Previously: England awaits the Spanish invasion. Elizabeth orders two of her young heros to Spain on a mission. Each one has a beautiful but jealous lover.
Maria continued her sprint to safety until she reached the end of the long marble hallway which opened onto a broad balcony. Gasping, she clung to the railing, looking over the manicured gardens of the Alhambra. By the time she began to feel calm, she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.
“Darling!”
A frightened whimper escaped her lips as the arms spun her around. Maria smiled with relief when she saw Rodney, still dressed as Gypsy with a Gypsy-style smile on his lips. She kissed him. She would have run her fingers through his curly black hair but a colorful scarf covered his head.
“Dearest!” she murmured in his ear.
“I’ve missed you so.” He tried to go in for another kiss but, Maria stepped away.
“Have you?” Her tone took on a definite Germanic interrogative style.
“Why, of course.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anyone else?” This question had more of an icy English inflection.
Rodney’s eyes went wide with innocence. “Only Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth!” Maria put her hands on her hips. “Aha! So there is another woman!” After a pause she added, “Elizabeth who?”
“Why, Queen Elizabeth, of course.”
“Oh. Of course.” She giggled like a proper English schoolgirl. “How silly of me.”
“Am I wrong, or do you think I’m seeing another woman?”
“Well, are you?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Maria cocked her head and returned to her Spanish inquisitive tone. “Why did you answer my question with a question?”
Befuddled, poor Rodney muttered, “Have I given you any reason to doubt my love?”
“You did it again!”
Taking her back into his muscled manly arms, he gazed into her eyes. “Believe this. Until the day I die there shall be no other woman for me. I love you and only you.”
***
Meanwhile, in another long hall of the Alhambra, Clarence crept along, trying to stay hidden in the shadows. Without warning, a door swung open hitting him square in the forehead. After he shook his head Clarence saw Lord Steppingstone standing before him with the most startled expression on his face.
“Clarence Flippertigibbit!”
“Lord Steppingstone!”
Flustered, Steppingstone stumbled about with his words before he was able to blurt out, “What are you doing here?”
Clarence lifted his tiny but well chiseled chin. “I might ask the same of you.”
“Why, I’m here trying to find out the identity of the traitor in Elizabeth’s court, of course.”
“Well, that’s what I’m doing here too.” Clarence looked at the lord askance, not quite believing him.
Steppingstone rubbed his hand across his lips. “Um, have you had any luck?”
“None so far….” Clarence puffed out his chest and stood toe to toe with the lord trying to be intimidating. “But I’m not giving up until I have the rascal in my grasp.”
Being a toad, as King Phillip called him, Steppingstone took a minor step back. “Then we shall work together.”
“Very good.” The young man still had his doubts but shook hands with the lord. He regretted it at once because Steppingstone’s grip felt like a wet dishtowel.
“By the way,” the lord added as he withdrew his hand, “how have you escaped capture?”
“Well, you might say I’m staying under wraps.” He absently wiped his hand on his breeches, as though to dry it. “And yourself?”
“Oh. Well.” He forced a weak smile. “I’ve inside help.”
“Ah. It’s best not to reveal operatives, right?”
“Um, correct. I think it best if we separate.”
“I agree.” The bastard’s lying to me, Clarence told himself, as he turned away. Going down another hall and descending a broad staircase, he found himself in the moonlit garden.
By mere happenstance, he tripped by the large water fountain and landed on the ground next to a dark figure.
“Clarence?” a small feminine voice whispered.
He squinted, trying to focus his eyes in the shadows. He recognized the petite Gypsy dancer from the dining hall earlier in the evening and realized it wasn’t a Gypsy at all but his own beloved sweetheart.
“Alice! My darling!”
They clutched each other like two Chihuahuas in heat. When their passionate moans became too loud, a female voice with a pronounced French accent rang out from one of the upper chambers which opened on to the balcony overlooking the garden.
“Would someone throw some water on those two dogs? I kissing my boyfriend here!”
The outburst broke the spell and the couple sat up, breathing deeply.
“Alice! When did you decide on dancing career? And in King Phillip’s court!”
“I am not a dancer!” she protested.
“You can say that again,” he mumbled, hoping she did not understand him.
“I’m here to check—“she stopped to amend her statement—“to help you.”
Clarence hugged his beloved. “But that’s dangerous!”
She stiffened. “It’s also dangerous to stay home while your fiancé spends his time among the dark-eyed beauties of Spain.”
“Surely you jest.” He tried comforting her again. “You know you’re the only one for me.”
“Well, sometimes I wonder.” She failed to hide the suspicion which tinged her voice.
“You cut me to the quick, darling.” Clarence realized he was sounding a bit whiney, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I’m sorry, Clarence.” The whining seemed to have had a positive effect on her, however. “It’s just that I love you so. I suppose I’m being a silly goose.”
“And I love you all the more for it.” He maneuvered her in for another kiss.
They paused before they became too noisy and looked up at the full moon.
“Look, Clarence darling, the moon is shining for our love and our love alone.”
***
On the balcony, Maria and Rodney came up for air from their kissing marathon. She sighed and lay her head on his chest, which was as dense as his shoulders. He looked up at the full moon.
“Look, Maria, the moon is so big and pretty.”
She grabbed his head with her strong hands and pulled it down to her face. “And it shines only for us.”