Silence swallowed. She’d been raised in London as well, but there had been trips to parks and outings to Greenwich and other towns. She’d seen butterflies and more—tame deer, wild birds, lovely gardens, and flowers. What kind of boyhood had he had never to have seen a butterfly?
“Where were you raised in London?” she asked softly.
“St. Giles,” he said, still tracing the gilt pages. “Not more’n a stone’s throw from here.”
She tried to picture him as a boy. He’d have been beautiful, of course, lean and graceful. The thought made her uneasy. Beautiful youths didn’t last long in St. Giles. “You lived with your family?”
“Me mam… and him.”
She frowned at the emphasis on the last word. Was he talking about his father—or another man? She glanced at him, but ended up asking the easier question. “Do your parents still live in St. Giles?”
He gave her an ironic look and closed the big picture book. Obviously he had no intention of answering her.
Irritating man. She looked around the little library. “Which book is it?”
“What?”
She gestured to the overflowing bookshelves. “Where is your butterfly book?”
He shook his head. “I don’t keep it here.”
“But then—”
“What a curious thing ye are.” He turned to place the book on a shelf.
She inhaled, feeling frustrated. “What is it you want from me?”
When he turned, his face had gone blank. “What makes ye think I want anythin’ from ye, me darlin’?”
But she wasn’t going to let him slide away from this question. She took a step closer and he made a movement almost as if he would retreat from her. “You didn’t have to give Mary Darling to me. Didn’t have to involve me in your life at all. What is it you’re doing?”
He glanced away from her, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “I’m protectin’ ye and the babe, nothin’ more. All ye have to do is stay in yer rooms and be content.”
Stay in her rooms? Be content? Silence’s eyes widened incredulously. “Do I look like a doll to you?”
His eyelids lowered, his beautiful black lashes sweeping his cheeks before he glanced back up at her again. “Nay, yer a lovely woman, ye are. I’d not be mistakin’ ye for any playthin’.”
Her lips parted at his intimate tone.
His sensuous mouth curved at her confusion. “Supper’s early tonight—seven o’ the clock, mind. I trust we’ll be graced with yer lovely presence.”
Silence stiffened. He wouldn’t catch her off guard so easily. “On the contrary, I have no intention of dining with you, Mr. O’Connor.”
The smile was abruptly gone from his face, leaving it rather frighteningly grim. “Then ye’ll fast in yer rooms, me darlin’, until ye can see fit to change yer mind.”
And with that he pivoted and strode from the room.
Chapter Four
But a very strange thing happened. As dusk fell in the king’s garden, all three of the nephews began to nod and soon they all slept. In the morning they woke and none of the three could remember a thing. The nephews had to confess rather sheepishly to the king that they had not caught the thief. But when Clever John ran his hand through his hair, a bright green feather fell to the ground….
“But ye can’t!” Fionnula hissed early the next morning.
“Who says so?” Silence asked stubbornly as she took a quick look up and down the hall outside her room. Harry was eating breakfast and she’d just sent Bert to call a servant. She only had a minute at most while the guards were occupied.
“Himself, that’s who,” Fionnula cried in a muted wail. “He’s given orders that yer not to leave the rooms until ye consent to dine with him.”
Silence snorted softly. “Mickey O’Connor is not my master.”
“He mayn’t be,” Fionnula said, “but he’s used to bein’ obeyed.”
“Then Mr. O’Connor is in for a surprise.”
Silence slipped from the room with Mary Darling in her arms and ran lightly toward the back of the hallway—away from the stairs where Bert had gone. She stopped at the corner to catch her breath before continuing more sedately.
A touch at her shoulder nearly made her scream.
“Where are ye plannin’ on goin’?” Fionnula whispered.
“I don’t know,” Silence admitted, “but Mary needs new surroundings to explore. Perhaps a sitting room?”
Fionnula looked doubtful. “I don’t think Himself spends much time sittin’. He’s not exactly gentry.”
“The library, then. That’s below us.” Silence looked worriedly at Fionnula. “But I don’t want to get you into trouble. Perhaps I ought to tie you up? We can say I’ve overpowered you.”
Fionnula rolled her eyes. “As if anyone would believe that.”
Behind them came a noise like an enraged bull. “Oi!” Bert had discovered her absence.
Silence couldn’t restrain a start, but at least she didn’t break stride.
Mary bounced in her arms, looking over Silence’s shoulder. “ ’Ert!”
They reached the stairwell just as Bert caught up with them.
“Now see ’ere,” the guard panted. “Where d’ye think yer goin’?”
“To the library,” Silence said airily as she started down the stairs.
Bert scoffed. “Right next to ’Imself’s plannin’ room, that is. Ye’ll not get two steps past the stairwell.”
The news made Silence’s pulse race. She was already at the landing, but she didn’t stop, sailing through the doorway and into the lower corridor. Charming Mickey O’Connor might discover her disobedience—she was counting on it, in fact—but that wouldn’t detain her. It was important that she assert her rights, her will to not be treated like some pawn at the beck and call to Mickey O’Connor’s whims. In fact—
Hard hands caught her waist and Silence couldn’t help a squeak of surprise and alarm. She was lifted quite off her feet with Mary Darling still clutched to her breast.
“What is Mrs. Hollingbrook doin’ out o’ her rooms?” Mickey O’Connor’s voice rumbled behind her, far too calmly.
Silence craned her neck and saw that the pirate held her at arm’s length, his face quite expressionless. She gulped and faced forward again, only to see Fionnula frozen while Bert opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish.
“Don’t blame Bert or Fionnula,” Silence blurted out. “This is my fault—”
“I never thought otherwise,” Mr. O’Connor snapped. “Take the babe.”
Fionnula darted forward, eyes wide and before Silence could protest Mary was in the maidservant’s arms.
Silence frowned. “Now see here—”
“Not a word,” the pirate whispered, and somehow his lowered voice was even more frightening than a shout.
He swung her and suddenly Silence found herself on her stomach over Mickey O’Connor’s shoulder—a most ignominious position—one broad hand clamped firmly over her bottom to hold her in place.
“Put me down,” she said with as much dignity as possible, considering that all the blood was rushing to her head.
He didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he simply turned and strode down the hall.
“Mr. O’Connor!” Silence found she had no choice but to brace her hands on his hips if she didn’t want her nose to bounce off his extremely firm rear end.
He didn’t reply as he mounted the stairs—seemingly without effort despite steadying her weight with only one arm—but Silence thought she might have heard him muttering to himself under his breath.