In this sweeping historical epic featuring Skye O'Malley's brother, Conn, New York Times bestselling author Bertrice Small chronicles the lives of two lovers separated by the royal deceptions of 16th century Europe... Under the command of Britain's Queen Elizabeth, Irish nobleman Conn O'Malley and heiress Aidan St. Michael are married. Once a carefree rogue who believed his desire for seducing women could never be sated, Conn now finds himself enchanted with his new bride—as a passion ignites between them to form a bond of everlasting love. But a cruel plot makes Conn a prisoner of the queen—and Aidan the harem slave of a Turkish sultan. To be reunited with her true love, Aidan must use all of her seductive charms to outwit her captors and free herself... "Bertrice Small doesn't just push the limits, she reinvents them." —Literary Times "Bertrice Small creates cover-to-cover passion, a keen sense of history and suspense." —Publishers Weekly Bertrice Small  was the  New York Times  bestselling author of more than fifty novels. Among her numerous awards, she was the recipient of the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. She lived on the North Fork of the eastern end of Long Island, New York, until her death in 2015. “Incompetents!” shouted the queen, and she threw her workbasket across the room. “I am surrounded by incompetents!” A movement by the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to see her favorite page, the thirteen-year-old Earl of Lynmouth, waiting patiently for the royal storm to subside. “What is it, Robin?” she demanded in harsh tones, but young Robin Southwood knew that she was not angry at him, and so he gave her a dazzling smile. “The newest royal ward has just arrived from the country, madame,” he said. “God’s foot! Another one? Well, tell me, lad! Is my newest charge male or female? Yet in nappies, or out of them? Give me a name. Some hint or clue as to this latest in my long line of royal responsibilities.” Her lips were now twitching with amusement seeing the laughter in the boy’s lime-green eyes. “It is a young lady, madame. She is Aidan St. Michael, the heiress and only living child of Payton St. Michael, Baron Bliss. Her home is near Worcester. The baron’s estates border on my mother’s home.” The queen thought a moment, and then nodded. “Lord Bliss’ family is originally of good London stock,” she said. “The family has always supported the ruling monarch, and stayed free of court entanglements to my knowledge. Well, Robin Southwood, fetch her in to me. I would see this orphaned heiress.” The boy bowed himself from her presence, and Elizabeth Tudor smiled to herself watching him go. He grew more like his late father every day, although he had greater warmth than Geoffrey had had at that age. That was due to his mother, that Irish vixen, Skye O’Malley, now married to Adam de Marisco, and exiled from court with her husband to the royal estate of Queen’s Malvern. I miss her, thought the queen. Our whole relationship has been difficult, and yet I miss the excitement that always surrounds dear Skye. Her glance took in the other women in the room, and she snorted softly to herself. With few exceptions they were a bunch of silly cows who giggled and minced their way through her court seeking husbands. Most of them had the barest of educations, and could converse on nothing but men and fashions, and the latest gossip. She knew that behind her back they mocked her, and made fun of her despite her sovereignty over them. They did not dare to do it to her face, for even they understood her power, the power of life and death that she held over them all. Still, she had few real friends among her women. They but served her to advance either themselves or their families. The door to the queen’s dayroom opened to re-admit young Robin, and two other women, one young, one in her late middle years. The younger woman was attired in a high-necked black velvet gown of dated design, but excellent quality. Upon her head was a white linen cap edged in lace. Immediately the queen’s women ceased their chatter, and looked bright-eyed at the visitors. “Madame, this is Mistress St. Michael,” Robin said. Aidan curtsied prettily as did her companion. The older woman, however, was obviously stiff in her joints, and needed her mistress’ help to arise. This caused the queen’s ladies to giggle, and Aidan’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed. The queen shot the women an angry look for she disliked such unkindness. “You are welcome to court, Mistress St. Michael,” she said. “I did not know yer father, but yer family’s good reputation precedes ye.” “Yer majesty is most gracious,” Aidan replied. “Now,” said the queen, “the question is what are we do to with ye.” “If I might serve yer majesty,” Aidan said sincerely, “I should count myself content.” There was a sharp giggle at Aidan’s words which caused her to flush once more, and eyes narrowing the queen sought out the culprit, a dainty girl with a rosebu