She met his gaze, her green eyes wild. “I do not believe you. You are lying!”
He remained calm. “I am not lying. I speak what the whole world knows. I speak the facts.”
Katherine refused to believe him. She could not believe him. Her father a prisoner of the Crown, stripped of his lands and title? Oh, God! No, it could not be possible.
His tone became more gentle. “But your father is alive, Katherine. He was not hanged. I believe he still resides in Southwark, where he is under house arrest.”
Katherine jerked, her bosom heaving. “Southwark?” She was numb. Southwark, not Desmond. Her father was a prisoner of the Crown, forced to remain in London—in exile.
“Understandably you are shocked,” he said, watching her closely.
And Katherine hated him. She hated him for his indifference, for his intentions, and for having harbored and then revealed such ugly news. For having revealed the horrible truth. “You understand nothing about me,” she snarled. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Get away from me!”
His jaw tightened. Coolly he turned away from her. Immediately Katherine sagged against the wall, beginningto shake. If her father was a prisoner of the Crown, stripped of all that he possessed, then her departure from the convent had been all for nothing. If her father were in such disgrace, in such exile, then she herself was reduced to disgrace and exile, too. For without a title and a dowry, no man would want her. Suddenly she had no future, no dreams, no hope. Suddenly she was Mistress Nobody.
“Drink this.”
Katherine looked up wildly, saw the pirate handing her a glass of brandy. “No.”
“How headstrong you are,” he said softly. “Do not be a fool. Drink.” And he gripped her chin and pushed the rim of the glass to her lips.
Katherine choked when he tilted the glass, succeeding in getting a few drops of the fiery liquid down her throat. She swatted his hand away. Brandy splashed over his bronzed skin. His mouth tightened, anger appeared in his eyes. “I am not a gentle man. Nor am I kind. But I am trying to go slowly with you,” he said. “To tame you as I might a wild mare. I have no wish to break you, Katherine. Despite the fact that my lust remains huge.”
She took a deep breath. “I am not a horse, to be bridled and trained.”
“But you are a woman, one without a protector, and like all women, you need a man, both to protect and firmly guide you.”
“And you think to be that man? To be my protector?” she shouted, furious. “To rein me as you will?”
“I am not giving you any choice.”
Livid, Katherine tried to push past him, but he caught her with one powerful arm, crushing her to his chest. He set the brandy down without releasing her. Katherine stiffened instantly. The last place she wished to be was in his arms, pressed against his hard, aroused body. She squirmed to separate herself from him.
“I have a very lusty nature,” he said very softly. “And I suspect we suit each other.”
“We do not suit! Take your lust elsewhere,” she hissed.
“No.”
She looked into his hard gray gaze and understood himcompletely. He did not care for her or her feelings. He knew she had no family, no name, to protect her now. He was conscienceless, and would take advantage of her predicament. Nothing would, or could, stop him from ruining her when he chose to do so. It was but a matter of time.
Katherine wished she could think clearly. She still had to fight her way through a maze of shock and disbelief and fear. Surely there was a way out of her dilemma. After all, she was Katherine FitzGerald. Surely there was something left, some small amount of hoarded money, some secret parcel of land. There were her uncles and kinsmen. And there was her proud, ancient name. “Unhand me,” she said.
He did as she asked.
Aware that her heart was racing again, Katherine backed away from him. He did not move, watching her with eyes at once cold and hot. The coldness, she knew, came from his lack of a heart. The heat came from his loins.
Katherine put the heavy dining table between them. She gripped the back of one of the Spanish chairs. Perhaps, just perhaps, he lied, although she no longer thought so. It would explain why there had been no pension for the past three and a half years, why her father had not answered any of the abbess’s inquiries. In any case, she must now learn all that she could. “Tell me about my father.”
He shrugged gracefully and stalked toward her. Katherine froze, but he was not pursuing her. He settled one lean hip upon the edge of the table and faced her. “What is it you wish to know?”
“Everything.” Her voice shook. “I cannot believe that he has been convicted of treason. That he is a prisoner…in disgrace.”
The pirate regarded her intently, so intently that Katherine looked away. Finally he spoke. “After Affane, Butler imprisoned your father at Clonmel. The queen ordered them both to court, and your father was immediately tossed into the Tower. He remained there for two years. The queen and her Council were undecided about what to do with him. She was angry with Tom Butler, of course, for his part in their feud, but he was pardoned.”
“Of course,” Katherine said stiffly. Tom Butler, the earl of Ormond, was not just her father’s hated enemy, but Queen Elizabeth’s cousin and thus a favorite of hers as well. Katherine leaned forward, toward the pirate captain, her hands splayed out on the table, almost touching his. “But why?” she cried earnestly. “My father has transgressed before—but was always pardoned! Why did the queen not pardon him when she pardoned Ormond?”
“The queen was younger when she pardoned your father,” Liam said flatly. “And reluctant, I believe, to take on the issue of Ireland. This time she felt she must begin to bring the Irish lords to heel, especially your father, who refused to accept her authority on his lands. Do not forget, Ormond is a loyal subject. Nonetheless, her Council was divided. Factions formed. Some, led by Dudley and Sir William Cecil, favored a pardon and the return of your father to Desmond. Others, led by Ormond, favored his removal—forever.”
