Skye O'Malley (3 page)

Dubhdara O’Malley chuckled with pleasure from the doorway. “Then you like it, lovey? There’s earbobs, and a ring to match in the other.”

“Like it? Oh, Dubh, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned! Where …?”

“Portuguese galleon got itself blown off course and then wrecked aways up the coast. We were just in time to save the captain from the scavengers. He was most grateful.”

Anne said no more, but she read between the lines. It was obvious that her husband and his crew had battled coastal wreckers for possession of the damaged galleon. The O’Malleys had been pirates for centuries. It was their way of life. Undoubtedly the captain of the unfortunate ship and the survivors among his crew were now housed in the dungeons below, where they would spend the next several months awaiting ransom. Anne shuddered and reminded herself that such thoughts were not her concern.

“And where’s my wee lass?” demanded the O’Malley.

“Here, Da.” Skye rose from her chair and came forward.

Seeing her garb, he frowned with disapproval. “Still riding astride, poppet?”

“Don’t scold me, Da,” she wheedled him prettily. “It was you who taught me, and I simply can’t gallop Finn sitting sideways. It’s most unnatural.”

The O’Malley cocked an eyebrow. “Must you gallop him? Wouldn’t a nice trot do you? You must think of the babes you’re going to bear Dom now, poppet.”

She ignored his last remark. “Have you ever tried to trot with one leg slung over a pommel, Da? The last time I tried it I ended up with bruises all over my—”

“Skye! We’ve guests!”

For the first time her attention was drawn to the man by his side.

“My Lord,” she heard her father say, “this is my youngest daughter, Skye, who will shortly be the bride of young O’Flaherty. Skye, this is Niall, Lord Burke, the MacWilliam’s heir.”

“
Niall an iarain
, Niall of the Iron,” she said softly. This was a famous man, the secret dream lover of half the maidens in Ireland.

“I see my reputation precedes me, my lady Skye.”

“It is an open secret that you are Captain Revenge, and that you conduct those daring raids against the English who live in the Dublin Pale. Of course, no one would dare accuse you of this.”

“Yet you, my lady, do not fear me,” he murmured, holding her fast with his gaze until she blushed.

The voice was deep and sure, but as smooth as fine velvet. She shivered. She raised her eyes to his. They were a silvery gray, and she imagined that in anger they would be colder than the far northern sea, but in the heat of passion they would be fiery warm like rich wine. Guilty color flooded her cheeks at these immodest thoughts. The gray eyes twinkled infuriatingly, as if reading her mind.

He towered over her by a good eight inches. His smoothly shaven face had been tanned by the outdoors. The short-cropped hair was as midnight dark as her own.

Raising her hand, he kissed it. It was all she could do not to snatch it away, for his lips burned her flesh like a brand. Sweet Mary, she thought, he’s so much more sophisticated than Dom, yet he’s only ten years older than I am.

“My lord, welcome to Innisfana,” she murmured politely. Dear God! Was that husky, breathless voice hers? And why was Anne staring at her so strangely?

Her father’s voice brought her back to reality. “These are for your dowry, poppet,” he said, handing her a marvelous collection of rubies set in gold. They were a necklace, earrings, bracelets, a ring, and a hair ornament. Everyone exclaimed, and Dom O’Flaherty congratulated himself as though he had been personally responsible for choosing his bride.

Skye clutched the jewelry to her. Thanking her father, she left the hall.
Damn!
thought Anne O’Malley. She has been attracted to Lord Burke. And why not? Now why couldn’t Dubh have betrothed her to a strong, fierce man like Lord Burke instead of that vain boy, O’Flaherty?

Skye walked up the stairs to her chamber with what she hoped was great dignity. She was quite surprised that she could move at all, for her legs were shaking terribly. She was very confused, and not just a little frightened by her reaction to Lord Burke. She hoped she
hadn’t behaved like a green maid, but never had she had this kind of a reaction to a man.

She had never seen Niall Burke before, though his romantic and military escapades were legend. As she had dared to say aloud minutes before, he was known to some as the famous Captain Revenge, who caused havoc for the English and their Irish allies whenever he felt that their policies were not serving Ireland.

Captain Revenge exacted a high penalty from English overlords who dealt unfairly with their native Irish underlings. Once, in an escapade later to have all of Ireland laughing up its sleeve, Captain Revenge had made love to the daughter of an important English nobleman who had estates in Ireland. Having learned the layout of her father’s castle from the love-besotted girl, Captain Revenge ransacked the castle’s treasure room and used the nobleman’s store to pay the taxes of several impoverished Irish families. The English accepted the money and rendered receipts. When the deception was uncovered, it was too late for anything to be done, and the English fumed with impotent rage. Certainly they suspected the connection between Captain Revenge and Niall, Lord Burke. But what could anyone do? London’s policy was that the overload of Mid-Connaught was not to be antagonized. He was, after all, an ally—an ally to the English being anybody not openly waging war against England. And too, they asked themselves, what possible real damage could one high-spirited young man do?

He was indeed a fascinating man, thought Skye, and when their eyes met there had been a moment of deep recognition.

Safe in her room, she watched as Molly, her maid, prepared her bath. Molly thought the lady Skye bathed too much, but Molly had to admit that her mistress smelled better than anyone she knew. She took the riding clothes from the girl and, brushing them, put them in the wardrobe. Skye divested herself of her undergarments, pinned her long hair up, and climbed into the tub.

The warm water felt good. Slowly Skye rubbed the cake of scented soap between her hands, then washed her face. Niall Burke. Niall Burke. Her mind repeated his name like a litany. He was so tall. He had made her feel petite, which she most certainly was not. He had been dressed in the English fashion, with elegant particolored hose and matching green pantaloons to the knee. She imagined the rippling muscles beneath the green velvet doublet. She suddenly wondered what it would feel like to be crushed against that broad chest, and to her shame the little nipples on her small breasts hardened, thrusting above the water.

What on earth was the matter with her? She had never had thoughts like these before. She knew so little about what went on between men and women, and Dom had certainly never inspired her. In fact, for all his good looks, Dom repelled her.

Molly took the soap from Skye, finished washing her, and dried her off with a linen towel. She had barely finished wrapping the girl in a silken chamber robe when a knock sounded on the door. Molly opened it, bobbed a flirtatious curtsey, and admitted Dom O’Flaherty.

He sauntered in with a lascivious look to his bride-to-be, whose young body was well outlined by the robe. “I have to leave you for a few days, Skye. Sir Murrough has sent word that I am needed. I will be back in time for our wedding.”

Skye’s heart soared. He would be gone, and Lord Burke would be here! “Go with God, Dom,” she said sweetly.

For a moment there was an awkward silence, then Dom reached out and pulled his betrothed into his arms. “No kiss, lovey? You would send me on my way without the least sign of affection?”

“We’re not wed yet, Dom. I don’t have to kiss you.”

“Don’t have to?” he exploded. “Christ, Skye, don’t be such a little prude! You’ll have to do more than kiss me in a few days’ time!” Damn, but she was a sweet armful, all perfumed and warm from the bath. He could feel his desire growing. He sought for her mouth, but she squirmed away.

“No!”

His blue eyes narrowed in anger, but then he laughed. “All right, lovey. But in a short time I’ll have you begging for my kisses.” He mocked her a bow, then turned and left the room. She shuddered.

“Oh!” squealed Molly. “He’s a lusty one to be sure, mistress! You’ll have good bedsport with him, and that’s lucky in a husband!”

“Be quiet, you little fool!” snapped Skye. “Instead of drooling over my betrothed, fetch my new burgundy velvet gown. I intend on wearing it tonight with the rubies Da gave me.”

Molly scurried to obey. Skye O’Malley was a better mistress than most, rarely cruel, but not above administering a slap now and then. The maid laced her mistress into a little beribboned busk that pushed her pretty breasts up so that they seemed almost to spill from her pale-pink underblouse. The nearly transparent sleeves were striped in gold. Carefully Skye drew her stockings up her shapely legs. They were pink silk, embroidered with a flowering vine of gold thread, and had been made in Paris. Several petticoats followed, and then the dress. A beautiful creation of the finest, softest velvet, it was
a shimmering, jewel red, with a full, flowing skirt. Slashed sleeves revealed the pink-and-gold-striped sleeves of the underblouse.

Skye now sat, careful not to wrinkle her skirts, before her precious mirror while Molly brushed her dark hair until it shone with bluish lights. She was not allowed to bind it up until after her marriage. This had been a source of great frustration to Skye, especially at sea, but her father had been very firm about it. She might braid it, but the braids must hang long.

“No O’Malley maiden puts her hair up until she weds,” he stated, and there was no point in arguing.

Looking at herself in the mirror, however, she had to admit that her long, wavy hair was beautiful. Especially now, as Molly placed a little gold lace cap with a tiny veil on her head. Skye clasped the ruby necklace about her throat and studied the effect. The great stones glittered almost savagely against the creamy softness of her bare chest, and when she caught her breath she noted with surprise that her breasts swelled provocatively beneath the glittering rubies. The jeweled hair ornament was to be put aside until she wore her hair up, but she slipped on the earrings, bracelet, and ring. Sliding her feet into red velvet shoes, she stood.

“Lor’, mistress,” breathed Molly reverently. “I never seen you look so beautiful! What a pity Master Dom’s not here now to see you. You could drive a man to madness!”

Skye laughed, pleased. “Do you really think so, Molly?” Secretly she was wondering whether Lord Burke could be driven to madness. Her insides fluttered with fearful, delicious anticipation. She almost flew out the door, bumping into her pretty stepmother as she did so.

“Gracious, Skye,” laughed Anne O’Malley. “If you would impress the hall, then you must not rush so. Make a grand entrance … slowly gliding … thusly, my love.” She demonstrated prettily.

“Your pardon, Anne. I did not hurt you, did I?”

“No, love, but stop so I may look at you. Dear heaven, how lovely you are, and not yet grown. If young Dom could but see you now …”

Skye made a face. “I don’t want to marry him, Anne!” The words tumbled out all by themselves.

Anne O’Malley was suddenly serious and fully sympathetic. “I know, love. I know, and I do understand.”

“Please, Anne,
please
speak to Da. He adores you, and he’ll listen to you. He’d do anything for you!”

“Oh, Skye, I’ll try. You know I will. But it will do no good. Your
father is a man of his word, and he has given his word on this marriage. You’re the last of his girls, and he wants you well settled. Young O’Flaherty is a very good match for an O’Malley of Innisfana.”

“I hate him!” came the whispered reply. “He’s always undressing me with his eyes.”

“Perhaps it will be different when you’re wed,” soothed Anne, though in her heart she knew it wouldn’t. “Maidens are often fearful of the unknown. But really, there is no cause for alarm, my love. Tomorrow I will come and explain it all to you, Skye.”

“Speak to Da, Anne! Please, promise me you will!”

“I will, Skye. I promise I will.”

The two women moved down the steps to the main hall of the castle, and all the while Anne was aware that Niall Burke’s eyes were fastened to her beautiful stepdaughter. At the bottom of the steps he was there, tucking Skye’s small hand in his arm, wordlessly sweeping her away while Anne watched helplessly. No one else saw the dangerous, hopeless attraction between the two. She
must
speak to Dubhdara!

The floor beneath Skye’s feet seemed to have disappeared. She was floating. Shyly she glanced down at the hand covering hers. It was big, and square, and brown. It was magically warm, and she could feel the strength hidden deep within it. Her heart was pounding. Why did he affect her this way?

They walked over to the great fireplace, which was flanked by enormous stone lions. It was red with the oak logs that now burned merrily with an occasional crackle and snap. They stopped and observed the leaping flames for a moment. They did not look at each other, but merely stood side by side.

Finally he spoke. “Why do you tremble when I touch you?”

“I am not used to the attentions of men,” she answered him breathlessly.

Turning her so that she faced him, he looked down at her. “I do not understand that, Skye O’Malley, for you are outrageously fair. Has no man, even your betrothed, whispered sweet words of love into your little shell ear?”

“No.” Her cheeks were softly pink now, and her voice was so low that he had to bend to hear her.

Niall Burke was enchanted. He felt something strange sweeping over him, possessing him, rushing him onward to something his inner voice warned against. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he commanded her. “I promise not to bite you, though God knows you’re a tempting morsel.”

Shyly she raised her blue eyes to his silvery gray ones, and for a moment Skye felt as if she were drowning. She realized he felt it too! Neither could tear their gaze away. They were suspended in time, their souls flowing back and forth between their bodies, twining into one perfect being.