Virginia Henley (52 page)

“Mother, you look lovely in lavender. Are you ready to give me away?”

“Sean O’Toole has had your heart since you were sixteen, I believe.”

“He has.”

    
A
s Emerald walked down the aisle on Amber’s arm, the chapel overflowed with FitzGeralds. She felt Irish down to her bones, wearing a cream linen gown embellished with old Irish lace. Her face softened with love as her eyes fell on her babies in the arms of their nursemaids. Then Emerald only had eyes for Sean as he waited by the altar.

Though he had returned to the fun-loving young man he had been when she met him, his youthful appearance was gone forever. The high cheekbones, dark pewter eyes, and
the planes of his face gave him a stark look that was pure Celt. When she reached his side he flashed her a smile that was cocksure and arrogant.
My Irish Prince; how I love him.

The scent of candle wax mingled with incense and the fragrant roses in her hair. Father Fitz’s face was beatific as an archangel’s as he said the holy words, mixing Latin and Gaelic outrageously.

Kate Kennedy looked up at the tall figure of Mr. Burke looming beside her. “I’ve often considered a permanent relationship. Have you ever thought about it, Paddy?”

“That I have, Kate, but who would have us?” he asked, winking. Then he became serious. “Do you think you might consider
me?”

She gave him a saucy look from head to toe, then tossed her head. “I might, if I was courted properly.”

Kate wasn’t the only female feeling mischievous today. When Father Fitz asked Emerald if she promised to love, honor, and obey Sean, she replied sweetly and clearly, “I do,” then, lowering her voice so that only her bridegroom could hear, added, “upon occasion.”

Sean bent a severe look upon her, but his eyes told her of his passion and his delight. Her humor matched his own; what more could a man ask? He slipped on her wedding ring with loving hands, then bestowed the most chaste kiss of his life.

“I now pronounce you man and wife, and may God have mercy upon you,” Father Fitz added fervently, before launching into the sacrament of baptism.

    
T
he bride and groom emerged from the chapel into the brilliant sunshine and led the way back to Greystones, where long tables had been set up outside for the feasting.

“The babies were smiling, did you see, Sean?”

He looked down at her and cupped the curve of her cheek with his long fingers. “They weren’t smiling, they were
laughing at their father for being so besotted with their mother!”

During the entire day there wasn’t a stain in the sky as the celebrants feted the newlyweds. They feasted, drank, sang, danced, laughed, shouted, and argued the day away, enjoying life as only the Irish could.

When the afternoon shadows lengthened into evening, Sean looked for an opportunity to spirit away his bride, but the merrymakers wouldn’t let them leave until Sean promised to dance his famous jig on top of a keg of ale.

Emerald called for two kegs to be set up, side by side. Then she lifted her skirts and matched him step for step. The applause was like thunder. Sean jumped to the ground, held out his arms, and Emerald tumbled into them, gasping and laughing. The applause turned to shouts of encouragement as Sean threw her over his shoulder and began to run. He didn’t stop until they were inside Greystones’s master bedchamber with the door firmly bolted against all comers.

He lifted her from his shoulder and let her body slide down his. “How is your leg?” he asked with tender concern.

“My leg is absolutely perfect,” she murmured, lifting her face for his kiss.

He touched his lips to hers. “Ell be the judge of that,” he murmured, sliding up her skirt so that he could slip a seeking hand beneath the creamy folds.

“Oh, ouch, it hurts dreadfully!”

He slid his hand to her bottom cheek and gave it a pinch. “You little tease, that’s the wrong leg.”

“Me? Tease? Never!” she vowed.

Sean slipped his other hand beneath her skirt. “You’ve been cockteasing me for the last two months.”

She touched her lips to his. “And loving every delicious moment.”

“Let’s get you out of this wedding gown; I’ve never seen a countess naked.”

“What about that Lady Newcastle?”

“She was a duchess, and she kept on her corsets,” he teased.

“You devil, Sean O’Toole!”

He kissed her then, slowly, possessively, deeply, leaving her in no doubt that she was the only woman he wanted, now or ever. “We have memories to make,” he murmured as he helped her from the gown.

Emerald was proud of her body. Her breasts were luscious, her belly flat once more, her skin pearlescent in the lamplight. She wanted to flaunt her beauty before him in all its splendor. She moved away from him and slowly walked nude across the bedchamber. His pewter eyes never left her.

Emerald felt her skin tighten; her blood, already hot, suddenly blazed into a firestorm. She came back to him as he removed the last of his clothes, unable to resist his hard nakedness one moment longer.

He lifted her against him, burying his face in the soft loveliness of her scented skin. As he carried her to their bed, she knew she could never escape the power of this man. She melted against him with desire, knowing their bodies would soon be coupled in love, legs entwined, as he plunged inside her.

He eased her back against the snowy drift of sheets, spread her cloud of smoky dark hair across the pillows, then touched his mouth to every inch of her silken skin. “My heart forever, Beauty,” he vowed, then his desire, long simmering, exploded in white-hot demand. He loved her in every way possible for a man to love a woman.

As Emerald lay replete, sprawled against his heart, he whispered, “Did you see the words inside your ring?”

She slipped it off her finger and held it to the lamplight so she could read the two words.
Trust me.

“I love you, Sean O’Toole,” she whispered.

“Love is a journey from the first blush of physical attraction to a marriage of souls.”

Her fingertips drifted over his face, throat, chest, then she curled her fingers into his so that their hands and their hearts were joined.

In that moment Sean realized that he had had to let go of the past before he could embrace the future, just as Emerald had told him. How could one small female possess so much wisdom? He simply adored her. From this moment on, he would hold nothing back.

Emerald drew in her breath as she felt him quicken once more against her thigh. With his mouth against her ear, he whispered, “Do you remember when you were sixteen and you slapped me?”

“I do,” she murmured languorously.

“I promised you that someday Ed do something to you to earn that slap.”

Emerald slid her hand between their bodies. As her fingers closed about him, she gasped at the size of his arousal, but refusing to let him have the last word, she sighed, “Eve waited forever; ready when you are, milord!”