They were escorted across the lowered drawbridge, through the raised portcullis and into the second ward. There they were told to dismount. Despite herself, as Katherine obeyed, she was frightened. Although she had no fondness for her captor, she knew that, within days, he would meet his Maker. No pirate would be allowed to live, not even in confinement. Somehow it did not seem right.
But Katherine could not think about that now. She stood between Liam and Macgregor, achingly aware of Liam’s silent battle with pain. Debrays shoved between them, pulling Katherine forward. She wore her hood, and he pushed it back off her face. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Katherine did not respond. Of course she should reveal that she was a prisoner. Then she would be freed. But then she would be adding the crime of abduction to that of the many other crimes Liam would be charged with. She hesitated. He deserved punishment, but she did not think he deserved death. After all, he had not raped her. He had captured her, true, but neither he nor his men had harmed her or Juliet.
“She does not answer.” Debrays smiled and turned to Liam. “Your doxy is beautiful, O’Neill. But then, they say your women are always astounding jewels.”
Liam’s expression was impossible to read. He actually appeared bored, despite the fact that he held his injuredleft arm tightly against his side. “She is not my doxy. She is my prisoner.”
Debrays laughed in disbelief. “Were she your prisoner, O’Neill, she would not be looking at you with such concern! Come, they say you are more than clever—but that was exceedingly stupid.”
A muscle in Liam’s jaw ticked. He finally turned his gray gaze upon Katherine—and she thought she saw a warning there.
Debrays smiled and jerked her against his side. He slid his hand into her cloak and squeezed her breast. Katherine cried out, bucking against him. Liam jumped forward, only to have five rapiers press their sharp, pointed tips into his chest, shredding his shirt. He froze. Debrays lifted a brow, still stroking Katherine’s breast, and making a display of it. “Ahh—we are possessive of our toys?”
“She is my prisoner,” Liam said harshly, “and I intended to reap a ransom for her. ’Twas our reason for coming afoot on English soil. She is Katherine FitzGerald, Debrays, daughter of the earl of Desmond. I suggest you treat her with the respect she is due.”
Debrays faltered.
Katherine wet her lips. It had dawned upon her that Debrays, unlike Liam, would rape her, and enjoy inflicting the abuse, too. She also realized now that Liam was defending her. “I am Gerald and Joan FitzGerald’s daughter,” she managed to utter. “And I demand you remove your hand from my person.”
He removed his hand. He looked at her briefly, at her pale, lovely face. His jaw clenched. “Randolph, take her into the hall and see that she is given a chamber and all else she needs.” He turned to face Liam. “You, O’Neill, will adjourn to the dungeons while I await orders from the lord admiral.”
A young soldier had come to stand beside Katherine, his gaze inquiring. Katherine ignored him. Liam and Macgregor were grabbed roughly and pushed forward, across the ward. Katherine bit off a cry as she watched them. The back of Liam’s cloak was mostly red. She realizedthat he might very well die from his wound and not from a hangman’s noose.
“Lady FitzGerald?”
Katherine met the young soldier’s hesitant gaze. Then she whirled to face the castellan. “Sir Walter!” she cried. “You cannot send that man to the dungeon without a physician attending him first.”
Debrays raised a brow. “How concerned you are for his welfare, my lady. Perhaps you are not merely his prisoner? Perhaps you are not his prisoner at all?”
Katherine recalled Liam’s large, aroused body covering hers, recalled the storm of need and desire she had felt in response. Flushing, she said, “I was abducted on the high seas, sir. As a matter of fact, Captain O’Neill made his demand for ransom not too many hours ago,” she lied.
“And the pretty prisoner has begun to hanker after the virile sea captain?” Debrays almost sneered.
“No!”
“Then do not concern yourself with his welfare,LadyFitzGerald.” Debrays nodded at the young soldier. “Take her to the hall, Randolph.”
“Aye, sir.” Randolph gripped her elbow and Katherine had no choice but to follow him across the ward and into the main hall. She told herself that she was glad. She was free of her captor at long last. But she kept seeing his bloody back, kept imagining him in some dark, dank dungeon, lying near death.
Katherine was given a small chamber on the floor above the hall, and her own maid to attend her. She bathed but had little appetite. The events of her entire adventure, beginning with her capture at sea by the pirate, kept replaying in her mind. She recalled how her father had offered her in marriage to Liam O’Neill. She thought about the pirate’s wound, and wondered if it would fester and kill him.
She passed a restless night. She dreamed of her father, not as a shabby prisoner in St. Leger House, but as the earl of Desmond, presiding over their home, Askeaton. In her dreams, Gerald was bold and ebullient, dressed in allhis finery, and her elegant mother, the Countess Joan, still lived. Katherine was surprised when Hugh appeared, a freckle-faced boy trying to steal a kiss. Katherine was happy to oblige him. They kissed and laughed and kissed again. But then Liam materialized, enraged, and pulled them apart. Katherine was no longer a girl, but a full-grown woman, and Hugh had disappeared. When Liam embraced her, his arms dissolved into blood. Katherine screamed. Liam was gone, and her hands dripped red.
Katherine awoke feeling as if she had hardly slept at all. As she was in England, she said a hurried and furtive mass on her knees in her room, having sent her maid away to fetch a small break-fast. Katherine made sure to finish her prayers before the maid returned. While the queen did not really persecute or pursue papists, one and all had to conform outwardly to the new religious ways.
Katherine spent the rest of the morning pacing her small chamber, unable to prevent herself from wondering how Liam fared. She told herself it did not matter if his wound festered and he died, but she did not really mean it.
One of Debrays’s men came to her chamber shortly before noon. It was the young soldier, Randolph. “You must come with me, my lady. Please bring your cloak.”
Katherine had little choice, and she followed the soldier down the narrow stone stairs. Katherine’s heart beat hard and fast. Had Debrays decided to allow her to attend to Liam after all? Or was she being released? The latter did not seem likely, at least not yet.
When she entered the ward, she saw him and faltered. Liam and Macgregor were being escorted by six soldiers from the other side of the ward. Although both men were squinting in the daylight after having been immersed in total darkness for more than twenty-four hours, Liam walked without help. His arm had been bound in a crude sling to his side. As he came closer, she saw that his shirt had been torn up and used as both a sling and a bandage. Beneath his bloodstained cloak, he was naked from the waist up, and the muscles in his stomach and chest rippled as he moved. She also saw that he was somewhat flushedwith fever. But she had seen color far higher and far worse. Clearly the pirate had the constitution of an ox.
His gaze met hers. Somehow it was amused and knowing—as if he sensed her concern—and that infuriating gleam made her scowl at him. Liam was far from death. She should have known that a small musket ball was no match for him.
Debrays suddenly said from behind her, in her ear, “How pleased you are, my lady, to see yourcaptor.”
