The MacWilliam looked at his son with an injured air. “If you’re that hot for her then you might as well have her. I hope you’ll quickly breed me several grandsons before much more time has passed. I am not growing any younger.”
Seamus O’Malley returned to his niece, happy to tell her that her terms had been accepted, and that Niall Burke had been willing to fight for her. The O’Malleys were in a state of great excitement because one of their own was to wed with Niall Burke. Yet Skye remained calm throughout.
“You must be made of ice,” remarked her sister Peigi. “He’s what you’ve always wanted. And God knows his reputation with women would set an ordinary woman to fainting. You’ve already had a taste of his lovemaking, so surely you must be excited to finally be marrying him.”
“I am, but we’re not wed yet, Peigi. I am fearful of rejoicing too soon lest I awaken to find it all nought but a dream. If I remain quiet and unobtrusive I will not attract the undue attention of those spirits who might envy me my good fortune.”
“God ha’ mercy, little sister, what unchristian nonsense is this? Thank the Lord you do not run our business so foolishly.”
Skye shook her head, but said nothing further. She knew that even here in the heart of devout Christian Ireland, food and drink were placed upon the doorsteps nightly in offering to the little people. She knew that certain maidens of unblemished virtue were marked as sacred, and the keeping of their virginity placed in the care of an ancient Celtic demon who materialized to destroy the violator if the girl’s innocence was threatened. She and the men of her fleet made verbal obeisance to Mannanan MacLir, the ancient Irish sea god, before each voyage.
It had been almost eighteen months since she had seen Niall, and she was somewhat frightened, for in all that time she had been free of men’s demands. Her aversion to being touched had eased somewhat, and Mag could again bathe and dress her.
As if sensing her fears from afar, Niall Burke came unannouncedto Innisfana Island. He found her in her mother’s rose garden clipping some late blooms. For a few minutes he stood in the shadow of a tree and watched her. He realized he had never seen her in a moment of leisure. She was dressed in the Irish fashion, wearing a bright red skirt of soft, lightweight wool. She had tucked it up, and he saw that she was bare-legged and barefoot. Her blouse was of fine linen, as white as many washings could make it. The sleeves were short, and it was deep-necked, revealing her breasts when she bent to inhale the sweet fragrances of the flowers. Her blue-black hair was loose and billowed softly about her shoulders in the light breeze. She carried a wide, nearly flat straw basket, half-filled with roses. Her giant hound, Inis, walked slowly by her side.
She was lovelier than he had remembered, and his heart beat a little quicker when he realized that this beautiful woman had consented to be his wife. The young innocent of fifteen was long gone. He barely remembered her now, as this lovely creature of nineteen quickened his blood. He let his eyes feast on her, enjoying the soft pink in her cheeks, the way her lashes made a dark smudge against her skin. Her slim figure moved with such grace. It gave him pleasure just to watch her.
After a little longer, he stepped from behind the tree and the big hound stiffened, his hackles rising. Inis growled low in warning.
“I am glad to see you so well guarded, Skye.”
“Put your hand out, Niall, so Inis may get your scent.” She patted the dog. “Friend, Inis. Niall is a friend.”
Lord Burke suffered himself to be thoroughly sniffed. He patted the animal, speaking reassuringly to him, receiving first a long searching look from the liquid amber eyes, and then finally a wet, cold nose pushed into his palm.
“He likes you!”
“And if he hadn’t?”
“You might have had difficulty claiming your rights once we’re wed, my lord,” she said mischievously.
She sobered suddenly, and he did too. Then he held out his arms to her and, without a moment’s hesitation, she walked into them. His arms closed securely about her, and she stood quietly listening to the rapid beat of his heart just beneath her cheek.
“I love you, lass,” he said quietly.
“And I love you, my lord Burke. I would seal that love with a kiss,” she said softly, raising her head. His mouth gently found hers. At the first touch of his lips she panicked, but his big hand caressed her hair and he murmured against her mouth, “No, love, it’s Niall,and I love you.” With a sigh she gave herself up to him, and when he released her at last, her eyes were shining with joy.
“Is it all right now, sweetheart?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, my lord. For a moment … but it quickly passed.”
“I will always be gentle with you, Skye.”
“I know.” She smiled happily. “How long were you watching me?”
“A few minutes. You’re a charming sight barefoot, and clipping roses.”
“But hardly dignified,” she blushed. “As the O’Malley, I should have sailed out to meet you, my betrothed husband.”
“Leave the O’Malley at sea, my love. I prefer shoeless lasses, especially the one now in my arms. Besides, you did not know I was coming. And but a day behind me is himself, anxious that your uncle perform the betrothal ceremony here in two days’ time, and that we sign the contracts. Would that please you, pet?”
“Oh, Niall! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“And then,” he continued, “we can be wed in three weeks’ time after the banns are all read.”
“Yes!” Then her face fell. “No. It cannot be in three weeks’ time. Damn! I must go to Algiers, and we sail in a week.”
“To Algiers? Why?”
