The Game (31 page)

Guy grinned at her, then, seeing someone behind her, his smile brightened even more. Katherine twisted and saw Liam watching them, a strange expression upon his face. Her heart immediately picked up a wild beat. She was very aware of the late hour—and what would soon happen in their chamber upstairs.

For Liam slept with her every night, and their bouts of passion often lasted until dawn. Sometimes, incredibly, he came to her in the middle of the day as well. Katherine had never refused him. She had never wanted to.

Their glances locked, understanding sizzling between them. Katherine felt her cheeks grow hot as she turned to face Guy. She felt Liam approach, felt his body’s warmth and magnetism as he stood behind her, over her. His hand brushed her shoulder. “Did you learn to dice in the convent, Kate?”

Katherine laughed, nervously. “Of course not. I learned dicing from my father and my uncle.”

He stepped forward and knelt beside her, his gaze warm, stroking over her face. “Your mother did not object?”

Katherine grinned. “She did not know.”

He laughed, the sound rich and easy.

Katherine stared at his beautiful face.

Liam’s gaze turned to Guy. “I hope you are not taking the lady for all she is worth,” he said seriously.

Guy flushed. “No sir. Captain.”

Liam reached out and mussed the boy’s hair. “Gentlemen let ladies win.” He rose, gave Katherine a sharp glance, and moved away. Katherine watched him as he walked to the stairs, her pulse rioting. But when she turned back to Guy, trying to act naturally, she saw the question in his eyes, and how eagerly he was poised to play. Her ready smile faded. The boy was so starved for affection, both hers and Liam’s. And although she wanted nothing more than to run up the stairs, she patted his small hand. “Well, do we play or no?” she asked cheerfully.

Guy’s gaze flew to hers, and then he grinned. “Aye, lady, we play. But do I really have to let you win?”

Katherine could not sleep. She looked at Liam, who lay upon his back, breathing deeply, his body still sheened with sweat from their wild lovemaking. Katherine’s heart clenched. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she sat up.

June had come to the island, and although the days were warm and summerlike, the nights were still quite cool. Katherine pulled the covers up over her bare breasts, her pulse refusing to quiet. Earlier that evening, during their light supper repast, Liam had told her that he was leaving on the morrow.

Katherine had reacted foolishly, asking him where he was going. He had gazed at her with impenetrable eyes, and told her it served no purpose for her to know.

Katherine felt moisture gathering in her eyes. She wiped it away, angry with herself for forgetting, even for an instant, that her lover was a pirate. Of course, he did have letters of marque; clearly he also preyed upon the queen’s
enemies. Katherine knew that it was simplistic to label Liam naught but a pirate, for his piracy was a part of a very clever and dangerous political game. He was as much a privateer, making him some strange hybrid creation of the two. When he plundered and pillaged the high seas, he did so very, very carefully.

Liam was leaving. He was going pirating or privateering, and that meant that she would finally have a chance to escape.

Katherine looked down at him. The fire still blazed, and warm orange light bathed the room, making it easy to see his beautiful features. Her heart hurt. All the more reason to leave, now, before it was he who ordered her away, as he would surely do one day. Katherine was afraid that she would refuse such a command instead of following it, refuse it and drop to her knees, begging him not to cast her aside in favor of some new, younger mistress.

Oh, God! Katherine hugged herself, the tears spilling now. She did not love him, that was impossible, but he had enslaved her with his sex and his power and his charisma. He had enslaved her, that was all, but slaves could escape their masters, and she must escape him.

Tomorrow he would leave. After he was gone, she would go to the village with the coffer containing the ruby-and-gold necklace. Surely, for such a prize, someone would help her leave the island—and leave him.

K
atherine trudged up the steep, stony path toward the castle, returning from her trek to the village below. She carried a plain gray mantle over her arm, the mantle she had worn to disguise her identity despite the fact of the day’s being seasonable and warm. Liam had left that dawn. Katherine had escaped the castle soon thereafter, running out through the castle gates behind a small wagon, pretending to be a serving maid because the servants were free to come and go as they pleased.

Above her, the sun was bright, the sky aqua blue and puffed with fluffy white clouds. Yet she did not feel half as cheerful as she should on such a day, after attaining her goal. For she had found a seaman who, upon receipt of the coffer containing the fabulous necklace, had agreed to help her escape.

Katherine watched a hawk soaring above the castle and she told herself that she was happy. Yes, she was very happy, as happy as a lark, because, in a few days, when the supply ship from Belfast arrived, the sailor would contact her. And when it left to return to northern Ireland, she would be stowed away upon it.

And hopefully Liam would not have returned from his pirating, making her escape all that much easier.

She would escape—and never see him again.

Katherine was furious with her feelings. Furious with the incipient tears, furious to be so torn, and over a damned pirate at that.

She had to leave before she did the unthinkable—before she fell in love with him.

And she must stop thinking of what her reception would be when she finally reached England. For she had decided that she must return to Hawke, who was still legally her husband.

Her heart beat faster now, for her imagination ran wild, and she could see herself facing him, facing the court, then facing the queen. But they would not know. They could not know. That when in Liam’s arms she was far more willing and eager and lascivious than the highest-paid, most-experienced courtesan.

And what about her father? Katherine had not spared him even a single thought since her abduction. Yet now she wondered how he would receive her. Perhaps Gerald would be filled with fatherly rage over her abduction and abuse. Or perhaps he would berate her for having failed to obey him fully, for becoming the pirate’s whore and not his wife.

“Katherine!”

Katherine stumbled and came to a halt, relieved to be diverted from her thoughts. Guy ran through the raised portcullis, flying down the path toward her. Macgregor followed, more slowly.

Katherine forced a bright smile. “Hello, Guy!” She waved.

Guy skidded to a halt. “Where have you been? We have been looking all over for you!”

Careful to avoid Macgregor’s gaze, Katherine ruffled Guy’s thick, dark hair. “I felt lonely with Liam gone,” she lied. “I decided to take a walk.”

“You should have asked me to come with you,” Guy protested. “The captain told me it was my duty to protect you from harm.”

“Lady Katherine,” Macgregor said, “please ask for my escort the next time you wish to leave the castle walls.”

Katherine’s jaw tightened, and she flashed him a dark glance. “Do you think I intend to escape?”

He stared at her, not answering.

Katherine regretted her words. “There is no way for
me to escape and you know it,” she said. “But I refuse to be jailed inside that miserable pile of stone.” She shoved past the big man, Guy on her heels.

“Katherine?”

“What is it, Guy?”

“You are not happy here?”

She softened. It suddenly occurred to her that Guy would suffer when she left. Perhaps it had been a mistake to befriend him. But she loved children, and Guy was no exception. She chose her words with care. “Guy, I am not unhappy here. But I have friends and family elsewhere. My stay here is only temporary.”

He stared at her, tears welling in his eyes. “I understand. I thought you were different from the others, that you would stay. But like the others, sooner or later you will leave.”

Katherine could not move. She had lost her breath.
The others
. How many others had there been? She did not want to know. She had to know. She said, “Yes, I am no different from the others.” And she turned away, so he would not see the single tear that crept down her cheek.

Bored and restless, acutely aware of Liam’s absence, at once praying that he would return before the supply ship from Belfast arrived, and praying that he would not, Katherine wandered over to the brick manor house. Guy trailed behind her. It was another warm summer day, and Katherine had been picking primroses—flowers she had discovered growing wild on the path outside the barbican.

Now she raised herself up on her toes, holding the wildflowers in one hand, and she tried to peer through a glass window. But the curtains were drawn. She turned to face Guy. “Liam mentioned this house once. Clearly this is a new home. Why does Liam not live here, instead of in that drafty, decrepit castle?”

Guy shrugged. “I have been with the captain more than two years, and he has always lived in the keep. But he built this house, Katherine.”

Katherine gasped. Why would Liam go to the effort and
expense of building this pleasing home, and then leave it vacant? “Have you been inside?”

“I have never been inside, not even once. He keeps it locked.”

Sending Guy a conspiratorial glance, Katherine hurried to the front of the house. As Guy had said, the two large front doors, both weathered wood but beautifully paneled and engraved, were locked.

“What do you think to do?” Guy asked curiously.

She grinned at him, her eyes twinkling. “Explore.”

Guy’s eyes widened, and then he grinned, as well. “Perhaps the steward has the keys. But he will not give them to me. And the captain might be angry when he finds out what we have done.”

“Leave O’Neill to me.” Katherine thought but a moment. “I do not think the steward will give them to me, either, but…” Her smile flashed again. “I can try!”

Laughing together they turned, and came face-to-face with Macgregor. His face was carved into granite planes, as usual, but Katherine saw some kind of indecipherable gleam in his brown eyes. “Are you in need of aid, Lady Katherine?” he asked politely.

Since coming to the island, Katherine had changed her opinion of the big, bald, brutish-looking man. She had thought him an illiterate mercenary, but whenever he spoke to her, his words were polite and precise, indicating a level of education above the average. He also was fond of reading. And he did not play just the bagpipes with great skill, but the flute and fiddle as well. No, this big, oxlike man was not at all as he seemed. And the few times he found it necessary to speak with her, he always addressed her with respect, as if she were an earl’s daughter—or Liam’s wife.

“I wish to go inside,” Katherine said imperiously.

“No one goes inside the captain’s house.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “’Tis not my affair to ask.”

“Who has the key?”

“Undoubtedly the captain.”

“And the steward?”

Macgregor sighed. “He will not be happy when he learns you have gone inside.”

Katherine’s smile faded. Liam would not care that she had trespassed into his manor house—because he would be so furious over her escape. Briefly, a sadness she did not want to feel claimed her. Already she ached over their parting.

And Macgregor misunderstood. “There, my lady, do not fret. I will get you the keys—but you shall have to explain to the captain what you are about.”

Katherine cried out.

Beside her, Guy stood frozen, his eyes wide.

Katherine could not believe her eyes. She stared at the dusty parquet floors. Even at court she had not seen such precise workmanship. She stared at the paneled walls, surmising the wood to be rich mahogany. These carpenters had known their craft—they could not have come from the village below. She moved through the entrance hall. Staring first at one rich, brilliantly colored tapestry, and then at equally lovely oil paintings in gilded frames. She paused on the threshold of the dining hall.

That room was paneled in dark oak. The table was round, a long, paler version of the same wood, set on a heavy, intricately carved pedestal that boasted gargoyles. Upholstered chairs of state stood around it. And on the oak floors were red-and-gold Persian rugs.

Katherine looked at the two huge sideboards, at the dull silver tureens and vases, then up at the dust-covered gold chandelier. Inhaling, she ran into the next room. This chamber was smaller, but as richly furnished. Paintings hung on the walls. Heavy damask draperies covered the windows. Chairs and stools abounded. A bookcase graced one entire wall, the wood shelves crammed with tomes. And a huge desk, somehow balanced on delicate legs, the feet gold hooves, dominated the room.

Katherine sank down on the nearest chair. For some absurd reason, tears filled her eyes.

“Are you all right, lady?” Guy asked her in a whisper.

She blinked at him. “I do not understand that man.”

Guy said nothing, looking in awe around them again.

Katherine also looked around, more tears filling her eyes. “I do not understand him,” she said, more fiercely. “He plays pirate, but he is really a gentleman. He plays savage, but he is literate and wise. He calls that dank castle his home—when right next door there is a home that would please any prince—and any princess.”

Guy sat down on a wooden stool, the seat leather studded with brass. “He is a great man.”

“He plunders and pillages, Guy. He is a pirate.”

Guy jerked his thin shoulders forward. “’Tis the way of the world. He has told me so himself. Take—or be taken.”

Katherine stared at the boy, shivering slightly, for Liam was right, dear God, he was right. In this world, might made right, and she herself had learned that firsthand. Clearly Liam had learned such a painful lesson himself as well. And she wondered, then, when he had received his education in bitter reality. She began to suspect that it had been far too early in his childhood years, perhaps when Shane O’Neill had taken him from his mother.

It would explain so much. The contradictions in his character and personality, the duality, his being both savage pirate and charming gentleman—a man she feared to comprehend.

With a heavy heart, Katherine stole out of the castle in the same manner that she had a few days before. A message had been relayed by one of the dairymaids. The ship from Belfast had arrived.

She rushed to the village, jumping at every sound and shadow. She was half-afraid and half-hopeful that, at any moment, she would find Macgregor on her heels, or worse, come face-to-face with Liam. But the Scot had been nowhere to be seen all day, and Liam was still at sea.

Her rendezvous with the seaman would take place beside an alehouse which was on First Street, the dirt avenue fronting the docks. Katherine espied him lurking about kegs of beer that were piled against the wooden wall of the ordinary. Her glance moved on, taking in all the usual activity of the day, the few passing drays, some men mov
ing briskly about their business, a woman hawking fish pies, a single painted whore lurking on the street corner. Two children played ball near the wharf, kicking it back and forth. But then her blood chilled and every air upon her nape prickled. Not far from the closest dock, the
Sea Dagger
bobbed at anchor.

Katherine’s steps slowed and she stared at the pirate ship. Men were scurrying about the decks, preparing the ship for its berth, others unloading chests and barrels onto the docks. She strained her vision, then realized she hoped to espy Liam one last time before she stowed away on the supply ship destined to take her from the island.

“Lady?”

Katherine jumped in fright. A gasp of relief quickly followed when she face the sailor. “You scared me! When did the
Sea Dagger
arrive?”

“This morn.”

Katherine gaped. Liam had arrived many hours ago—but she had not seen him. Was he still aboard? Overseeing the unloading of his booty? She should not be hurt that he had not come running to a reunion with her, she should be relieved. “Are we ready to go?”

“All the way to Belfast, my lady,” the sailor said, smiling.

Katherine closed her eyes, overwhelmed with sudden confusion, with heavy doubt. She did not want to leave—but she had to. Yet she could not leave without a final good-bye to Liam. But if she really wished to escape, she knew she must not delay, must not return to see him, she must quickly go forward to the supply ship. Too easily she imagined herself in his embrace, and if she did not leave now, she suspected that she never would. “Where is Liam?” she asked very hoarsely.

The sailor looked at her, hesitating.

Katherine licked her lips, trying to summon up the will to leave—a will she had been so sure of until now. Her pulse was thundering in rhythm with her doubt.

“I am right behind you, Katherine,” Liam said very softly—very dangerously.

Katherine felt the ground tilt wildly beneath her feet. She whirled around. Liam stood there, staring at her coldly. Dangling from his hand was the ruby-and-gold necklace with which she had bribed the seaman.