“Three days out off Cape Clear.”
“Then they sailed the Southern Star route,” she gently probed.
“Um,” he nodded.
“When will you meet the Spanish, Dickon?”
“A week from today,” he muttered, then slipped forward to fall asleep on the table near the snoring Lord Burke.
Skye smiled, satisfied, and signaled to Daisy, who had remained quietly in her place below the salt during the evening. “You lit the tower beacons?” Skye whispered.
“Just before dusk, m’lady. Lord de Marisco is already waiting below,” Daisy whispered back.
“Have these two carried to bed, Daisy, and have my bath ready,I’ll not be long.” She hurried from the Hall and using an entry door at the end of the room, hurried down the interior staircase to the cave. “Adam!” she called as she reached the bottom, and he stepped from the shadows.
“Well, little girl, what news?”
“The ship is real! It’s theSanta Maria Madre de Cristos, and for the next week it travels alone and unescorted!” she burst out.
“What! What of its escort?”
“There are none! In a week’s time de Grenville and four of the Queen’s warships disguised as merchant ships will join the Spaniard three days off of Cape Clear. Until then theSanta Mariais unprotected!”
“What’s her course?” de Marisco asked tensely.
“Southern Star.”
“It’s too good!” he began to pace. “De Grenville simply told you all that?” Adam was incredulous, his smoky blue eyes darkening.
“I got him drunk,” she explained. “Dickon never could hold his wine. He always says what he shouldn’t when he’s drunk.” She was remembering that long-ago evening when a drunken de Grenville had told her of the bet he’d made with Geoffrey.
“Are you sure he was drunk?”
“Very sure, Adam.” She chuckled. When he looked at her strangely she said, “An old debt Dickon owed me has been settled by tonight’s information.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dickon? I gave orders to have the footmen carry both him and Niall to bed.”
“Your husband was drunk?”
“Yes. It was strange,” she mused. “I’ve never seen Niall unable to hold his wine. I hope he’s not sickening. More likely, he’s tired. He’s been out riding the estate for two days.”
“Do we go, Skye?” he asked.
“We go Adam. I’ve a feeling. Call it a hard Irish hunch, but if MacGuire and his men leave Lundy at once they can intercept the Spanish ship and be safely home before de Grenville and his men rendezvous with her.”
“And its cargo? Where do we store that impossible cargo, little girl?”
“Not Lundy, Adam. If the Queen’s men suspect us they’ll be all over your island, and losing you your head would be a poor way of repaying your friendship. Not here or Innisfana, either.”
“Where, then?”
“Inishturk Island! The location of my sister’s convent, St. Bride’s. There are caves there that I discovered years ago when I—uh … spent some time visiting Eibhlin. MacGuire knows the caves, and the English will never think of looking there. In time we’ll smelt the gold and silver down. They can be easily disposed of in Algiers once they’re formed into bars.”
“This is the last time, little girl,” he said quietly but firmly.
“I know, Adam.”
