Lord Ethan Clare is his own man although his family and Queen are forcing him to do his duty and marry once again. He lost his first wife in childbirth and he really does not want to marry again. Ethan will do as he is asked even though he has fallen for another. He has made many enemies while working for his Queen. Now he has found the one for him and they are both tangled in a web of intrigue and deceit. Ethan has his hands full with the mysterious Sauda, his family duties and trying to discover who the leader of the Knights of Darkness is. Ethan is different from the rest of his family and he does not know why. Sauda is like no one he has ever met and he is willing to give everything up for their forbidden love.

Sauda Mauri is a trained assassin. She has been a slave and an assassin for many years and now she has a chance of freedom if she can complete her mission. She has run away from her master and is traveling under the disguise of Lady Francis’s nursemaid so she can get her assignments and earn her freedom. She does not need a complication and Lord Ethan is more than determined to be just that. She will not let her emotions get the better of her; she has a job to do. Sauda will not be his mistress and can never be his wife. Will Sauda follow her heart or will she settle for being Ethan’s mistress? Will Ethan forget family duties and take a chance with his forbidden love?

PROLOGUE

"Walsingham, soon the Court will be buzzing with activities. All the lords and their ladies will be arriving at Hampton Court for my birthday celebration!" Queen Elizabeth suppressed a childish giggle. She loved celebrating her birthdays as well as watching all her suitors try to surpass one another with their gifts to her.

"Remember the year those two piglets were given to you?" Sir Francis Walsingham chuckled at the happy memory.

"Aye, I tied ribbons heavy with rings from my fingers around their necks and declared whoever could catch them, won the rings! It was so entertaining watching all those richly clothed royals, rolling about the floor."

"Aye it was a sight indeed." Sir Francis agreed. They continued to walk in companionable silence. Queen Elizabeth's step slowed as she pondered and continued.

"Lord Ethan Clare is betrothed to one of my ladies in waiting, Lizabetha my god-daughter. The Clare citizens have been most loyal and profitable people of England."

"Aye, Your Grace, may I add Lord Ethan is also a superb captain of the sea." Sir Walsingham offered with a gleam of admiration in his gray eyes. "As you are aware, the young man has helped us from time to time on his foreign journeys and of late with some most important security information."

Elizabeth walked over to the seat by the window of her private salon. With quiet poise, she settled onto the deep red cushion, arranging her skirts about her.

"I took note of him because he is a wealthy man by his own right and add this to the wealth of his father he is a most excellent match." Elizabeth motioned him to take a seat.

"Indeed he is, Your Grace."

"Now attend me to the more grave matters Walsingham, such as the latest news on this silent tyranny that hovers over my pending celebrations."

Walsingham felt deep admiration and fondness for the woman before him. It was his duty as Secretary of State to assure her safety and he took his duties seriously. However, this matter had begun to age him in an expeditious manner.

"Well, Walsingham," Elizabeth voiced louder, patience not being her strongest virtue. "So what say you of this new commerce of hooded men dressed in black armor kidnapping and holding members of my court for ransom?" She leaned toward him, her eyes cold. "Who would dare be so bold?"

The tensing of his jaw betrayed his frustrations. "Your Majesty, we have found nigh all, except the one who started this subversion. He remains elusive and one step ahead. Not even the men who cohorts with him claim to know him."

A probing query came into her eyes. "Any of these cohorts members of my court?"

"Indeed, there are members of the royal court involved. They are using the ill gains to acquire foreign supporters to aid in removing Mary, Queen of Scot from your prison and placing her Catholic presence in your place of power."

Elizabeth leaned back, suppressing a sigh. Unspoken pain was alive and flaming in her eyes.

"I grow weary of this constant state of unrest," she supposed matter-of-factly.

"Heed my words. Mary of Scotland should lose her head once and for all." Sir Walsingham commented as if the answer was obvious.

Raising fine painted arched eyebrows, she protested.

"I do not wish to put my cousin Mary Stuart of Scotland's head on the block. She is a guest not a prisoner. It takes a strong will and great sacrifice for a woman to run a country."

"However, Your Majesty--"

"Sir Francis Walsingham, if you wish to introduce this subject with me once again, I pray you have conclusive evidence of her part in these reprehensible plots," she demanded in a penetrating voice.

"I will, one day, bring you what you need, Your Majesty." He bowed his dark head with proper regard.

"And on that day I shall do what must be done for the good of England," her eyes flashed imperiously. Elizabeth flicked her fan open and began to fan slowly herself.

The piquant scent of pungent roses waft the stilted air, yet Sir Francis Walsingham would not be so ill kept in manners to comment on the aging queen's hygiene, but there was hope with the celebration of her birth nearing the periodical bath would come hence.

"So what shall we do about these wayward lords who commit treason?"

Stroking his well-groomed bearded chin, he chose his words carefully. "I thought it not wise to arrest them and go through public trials. We are speaking mostly of young sons of influential loyal families. So it would be difficult to get full cooperation of the Privy Council."

She paused in fanning.

Thank God.

"So, they are free to continue kidnapping, plotting and causing fear amongst my dominion."

"I believed if we made this outcry public and send them to the block, it would create even more martyrs for the Catholic people who support them," he waited to discern her train of thought.

Once more, her fanning began again earnestly.

God please, have mercy on me.

Her tiny cream-colored silk-covered heel tapped nervously against the polished floor. "Your suggestion sir and I beg you be quick about it."

Moreover, I beg you, to stop fanning.

Sir Walsingham cleared his throat and blotted his face with the perfumed handkerchief that was pinned in the wrist of his doublet.

"I have already taken leave to deal with the matter discreetly and quietly."

"Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

"It's the only way, I most assure you." Walsingham stated, his eyes flashed a familiar display of impatience.

"My good man, it is not your assurances I need. Be advised, the only way, is the way of my choosing, not yours."

"My most humble apologies, Your Grace," he once again bowed his head penitently.

Elizabeth watched him with a critical squint trying to decide if she should continue to reprimand him for not speaking to her first. Instead, she decided to ponder the essentials. These young royals seem bolder than the rest. They were foolish to think they could accomplish what many had tried over the years.

"Walsingham, if only young heads take example of the ancient," she let out a long, audible breath.

"Your Grace, I did as I saw suitable. Your welfare, is my only concern and for the good of England, I would die!"

His voice was passionate and it excited her more than the flesh of a man ever could.

"Oh, Walsingham, they have brought this anarchy upon themselves."

"Aye, Your Majesty."

"Unbridled persons whose mouths are never snuffled by the rider will rashly continue to ride." Elizabeth announced before turning the full impact of her shrewd gaze on Sir Walsingham. "So tell me does the Moor woman still watch over your daughter Frances?"

"Aye, Your Grace and she will service as needed for the freedom we allowed her."

She remained motionless for a moment her thoughts scampered vaguely around before she made her decision.

"Continue to ascend your dark hand of justice and heed from this day on I know nothing of what you do." She conceded.

Walsingham stared at her face full of strength, shining with a steadfast and serene peace.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Requisite to his duties, he stood gazing at her ivory painted face with blood red, bow-shaped lips pursed in deep thought. The wig she chose today was as crimson. He knew her well enough to know she had more to say.

"Walsingham?"

"Aye, Your Grace?"

"Is Captain Clare on the list?"

"Of say not, Your Majesty. He is one few I know I can trust."

"Trust no one!" She slapped her fan shut on her regal silk cream-colored taffeta gown. Long illustrious pearls gently tossed together from the gentle breeze of her movements.

"Trust and love got several of my father's wives head on the block," she reminded. "Thus England is my lover and I am England, thus I trust only myself."

"As it should be Your Grace. I assure you if for some reason the young Clare or any member of his family name arises to the list, I will take care of it discreetly," he vowed as he captured her gloved hand and gently touched it to his lips ever so thankful she wore perfumed gloves.

"Also Walsingham make sure you seize the purses of all the young lords who commit treason against me. " She reminded.

"You are most wise, Your Grace." Walsingham bowed with flourish, his hand over his heart. "Thus, to do so would mean visibly bringing their crimes to light upon the remaining citizens of the Privy Council and as you have agreed the less you know of this matter, the better."

"So not only do the thieves purse become full by their treachery, you are saying my hands are bound from seizing it back?" Elizabeth arched a finely painted brow.

"Unfortunate news indeed." Sir Francis pursed his lips awaiting the possible royal temper tantrum to follow.

"Walsingham, I want you to make sure this situation is in hand and I mean soon." She commanded and to his relief no tantrums followed.

"Of course, Your Majesty." He went down gallantly on his knee touching his forehead to her gloved hand before standing and gracefully backed out the room.