Virginia Henley (20 page)

“Do you intend to ravish the lass?” Paddy asked baldly. “Ravish her? I don’t just want her body, Mr. Burke, I intend to own her soul.” The veneer of civilization was very thin over the savage
man who stood before him. Mr. Burke knew that beneath the humor and charm, Sean O’Toole was the Prince of Hell.

    
E
merald ate her dinner in solitude. The food was perfection itself, far superior in quality and taste to anything prepared in Portman Square. Each time her chamber door opened, Emerald’s heart lurched against her ribs, but each time it was Kate Kennedy.

“I’ve drawn ye a bath, ma’am, if ye would be so good as to follow me.”

Emerald, in the habit of being amenable, did as she was bid. She was surprised at the size of the bathing room. It was all pristine white marble with mirrors everywhere. A silver basket held a generous assortment of soaps, lotions, sponges, and loofahs, and beside the basket sat a mountain of snowy Turkish towels.

It took her a while to get up enough courage to remove her dress. Her fingers went to the silver brooch, which she had fastened to her shift where it couldn’t be seen by prying eyes. Suddenly she knew that Sean had been at her wedding. He had brought the gift himself! Why, oh, why hadn’t he spirited her away before they had legally wedded her to Jack Raymond? Now everything was in such a terrible coil! She sighed heavily and, keeping her eyes downcast, managed to bathe without looking at herself.

Back in the primrose bedroom she realized she would have to sleep in her shift, since she had no nightclothes. She climbed into bed and nervously fingered the little dolphin. She sat rigid, waiting for him to come. He was a devil! Why didn’t he come and get it over with? She would fight him, when he came. She shivered with distaste as she thought about the physical intimacies Jack forced upon her.

As her candles burned low, Emerald began to yawn. Her mind flitted about over the unbelievable things that had happened to her today. Briefly she wondered what Jack and her
father would do when they discovered that she was missing. Her mind shied away from thoughts of them. Her eyes closed as sleep beckoned. They would never in a million years know where she was.

    
A
t Portman Square, Jack Raymond and William Montague knew exactly where she was. They ground their teeth in impotent rage as they stared at the note that had been delivered to them. Though it was unsigned, both knew instantly who it was from.

“You should have killed the Irish swine, the night you stabbed Joseph!” Montague charged.

“We both had a stab at Joseph O’Toole. Don’t think you can wash your hands of murder!” Jack Raymond’s tone held a threat.

“For Christ’s sake, we’re in this together, let’s not savage each other’s throats.”

Both men had enough to worry about without the added humiliation of Emerald’s bringing dishonor to them. It seemed when troubles came, they came in multitudes. The Earl of Sandwich was not only being accused of incompetence and corruption, he was being investigated for treason. The Montagues were all running about in circles trying to control the gossip, but the scandal was on every tongue in London.

“We’ll go together and fetch her back!” Jack declared.

“We can’t do that. The minute we set foot on their land, we’d be dead men. Shamus O’Toole has been waiting years for me to make that fatal mistake.”

“Then send John, let him talk terms … see how much
O’Toole will take to let her go,” Jack suggested desperately.

“Sean O’Toole is the powerful Earl of Kildare. Do you think John capable of dealing with him?”

“He’s the only hope we’ve got,” Jack said flatly.

With no thought for John’s safety, Montague agreed, then directed, “Burn that note before it falls into the servants’ hands. We’ve scandal enough in the family.”

T
he early sun seeped through the casement windows of the primrose room. At the same moment Emerald realized she was alone, Sean came through the adjoining chamber door. She clutched the sheets to her chin and lowered her lashes.

“I won’t allow you to waste one precious moment of this glorious day.” His face brimming with mischief, he took hold of the covers at the bottom of her bed and with one quick snap of the wrists removed them entirely.

Emerald huddled in her shift, trying to make a small ball of herself.

Some of the mischief left his face. “Devil take it, where’s the fun in teasing a lass who won’t play?”

“What do you want?” she murmured guardedly.

“I want you to raise your lashes and reveal those beautiful emerald eyes. I want you to smile and laugh and play the coquette. I want you to use every emotion that should come naturally to a gorgeous woman. You’ve been kept in a box. I’ve just opened the lid! When you are vastly amused at something, I want you to laugh so hard, you have to hold your belly while the tears run down your face. When you get angry, I want to see the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes. I want to see you give as good as you get. When I pull off your covers I want you to kick me and spit in my eye. I want to see you shake your curls and admire yourself in every
mirror in the house. I want you to be so extravagant with your dress bills, you try to make a pauper of me. I want to see you in a full-blown passion over something … anything!”

His words were so unexpected, her body uncurled from its tight ball as she listened.

His eyes fell on the silver brooch. “I want you to wear jewels on your shimmy because you are unconventional, not because you have to hide them. Devil take it, Emerald, you are an Irishwoman; flaunt it!”

His words gave her the courage to raise her eyes to his. She saw he was wearing tall black boots and tight black riding breeches. His white linen shirt was open at the neck, and again he wore black leather gloves. He sat down on the bed beside her. “What would you like to do today?”

Before Emerald had a chance to answer, Kate Kennedy came in with a breakfast tray in her hands. At sight of the couple on the bed, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Sean winked at a blushing Emerald. “Kate, I’m a man, not a bloody monk. She attracts me like a lodestone.” His mouth curved. “Better get used to it.”

Though he spoke to Kate, Emerald knew the words were for her.

He arose from the bed, took the tray from Kate, and set it across Emerald’s knees. “I’ve sent to Dublin for a dressmaker, but she won’t be here for hours. If I find you something to wear, will you ride with me, Emerald?”

The moment she nodded her assent, he took himself off in search of suitable attire, and Emerald found it much easier to eat without his amused eyes on her.

“He slept in his own chamber,” she told Kate timidly.

“Sure an’ ’Tis none of my
affair
which chamber the earl chooses. I’ll make myself scarce,” Kate said, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Emerald chewed slowly, digesting Sean’s words along
with the food. Though she hadn’t had much experience of suitors, she was almost certain that Sean was wooing her. Confidence in her attraction rose a notch.

Sean returned and flung one of his shirts and a pair of boy’s riding breeches on the bed. “I’ll give you exactly five minutes. When you’re ready, knock on my door.”

For four of those minutes she sat looking at the male attire he expected her to wear. She suddenly realized the time of his ultimatum had almost run out and she scrambled into the shirt and pants in less than a minute.

When she tapped on his door, he flung it open and grinned down at her. “Hello, Irish, will you never learn? When a man gives you five minutes, you push him out the door and let him cool his heels for an hour.”

“Please be serious for a minute. I can’t go out like this … look at me!”

“You’ll make the stableboys randy as hell. You’ve the sauciest round bottom I’ve seen in many a year, and the outline of your upthrust breasts shows through the cambric shirt with impudence. What’s your problem?”

She groaned. “You, sir, are my problem!”

He put a black-gloved finger beneath her chin and raised it until her green eyes met his. “Irish, I’ve only just begun.”

She slapped his finger away, dug her fists into her hips, and planted her legs firmly apart. Just as she opened her mouth to berate him, he swooped down behind her, thrust his head between her legs, and lifted her onto his shoulders.

“Hang on, Irish,” he warned as he galloped from the room.

Just as she was about to scream, he did something worse. He cocked his leg over the polished banister and the two of them went careening down its graceful curve and shot clean off the end of the newel post in a heap on the carpet.

“Ouch!” she cried, lying full on top of him.

“I cushioned your fall,” he protested with laughter.

“Cushioned? You’re harder than the floor!”

Sean rolled his eyes wickedly. “Irish, you have no idea.”

Mr. Burke came into the hallway with two dogs at his heels. When they saw the couple sprawling on the floor, the animals joined in the fun. Sean’s wolfhound rolled on his back in ecstasy and pawed the air. The greyhound sat in Emerald’s lap and licked her ear with a delicate sweep of pink tongue.

Emerald squealed and dissolved into laughter. “Ooh, I always wanted a dog, but they wouldn’t let me,” she gasped breathlessly.

Sean took her hand, pulled her to her feet, and they began to run with the dogs at their heels. “Have two!” he offered. When they reached the stables. Sean said, “Here, have a cat. How about a chicken?” He pretended to chase one.

“Stop, Scan, stop.” She was laughing and trying to catch her breath at the same time.

“I like to play with you.” The intensity of his words stopped the breath in her throat.

Then he broke their gaze and said casually, “The tack room’s through there. Find a pair of riding boots that fit, while I saddle the horses.”

As he lifted her into the saddle, she wished his hands would linger To cover her confusion when they did not, she said, “It’s not ladylike to ride astride.”

“I don’t want you to be ladylike,” he murmured low, imagining her riding astride him. “I’ll teach you to ride neck or nothing.” His mouth went dry at the thought.

“Is that Lucifer, the stallion you got for your birthday that year?”

He nodded and rubbed the glossy black neck. “He was just a colt then.” “So were you.”

Their eyes met briefly and Emerald grasped the moment
to put some questions to him. “Are you the Earl of Kildare?”

“I don’t want to be the earl of anything to you; I just want to be Sean.”

“If you are the earl, that means your brother Joseph must be dead.”

“May he rest in peace,” Sean murmured. Then he moved his mount closer to hers. “Emerald, the Irish temperament follows the weather. Today we have sunshine, so our mood must be light and happy. The sky here changes so rapidly, we’ll have lots of time for gloomy, melancholy thoughts that plunge us into black despair.”

She sensed he would tell her nothing, no matter how she probed. Emerald looked up at the sky and let her worries drop away from her. This was her beloved Ireland, she would seize the moment and enjoy it. As she rode along, the sky above her changed constantly. One minute it was a clear, bright blue, then a mass of gray clouds sailed in to threaten. Then suddenly, long golden beams of sunlight slanted down between the clouds and the menace was gone. It did it over and over, one minute sullen, threatening to close in; the next minute the sky sparkled with a joyous brightness that gladdened the heart.

He pointed a finger up the rolling green meadows. “The colors change like magic.”

She saw a golden field turn light green, then dark green, then on through blue and purple to black.

“The feel of the air changes with the hour of day. In the morning it can be soft, in the afternoon, heavy; then miraculously light and clear in the evening.”

“Ireland is quite unique,” she said with appreciation, seeing and feeling it as he spoke.

“And no matter how gloomy the day has been, when the sun sets in summer, the sky is streaked red, pink, or yellow.”

“The words drip off your tongue like cream.”

Her words conjured such an erotic picture, he instantly turned hard as marble.

The sudden barking of the dogs told them they’d have company on their ride. Sean broke into a gallop and the greyhound streaked past him. Emerald hadn’t ridden like this since her summer on Anglesey. She gripped the mare with her knees and spurred her onward to catch up with the devil who was leading her a merry chase.

They followed the banks of the River Liffey for miles, admiring the waterfowl and wildflowers. Sean slowed so that Emerald could keep up with him. “Would you like to see a spot called Salmon Leap?”

She nodded, ready for a rest from the saddle.

At the junction of the rivers Rye and Liffey, he lifted her down from her mare and tethered their horses to a hawthorn in full bloom. It was a magical spot where one river waterfalled into the other twenty feet below. Sean took Emerald’s hand as they made their way to the lower water. He lay on his stomach in the lush green grass and pulled her down beside him.