All the Sweet Tomorrows (5 page)

“Lord Burke’s wife is dead,” Darragh said. “Sister Mary Claire told me that Skye O’Malley is dead in childbirth.”

“My sister is very much alive,” Eibhlin replied.

Darragh shook her head in the negative. “No,” she said firmly. “Skye O’Malley is dead, and Lord Burke was a wicked and lustful man. I could not let him force me back into carnal bondage. I could not!”

Darragh O’Neil was quickly sliding away again into her mindless and mad world. “Why did you throw his body into the sea?” Eibhlin asked quickly. “What has happened to Sister Mary Claire? Please tell me.”

For a brief moment Darragh’s reason returned, pricked by the urgency in Eibhlin’s voice. “We lay his body on the beach for the incoming tide. There was so much blood. So much blood. The sea was lapping at his feet the last time I turned to look at him. He’ll not come back to get me now, that wicked lustful man!”

“Sister Mary Claire?” persisted Eibhlin.

“Is she not still here?” was the reply. “We returned from the beach together. She was my friend.” Darragh’s eyes grew vacant again, and she arose from the bed, knelt before the crucifix upon the wall, her rosary clutched tightly in her hands. “I must pray that the Devil will not be too harsh on Lord Burke,” she said in a suddenly prim voice. “It is my duty to pray for him despite his many sins.”

Eibhlin could see that she had lost the unfortunate woman’s attention. She knew now what she needed to know. The half-mad
Darragh O’Neil had been used by the vengeful Claire O’Flaherty to murder Niall Burke. It was a pity that Niall hadn’t killed the woman himself the last time they had locked horns in London. He had had the Queen’s blessing to dispose of her, but instead he had simply driven her from the city and, he had supposed, from his life. It had never occurred to Niall, for he was simply not that kind of man, that Claire would seek to harm him further.

Claire O’Flaherty!
Eibhlin arose from the pallet bed where she had been sitting with Darragh O’Neil, and walked from the tiny cell.
Claire O’Flaherty!
Skye’s sister-in-law from her first marriage, whose incestuous relationship with her brother, Dom, had driven Skye to leave her husband.
Claire O’Flaherty!
She was the most evil, the most wicked, the most venal woman Eibhlin had ever known. If the Devil had truly fathered a daughter, then Claire O’Flaherty was that daughter.

“M’lady!” Daisy shook Skye’s shoulder firmly. “M’lady, you will have to awaken.”

Slowly Skye opened her marvelous blue-green eyes and, turning over onto her back, gazed up at her servant. “How long have I slept?”

“Almost a full two days, m’lady, and Captain Kelly says we’ll be at Lundy shortly before sunset. I thought you might want to freshen yourself.”

Looking down at her travel-stained garments, Skye grimaced. The edges of her doubled-legged skirt and her sturdy woollen hose were filthy. How could her hose be so dirty when she wore boots over them? She shook her head. The boots, she noted, stood cleaned by her bed. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Her silk shirt was stained beneath the arms and her doublet was wrinkled. “Oh, Daisy, I am a disaster,” she said, shaking her head.

Daisy chuckled. “A bath will fix you right up, m’lady. They loaded an extra keg of water aboard for you in Waterford, and it’s heating in the galley right this minute. Captain Kelly understands your peculiarities. I’ll have a man bring the water in, along with a small tub, m’lady.”

“Get me something to eat too, Daisy. I’m famished!” Skye’s stomach rumbled in confirmation of this statement.

While Daisy saw to her meal and her bath, Skye walked outside and around the deck, greeting her men as she went. The breeze was still brisk and fresh and clean with the first early days
of spring. Straining her eyes, she could just begin to make out the far dark rock that was Lundy Island. In less than two hours she would be there; and he would comfort her as he had so many times before. Skye returned to the master’s cabin of the ship, where a seaman was just exiting after having delivered the small oak tub and the hot water.

Skye stripped off her grimy garments, handing them to Daisy as she did so. Completely nude, she stepped into the little tub and sat down. “Ahhh,” she breathed, pleased, “that is so good, Daisy. I didn’t feel my aches until just now.” Reaching out, she picked up the small cake of rose-scented soap that Daisy had left on the floor by the tub, and began to lather it between her hands. Daisy moved in behind her mistress, pinning her marvelous dark hair atop her head. Then, taking the soap from Skye, she briskly washed her back and commanded her to stand so she might wash her buttocks and long legs. Quickly she rinsed Skye, commenting, “It’s too chilly in this cabin for you to remain for a soak, m’lady. We can’t have you getting sick now, can we?” The tiring woman reached for the large rough towel upon the bed, and wrapped it about Skye as she stepped from the tub. Swiftly Daisy rubbed her down, bringing a rosy flush of color to Skye’s gardenia skin, and then said, “Get back into that bed, m’lady, until you’re good and warm again. I’ve got nut-brown ale, fresh bread, and some fine cheese for you to feast upon.”

Skye settled herself and began hungrily to eat Daisy’s simple but filling offerings. “Well, I’m clean, but I’ll have to get back into those filthy clothes of mine, worse luck!”

Daisy smiled. “I had a feeling that you’d not reach Devon without a stop at Lundy, I did. The cabin boy is brushing the mud from your skirt and your hose, and I’ve a clean shirt for you in my saddlebags, along with some fresh undergarments.”

Skye flashed her tiring woman and old friend a grateful look. How well the faithful Daisy knew her. When she had finished eating and brushed the crumbs from Captain Kelly’s bed, she arose again and began to dress. The clean silk underthings and cream-colored shirt felt good against her skin. Daisy handed her first the finely knit dark green woollen hose and then her matching double-legged skirt. Amazingly, they were clean now and quite restored to respectability. Daisy helped her lady back into her knee-high boots, while Skye fastened a wide leather belt about her tiny waist. The belt’s buckle was a greenish bronze oval inlaid with black and gold enamel in a Celtic design. Skye sat again upon the bed while Daisy brushed her long black hair
out, freeing it of its sleep tangles. Then she pulled it back and twisted it into one long, plump braid, which she fastened with a bit of dark wool.

A quick knock upon the door followed by Skye’s permission to enter brought Captain Kelly into the cabin. He was the youngest of her captains; a man with bright-red hair and warm brown eyes. He was slender and not a great deal taller than Skye; but he had a quick mind, and was a daring seaman. “We’re entering Lundy harbor, m’lady. Have you any instructions for me while you’re ashore?”

“I want you to go on immediately to Lynmouth,” she said. “Daisy will stay with you. Please remain at Lynmouth until I advise you further.” Skye turned to Daisy. “See that the castle is made ready for my arrival. I will come the day after tomorrow. Send to Wren Court for Dame Cecily, and my daughter, Willow. I will want to see them both.”

“I’ll wait till you’re safely ashore, m’lady, and I know that you’ve made contact with Lord de Marisco,” Captain Kelly said. “MacGuire would keelhaul me from here all the way to the Giant’s Causeway if I didn’t.”

“MacGuire’s behaving like an old woman these days,” Skye grumbled, but she couldn’t help but be pleased that Sean MacGuire, the senior captain of her fleet, yet pulled that kind of weight with the other men. MacGuire was her voice on many occasions, and she valued him highly.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Daisy asked.

“No, Daisy. I’ll be fine. Lundy is no place for a respectable girl such as yourself.”

Captain Kelly chuckled. “Nay,” he said in a happy voice, “there is not a respectable lass on the island, praise God!”

“Why, Kelly,” Skye teased, “I’m surprised at you.”

“Well, I’m not!” Daisy snapped. “He has the look of a lecher about him!”

“Mistress Daisy,” Kelly protested, quickly contrite. Skye, her glance moving swiftly between the two, suddenly realized that Bran Kelly cared what Daisy thought; and Daisy obviously cared for the handsome young man.

“Now, Daisy,” she soothed, “a sailor without a true love is apt to have a roving eye, and so far I’ve not heard that Captain Kelly’s pledged his heart to any lass.”

“And none is apt to accept him if he continues so fickle in his affections,” Daisy warned ominously.

Skye hid a little smile, and said, “Daisy, take my saddlebags on deck, please. I shall be out shortly.”

Daisy bobbed a curtsey to Skye, then tossed her head in a snub toward the captain and hurried from the cabin as Bran Kelly looked longingly after her.

“Seduce her,” Skye said warningly, “and you’ll answer to me, Kelly. She’s no lightskirt, and she is under my protection as well as being very dear to me.”

“I’m thinking of settling down,” Kelly replied. “I’m past thirty now, and it’s time.”

“When you make up your mind in the matter I’ll give you permission to court her if it pleases her. Until then keep your codpiece tightly fastened, Kelly.”

Bran Kelly looked into the serious blue eyes of the O’Malley of Innisfana, his overlord and his mistress, and nodded blushingly. “I’d best go topside,” he said, “and see to the landing. Lundy harbor is tricky, as you well know.”

She smiled at him. He understood. “I’ll come with you, and thanks for the use of your quarters this trip.”

Together they went out onto the deck, and while Captain Kelly saw to the lowering of the ship’s anchor Skye gazed upon Lundy. It had been over a year since she had seen it, the great granite cliffs rising above the sea, the lighthouse at one end of the island, de Marisco’s half-ruined castle before her. She sighed sadly. She had never again expected to see Lundy, or to lean so shamelessly upon Adam de Marisco; but dear God, she needed someone to comfort her, and only Adam would understand that need.

“The boat’s ready to lower, m’lady,” Kelly advised her. Large ships such as the
Ban-Righ A’Ceo
anchored in Lundy Bay, away from Lundy’s dangerous cliffs and rock-strewn shore.

“My thanks, Kelly, for a good trip,” she called up to him as she climbed into the small boat.

“Your saddlebag, m’lady,” said Daisy, leaning over the rail and proffering it to her mistress.

“I won’t be needing it now, Daisy,” Skye replied with a quick smile, and then she commanded the lone sailor who would row her, “Let’s away!”

The cockle seemed to skim just atop the bobbing waves as it was rowed swiftly into the shore and the long stone quay that served de Marisco as a landing place. The sun, bright scarlet with streamers of gold and purple, was beginning to sink into the dark western sea as they reached their destination. From the grog
shop in the bottom of the old castle a giant figure emerged and strode down the quay toward them. Skye scrambled from the boat, and then she began to move quickly forward.

Adam de Marisco, his unruly shock of tousled dark hair blowing in the light breeze, hurried toward her. Though he had spent his youth at both the Tudor and the French courts, he was no elegant gallant, as his thigh-high leather boots, his doeskin jerkin with the horn buttons, and his open-necked silk shirt showed. Despite the chill, he wore no cloak.

“Adam!” she called, running, “Adam!”

“Little girl! Is it really you?” His deep voice boomed across the quiet evening, and then he was sweeping her into his bearlike embrace, burying his face for a long moment into the scented softness of her neck, his blue eyes warm with longing.

“Oh, Adam,” she breathed, feeling his familiar bulk and knowing with certainty now that everything would be all right.

“I’m sorry about Niall, little girl.”

She pulled away from him and looked up into his handsome face. “You knew? How?”

“A ship put in here several days ago, and its captain told me. They had met with an O’Malley ship, and learned the news from them.” He put an arm about her and together they began to walk down the stone quay to his castle. “Was the babe you were carrying a boy?”

“Aye, praise God!” she answered.

“Then at least the old MacWilliam has his heir, Skye.” They entered the lower level of the castle and walked through the rather dirty and disreputable tavern there, Skye nodding to those she knew, de Marisco’s evil-looking retainers and the ever-present Glynnis, whose ample blowsy charms were well known by the men who passed through Lundy. Together they mounted the stairs to de Marisco’s two-room apartment in the one remaining whole tower of the castle. Safely inside the big antechamber with its blazing fireplace, Skye turned to Adam de Marisco, and said, “The MacWilliam is dead. My infant son, Padraic, is now heir to the Burke lands.”

He drew a deep breath. “It’s not public knowledge yet, is it?”

“Not yet. The Dublin English have had their eyes on the Burke lands for some time now, Adam, but as long as the old man and Niall were alive they knew they had not a chance. We were fortunate in that Elizabeth Tudor needed my O’Malley ships, and dared not to offend me. I intend to send word from Lynmouth to Lord Burghley that I must see him. If I am to
protect my Burke son’s inheritance from predators, I must have the Queen’s blessing. Each day England’s fleet grows larger and stronger. If I and my ships are no longer of use to the Queen she will divide the Burke lands among her courtiers without another thought, and Padraic will be landless and nameless. I can’t let that happen, Adam.
I can’t!
”

He moved over to the oak sideboard and poured them each some rich, sweet wine; the crimson liquid cascading gracefully into heavy, carved silver goblets. Turning, he handed her a goblet, and said, “So, little girl, you’re in the same defenseless position you were three years ago when Geoffrey died. Now, however, Elizabeth Tudor has an old score to settle with you, and you are even more vulnerable with two more babes to support.”

She nodded, and her sapphire eyes filled with tears which spilled uncontrolled from beneath her black lashes onto her pale cheeks. “Damn,” she whispered, “I am prone to weeping these days. I don’t know what’s the matter with me, Adam.”