Virginia Henley (26 page)

Then suddenly her fingertips felt the ridges on his back and she became aware of the scars that had been inflicted upon his body. Emerald was consumed by a raging fury. It mattered little to her that his dark beauty was marred, but when she imagined how powerless he had been and how much self-control he had needed to survive, it almost broke her heart. She wanted to kill her father, kill Jack Raymond, kill anyone at all who had given him pain.

As heat leapt between them, Sean sensed her anger. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she lay cushioned on top of him. He knew of only one way to assuage her fury and set about rekindling her passion. He threaded his fingers into her hair and brought her lips down to his. He explored her mouth so intimately, she soon lost her ability to think clearly. His tongue thrust with such drugging strokes, while his hands made such possessive demands, that she gave herself up to his dominant insistence.

Before dawn, Sean made her replete. A delicious lassitude enveloped her, so that even her eyelashes felt too heavy to lift. She gathered her strength and stirred in his arms. “I must go back to my own room before the servants find me here.”

His arm tightened around her like a steel band. “There will be no furtive sneaking about between bedchambers. I intend to carry you to bed every night and awaken you with kisses each morning. Like this.” His lips brushed her brow, moved lightly over her temples, then gently kissed each eyelid. By the time his mouth covered hers, she was ready with an uninhibited welcome.

She was soft with surfeit, warm and pliant and generous enough to give him anything he desired, anytime. Sean knew this was the way he wanted her; this was the way he was going to keep her. He slipped from the bed and tucked the covers about her. “We are going riding across this county and the next, this morning.”

When Emerald groaned, Sean laughed at her. “Not you, Beauty. I’ll tell Johnny you rode all night.” He leered at her.

“Sean!”

“Mmm, does that blush cover your lovely titties?” He pulled down the sheet and dropped a kiss upon each breast. Then he cupped them possessively as his playful look became intense. “I’ve wanted you since you were sixteen … you were well worth the wait, Beauty. Rest today so we can make the night explode.”

At his words Emerald felt every naked inch of her skin shiver with gooseflesh, yet at the same time her insides were on fire. How could she wait until night?

    
S
ean purposely chose two of the finest Thoroughbreds at Greystones for their long ride. The turf was luxuriously thick on the great plain, springing back into place as their horses’ hooves thundered over it. Sean O’Toole knew Johnny Montague was in his element by the rapturous look upon his face and the endless questions he asked about Ireland’s superb Thoroughbreds. He listened avidly as Sean told him the rich rolling meadows of Meath bred the finest horses and Kildare County was the center of Irish horse racing.

They spent the afternoon at Maynooth where Sean arranged for the transfer of his grandfather’s books to his own library. While he was busy, Sean asked Nan FitzGerald to amuse their visitor. For a moment Johnny felt shy. In the five years since he had met Nan, she had changed from a
pretty girl into a beautiful woman. But she hadn’t changed on the inside. She was still the sweetest female he had ever encountered.

She put him at ease immediately, even though her own heart was dancing a jig at the sight of the aristocratic young Englishman. To entertain him, and to keep him from the other females of Maynooth, Nan took him up to the castle turrets.

“I’m flattered you remember me.” “Oh, Johnny, I could never forget you; I think of you so often.”

“You’re not married or spoken for?” he asked eagerly.

Nan quickly shook her head, hoping the news would spur him on, but Johnny flushed at his own boldness and fell silent. Nan decided she couldn’t wait another five years to advance their relationship. Like many a young woman before her, she grasped her courage in both hands and plunged in. “Johnny, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“I do,” he replied seriously. “That’s exactly what happened between my sister Emerald and Sean.”

“Is it true that he stole her and seduced her?” Nan asked breathlessly, momentarily diverted from her objective.

“It is, and I know it sounds a wicked thing for him to do, but my sister is so deeply in love, she absolutely glows.”

“How romantic … now that I’ve seen you again, I realize I, too, am in love,” Nan said in a rush. As she swayed toward him, Johnny’s natural instincts took over. He clasped her hands and drew her close, then, tentatively, he brushed his lips against hers. They kissed, then clung, then kissed again, both carried beyond words by the intensity of their feelings.

When Sean cleared his throat behind them, they sprang apart guiltily. Pretending to be unaware of their newfound intimacy, Sean asked for the pleasure of Nan FitzGerald’s company for the rest of the afternoon. They showed Johnny
Maynooth’s vast stables and pastureland as well as her numerous tenant horse farms for breeding stock. Sean watched his look of longing grow more covetous by the minute.

When Johnny sighed heavily and murmured, “How I wish I’d been born here,” Sean knew he had accomplished his purpose. Parading horses as well as the captivating Nan before him was a subtle form of torture.

On the way back to Greystones as Johnny reflected on what he was leaving behind, Sean turned up the torment by reminding him of what lay ahead. “I’ll take you and your crew back to London aboard the
Half Moon.
I know you’re anxious to return home; will tomorrow be soon enough?”

“You’re a cruel sod,” Johnny accused wryly.

“Merciless,” Sean agreed with mocking silver eyes.

Johnny decided it was a damn good thing Shamus O’Toole had fired the shot. The English crew was convinced he’d missed death by inches. The FitzGeralds had removed all firearms and ammunition from the
Swallow
, giving the English sailors the idea that they were prisoners. Johnny hadn’t disabused them of the notion they could be murdered in their bunks at the whim of Sean O’Toole, partly because it was true and partly because it would serve his own purpose when the men were questioned by William Montague.

“In the next weeks, as the Montague Line becomes depleted of its ships, you must advise your father to buy more. I’ll provide the financing, of course. Do you foresee any problems with such a plan?”

“I’m a piss-poor sailor, but on dry land my forte is the shipping business. The tedious paperwork is my sole domain. Father relies on me completely.” John thought for a minute, then passed along a most useful piece of information. “When it comes to insuring cargoes, I play the odds. At any one time at least two out of ten carry no insurance. It saves a lot of money, so it’s pretty standard procedure among the merchant lines.”

Sean’s look was bland. “I’ve recently become a shareholder of Lloyd’s of London. I can tell
you
which Montague-vessels are insured, or more to the point, which vessels are not insured.”

“Do you leave anything to chance?”

“Very little, Johnny. I had five long years to lay my plans, and since Fate dropped a fortune into my hands when I inherited the earldom, I now have the means to carry out those plans.”

Johnny Montague knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Why was it the English always underestimated the Irish? His thoughts flew to Emerald. He hoped she wouldn’t make that mistake. For her own sake he hoped she was a match for Sean O’Toole.

    
E
merald couldn’t stop singing. Through her eyes the world seemed different today. Everything and everyone were infinitely more beautiful. The sheen on the rosewood bedroom suite was dazzling, the sunshine on the window-pane turned it to pure gold. When Kate changed the bed-sheets they seemed whiter and more crisp, her breakfast tasted like ambrosia, and even the water in the bathtub felt doubly delicious upon her skin.

She filled the house with flowers. Their scent and their colors enchanted her. Her heart was brimful of joy and she wanted everyone to share it with her. In the afternoon she decided to visit Sean’s father in the gatehouse. Her feeling of outrage toward him had melted away, leaving only compassion in its wake.

She took an armful of blue and yellow lupines with her, thrusting them at an astonished Mr. Burke. She announced blithely, “It’s Emerald FitzGerald, I’ve come to visit.”

Paddy Burke knew by the twinkle in Shamus’s eye that he was pleased to have female company.

As she chattered away, she tidied up the tower room, then
perched on a stool beside Shamus and accepted his offer of a little French brandy. Her heart overflowed with pity for this man. Because of the Montagues his family had been torn asunder. His beloved wife, Kathleen, must have died of a broken heart when she learned both of her sons were lost to her.

Emerald skillfully guided the conversation so that Shamus could reminisce about the happy times. He was a man who loved to talk, especially if he had a beautiful and attentive audience.

When she departed, both men were sorry to see her leave. “Come back again; you brought the sunshine with you.” Shamus beamed.

“I shall, I shall,” she promised happily.

Emerald decided to dress for dinner. Of course, it wasn’t dinner she dressed for, it was Sean FitzGerald O’Toole. She chose the peacock silk, then wound a wreath of cream rosebuds into her hair.

From her tall bedchamber windows she spotted the two riders while they were still a mile away. She imagined Sean was already scanning Greystones for a glimpse of her. She picked up her skirts and ran to meet him.

The moment he saw her, he was off the horse in a flash. He was every bit as eager as she for their reunion. He opened his arms so she could run into them. Then he picked her up and swung her around. He bit down on her earlobe and said low, “Stab me, is all this elegance just for me?”

She lifted her face to his and murmured, “Are you not the fastidious Earl of Kildare?”

“I am, madam.” His swift, passionate kiss took her breath away. “You smell of roses and promises. I shouldn’t even touch you until I get the stink of the stables off me.”

She sniffed his male scent and rolled her eyes with appreciation. “Horse, mingled with the smell of leather, is an aphrodisiac to me.”

“If I thought that was true, I’d forgo the bath and dinner and carry you straight to bed.”

When Johnny emerged from the stables, he hung back to give them a private moment together.

Emerald pretended she had only just noticed him. “Oh, dear, I forgot we had company. I suppose we’ll have to suffer through dinner after all. Never mind, I had Mary Malone prepare some of your favorite dishes.”

    
T
onight in the dining room it was Johnny who felt left out of things. Though they politely included him in the conversation, Emerald and Sean had eyes only for each other. When dessert was served, Johnny saw that they were actually holding hands beneath the table.
If she can tame the savage beast that lurks inside Sean O ‘Toole, perhaps she is a match for him
, Johnny mused. Finally, he could bear the longing in their eyes no more and bade them good-night.

    
S
ean set Emerald’s feet to the thick-piled carpet, locked their chamber door, and stripped off his leather gloves.

“Don’t stop there—let me see all of your secrets,” she invited as her fingers began to unfasten the buttons on the bodice of her peacock silk.

“Don’t undress. I want the pleasure of disrobing you.”

She dropped her hands and watched him hungrily as he made short work of removing his garments. “Do you always get what you want?” she teased.

“With a little Irish charm and a bit of friendly persuasion.” His body was all sinew and muscle; his swarthy skin stretched taut over the spare flesh. Jet-black hair curled on his chest, narrowed to a thin line across his flat belly, then curled in profusion over his groin. He was generously endowed, his manroot thick, his sac heavy.

As he walked toward her she saw he was already so hard, his cock jutted straight out from his body. She stood absolutely
still while his hands went up beneath her silk skirts. His fingers played with her until her cleft was hot and sleek and creamy, then he braced his legs and lifted her onto his jutting, marble-hard cock.

Her hands clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into the firm flesh. By the time he had unfastened all the buttons of her bodice so that her breasts sprang free, she was panting with need. His tongue toyed with her nipples briefly, but it was enough to turn them into sharp little spears. He knew she needed no more foreplay.

Sean lifted off the silk gown and shift together, then he cupped her bottom and surged up inside her with a powerful thrust, a savage cry erupting from his throat.

The night exploded.

S
ean enjoyed the aftermath of the storm almost as much as the tempest itself. He lay supine, while Emerald lay prone, full upon him, her head cushioned on his chest. This was how he liked to make her, soft with surfeit. His hands absently stroked her bottom, his lips brushed the top of her head. He felt bemused, beguiled, bewitched. He warned himself not to become too possessive. Their time together was not infinite. It was a means to an end. And it
would
end, he reminded himself.