Virginia Henley (9 page)

“You’d better watch your mouth, dear brother. Amber is not my whore. I happen to be in love with the lady.”

“Stop kidding yourself, Joseph. If you loved her, you wouldn’t put her neck in a noose. Montague would kill her if he found out about your little game of love.”

Emerald tried to breathe and found it impossible. She groped out before her until her hands came into contact with the gold buttons on Jack’s uniform. Jack gathered her hands in his and drew her against him. “Hush,” he warned in a muted murmur.

Lies! Lies! Lies!
Emerald screamed over and over in her brain. She opened her mouth and drew in a ragged breath before Jack’s hand clamped over her lips. Their silence allowed them to hear Joseph O’Toole’s next words.

“Montague won’t find out. He’s too busy exchanging guns for gold. Christ, why haven’t these guns been loaded onto the wagons for Maynooth?”

“Why don’t you shout it to the bloody world, Joseph? As you can see for yourself, the
Defense
is still here. We can’t load the wagons until Montague leaves.”

As the angry voices trailed away from the jetty, Jack Raymond felt almost dizzy at the knowledge he had just acquired. Knowledge was power. The heady feeling engulfed him. One piece of information he would share with
William immediately; the other he would savor until the moment was ripe. Raymond slowly became aware of the girl who was desperately clutching the front of his uniform in her fists. Suddenly he wanted to laugh out loud. Someone who wouldn’t hear a word spoken against her mother had just received a very nasty shock.

    
E
merald thought she might die from the pain that smote her heart. Was it only this morning she had been happy? It seemed a lifetime ago. In the space of one afternoon her world had been destroyed. Destroyed by the bloody Irish! God curse every last one.

“Emerald, you must come up to the house and say your good-byes.”

“I cannot,” she whispered, distraught.

“Come, take my arm. I’ll remain at your side. Simply hold your head high and walk with me.” Jack gathered up her cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders.

Emerald’s thoughts were in such shocking disorder, she allowed Jack Raymond to help her from the ship, leaning on his arm as they climbed the steep path that led up to Grey-stones. The laughter and music of the revelers assaulted her ears as Jack led her across the lush lawns where darkness had descended. How she wished she had never come to
Castle Lies!

William Montague looked at his daughter with new eyes. “I’m very proud of you. You flew your colors well today, my girl.”

“Father, I’d like to leave,” she murmured.

“What, no dancing? Mmm, maybe you’re right. A lady doesn’t cavort about and make a spectacle of herself.” Montague turned to Jack. “If you’ll round up John, we’ll be on our way.”

Somehow, Emerald got through the leavetaking. She held her head high, fixed a polite little smile upon her lips, then
withdrew inside herself to a very private place. She did not hear Shamus O’Toole’s teasing good-bye, nor feel Kathleen’s kiss upon her cheek.

On the voyage back to Anglesey, Johnny couldn’t stop talking. Greystones had made such an impact on him, he seemed like a totally different person. He recounted story after story as Emerald stood beside him at the rails, mute with misery. She took in little of what he said, but it was obvious he had become enamored of Ireland and everyone in it. Emerald mentally detached herself from Johnny and clung desperately to the ship’s rail, wondering how long it would be before her legs buckled beneath her.

    
U
P on the quarterdeck Jack Raymond apprised William Montague of some of the things he’d learned that day. “Sir, Greystones has its own chapel where they celebrate the Catholic Mass, and I overheard that the guns are going to Maynooth in the wagons tonight.”

“There is precious little about the O’Tooles and the FitzGeralds I don’t know, Jack,” William said quietly.
But that piece of information is one of them
, he said to himself.
By Christ, the bloody Earl of Kildare is up to his neck in treason!

Jack didn’t divulge everything he knew. He savored the secret of Amber and Joseph O’Toole, almost gloating over it. There were so many people he could blackmail over the information, including Emerald, he didn’t know where he would begin. For now, he decided to tuck it away up his sleeve. It was far too valuable a card to throw away without giving it careful thought.

    
T
he moment Amber saw her daughter’s face, she knew there was something terribly wrong. Emerald was pale unto death and swaying on her feet.

William had a self-satisfied look on his face, as if he’d
done something damnably clever, and Johnny couldn’t stop talking about the O’Tooles’ horses. She realized immediately the men had been drinking and wondered if that’s what ailed her daughter.

“Emerald?” she said softly.

Black lashes lifted slowly to reveal the intense green fire burning in her daughter’s eyes. “Mother.”

Her daughter’s voice dripped with accusation and contempt. Amber’s hand fluttered to her breast in apprehension. The bond between mother and daughter had always been absolute. Had something happened today to sever it? That was impossible; her imagination was running away with her.

Amber turned to her son, afraid to probe Emerald’s strange mood. “John, I’m so happy you enjoyed yourself, dear. You can tell me all about it in the morning.” Amber licked her lips nervously as she again glanced at Emerald.
Someone has hurt her terribly today. My God, whatever did they do to her?
She looked at her husband again. He seemed fairly bursting with news. “Is there something you wish to tell me, William?”

“As a matter of fact there is. I believe I have talked Shamus O’Toole into a betrothal between Emerald and his son Joseph. Our daughter will be the next Countess of Kildare!”

Amber stared with disbelief into green eyes, which suddenly widened in shock. “Joseph? That cannot be,” Amber cried.

“No!” Emerald swayed toward her father, then sank to the floor, unconsciousness sweeping over her.

Amber knelt, cradling her daughter’s head. “She’s ill,” she said in an accusing voice.

“Nonsense,” William said, picking Emerald up and ascending the stairs rather unsteadily. “Too much excitement, that’s all.”

Moments after her father deposited her on the bed in her
own chamber, Emerald’s eyes flickered open. She flinched away from her mother’s hands, which were trying to remove her gown.

“Darling … you fainted,” Amber murmured distractedly.

“I’m all right now. Leave me alone,” Emerald whispered. The pain she witnessed in her mother’s eyes matched the pain in her own heart, and she could bear neither one nor the other.

“We’ll talk tomorrow after your father has gone. Try to get some rest.”

Emerald turned her face to the wall, wishing with all her heart that she would awaken and find the whole day had been nothing but a nightmare.

    
W
ith great trepidation Amber joined William in their chamber. It took a good deal of courage to challenge him, but she knew she must protest against the plans he was concocting. “Emerald is too young for marriage, William.”

His greedy eyes traveled down her lush body. “You were less than her age when you trapped me.”

“That—that was different. I was much more mature than Emerald.”

“Not to worry, my dear, I’ve only just planted the seed. But it is a seed I intend to nurture. I want you to pack up here; we’ll be returning to London the moment my business is finished. We shall be entertaining the future Earl of Kildare very shortly.”

So that is the maggot he’s got in his brain. He wants Joseph only because he’s the heir to Kildare!

William closed the distance between them and reached out a possessive hand to squeeze her breast. “It occurs to me you will be a great asset in these plans. If sweet little Emerald’s charms fail to attract the young devil, I doubt if he could ignore your fatal allure.”

E
merald closed her eyes, too emotionally exhausted to do anything but deny the things she had heard. None of it could possibly be true; not the lies about her mother and Joseph O’Toole, nor this lie about a betrothal.

She slipped into a merciful slumber and began to dream that she was lying upon 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.

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 he whispered, “I am giving you to Joseph.”

“I don’t want your whore, I want my own, I want Amber!” Joseph demanded.

“No, no, we are not whores!” Emerald cried. She opened her eyes and stared wildly into the darkness. The dream! She had had the dream again, but it, too, had turned ugly. Even her beautiful dream had been destroyed!

In the morning Emerald left the house the moment the sun climbed above the horizon. She did not want a confrontation with her mother; she did not even want to be under the same roof today. She wanted to be alone, and sought the sanctuary of her crystal cave.

    
W
illiam Montague sat in his Liverpool office checking the tally of the revenue due from Ireland. Quite apart from the account books William allowed Jack to work on, Montague had his own. He was not fool enough to share all his ill-gotten gains with his brother. The Earl of Sandwich might have the coveted title, but William had the brains and cunning.

He would not be sorry to leave Liverpool. It was the grimiest port in England; even its brothels were second class. He noted the amount at the bottom of the page and closed the ledger. Only one piece of business remained before he could leave for London. He had to collect the revenue owing from Ireland. A quick voyage across to Dublin Castle, then he could collect his family from Anglesey.

His pouched eyes narrowed as he thought of Joseph O’Toole’s fine new schooner. He and Joseph might deal very well together. Shamus had refused to pledge one of his vessels in a slaving venture, but young Joseph might be easier to persuade. William decided he would test the water when Joseph came to London. One thing was sure, when old FitzGerald was dead and Joseph in possession of the title, no more gold would be frittered away on Ireland’s pathetic cause, not if he had any say in the matter.

The germ of an idea began to foment in William Montague’s brain. He poured himself a glass of smoky Irish whisky while he examined its consequences from every angle. As he sipped, the glimmer of a smile exposed his yellowed teeth. Perhaps he had the means to shorten the time it would take for Joseph to acquire his title!

    
A
whole week had slipped by since Joseph had seen Amber, and his abstinence was playing havoc with his temper. At breakfast, Shamus finally gave in to his frustration with his son. “Ye’ve had a mouth like a torn pocket all week,” Shamus accused. “How about pickin’ up a cargo today?”

“I was going into Dublin for new clothes. I can’t go to London in rags and tatters.”

Sean said, “If it’s the ammunition from Anglesey, I’ll go”

“Anglesey?” Joseph asked eagerly. “I’ll go.”

“It’s better if I go,” Sean said pointedly.

Shamus hid a grin. “Let Joseph go. He wants to see Montague’s lass.”

The blood drained from Joseph’s face as his Kerry-blue eyes turned on Sean with disbelief.
Surely to Christ you haven’t betrayed me?

Sean warned quickly, “He means Emerald.”

“Emerald who?” Joseph asked blankly.

His father said, “The lass ye took sailin’—Montague’s daughter, the one he suggests we betroth ye to.”

“Daughter?” Joseph said, puzzled.

“Betroth?” Sean demanded.

“Were ye so drunk at the celebration ye remember nothin’?” Shamus asked, getting to his feet. He suspected his sons were trying to take the mickey out of him, as usual. “Sort it out between yerselves who sails to Anglesey, I’ve work to do.”

The brothers stared at each other, aghast. “Montague wants to betroth me to his daughter?” Joseph asked with disbelief.

“Over my dead body!” Sean declared emphatically.

“That settles it,” Joseph decided.
“I’m
going to Anglesey. I have to tell Amber what the old swine is trying to do.”

Sean couldn’t argue with his logic. He knew Montague would be returning to London by week’s end and the sooner Amber was out of Joseph’s reach the better. Sean was beginning to doubt the wisdom of the proposed visit to London. He examined his own feelings about Emerald. Strange that he had entertained no proprietary feelings toward the innocent young girl until the suggestion of a betrothal with his brother raised its disturbing head.