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She had a sudden horrified sense of defeat, for certainly the woman who could charm a king must have some almost unearthly allure. Her confidence plunged, beaten and overwhelmed by her own superstitious belief that a King and everything which surrounded him was more than half divine. Her head dropped into her hands.

“Oh, Amber, my dear—please. It’s not as serious as that. She happened to be driving by and saw my coach and sent up to ask if I was there. I’d have been a damned fool to refuse. She’s helped me get what I wanted more than anything on earth—”

“What? Your lands?”

“No. Those were sold. I won’t get them back again unless I can buy out the present owner, and I don’t think I will. She helped me persuade the King and his brother to go into a privateering venture with me; they both contributed several thousand pounds. I got my letter-of-marque yesterday.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a letter from the King authorizing the bearer to seize the vessels and cargo of other nations. In this case I can take Spanish ships sailing off the Americas—”

Her fear and jealousy of Barbara Palmer vanished.

“You’re not going to sea?”

“Yes, Amber, I am. I’ve bought two ships of my own, and with the money I’ll get from the King and York I can buy three more. As soon as they’re provisioned and the men are signed we’ll sail.”

“Oh, Bruce, you can’t go away! You can’t!”

A flicker of impatience crossed his face. “I told you that day in Heathstone I wouldn’t stay long. It’ll be two months yet, or perhaps a little longer, but as soon as I can, I’m going.”

“But why? Why don’t you get a—a—I forget what Almsbury called ’em—where you get money for helping his Majesty put on his drawers?”

He laughed, though her face was passionately serious. “As it happens I don’t want a what-d‘you-call-’em. I need money, but I’ll get it my own way. Crawling on my belly for the rest of my days isn’t the way I want to do it.”

“Then take me with you! Oh, please, Bruce! I won’t be any trouble—let me go along, please!”

“I can’t, Amber. Life on ship-board is hard enough for a man—the food’s rotten, it’s cold and it’s uncomfortable, and there’s no getting off when you get tired of it. And if you think you wouldn’t cause any trouble—” He smiled, running his eyes over her significantly. “No, my dear—it’s no use talking about it.”

“But what about me? What’ll I do when you go? Oh, Bruce, I’ll die without you!” She looked at him pitifully and reached over to put her hands on his arms, already forlorn as a lost puppy.

“That’s what I asked you when you wanted to come to London with me. Or have you forgotten? Listen to me, Amber. There’s only one thing for you to do—go back to Marygreen right now. I’ll give you as much money as I can. We’ll think of some tale or other to tell your aunt and uncle—I know it won’t be easy for you, but even in a village a large sum of money doesn’t go unrespected. After a while the gossip will run down, and you can get married—Wait a minute, let me finish. I know I’m to blame for having brought you here, and I won’t pretend my motives were noble. I wasn’t thinking about you or what would happen to you, and to tell the truth I didn’t very much care. But I care now; I don’t want to see you hurt any more than I can help. You’re young and you’re innocent and you’re beautiful, and all that with your enthusiasm for living can easily ruin you. I wasn’t joking when I said that London eats up pretty girls —the town’s aswarm with rogues and adventurers of every conceivable breed. You’d be snapped up in a minute. Believe that I know what I’m saying and go back home, where you belong.”

Amber’s eyes sparkled angrily, and she lifted her chin as she answered him. “I a’nt so innocent, my lord! I warrant you I can look to my own interests as well as the next one! And don’t think I can’t see what you’re about, either! You’ve grown tired of me now the King’s mistress has caught your eye, and think to fob me off with some lame story that I should go back for my own good! Well, you don’t know what you’re talking about! My Uncle Matt wouldn’t so much as let me in the house —money or no! And the constable would likely set me up in the stocks! Every man in the parish would laugh in his fist at me and—” She stopped suddenly and burst into tears again. “I won’t do it! I won’t go home!”

He reached over and took her into his arms. “Amber, my darling, don’t cry. I swear it, I don’t give a damn about Barbara Palmer. And I was telling the truth when I said I thought you should go back for your own sake. I still do. But it isn’t because I’ve grown tired of you. You’re lovely—you’re more desirable than you can know. My God, no man could grow tired of you—”

Under his stroking fingers her sobs grew quieter, a warmth began to come over her and she purred like a kitten. “You aren’t tired of me, Bruce? I can stay with you?”

“If you want—But I still think—”

“Oh, don’t say it! I don’t care! I don’t care what happens to me—I’m going to stay with you!”

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