The Hawk and the Dove (39 page)

“If I am a guest here, perhaps all is not lost, but if I am a prisoner, I fear for you and may God help you!”

The red-haired giant tried to stare her down with an arrogant male pride that matched her own. “Silence, woman!” he commanded when she failed to even blink before his stare.

“Shane never said no to you, but what he gave, he gave freely. He did it for love. Try to coerce him and he will kill you.”

O’Neill’s mouth set in grim lines and his chin went higher.

Sabre flung her magnificent hair back and stepped one defiant step closer. “I am Lady Devonport! I am your daughter-in-law! I carry your grandchild in my belly! A royal prince of Ireland by blood!”

There was not a murmur in the vast hall as every man strained forward, holding his breath for the next pronouncement.

She lowered her voice and said simply, “You hold me at your peril.”

O’Neill raised his voice to the servants of the hall. “Well, don’t stand there like bloody stones, prepare a bath … food … build up the fire. Cannot you see my daughter is exhausted? Plenish the best chamber for my guest!”

He could see that only burning pride kept her on her feet.

A few hours later, after she had been bathed and fed, she lay upon a featherbed beside a blazing fire and drowsily drifted off to slumber. She was aroused by raised voices below in the hall. One voice gladdened her heart,
yet she could hardly credit that miraculously he had arrived for her almost upon her heels. A secret smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she realized the speed at which he must have traveled for her.

The O’Neill and his two natural sons stood face-to-face hurling insults and threats back and forth until the air was blue with Irish curses. They slanged each other with every foul name they had learned from the age of three.

“I wish to Christ I’d never laid eyes on you. If you’ve harmed one hair on her head, you’re dead meat; pickings for the vultures!” threatened Shane.

Sabre realized she had better stop it if she could before there was murder done, or before stiff unbending pride made the men such bitter enemies that only death would put an end to their hatred. She pulled on her warm gown, took up a branch of candles, and descended the tower steps. She paused at the entrance to the great hall and called, “My husband, please believe that I have received much hospitality and every honor from the earl of Tyrone.”

“Sabre!” cried Shane with relief, sheathing his weapons. He was at her side with his strong, supporting arm about her in less than a moment, while Matthew stood challenging his father with his weapons still drawn.

“Not one more thing will I ever give you!” vowed Shane. “I could forgive anything but this. Only evil could prompt you to take the one thing I love and hold dearest to use as hostage. Take, take, you only know how to take. Well, you’ve taken the last thing from me, O’Neill!”

Perversely, the great O’Neill was not shamed to have his sons stand before him and curse his existence. He was bursting with pride that he had bred two such wolves whose ferocity could put the fear of the devil into men.
He had not been unafraid himself when they drew their weapons upon him, even though he was surrounded by an army.

Suddenly he began to laugh, and the sound of it rolled around the great hall. He looked over at Sabre with fiery admiration in his eyes. “By God’s cock, I know why you chose her—she’s a match for you, but that’s only because she’s Irish! Take your woman, she’s worth an O’Hara and an O’Donnell any day!”

Shane came back to stand beside his brother, but still had a possessive arm about Sabre.

O’Neill said, “Ye say I never give ye anything, so just to make a liar out of ye, I’ll give ye a little gem of information. Philip of Spain sails his Armada for England in August.”

Shane looked at him through narrowed eyes. He did not doubt for a minute that the O’Neill knew Philip’s plans. He was only suspicious as to why he should be sharing his knowledge with sons more loyal to England than Ireland.

“Well, lads, will ye stay and get drunk wi’ me tonight?”

Shane declined. Drink-sodden Irish tempers would flare up like flash fires once the sun was down and the smoky Irish whiskey was liberally passed around. “I’ve better things to do,” said Shane bluntly.

O’Neill eyed Sabre with a leer. “Ye’ve yer work cut out for ye, lad.”

Shane saw Sabre favor the old man with a wicked smile and knew they shared some secret.

Sabre’s eyes widened when they left the fortress, for outside waited the entire crew of the
Defiant
Dwarfed between the two tall Hawkhursts she looked up at Shane. “Did you expect to fight a battle?”

“In truth I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready to wage war to get you back.”

Matt spoke up. “We had one hell of a time. The
Defiant
couldn’t go any farther than the Lough, so we left her anchored at Shane’s own town of Newry, piled the crew into the lifeboats, and rowed up the River Bann and the River Blackwater.”

“You make me feel like Helen of Troy,” said Sabre appreciatively. “Now I suppose you’ve to do it all again to get back to the ship.”

“’Tis nothing,” boasted Matt. “Every man jack of them would have gone twice the distance.”

Though the night was black and chill for July, and her feet and skirts were drenched from the rough terrain they walked, she had never felt safer in her whole life. These were
men,
and more, these were
her men
!

Shane bent down to murmur, “I’m sorry to drag you from your warm bed. Let me carry you, love.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, for he must be every bit as weary as she, but she longed for his touch and in a weak moment gave in to the need for him. She stopped in her tracks and reached up loving arms. “Please pick me up?” she whispered, and with a satisfied grunt Shane swept her up against his heart. He was instantly conscious of the blood flowing hot and thick in his veins and of the heavy, sweet ache that flooded his loins. Whatever good intentions he’d had about giving her a divorce vanished the instant he clasped her to his body. Her breast was crushed against his chest, his arms held her slender thighs, and her delicious buttocks brushed the tip of his manhood, ripe and swollen with desire. The exquisite torture drove him forward, dispelling any fatigue he might have felt. If Sabre insisted on keeping a
barrier between them, he decided in that instant, he would enjoy smashing it.

There was something wickedly exciting about being carried so close in Shane’s arms. It was a singularly erotic journey for both of them. Never had she been more aware of his powerfully muscled torso, and as the wind blew strands of her hair across his cheek, he thought he would go mad with longing. When they reached the boats, he did not relinquish her, but sat her between his legs where she was secure and sheltered and intimately close to him. Though they were in a crowded boat, for them the world receded until they were aware only of each other and their longing. She drew strength from his strength, her weariness drained away, and she was left with such a heightened feeling of anticipation for the love he would make to her when finally they reached his cabin aboard the
Defiant.
She had somehow fallen madly in love with her husband and craved the drugging, passionate kisses only his mouth could give her.

When they reached the ship, he lifted her once more into his arms and climbed the rope ladder to the deck with one strong arm. As her arms crept about his neck, he could not resist the tempting mouth just below his own, and captured her lips in a searing kiss that left them both dizzy with hot desire. He swept down to the captain’s cabin and laid his precious burden upon the wide berth. He lit the lamp, then went down on his haunches before the safe in the corner of the cabin. He held something in his cupped hand as he came back to the bed.

“Sabre,” he whispered tenderly, “can we begin again? I swear to woo you as you deserve. I pledge on my honor not to rush you. All I ask is a chance to make you fall in love with me.”

She almost told him how madly she loved him already, but liked the notion of being wooed so much, she held her tongue. His arms encircled her in a surprisingly gentle embrace. His lips and tongue slowly explored the warm honey of her mouth. Then he drew back with a deep sigh and lifted one of her hands to his lips. He placed a tender kiss upon her palm, then filled it with a chain of diamonds. “Good night, my beloved,” he whispered, and arose reluctantly from the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked in alarm.

“I’ll never force you to share my bed again, darling. I’ll bunk in with Matthew on the voyage home.”

She blinked, not believing that he had left her to sleep alone, and had sworn to do so for the rest of the voyage. She looked down at the fortune in diamonds he had poured into her hands and a sob caught in her throat. It wasn’t jewels she wanted, it was the hard, muscled length of him. Her body screamed with her need to have him fill her, and now, of all ridiculous things, he had decided to play the gentleman and give her the wooing of which she accused him of cheating her!

It was a long time before she succumbed to sleep but once she did, the erotic dreams that filled the remaining hours of the night and the early morning made her blush profusely long after she had awakened from them.

Shane and Matt lay in twin berths talking for hours. They spoke of their childhood and of their deep love for Sebastian Hawkhurst. They both agreed they would have preferred him to be their blood father, yet secretly each was proud that the blood of Irish kings ran in their veins.

“Do we believe him about Spain?” asked Matthew.

“We had better believe him. He has worked hand in glove with Philip of Spain to know the exact date the Armada sails against England. That is when he will begin the Irish rebellion, while Bess has her hands full.”

Matthew said somberly, “You paint a bleak picture … war with Spain, then war with Ireland.”

“I’m a realist, Matt. If we meet Spain head on and fight the battles at sea we will snatch victory for England. Then perhaps we can work out a lasting peace. Ireland is different. The battles will be fought on land. It will be a long and bloody business. You know how service with the English army in Ireland is dreaded. No matter how many times England crushes her under its yoke, rebellion will break out again, for the Irish are fanatics, mad buggers. They’d rather fight than eat!”

“Our time is short; will you go to the queen or Burghley with the information?”

“The
Defiant
and I are going home to Devon, for that is where the Armada will land if we allow them to get that far. I’ll sail you across to Liverpool and give you
messages for the queen and Burghley. I’ll alert Drake and the lord high admiral, Howard. The Navy has been preparing for quite a while, for it has been no secret that Philip means to sail against us. I want you to order all Hawkhurst vessels home to Devonport. I’ll give you written orders for the captains,”

Matthew felt honored to be trusted again with these weighty responsibilities and knew at last that he was forgiven for his treachery. “You’ll have little time with Sabre,” said Matthew on a personal note.

Shane smiled into the darkness. “Time enough for a wedding. Spain … England … the whole bloody world will have to wait.”

First light saw the
Defiant
weigh anchor and head down the Carlingford Lough to the Irish Sea. Hawkhurst was a man who captained his own ship, and Sabre found him on the quarterdeck.

“Sweetheart!” he welcomed. “This glorious land belongs to you.” He took her small, cold hand and warmed it with his own. She gazed upward at the mountains shrouded in mist. “Perhaps we should let O’Neill have it,” she said softly.

“Sabre, take a lesson from me—hold what is yours!”

Her eyes flew from the mountains to his face, lingering on the hard, chiseled mouth and strong, arrogant jaw. His prominent cheekbones reinforced the impression of power and ruthless vitality. His dark, harshly handsome features brought a rush of love, and she whispered, “I will … I will hold what is mine.”

“We’re about to cross the Irish Sea to Liverpool. If the weather holds, we’ll be there before dark. Will you give me the pleasure of your company and dine with me tonight?”

“It will be a great honor to dine with the captain of the
Defiant,”
she said with a provocative sideways glance.

God’s breath,
he thought,
does she know what her smile has just done to me? Of course she knows,
he thought,
Sabre is all woman.

“I had better go below, for once we are in the Irish Sea I shall disgrace myself.”

He lifted her hand to his cheek in a quick caress and said with concern, “Love, are you still seasick? I cannot fathom it, you should have had your sea legs long ago. Rest while you can and I’ll come to check on you in an hour.”

“Try not to rock the boat,” she said, laughing as she disappeared belowdecks. Sabre experienced only nausea with no retching or vomiting, and once the ship docked at Liverpool even the nausea disappeared.

Shane and his brother were closeted together over two hours before Matthew departed the ship with letters for the queen and written orders for the Hawkhurst captains.

Shane and Sabre sat down to a delicious seafood dinner catered by a famous master chef of Liverpool—steaming silver tureens filled with chowder bisque, scallops, shrimp, crab, and lobster. There was everything from delicately baked whitefish to succulent, almost decadent golden fried oysters.

Sabre was most reluctant to try the oysters, but Shane tempted her over and over by extolling their virtues and begging, “Trust me, darling, they are delicious.” Gingerly she bit into one and to her surprise she loved it. “Mmm,” she teased, “more delicious than making love!”

He scooped her into his lap and fed her half a dozen more. She shivered as his strong brown fingers brushed
her lips. “You are cold, love,” he exclaimed, misreading her shiver. “I swear Liverpool is the dampest city on earth.” He opened the door on the small brazier and fed it with coal, then poured them each a goblet of Chablis and pushed a large, sprawling chair before the stove. He pulled her down onto his knee again and she laid her head against his wide chest, hearing nothing but the heavy hammer of his heart. They sat quietly in a close, warm silence, and he knew by the way her body had relaxed against his, there was no barrier between them in this moment.