“Yes, spring is a good season for war,” Gerald spit.
“FitzMaurice claims to be the earl of Desmond in your father’s place,” Eleanor said harshly to Katherine. “And he is far too clever. Even now, he has the support of the Pope and Spain. He will not stop until he has stolen Desmond from its rightful lord!”
Katherine was white, her heart pounding painfully. “I did not know any of this,” she whispered. But her regard slid to Liam O’Neill again. How did he know so much when he claimed he had no clan, no country, no life but that at sea?
“Now you do know.” Gerald shook in impotent rage. “You should have stayed in France. I cannot support you, Katie.”
Katherine hugged herself.
“I will support her,” Liam said quietly.
Gerald lashed Liam with his angry gaze. “No. I will not have you using my daughter like some common country maid. She is the daughter of two great houses.”
Liam smiled slightly. “I am afraid that, in this instance, you cannot stop me.”
And it was as if the women in the room had left. Gerald stared only at Liam. “How much like your father are you?”
Liam shrugged with indifference. “I am exactly like him—or so ’tis said.”
“I do not think so,” Gerald said, smiling grimly again. “I think you are very, very different from Shane O’Neill. Katie being as yet unhurt is proof of that.”
“You can think whatever you wish, FitzGerald.” Liam shrugged. “But now that I have shown Katherine that she has no choice but to remain with me, she and I will depart.”
“No,” Katherine whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. And she stared with undisguised hostility at Liam—the son of the notoriously vicious Shane O’Neill. He had not told her. She should have guessed. Her father was wrong. The pirate was exactly like Shane—she knew that firsthand.
Gerald stated, “I have a proposition for you, O’Neill.”
“Indeed?” Liam asked skeptically. “What could you possibly propose that would even remotely interest me?”
Katherine looked from her father to her captor, not liking the sudden new direction of the conversation. Her dread had grown by leaps and bounds.
Gerald did not even glance at Katherine. “How badly do you want her?”
Katherine gasped, certain that she had misheard.
“Badly enough to keep her against her will, and against my better judgment,” Liam said calmly.
Gerald paced stiffly to Liam, his eyes bright black flames. “Badly enough to marry her?”
Katherine cried out in horror, but was ignored.
Liam was still but a moment. “What need do I have for a bride?”
“Every man needs a wife. She has no dowry, but I would give her to you with my blessing,” Gerald said. “I might be destitute, Desmond gone, but Katherine’s blood is noble. The FitzGerald line goes back to the Conqueror himself. And she is like her mother—exactly. And her mother gave the earl of Ormond seven strapping sons before he died. You cannot think to do better. You are the bastard of O’Neill, the son of an Englishwoman. Your clan will never appoint you their lord. Your kin will never accept you. The English hate and fear you.” Gerald’s black eyes gleamed with fire. “But I will accept you, Liam.”
“Father!” Katherine cried, shaking uncontrollably. “No!”
Liam’s eyes were slits. “I do not need a wife to give me sons and you know it. Nor do I need sons. As you have correctly pointed out, I am no nobleman. What would they inherit? The pile of rock I call home? My three pirate ships?” He laughed harshly. “I do not wish a wife, FitzGerald. I have never needed a clan. And if she gives me a son, why, then his blood will be blue instead of red.”
“One day,” Gerald whispered feverishly, “your son could inherit a part of Desmond.”
Katherine was hugging herself, telling herself that this was not happening. That this could not be happening.
Liam’s smile was mocking. “Your offer lacks substance. Desmond is no more.”
And Katherine stared at the pirate’s hard, handsome face and hated him more than ever.
For a long, pregnant moment Gerald was silent—a moment in which both men stared into one another’s eyes and assessed one another’s needs and ambitions. Gerald broke the simmering tension. “Were I still the earl of Desmond, you would take her were she an ugly mule—in the blink of an eye—without a dowry!”
