Virginia Henley (4 page)

“Will you be taking Emerald and John, sir?”

Montague hadn’t considered it, but now that Jack made the suggestion, he realized it had merit. Having his children aboard would allay any suspicion regarding the cargo. “Young John might benefit from the experience,” Montague allowed. His son was nowhere near as mature as O’Toole’s sons, nor even this young bastard his brother had sired. Time spent in their company might wake him up.

E
merald lay on a stretch of sugary sand in the sunlight. A delicious sense of anticipation spiraled about her, dancing on the soft sea breeze that ruffled her dark curls. She felt a sense of joy that went beyond happiness, for she knew that soon, soon he would come to her.

She kept her eyes closed until she felt a flutter, like a butterfly wing, touch the corner of her mouth. She smiled a secret smile and slowly lifted her lashes. He knelt before her, watching her intently, his dark pewter eyes brimming with laughter. Holding his gaze, she came to her knees slowly and knelt before him.

They needed no words, yet the longing to touch was like a hunger in the blood. At the same moment each reached out to the other to trace with their fingertips … a cheek, a throat, a shoulder. Emerald’s hand brushed his heart and felt it thud beneath her fingers. He was the perfect male. He was her Irish Prince. He bent to capture her lips with his, but when he was a heartbeat away, Emerald awoke, whispering his name with heart-scalding hunger. “Sean, Sean.”

Emerald FitzGerald Montague threw back the covers, ran her fingers through the cloud of glorious dark hair, and stretched her long legs to the rug beside the bed. Without dressing, she climbed the stairs that led to her mother’s chamber. As she did most mornings when her father was
not in residence, Emerald slipped into her mother’s bed to talk over plans for the day.

Amber, who adored her daughter, was acutely attuned to her every mood, every thought. “Darling, you seem different today.”

Emerald blushed prettily. It was the first time her mother had seen her cheekbones tinted pink from some hidden thought. “I’ve been dreaming,” she explained.

“Was your prince in the dream?”

Emerald nodded, hugging herself with her arms, seemingly aware of her breasts for the first time.

“How lovely for you. I think you’re growing up. What was your Prince Charming like?”

A look of rapture came over her child’s face. “He was Irish.”

“Then guard your heart well, my darling, for he is sure to be a wicked rogue.”

Amber dropped a kiss on her daughter’s dark head and slipped from the big bed. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony that led to the lookout tower. As her eyes scanned the horizon she spotted the sails of a ship coming from the direction of Liverpool. The merchantman was no doubt coming to retrieve the shipment of Irish whisky that lay concealed in the caves beneath the house.

A sudden premonition stole over her as she realized the vessel was too small for a merchantman. It was William aboard his favorite ship, the
Swallow!
She stared across the water with dismay, hoping her senses were mistaken, but cold fingers were already squeezing her heart. Amber quickly slipped back into the bedroom. “We’ll have to go explore the fairy glen another time, darling. Your father’s coming. Go and find Johnny. Tell him not to dare leave, then hurry back. We’ve only just time to dress appropriately.”

Johnny’s bedchamber, in the same wing as her own, was empty when Emerald arrived. Without hesitation she ran
down two flights, straight through the kitchen, and out the back door, grabbing one of the maids’ cloaks to cover her nightgown.

Emerald found Johnny in the stables saddling his Welsh pony. Her brother did not have her dark beauty. Unfortunately he’d inherited his father’s florid complexion and lank brown locks.

“You mustn’t leave; father’s coming,” she announced breathlessly. Such a look of alarm crossed Johnny’s face, Emerald thought he would mount the pony and bolt. A moment’s reflection told her he wouldn’t dare do such a thing; rather the news rooted him to the spot.

“What must I do?” he asked desperately as the blood drained from his ruddy face.

“We have almost an hour before his ship arrives. Change your clothes and put on your best wig. I’ll help you with your neckcloth. Above all, Johnny, try to hide your fear of him.”

“It’s all very well for you, Emerald. Mother’s sending you to St. Albans Academy for young ladies when we return, but I’m going into the Admiralty division of the navy, where he’ll be able to order me about night and day. It’ll be a dog’s life!”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I’d change places with you if I could.” It wasn’t the first time Emerald had thought she should have been born the son, and Johnny the daughter. “Mother will soothe his temper, she always does. Come on, we must hurry.”

    
L
ess than an hour later William Montague beheld his family, dressed in their formal best. His hard gaze slid over his children, then came to rest on his beautiful young wife, as she came forward eagerly to greet him.

Amber dipped into a low curtsy to give him an unimpeded
view of her lush breasts, pushed up by whalebone to swell from the fashionably low-cut gown of cream brocade.

“Well come, my lord, we haven’t seen nearly enough of you this spring,” she lied prettily.

As he gazed down at her, he saw that she had powdered her own amber-colored curls and piled them high on her head with ribbons and lace. He’d soon have them tumbling about her naked breasts. He took her hand and raised her. He’d have her on her knees again, soon enough.

William’s eyes narrowed as he looked down the room to where his children stood, still as statues. His daughter wore a lace cap and starched white pinafore, from beneath which showed lace pantelets and small kid boots. “Have you been a good girl?” he demanded harshly.

“Yes, Father,” Emerald answered in a clear, firm voice.

The defiant angle of her chin told him that though he intimidated her, she’d be damned if she’d show it. Finding little sport there, his gaze moved over to settle on his son. “Have you been behaving yourself?” he demanded even more harshly.

“Y-yes, sir,” Johnny whispered.

“That’s what I was afraid of, you gutless young prig. At sixteen you should be fornicating from one end of Anglesey to the other.”

When Johnny flushed bright pink, his father laughed with scorn. “Wait till we get you in the navy; we’ll soon initiate you.”

William’s attention was diverted from their son by Amber’s seductive voice. “I hope you’ll be able to stay all night, my lord.”

Oh, yes
, thought William,
it will take me all night to play out my game about Ireland.
He extracted an envelope from his breast pocket and flourished it on high. “I decided to make a quick run from Liverpool to bring this invitation to the O’Tooles’ celebration.”

“Celebration?” Amber’s voice caught on the word.

“Shamus O’Toole throws a birthday celebration each year for his sons. The invitations are much sought after. This year I’m considering taking my family to show them off.”

Amber felt a bud of hope blossom in her chest. William had never allowed her to return home to Ireland in eighteen years of marriage. She cautioned herself against letting her hopes rise too high, for disappointment was sure to follow. Yet, in spite of herself, her imagination took wing at the thought of going home, and visiting with all the FitzGeralds again. Then there was Joseph. She closed her eyes for a moment to control her longing.

William smiled when he saw the rapt look on her face. “Come upstairs and we’ll make plans for the visit. It’s next Sunday. I plan on sailing the
Defense;
it will be no inconvenience to put in here and pick up my family that morning.”

Amber smiled back at her husband and placed an obedient hand on his arm. The price he would set for Ireland would be high, but she was prepared to pay it.

    
E
merald’s heart was hammering. She couldn’t believe she had heard correctly. The thought of again seeing Sean FitzGerald O’Toole was dizzying enough, but to actually sail to Ireland to be present at his birthday celebration was like an unlooked-for dream come true!

“Oh, Johnny, I can’t go to the celebration dressed like a child,” Emerald wailed, fingering the edge of her starched pinafore with disgust.

“He’ll never take us,” John said flatly. “He despises the Irish and considers them subhuman.”

“Mother will persuade him. He won’t be able to resist her magic,” Emerald assured him.

“They’ll be upstairs for hours,” Johnny said, looking as if he might be sick.

“Don’t you see? She keeps him upstairs as long as she can to keep him from savaging us.”

Johnny was devoutly thankful Emerald was too innocent to understand their mother’s sacrifice. He wished he understood less; knowledge covered him with impotent guilt.

“When Father said you should be fornicating, what did he mean?”

Johnny frowned. “I can’t tell you. It will shock you.”

“Of course it won’t shock me. How am I to learn things, if you won’t tell me? Never mind, I’ll ask Mother. She tells me everything.”

“No—Em, don’t ask Mother, I’ll tell you. Fornication is getting naked and … sleeping … with girls.”

In spite of her protestation Emerald was indeed shocked, as indecent pictures jumped into her head. “I don’t believe you,” she said faintly.

    
T
he invitation also would cause quite a stir at Maynooth, where Sean had gone to deliver it in person. It was a twelve-mile ride from Greystones to Maynooth Castle, where his grandfather, Edward FitzGerald, lived. The earl owned hundreds of acres of beautiful County Kildare, which included the River Rye, all the way up to where it joined the River Liffey at a magnificent spot called Salmon Leap.

A party of young FitzGeralds had gathered to watch the annual attempt of the beautiful fish to return to their spawning grounds. When the girls spied Sean they squealed with delight and surrounded his horse. The lads were just as eager to greet him, for Sean was a favorite with all the FitzGerald clan.

Everyone spoke at once. “Have you arrived, Sean?” “What brings you, Sean?” “Is aught amiss, Sean?”

“Can you not see I’ve arrived?” He grinned, deciding to dismount since they would let him proceed no farther.

“It’s your birthday soon. What would you like for a present,
Sean?” asked a saucy female cousin, taking his arm and leaning on it as if his very nearness made her too weak to walk.

“Don’t monopolize him, Fiona. Leave some for the rest of us,” cried Dierdre.

“Don’t fight over me, sure and there’s enough to go around,” he teased. “We’re having a celebration on Sunday; you’re all invited.”

The girls squealed once more.

“Yer never inviting
all
the females?” asked Rory with disbelief.

“Every last one,” Sean confirmed.

The girls were giggling and whispering about what they would give him and what they would
like
to give him.

“I’ll settle for a dance with each of you,” Sean said, ruffling the pretty tresses of the two who stood closest.

“Do you promise to dance with us?” they chorused.

“Haven’t I just said so?”

As they drew closer to the castle, the sounds of workmen’s hammers and chisels could be heard. His grandfather was forever renovating and adding on to the ancient building that was begun in medieval times.

Edward FitzGerald left the workmen and came forward to greet his grandson. “Sean, as I live and breathe, ye grow more handsome every time I set eyes on ye.”

“I would say the same to you, Grandfather, but it would sound repetitive.”

The two men embraced affectionately. “Come inside and we’ll drink a toast to your birthday. I can hardly credit you’ll be nineteen.”

Sean handed his horse over to Rory to take to the stables. As they walked through the vaulted entrance hall, FitzGerald aunts gathered to welcome their favorite nephew.

“Sean, my darlin’, ’Tis lovely to see you,” cried Meagan.
“How is Kathleen faring with that devil of a husband to contend with?”

“She never complains,” Sean said, tongue in cheek.

“Take no notice of Meagan,” said her widowed sister Maggie. “She let her cheese get too hard before she put it in the mousetrap.”

Sean realized this was her graphic way of explaining her sister’s spinsterhood.

“The sun went off
your
window long ago, Maggie,” Meagan replied, giving as good as she got.

Other FitzGerald females touched him, hugged him, and kissed him as Sean tried to navigate his way through the hall.

“Let the lad breathe, will ye?” demanded his grandfather. “Or burying him we’ll be before his birthday.”

“You’re all invited to the celebration,” Sean said cheerfully, as his grandfather dragged him to the sanctuary of his library and closed the door.

“Women have always been the curse of Maynooth; nothing but sisters and daughters.”

Sean lowered his voice. “The celebration is set for Sunday. The stuffs coming in the same day.”

The Earl of Kildare poured his grandson a dram of whisky and then one for himself. “I’m glad yer father didn’t let Joseph bring the message. I want his reputation pure as the driven snow. He’s the next earl and I don’t want him tainted with treason. I never want there to be any connection whatsoever between Joseph and Captain Moonlight.”