Eibhlin did not argue. She pulled on the bell. When it was answered by the portress, she entered hurriedly.
Alone with Skye, Connor observed, “Strange place for a honeymoon if you ask me.”
“I didn’t!” snapped Skye, “but it’s as good a place as any when you’re wed to the wrong man. Repeat that, you old gossip, and I’m sure to be beaten for it.”
“The O’Malley never laid a hand on you in your life, lass!”
“No, he didn’t, but the little bastard he’s married me to did. The bruise on my cheek is a mark of his affection.”
Connor saw nothing wrong with a man occasionally giving his woman a clout to keep her in line, but he was truly shocked that a bridegroom would beat his bride of one day. Mistress Skye was not just any lass. She was special. Besides, he was related to her maid, Molly, who’d barely survived her night with O’Flaherty. Better to warn the young mistress.
“I’d best say this straight out, lass, so’s you’ll be on your guard. O’Flaherty took Molly to his bed last night. Fair killed her too. Made her do all kinds of things no decent man would ask of a woman. Then he beat her half to death and kicked her out. When you’ve got to go back to him, be careful.”
Skye’s face betrayed no emotion. “Will Molly be all right?”
“Her bruises will heal.”
“Tell her if she chooses not to serve me anymore I’ll understand. If that is her decision she may remain at the castle to serve my stepmother. Tell the lady Anne that I will need a stout serving woman of middle years and plain countenance. If I am forced to return to him, I would not expose another young girl to O’Flaherty.”
The convent portal creaked open again and Eibhlin came forward, escorted by two stout nuns. Skye bid Connor farewell, then followed her sister through the door. Her trunk would be brought in by the other nuns.
The two sisters walked silently through the long hallway until they came to a heavy oak door. Eibhlin rapped on the door. A voice bid them enter, and they obeyed.
Seated in a chair was one of the most beautiful women Skye had ever seen. Her oval face was serene beneath the white wimple, with its starched and pleated white wings. Her black habit was relievedof its severity by a stiff white rectangle of a bib upon which rested an ebony crucifix banded in silver, a silver lily on its face. Kneeling, Eibhlin caught the aristocratic hand and kissed the silver-and-onyx ring of office.
“Rise, my daughter,” came a cool, cultivated voice.
“Reverend Mother, may I present my sister, Skye. Skye, this is the Reverend Mother Ethna.”
“Thank you, Sister Eibhlin. You may return to your duties now. Mistress Monahan from our village went into labor this morning, and you have our permission to attend her.”
Eibhlin bowed herself out, and the Reverend Mother Ethna waved Skye to a chair. “Welcome to St. Bride’s of the Cliffs, Lady O’Flaherty. Your father has already apprised us of the reason for your visit. We will endeavor to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Thank you,” Skye said tonelessly.
Quiet brown eyes surveyed Skye, and the nun appeared to be debating with herself. Then she said, “I was Ethna O’Neill before I took the veil. It was my niece to whom Lord Burke was betrothed. She never knew him, but I did. He has a most winning way about him.” A small smile played about the corners of her mouth.
“We met but a short time ago,” said Skye, softening somewhat. “I don’t know what happened to us, but we are in love. Da simply would not listen. Niall wants to have my marriage annulled so we may wed.”
The nun shook her head. “Perhaps he can arrange it, or at least get the proceedings started while you’re here.”
“You’re the first person who’s not told me that the MacWilliam won’t let his heir marry with an O’Malley of Innisfana.”
The Reverend Mother laughed. “Ah, these men and their pride! Take heart, my daughter. The MacWilliam is a stern man, but he loves his son. But tell me, child, have you no feeling for your young husband?”
“I do not love Dom, nor did I ever wish to wed with him. I begged my father not to force me to it, even before I met Niall Burke. In fact, I did not wish to wed at all until I met Niall. I do not believe a woman should have to spend her life with someone she dislikes.”
“So,” chuckled the nun, “you’re a revolutionary like your sister, Lady O’Flaherty.”
“No. And please, I beg of you, Reverend Mother, do not callme Lady O’Flaherty. I shall never acknowledge Dom’s name as mine. I am Skye O’Malley!”
“Very well, Skye O’Malley, we shall try to make your stay with us as pleasant as possible.” The nun picked up a bell and rang it sharply. It was instantly answered by a little novice. “Sister Feldelm, this is Skye O’Malley, Sister Eibhlin’s sister. She is sheltering with us for several weeks. The West Tower guest suite has been prepared for her. Will you please escort her there?”
“Yes, Reverend Mother,” said the novice, bobbing a curtsey. “If you’ll come along with me, Mistress O’Malley.”
“You are free to go wherever you chose on the grounds, Skye, and the chapel and public rooms of the convent are open to you. You need not keep to your rooms.”
“Thank you.” Skye turned to follow Sister Feldelm.
