan turned to see a dark-skinned woman of medium stature tugging at the silken red train of the foreign garb she wore and, to his amazement, his cock hardened.

"Well?" Sauda looked up at Ethan--the golden giant of a man, as if he were dimwitted. She boldly scrutinized his face, as he seemed to be doing hers. From his blond hair to the laugh lines bracketing his eyes, over his square, indomitable clean-shaven jaw with its deeply cleft chin, down his muscular body, all the way to his dust-covered leather boots with spur straps.

She gazed back up into his greenish blue eyes and placed her fist on her hips looking as if she was ready to knock him on his ass.

He held her gaze in silent amusement.

"I am waiting." Sauda muttered, her patience growing thin.

"Waiting," he repeated thinking he indeed sounded like an idiot. Silently he cursed himself for acting so dense. "Forgive me, I apologize for bumping into you milady." Ethan inclined his head

Sauda rolled her eyes, wondering how anyone who looked this good could not have a smidgen of sense. "I’m not looking for your apology milord, I am looking for you to move your oversized foot from the train of my skirt."

Ethan looked down, saw he indeed had her trapped, his face flushed, and he hurriedly removed his foot. She rushed away without another word or looking back. For some reason he felt disappointed by her rebuff.

"My friend, what or who are you staring at?" Lucian sidled up next to Ethan looking into the crowd of people--yet not seeing anyone in particular.

"Huh?" Ethan mumbled trying to not lose the woman in the throng of people. "Nothing I … I stumbled into a Moor woman."

"Here? A Moor’s woman you say." Lucian dark eyebrows lifted in question. "Where? I don’t see her."

"That’s because I lost her while conversing with you," Ethan scowled.

"Don’t get your hosen in your crack," Lucian chuckled noting it had been some time since his best friend had taken a genuine interest in any woman since what happened to him five years ago. "You got her name, so she should be easy to find once we get in the palace, probably some servant or one of the queen’s pet entertainers for her birthday."

Ethan scowl deepened as Lucian continued chattering. At this moment he felt like and idiot. I didn’t ask her name! He had her trapped and he should have questioned her before he set her free.

Seeing the look on Ethan’s face, Lucian halted abruptly. This was no big feat seeing how the crowd only allowed them to move so far with each step before the lines stopped moving.

"Ethan, you did get her name." Lucian let out a long, audible breath. "Tell me you got a name, so you won’t have me searching for a nameless Moor wench the entire time we are here."

"Lucian … "

The underlying tone in his voice spoke volumes to Lucian and he groaned and held up his hand. "I will say this once … I have ladies at court that are in dire need of my … my attention …"

Ethan snorted and rolled his eyes.

Lucian continued. "I do not have time to aid you in looking for this woman. Besides it is unseemly for you, the son of an earl, to dally with a Moor."

Ethan’s eyes darkened dangerously. "I grow weary of being reminded of my station in life every time I choose to be myself."

"Well, obviously you need your friends and family to remind you when you have no problems risking all. Like now, for instance, you are already obsessing over this woman, knowing how important this visit is for your family, seeing how the banners will be posted for your spring wedding to Lizabetha."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair with building frustration. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard this from Lucian. How could he disagree? Since his ordeal in that Turkish prison, he was no longer the same man. He longed for freedom and being under his parents’ dominating hands left him no room to breathe. Having his best friend Lucian on their side only irritated him more so he lashed out in anger.

"It’s easy for you to say. You have been free to pursue everything you’d wished in your life. No one has mapped out your every movement before you could walk," Ethan ranted in hushed tones as they began to gain curious glances.

"So I don’t need my best friend doing the same. What I don’t understand is you have been reared by an uncle who makes his living from peddling flesh and you do not know who your real father is … so who are you to judge me?"

As soon as Ethan brought up Lucian’s family situation, he regretted it. He had no right to take out his frustrations on his friend by reminding him of his own painful situation.

"I apologize, Lucian. I had no right … "

"Nay," Lucian picked at unseen lint from his sleeve refusing to allow the hurt to show on his face. "You have every right because, unlike me, you were born with all the trappings of one entitled and that gives you the right to speak to me like the orphaned bastard I am."

The silken thread of warning in Lucian’s voice let Ethan know that he had indeed overstepped.

"Forgive me. I know you don’t know of your past, so who can truthfully say if that is a true statement since we have yet to find your mother." Ethan stated soothingly.

"It also doesn’t change the fact that your mother’s father was well respected and so are your other uncles, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, and his brothers Walter and Carew Ralegh who are even now exploring the Americas for Queen Elizabeth." Ethan touched Lucian’s arm.

"Leave it to my mother to ship me off to the black sheep uncle of the family," Lucian chuckled.

"She sent you to your grandfather who died and left you to the only uncle that was wealthy enough to make sure you got an education and wouldn’t squander your trust on his own dreams before you were old enough to inherit."

Lucian laughed aloud

"True. My uncles would happily kiss all of the queen’s men codpieces, for ships. Aye, they would have used my money and called it an investment in future shares of worldwide explorations. As if some heathenish wild country would be worth something some day."

Ethan smiled, "Don’t be too hasty. Every country is wild until its tamed. I too, have made such investments, towards an island not too far from hence your uncles explore. I hope to someday cultivate it into a home for my family and me."

"You truly are mad. What makes you think Lady Lizabetha will allow you to move her to some island and away from court. It will be eventful enough traveling between England and your marriage properties in France. I don’t know when you will find the time, my friend."

"I will get back there eventually even if I have to request myself to be buried upon its grounds," Ethan vowed.

"Of course you will," Lucian appeased with a smiled as he placed a companionable arm around Ethan’s shoulder. "Come let us find this woman of yours and rejoice that you are finally getting the stiffness back in your fizzled codpiece."

"I don’t think they heard you across the courtyard you goatish base-court lout," Ethan said tersely.

"Takes one to know one," Lucian chuckled--all the anger between them forgotten. ***

Sauda could only feel relief when she caught up to her ward Frances Walsingham. She thought for sure she had lost the child in the crowd while the dimwitted Englishman stood there taking his sweet time removing his person from her gown.

"Sauda. You know you are suppose to not allow me out of your site." Lady Francis pouted.

"It wasn’t my fault didn’t you see the flaxen-haired giant that barreled into me?" Sauda knew she exaggerated a bit, but if he had been moving faster, a man of his size would definitely have knocked her over. "He was a complete ogre, not attractive at all." She pretended a shudder and tickled Frances.

Frances giggled. "Stop now. You know this hell-hated corset is about to kill me."

"Milady Frances, you know you shouldn’t use such coarse words. If your mother was to hear, she would have both our hides."

"As usual, mother is attending the queen, leaving you to tend to me so I do not worry one wit what she thinks. Besides you presently lied to me." She popped Sauda with her ornamented fan.

"Ok … so he wasn’t big enough to knock me over." Sauda laughed.

"No, that was the true part silly … now he being an unattractive ogre is a blatant lie."

"I wish you would stop speaking to me as if you were fully grown when you are only a child of eleven. It makes me forget myself and say things to you I shouldn’t," Sauda chastised.

"Oh pooh. If I am old enough to become betrothed to Sir Philip Sidney, than I am old enough to speak of boys."

"Boys are one thing, but men are another, Lady Frances, and I can’t believe your father would agree to allow you to marry so young." Sauda willed herself not to become emotional. When it comes to some things such as killing a man, she had no emotions one-way or the other. Yet, when it had to do with children, especially female children, who have no say; it sends her into a rage.

"Well Sir Philip is older than I, so he is a man. However, being betrothed is to only prepare you for what comes next and to let others know you are spoken for and to keep their hands off." She giggled. "I will have five years before I am wedded and bedded," Frances cut a side-glance at Sauda with mischief in her beautiful silvery colored eyes.

"Lady Frances," Sauda warned rolling her eyes. She gazed down at Lady Frances who was a pretty girl. She had a sweet round face with naturally cherry kissed heart shaped lips and a long straight nose. Her deep brown hair was currently fashioned in a version of the latest style split in the middle and swept back into a tiny bun with pearl netting. A single white pearl suspended from a thin gold ribbon rest against her broad brow.

"So, you truly think Lord Ethan Clare is an ugly oaf." Frances stated out of the air as they found themselves once more in an unmoving line heading into the palace. Her little fan moving rapidly to keep the sweltering heat from being overwhelming.

Sauda chuckled. "So is that his name?"

"Aye, that is his name. He and my father are acquaintances. I am supposed to start ladyship services under his mother, Lady Catherine, but Mother hasn’t stated when I start and don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer the question."

"Oh, was there a question milady?" Sauda asked sheepishly, her thoughts drifted to laughing popinjay colored eyes and a clean-shaven face boasting a prominent square jaw and cleft chin. A wan shaft of sunlight striking his hair until it gleamed like dark gold.

Lady Frances gasped, "My goodness Sauda, I would swear if your skin wasn’t so dark I would think you were blushing."

Sauda could feel her ears burning. "You are mistaken, milady, I don’t blush. It must be the heat."

"Heat indeed." Frances giggled and began to wave. "So you won’t mind if I invite Lord Ethan and his friend Sir Gilbert to stand with us."

Sauda turned Frances and ushered her further into the crowd.