“Ah, Geoff, you’ve been so busy in the wooing of your new wife that you’ve missed this delicious phenomenon. She’s just appeared at Claro’s in the last few months. They say she’s a bored noblewoman, but she’s always masked so who’s to know for certain? Her manners are flawless, and she speaks like a noblewoman, so the gossip may be right.”
“Perhaps she’s just a good actress,” suggested the Earl.
“I think she’s well bred. Her bone structure and skin texture are fine,” replied de Grenville.
“Why do they call her the ‘Book Lady’?” asked Niall Burke.
“Ahhh,” breathed de Grenville again, “there’s the fascinating part. Let’s face it, gentlemen, a whore’s a whore, but the Book Lady is anartist. She’s got a naughty book from the Far East, filled with the most gorgeous illustrations of people fucking. If you desire, you pick a page and she’ll duplicate it with you. They say she’s expert in all she does, and she certainly loves her work. There’s been talk of her and Claro having a contest to see who can fuck the most men in a twenty-four-hour period. By God, Robbie! We’ve a good time ahead of us tonight! Southwood! Burke! Will you join us?”
“No, Dickon, not I. What man married to my Skye would seek other entertainment?”
A hot pain pierced Niall.
“What excuse did you use to Skye when you came here?” asked Robert Small.
“That I’d a surprise for her,” answered the Earl, “and I do.” He drew forth from his doublet a large sapphire teardrop on a delicate gold chain. “D’you think she’ll like it?”
“A Ceylon blue! God, what a beauty!” ejaculated de Grenville.
“Aye, Skye will like it,” said Robert Small. “It matches her eyes.”
“That’s just what I thought,” remarked the Earl, grinning, and again Niall winced.
Geoffrey Southwood stood and picked up his cloak. “Thank you, Robbie, and you, too, my lord Burke. Robbie, be sure you come to say good-bye to Skye before you sail.”
“I will,” promised the captain. Then he and the other two walked to the gangplank with the Earl.
At its foot waited a sailor holding Southwood’s chestnut stallion. After mounting, Southwood waved to Robert and rode off in the direction of the Strand. Lord de Grenville turned to his two companions. “Well, gentlemen, are you for Claro’s with me?”
Robert Small nodded. “I could use an entertaining memory to warm me on the long and lonely nights of this voyage. Aye, Dickon, I’m with you. And you, Lord Burke? Claro has some of the loveliest pox-free girls in London.”
Niall considered a moment. “Aye, I’ll join you. I don’t think, however, that I’m up to your Book Lady. I’ll happily settle for a pretty lass who fucks well.”
De Grenville signaled his coach and the three men climbed in and were off. “Claro will fix you up right enough,” prophesied de Grenville.
And Claire O’Flaherty, seeing the three men coming through her front door, panicked until she realized that, although she’d been a guest in the MacWilliam’s castle, she’d never met Niall Burke. As the daughter of a minor and impoverished vassal, Claire had not been considered important enough to merit the heir’s attention. So he would not know her. But Constanza must be warned.
Claire ran lightly up the stairs to the beautiful room that showcased her star attraction. Constanza, having just arrived, was alone. She was rouging her nipples when Claire burst in.
“Your husband’s here,” announced Claire, “but I don’t believe he’s come for you. He’s not angry or upset at all. He’s with friends.”
“Who?”
“Lord de Grenville and Sir Robert Small.”
Constanza checked a small book open on her bedside table. “De Grenville and one guest are scheduled with me for the entire night,” she said. “Rose took the appointment. De Grenville said something to Rose about his friend going off on a long sea voyage.”
“Then it must be Sir Robert,” said Claire, giddy with relief. “But if Rose got it wrong then I’ll send her up here and you get out fast. I’ll make your excuses. Unless, of course, you’d like your husband to know?” She glanced slyly at Constanza.
“And spoil my fun?” laughed Constanza nervously. “Never!”
Claire slipped from the room and, with much show, descended the staircase. Her blond hair was piled high. Her sky-blue eyes sparked with malice. Her skin was very white except for the cheeks, which had been reddened with pomade. Her nipples wererouged. She wore a deep-blue gown so entirely transparent that her body was plainly visible. She was adorned with ropes of pearls.
“Lord de Grenville,” her feline, husky voice purred. “Welcome! Welcome to you and your guests. I recognize you, Sir Robert, but the other gentleman is a stranger.”
“Niall, Lord Burke, Claro. He’s looking for a bouncing lass and some good bedsport.”
“I shall see to him myself,” smiled Claro broadly. The thought of bedding the man who had loved Skye O’Malley was simply too tempting.
