She blushed furiously, and his laughter rumbled about the room like distant thunder. “Is it agreed, then?” He held out his hand. She hesitated, then grasped the great paw with her own elegant hand. She wasn’t protecting any maidenhead, and so much was at stake. “It’s agreed,” she answered him.
“I should like to hear you say my Christian name, Skye O’Malley.”
“Very well, Adam, I agree.”
“I’m not a bad fellow,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
That innocent reassurance comforted her. “I’ll have to direct my people first. I’ll need an hour or two, and I’d prefer it if our liaison tonight were kept secret.”
“Of course,” he assured her. “I have no need to brag.”
“And then there’s my uncle, the Bishop of Connaught. He travels with me.”
Adam de Marisco had the good grace to look abashed, and a small giggle escaped Skye. He grinned at her. “That’s a nice sound, Skye O’Malley, you should laugh more often. Well, now, and how do we rid ourselves of the bishop?”
“He has a partiality to good French Burgundy. You wouldn’t happen to have any on this rock of yours?”
“I’ll send a small cask out to the ship at once,” promised the lord of the isle.
Skye returned to theSeagullalong with the wine. Bonfires were already springing up on the hillsides of Lundy in celebration of the summer solstice, and her crew headed ashore to join in the festivities. Skye went directly to her cabin and put on her dress. It was a pale wisteria-colored silk with a simple scooped neckline, and long tight sleeves—most unfashionable, and she’d worn no farthingale beneath it, but what could Adam de Marisco know of current fashions? It was soft and feminine, and when she loosened her hair and brushed it about her shoulders she knew she created a pleasing picture. Strangely, Skye wanted him to be pleased.
Stopping by her uncle’s cabin, she found Seamus O’Malley already enjoying the wine. “The lord de Marisco has been most hospitable, Uncle. We have almost reached an agreement, and I am going ashore to have supper with the gentleman. Will you join us?” She knew he would refuse.
“Nay, Niece, I am quite comfortable here with my book on the Life of Saint Paul, and the excellent Burgundy sent by our host. It is really quite superior.”
She bent and kissed his dark head. “Good night then, Uncle. Sleep well.”
“You also, Skye.”
She went ashore again, this time wrapped in the anonymity of a dark cloak. She arrived at Adam de Marisco’s chambers to find the table laid with a cold supper. Adam took her cloak, his hand lingeringa moment on her shoulders. When she tensed he said quietly, “I’ve never raped a woman, little girl. Let us go easily, and you’ll not regret your decision, I promise you.”
“I’m not so little, de Marisco,” she retorted. “I’m tall for a woman, and taller than many men.”
He turned her about and lifted her so that she was at eye level with him. “My name is Adam, little girl, and though you are tall for a woman, I top you by a good foot.” Setting her back down, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Then we’ll eat later.” And before she realized what it was he intended, he had her gown unlaced and was pulling it off her. She gasped, clutching at her chemise, but he paid her no mind. Loosening her grip on the fragile silk, he stripped her naked. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her from the room into an adjoining bedchamber. One arm cradled her while the other hand pulled back the bedcovers. He gently tucked her into the biggest bed Skye had ever seen.
She lay quietly watching as he pulled his own garments off. Clothed, Adam de Marisco was impressive. Naked, he was magnificent. Perfectly proportioned, he had thighs like tree trunks, shapely, well-muscled arms, a lean torso, and a great broad chest covered in a thick mat of dark hair. His arms and legs were also liberally furred. He was, in fact, the hairiest man she’d ever seen. He watched her reaction to his nudity, a faintly amused smile upon his sensual lips. Quickly he climbed into bed with her.
Skye braced herself for his assault, and when nothing happened she turned slightly to look at him. He was gazing at her, and she blushed, caught in his careful scrutiny. He reached out and drew her close. The arm that held her was strong, the body against which she was pressed was warm and clean-smelling. She was held quietly this way for several silent minutes. Then Adam de Marisco kissed her and, to her immense surprise, the kiss was a firmly tender one. His mouth was fragrant.
“Lovemaking,” he said calmly, “is a great art, Skye O’Malley. I spent four years of my life at the French Court, for my late mother was a Frenchwoman. I have made a rather outrageous bargain with you and you’ve accepted my terms, for you are a rather outrageous woman. We are two healthy, attractive people, and I cannot enjoy making love to you if you are fearful of me. So, little girl, we will just lie here in each other’s arms until you are comfortable.”
The silence was deafening. For the first time in her life Skyewas at a complete loss. “De Marisco … Adam … I don’t know you. I’ve never made love to a man I didn’t know. To a stranger.”
“And how many men have youknown, Skye O’Malley?”
“I’ve had three husbands,” she said in a small voice. There was no need to explain about Niall Burke.
“You’ve outlived them all?”
“Aye.”
“No lovers?”
“None, except Dudley, of course. But then that’s not my wish.”
