Skye O'Malley (25 page)

“How do you feel, Señor Niall?”

He looked to the slim girl. “Like the very devil,
niña
, but I seem to be alive, so I’d best get on with this business of living.”

“Was she very beautiful, your betrothed?” The directness of the question was like salt in an open wound, and he winced. Drawing a deep breath, he replied, “She was the loveliest creature imaginable,
niña
. Her hair was like a black storm cloud. Her skin was like a gardenia flower in texture and color, and her eyes were the wonderful deep blue of the seas off Ireland. She was kind yet proud. And not only was she my dearest love, she was also my best friend, and I shall miss her for all the days of my life.”

Constanza’s eyes were bright with tears. “I can only hope,” she said softly, “that someday a man will love me like that.”

“I can see no reason why one wouldn’t,
niña
. I cannot understand why you are not already married. How old are you?”

“Fifteen, Señor Niall.”

“And have not half the eligible young dons on this island already sued your father for your hand? Or are they all blind?”

She smiled shyly, then blushed. “There will be no offer for me, Señor Niall,” she said sadly. “My father long ago destroyed any chances of marrying I might have had. Last night when he told you about your betrothed you undoubtedly thought him harsh, but your plight brought back to him something he would much rather forget.

“Almost sixteen years ago the Moorish pirates raided this island, and when they left they took my mother as one of their captives.
My father had been deeply in love with her, and he was frantic. He was able to ransom her six weeks later.

“I was born six months later. Though she swore before the priest and on every saint in the calendar, even on the Holy Mother’s name, that the pirates had not touched her, my father could not bring himself to really believe her. Not ever. As she grew bigger with her pregnancy, he grew more distant toward her. She adored him, and it broke her heart. She lived just long enough to give me life, and then she died like a snuffed-out candle.

“The irony is that I look like her. Every day of my life I have been a living reproach to my father. In turn, he has held me responsible for my mother’s death and he has cast enough doubt on my paternity that no decent family on Mallorca would allow their son to offer for me.

“I am his child, though. That is certain. Ana was my mother’s servant before she was my nurse. She came with my mother from Castile when Mother was married to Father. She was with her the entire time Mother was kidnapped, and she swears to me that my mother knew no man but my father.”

Suddenly Constanza stopped. She blushed beet-red. Realizing the cause of her embarrassment, Niall Burke said quietly, “Don’t regret your words,
niña
. I have always been the kind of man to whom women talk. I understand now your father’s words. He is a harsh man, but he meant to tell me the truth.”

The girl knelt by his bedside, her lovely oval face turned up to him. “I am so sorry, Señor Niall. I know how sad the loss of your betrothed wife is to you, but God has willed that you live. We will both pray for your Skye’s immortal soul, but you must also promise me that you will now get well.”

Niall Burke was touched by her honest concern. He put his big hand over her small one. “Very well, Constanzita, I promise, but you must promise to help me. Will you?”

The hand beneath his trembled slightly, and she flushed a most becoming pink as her dark-gold lashes brushed her cheeks. “If you wish it,” she said low.

“I wish it,” he answered, releasing her hand.

In the next few weeks he grew stronger. The fever finally left his body, and his appetite increased. Eventually he was able to leave his bed and walk about his room. Then came the day that he ventured into the gardens. That afternoon was the happiest time he could remember in many weeks. He and Constanza, chaperoned by Ana, sat on the grass and picnicked on small meat pastries, juicy
green grapes, and a delicate rosé wine. Niall told them stories of his boyhood in Ireland, and for the first time he heard Constanza laugh, a sweet trill of genuine mirth, as he told them a particularly amusing story about his youthful hijinks. He began to sleep again at night, and the nightmares of seeing Skye struggling in the grasp of the Barbary pirates began to fade away.

The O’Malley’s fleet put into Mallorca’s capital city of Palma again. They had spent several months in Algiers seeking their mistress, but in the end they had had to leave without even any information. The Dey, however, had given the O’Malley family rich concessions in hopes of placating them. It seemed there was no hope of finding the O’Malley alive. The Irish ships would sail home shortly under the leadership of Captain MacGuire. Niall, however, was still not considered strong enough for the voyage.

Niall entrusted Inis to MacGuire and gave the captain a lengthy letter to his father, pouring out his grief and closing with the admonition, “Make no contracts for me. I will, in time, do my duty by the family.” Then, with a strange sense of loss, Niall Burke bid the O’Malley fleet farewell, watching from the terrace of the Conde’s garden as the ships sailed out to sea.

Niall saw little of his host and was glad, for the cold Spanish don was not a man whose company Niall enjoyed.

One day Constanza suggested that he might feel up to riding, and he delightedly agreed. That afternoon he found himself upon a spirited roan red Arabian stallion, cantering through a field of colorful windflowers and anemones. Constanza rode with him, mounted on an elegant little white Arabian mare. She was a fine horsewoman with a good sure seat and gentle but firm hands.

In the heat of the afternoon they stopped in a meadow above the sea to rest their horses and eat the light luncheon Ana had packed. Constanza lay a little white cloth over the grass and set out their luncheon of crusty bread, soft ripe cheese, peaches, pears, and white wine. Niall unsaddled the horses so that they could rest. A tall, leafy tree shaded them all, and the air was heavy with the scent of wild thyme.

They ate in silence. After the meal Constanza spoke, “Soon you will leave us. Where will you go? Back to your Ireland?”

A small shadow flitted across his face. “Not right away,
niña
. I shall travel for a bit before I go back. But go back I must, for I am my father’s only heir. My first marriage was annulled. My second never made.”

“You will find happiness, Señor Niall. I pray every night to the Blessed Mother for you.”

He cupped her face with a warm hand. “What a sweet creature you are, my Constanzita.”

She blushed and pressed her cheek against his hand. Suddenly he wanted to kiss her, and he did. Pulling the girl into his arms, he bent his head down—found her mouth. She was trembling wildly, but she did not struggle. Emboldened, he gently parted her lips and plunged into the sweet cavern, seeking, finding, stroking the girl’s satiny tongue with his own. One arm held her fast as a hand sought her full, young breasts.

Constanza tore her head away, gasping for air. Frantically she sought his hands. But it wasn’t Niall she feared, it was herself. Niall Burke was a gentleman, and one word from her would halt him, yet she could not bring herself to say the word. No man had ever before kissed or touched her as he was doing. Her heart was pounding and she feared it might burst. Yet she did not stop him. His mouth was again on hers, tenderly searing her soul with a passion she had never even suspected she could feel. His fingers were undoing the laces of her bodice, gently pulling down her chemise.

Niall was amazed by the girl’s easy acquiescence. He was positive she was innocent, yet she seemed to welcome his advances. He felt a momentary guilt but pushed it away. Skye was dead, he was alive, and Constanza Cuidadela was fresh and sweet. His eyes feasted on her young breasts, beautiful golden orbs, their proud dark-coral nipples tight like unopened rosebuds. Almost reverently, he caressed and kissed them, delighting in her soft cry.

Constanza felt an unfamiliar tightness building within her. It frightened her a little. She did not want him to stop, but suddenly he did.

“You are a virgin, aren’t you,
niña?
” Her blush gave him his answer. “I will not dishonor you, Constanza,” he told her gravely. “It would not be right if I spoiled you for your future husband, especially after your kindness to me. I had no right to do what I have just done. For that I ask your forgiveness and your understanding.”

Constanza sat very still, making no attempt to cover herself. In the meadow the roan stallion screamed defiantly and brutally mounted the white mare, biting her silken neck and thrusting his great organ into her. Constanza rose and deftly shed the rest of her clothes. They lay in a colorful heap about her trim ankles. She looked at Niall proudly.

“I want you to do to me what your stallion does to my mare,” she said softly.

Niall Burke felt the aching hardness in his groin. It would take
a saint to refuse such an invitation, and he was no saint. Still, he was no rake, either. Then the idea was born in him. Why not? he thought. I will have to sooner or later. And so he said, “Will you be my wife, Constanzita?”

“Yes,” she answered. He stood up, towering over her, and slowly pulled off his own clothes. She watched him, curious. Having no brothers, she had no certain knowledge of male anatomy. Before her amazed eyes his masculinity rose proudly like a battle flag. He took her hand, saying tenderly, “Touch it,
niña
. I promise it won’t bite you … though it will love you well.”

Her small hand closed about him, gently, virginally curious. He held his breath, afraid of frightening her. Her warm little hand cradled him, fondling him with innocent expertise, and he could not restrain an intense groan. Startled, she let go.

“I have hurt you!”

“Nay, lovey, you pleasure me beyond all,” and he drew her into his arms and kissed her again. Her round breasts, hard now with her mounting passion, rubbed against his dark furred chest until the little nipples were raw with desire. Her torso pressed tightly against him like burning silk, trembling weakly as her legs began to give way. But her voice was low and strong.

“Take me, my Niall. Take me like the stallion took my mare!”

He lowered her to the ground, then knelt beside her. Her violet eyes were wide with wonder as he bent his head to catch a little nipple in his mouth. Slowly he sucked on it, watching with narrowed silver eyes as her breath came in short little gasps and her hips began to twitch. A caressing hand moved down her fevered body, and she jumped as he touched that most secret of places. His finger pushed through the soft defensive folds, rubbing insistently, and Constanza thought she was going to faint.

Her heart was leaping about wildly, and she was being buffeted by a great storm of new feelings, the like of which she’d never known. Her belly ached, and between her legs where his hand teased she ached in a different way. When he gently put his long finger into her she was relieved, but when he withdrew, the ache was worse and she whimpered.

“All right, lovey,” he said softly, “I will make it better now,” and he mounted her, parting her trembling thighs, and slowly entered her. She opened herself to him like a flower. Her eyes never left his face even when he reached her tight little virgin shield and pierced it, swiftly, so as to give her less hurt.

Constanza felt the slow, burning pain spread quickly up her,
and she cried out. His lips covered her protest, his tongue probing her mouth, matching the rhythm of his throbbing spear. Something wonderful was happening to her, and she eagerly thrust her hips upward to meet his fierce downward thrusts. The pain was gone, and she was soaring like a bird in flight. Her little hands grasped his tight buttocks to bring him closer, and at the moment of her climax she tore her head away from him, shrieking her joy. Then she fainted.

Niall Burke lay panting in astounded exhaustion. Never had he experienced such passion in a virgin, and she had certainly been a virgin, as the blood on her thighs attested. Now she lay drained and unconscious. He studied her for a moment, this girl who would be his wife. She was certainly lovely, and although he wasn’t entirely sure he liked her excessive passion she would certainly be a better bedsport than poor Darragh had been. The MacWilliam might be angered momentarily by a surprise bride, but if Niall was lucky he would bring her home to Ireland with a babe in her belly or at her breast. In that case, all would be forgiven.

She was barely breathing, and he pulled her into his arms to warm her, to awaken her. Her eyelids fluttered as she began her slow return to consciousness. He held her close, murmuring soft little words of endearment, and as her eyes opened to focus on his face, she blushed furiously.

“Oh, Niall, what must you think of me? But, oh, it was wonderful!”

He laughed. “What I think,
niña
, is that I am a very lucky man. You were quite magnificent. How do you feel, lovey?”

“I flew, Niall! I really flew! I feel so happy now, and I want to do it again!”

He chuckled. “We shall fly together again, lovey, but I think perhaps it would be best now if we returned to Palma. I must ask your father’s permission to marry you.” He stood up and began to pull his clothes on, but it was not easy to concentrate when Constanza lay naked at his feet on her bed of meadow flowers and soft green grass. He finally managed to return some measure of order to his garb and, holding out his hand, he said, “Come, madam, and I will maid you.”

She stood, and he was again enchanted by the perfection of her slim body. Slowly she pulled on her undergarments, then the dress skirt, and lastly the dress top which he laced for her, first cupping the sweet round breasts and fondling them. Leaning back against him, she murmured contently.

He spanked her bottom fondly. “Pack the luncheon basket,
niña
, while I catch the horses and saddle them up.”

They returned to Palma in the late afternoon. One look at Constanza’s face brought a cry of joy from Ana. As Niall dismounted his horse the older woman grasped his hands and kissed them. “Gracias, Señor Niall! My Constanza will make you a good wife, I swear it!”