Skye O'Malley (16 page)

She was lovelier than he had remembered, and his heart beat a little quicker when he realized that this beautiful woman had consented to be his wife. The young innocent of fifteen was long gone. He barely remembered her now, as this lovely creature of nineteen quickened his blood. He let his eyes feast on her, enjoying the soft pink in her cheeks, the way her lashes made a dark smudge against her skin. Her slim figure moved with such grace. It gave him pleasure just to watch her.

After a little longer, he stepped from behind the tree and the big hound stiffened, his hackles rising. Inis growled low in warning.

“I am glad to see you so well guarded, Skye.”

“Put your hand out, Niall, so Inis may get your scent.” She patted the dog. “Friend, Inis. Niall is a friend.”

Lord Burke suffered himself to be thoroughly sniffed. He patted the animal, speaking reassuringly to him, receiving first a long searching look from the liquid amber eyes, and then finally a wet, cold nose pushed into his palm.

“He likes you!”

“And if he hadn’t?”

“You might have had difficulty claiming your rights once we’re wed, my lord,” she said mischievously.

She sobered suddenly, and he did too. Then he held out his arms to her and, without a moment’s hesitation, she walked into them. His arms closed securely about her, and she stood quietly listening to the rapid beat of his heart just beneath her cheek.

“I love you, lass,” he said quietly.

“And I love you, my lord Burke. I would seal that love with a kiss,” she said softly, raising her head. His mouth gently found hers. At the first touch of his lips she panicked, but his big hand caressed her hair and he murmured against her mouth, “No, love, it’s Niall,
and I love you.” With a sigh she gave herself up to him, and when he released her at last, her eyes were shining with joy.

“Is it all right now, sweetheart?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, my lord. For a moment … but it quickly passed.”

“I will always be gentle with you, Skye.”

“I know.” She smiled happily. “How long were you watching me?”

“A few minutes. You’re a charming sight barefoot, and clipping roses.”

“But hardly dignified,” she blushed. “As the O’Malley, I should have sailed out to meet you, my betrothed husband.”

“Leave the O’Malley at sea, my love. I prefer shoeless lasses, especially the one now in my arms. Besides, you did not know I was coming. And but a day behind me is himself, anxious that your uncle perform the betrothal ceremony here in two days’ time, and that we sign the contracts. Would that please you, pet?”

“Oh, Niall! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“And then,” he continued, “we can be wed in three weeks’ time after the banns are all read.”

“Yes!” Then her face fell. “No. It cannot be in three weeks’ time. Damn! I must go to Algiers, and we sail in a week.”

“To Algiers? Why?”

“It has been suggested that we set up a trading post in Algiers, and I cannot give my approval unless I have investigated the situation myself. I must not waste O’Malley gold, or O’Malley resources.”

“Why must you leave next week? Can’t you go another time?” She could hear the irritation in his voice.

“Oh, Niall, I am sorry. In order to gain a trading license in Algiers we must have permission from the Dey, who represents the Sublime Porte in Constantinople. Without the Dey’s approval we cannot trade safely in the Mediterranean.”

“Why not simply bribe him?”

Skye laughed. “We are going to, but the Turks do things differently than we do. We are rather straightforward, whereas they demand grace and elegance, even in their business dealings. When the Dey learned that the head of the O’Malley company was a woman he demanded to meet me. My representatives dared not refuse him. So I must go or else risk insulting the Dey. To insult the Dey is to insult the Sultan. In that case we would not get the trading permit. Worse, our ships would be marked as fair game by the Barbary pirates
who sail out of Algiers under the Dey’s supervision. We would be ruined. I have to go. The appointment is set.”

“How long?”

“At least three months.”

“Three months? Dammit, Skye, it’s too long to be separated from you!”

Her eyes lit up. “Come with me, Niall! Sail with me to Algiers! I know we must allow our families the privilege of marrying us off with pomp and fuss. But once we’re betrothed and pledged to wed, no one will think to mind if you accompany me. We can have our church wedding when we get home. Come with me, my love! Oh, please come with me!”

It was a wild, impractical idea, and he almost said no. Then he thought of the long days and longer nights ahead. Niall Burke took a deep breath and said, “Yes, Skye, my love. I’ll sail with you, though I must be mad to do so.”

With a cry of joy she flung herself into his arms.

Several days later, in the same chapel that had seen Skye’s baptism and ill-fated marriage to Dom O’Flaherty, her betrothal to Niall Burke was celebrated. She regretted the absence of her father at the moment of her greatest happiness, but the MacWilliam’s open joy eased her sorrow.

The ceremony was barely over when Skye left her husband-to-be and their guests in the care of her sisters, so that she could oversee the preparation of her ships. They would sail in a fleet of nine ships. Skye’s flagship was the
Faoileag
(the Seagull). With her would be her father’s ship the
Righ A’Mhara
(King of the Sea); Anne’s ship the
Ban-righ A’Ceo
(Queen of the Mist), which had been a wedding gift from her late husband; and the six ships belonging to Skye and her sisters. These were known as the six Daughters for each was named a “Daughter of …” They were
Inghean A-Sian
(Daughter of the Storm),
Inghean A’Ceo
(Daughter of the Mist),
Inghean A’Mhara
(Daughter of the Sea),
Inghean A’Ear
(Daughter of the East),
Inghean A’Iar
(Daughter of the West), and the
Inghean A’Ay
(Daughter of the Island).

Each ship was carefully prepared and provisioned, and the crews were handpicked by Skye. She wished to make a good impression on the Dey. Permission to trade with Algiers meant untold wealth.

Thus it was that, one week from the day of his betrothal, Niall Burke found himself standing on the quarterdeck of a ship as it sailed south out of O’Malley Bay into the rolling blue Atlantic
Ocean. He was not a sailor by nature, and had no special feeling for the sea. Nevertheless the weather was tolerable and he quickly found his sea legs. What he could not find as easily was an end to his amazement—for Skye O’Malley in command on the sea was completely different from the woman he knew and loved.

She was amazingly competent, highly knowledgeable in areas of which he had little or no understanding. The men about her did her bidding unquestioningly, and listened to her with open respect. Had she not been his sweet Skye in the privacy of her cabin, Niall would have been genuinely frightened of the Amazon who commanded this small fleet. Fortunately, Niall Burke had a sense of humor, and he quickly realized he was going to need it.

Though he shared the captain’s quarters with her, he slept alone in a single bunk in a small side cabin with the wolfhound Inis as his companion. The great dog had attached himself to Niall with a singular devotion that delighted Skye, for Inis had hated Dom. Lord Burke amused himself by training the dog. It was intelligent, but lacked manners. Niall also spent a good deal of time in the company of the same Captain MacGuire who had returned him to the MacWilliam several years back.

It was MacGuire who began to teach Niall the rudiments of seamanship, for as he succinctly put it, “The O’Malleys are all half fish, and if you’re to wed one, you’d best understand why they love the sea even if you don’t.” Niall Burke listened, learned, and began to have great admiration for those who made the sea their life.

He spent the evenings with Skye, though she would not share her bed with him. “I am not a passenger on this voyage,” she told him. “If I were needed in the night, and we …” Her blue eyes twinkled, and he laughed in spite of his disappointment. To reward his patience she flung herself into his arms and kissed him ardently, her soft breasts pressing provocatively against his pounding heart, her little tongue darting teasingly about his mouth. Niall pushed her back, and kicking her legs from beneath her, they fell to the big captain’s bed. Skye felt her shirt buttons opening as if by magic, and his mouth burned into the soft flesh of her breasts, nuzzling against a suddenly hard nipple, sucking until the throb between her legs was almost unbearable.

Then he lifted his head, and his silvery eyes stared down at her with tolerant amusement. “You’re captain of this ship, Skye, but I will, if you don’t mind, be captain in our bedchamber. If you tease me like that again, I’ll have you on your back before you can say ‘Sail ho!’ Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

“Aye, Captain,” she answered, and he was flattered to see the admiration in her eyes.

The weather remained miraculously fair as the
Seagull
and her sister ships sailed farther south, avoiding the treacherous Bay of Biscay entirely by the simple maneuver of keeping far enough out to sea. They now sailed shoreward, rounding Cape St. Vincent, ploughing across the Gulf of Cádiz, and through the Straits of Gibraltar into the Mediterranean.

They were but a few days out of Algiers when a freak storm struck the O’Malley fleet, scattering it haphazardly. The wind and waves were tremendous. The heavy rains soaked into the decks and through into the below-decks area. Just when they thought themselves safe, the storm having died, the boom of a cannon brought them face to face with Barbary pirates.

The pendant sent them by the Dey to insure their safe journey had been ripped away in the storm, and they were under attack by two ships. There was no choice but to fight. Skye’s men were delighted. Laughingly they broke out the weapons and turned with relish to meet the enemy. The grappling hooks flew, and the
Seagull
found herself pinioned against a pirate ship. Below decks, her gun crews worked frantically to sink the fast-closing second ship while above deck, Skye, sword in hand, led her men in defense of her ship.

Horrified, admiring her courage but scared to death for her, Lord Burke grabbed his own sword, but MacGuire held him back. “She’s doing fine, laddie. Stay with me. You go to her now, and she’ll be more concerned for your safety than for her ship’s. She doesn’t need you. If she does we’ll go, but for now we’ll just defend this area from the mangy infidels.” And clay pipe still clenched between his teeth, he leaped forward to engage a burly, bearded, turbaned ruffian who was attempting to gain the quarterdeck. Knowing MacGuire was right, Niall joined in the fight to keep the quarterdeck free.

The
Seagull
’s gun crew succeeded in sinking the second enemy ship, and a great shout of triumph went up from the O’Malley men. With renewed vigor they began to force the invaders from their decks and off their ship. The grappling hooks were disengaged and, slowly, a border of water began to appear between the two ships. The pirates fled back to their own vessel.

What happened next was never quite clear in the minds of the sailors who lived through it. A freak wave—a remnant of the recent storm—hit the ship sharply, broadside, and Niall Burke found himself pitched overboard into the sea. He heard Skye scream his name,
and then Inis hit the water near him and swam to his side. He could see a boat being quickly lowered, and he knew it would be only a matter of minutes before he and the dog were safely back aboard the
Seagull
.

On the ship above, Skye raved in a manner previously unknown to her crew. “Jesu! Jesu! You idiots, hurry! Lower the boat before he drowns! If either he or the dog is drowned I’ll keelhaul the lot of you all the way back to Ireland!”

The boat hit the water and was swiftly rowed toward Lord Burke and Inis, both of whom were treading water. Skye leaned from the quarterdeck, frantically directing the rescue. In the foaming sea Niall’s dark head bobbed next to Inis’ silvery black one. Intent on the rescue, they all forgot about the pirates. The pirate captain and his crew had been staring, amazed, and now the captain nodded to one of his seaman.

The pirate was swung swiftly across the gap between the two ships. Grasping Skye firmly about the waist, the man lifted her from the deck of the
Seagull
, and the two of them swung back to the pirate ship.

She turned on him with a shriek of fury, nails clawing, but her captor laughed, his teeth white against his tanned face and black beard. As she struggled with the man, she heard her own crew shouting, but the pirates were now breaking out muskets and shooting down into the water in an attempt to hinder the rescue of Lord Burke. The rescue boat finally reached Niall, and he and the dog were hauled into it.

“Thank God,” sobbed Skye. She heard Niall call her name and, taking her captor unawares for a moment, she fought free and shrieked, “Niall! Niall!”

He stood up in the boat and shouted desperately, “We’re coming, beloved! We’re coming to get you!”

There was a sharp crack of a musket, and a bright blossom of scarlet burst from Lord Burke’s chest. Skye stared in horror, then screamed endlessly as she watched him fall into the little boat. “I’ve killed him! Oh, sweet Christ! I’ve killed him!” And with a moan of anguish she slid down into the darkness that rose to free her of her pain.

PART II