“Yes! The pirates shot at the jollyboat and wounded Niall. His shirt was so bloody I thought he’d been killed. When he was wounded again now it all came back to me. He is all right, isn’t he?” The Earl nodded. She fell silent, a pensive look on her face.
“I love you, Skye.”
The heart-shaped face tipped up, and the sapphire-blue eyes looked unwaveringly into his. “And I love you, Geoffrey, my darling. I do!”
He held her close. Of course she loved him. She was in pain now, in labor with his child, a child conceived in a moment of love, conceived when Niall Burke had been wiped out of her memory. But when the child was birthed, and she had time to think clearly, would she love him then?
Skye lay quietly in his arms, her mind whirling. O’Malley! She was Skye O’Malley!The O’Malley of Innisfana!She had two sons, Ewan and Murrough! Oh God! Who had looked after her boys all this time? Anne! Surely Anne would have looked after them, and Michael, and her half-brothers too. Lord! Who had cared for the O’Malley shipping interests? She would ask Geoffrey, for surely he knew. It seemed he knew her identity.Andshe would be interested in knowing how long he had known it!
She felt the pain beginning deep within her, so deep that her toes tensed. She let it sweep upward. Breathing deeply into it took the edge off of it. Skye wasn’t even aware that she was clutching her husband tightly, but Geoffrey relished the fierce grip that almost rendered his elegant hand pulp.
“My sons?” she said. “What has happened to my sons?”
“They’re safe with your stepmother.”
“And the family?”
“Your uncle took care of them, and the O’Malley interests. He’s now Bishop of Connaught.”
“How long have you known my identity?”
“A few months. Lord Burke went to Robbie just after our wedding. At the bedding ceremony he noticed that very fetching little star on your breast. I was curious that, having been like a brother to you all your life, he would know of such a mark.”
“I am curious too,” said Skye, and though he knew she lied, he loved her all the more for loving him enough to try and protect him. “I am more curious,” she continued, “that he was not suspicious of my identity prior to seeing my birthmark. Surely I have not changed so greatly.”
“Señora Goya del Fuentes didn’t react to his hints. And though she looked like Skye O’Malley, her credentials were impeccable. He has since told me he thought you were one of your father’s by-blows.”
Another wave of pain swept over Skye, but she giggled despite it, and Geoffrey was forced to laugh too. “It would have been just like Da to leave a bastard daughter in a convent in Algiers. How did he account for the name being the same?” The pain receded.
“He couldn’t, and that almost drove him mad. There was simply no explanation.”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I imagine it would have driven him mad. Niall was always an impatient man.”
“He’s in love with you, Skye.”
“I know, Geoffrey.”
“And you?” He knew he shouldn’t ask her, not now, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Geoffrey, my dearest husband, I am yours and I want to be. When I have finished this business of birthing our son I shall tell you all about Niall Burke, and Skye O’Malley. And when I have finished my tale I shall still be yours because I choose to be.”
It was what he wanted to hear, or was it? Still, he had to be content with it for now. They both fell silent, listening to the slap-slap of the oars against the water as their barge knifed through the river down to Lynmouth House. The pains were coming more frequently now, and with the knowledge that this was her fourth child, the Earl despaired of reaching home in time. Suddenly Skye groaned, and cried out sharply.
“My love, what is it?” He felt so damned helpless.
“The child is being born, Geoffrey! I can wait no longer. You must help me birth it!”
“My God, Skye! In the barge?”
She managed a chuckle. “Tell your son!”
“What do I do?” He was sweating, but this was his child, and he’d manage.
“First, draw the drapes and bring in the lantern,” suggested Skye, and when he had accomplished these two simple tasks she said, “Help push my gown up.” That done, she inched her silken undergarments off, and he stared at the swollen, blue-veined belly that would soon be emptied of their child. Suddenly a flood of water spewed forth from her body, wetting the seat cushions. She arched as another pain began to push the child from her body.
“Geoffrey!” she gasped through gritted teeth. “I can feel the head. Look! Look!”
Fearfully he forced his eyes downward. “My God!” he whispered, awestruck, as the child began to emerge from her body. “What do I do, Skye?”
