Skye’s heart soared. He would be gone, and Lord Burke would be here! “Go with God, Dom,” she said sweetly.
For a moment there was an awkward silence, then Dom reached out and pulled his betrothed into his arms. “No kiss, lovey? You would send me on my way without the least sign of affection?”
“We’re not wed yet, Dom. I don’t have to kiss you.”
“Don’t have to?” he exploded. “Christ, Skye, don’t be such a little prude! You’ll have to do more than kiss me in a few days’ time!” Damn, but she was a sweet armful, all perfumed and warm from the bath. He could feel his desire growing. He sought for her mouth, but she squirmed away.
“No!”
His blue eyes narrowed in anger, but then he laughed. “All right, lovey. But in a short time I’ll have you begging for my kisses.” He mocked her a bow, then turned and left the room. She shuddered.
“Oh!” squealed Molly. “He’s a lusty one to be sure, mistress! You’ll have good bedsport with him, and that’s lucky in a husband!”
“Be quiet, you little fool!” snapped Skye. “Instead of drooling over my betrothed, fetch my new burgundy velvet gown. I intend wearing it tonight with the rubies Da gave me.”
Molly scurried to obey. Skye O’Malley was a better mistress than most, rarely cruel, but not above administering a slap now and then. The maid laced her mistress into a little beribboned busk that pushed her pretty breasts up so that they seemed almost to spill from her pale-pink underblouse. The nearly transparent sleeves were striped in gold. Carefully Skye drew her stockings up her shapely legs. They were pink silk, embroidered with a flowering vine of gold thread, and had been made in Paris. Several petticoats followed, and then the dress. A beautiful creation of the finest, softest velvet, it was a shimmering, jewel-red, with a full, flowing skirt. Slashed sleeves revealed the pink-and-gold-striped sleeves of the under- blouse.
Skye now sat, careful not to wrinkle her skirts, before her precious mirror while Molly brushed her dark hair until it shone with bluish lights. She was not allowed to bind it up until after her marriage. This had been a source of great frustration to Skye, especially at sea, but her father had been very firm about it. She might braid it, but the braids must hang long.
“No O’Malley maiden puts her hair up until she weds,” he stated, and there was no point in arguing.
Looking at herself in the mirror, however, she had to admit that her long, wavy hair was beautiful. Especially now, as Molly placed a little gold lace cap with a tiny veil on her head. Skye clasped the ruby necklace about her throat and studied the effect. The great stones glittered almost savagely against the creamy softness of her bare chest, and when she caught her breath she noted with surprise mat her breasts swelled provocatively beneath the glittering rubies. The jeweled hair ornament was to be put aside until she wore her hair up, but she slipped on the earrings, bracelet, and ring. Sliding her feet into red velvet shoes, she stood.
“Lor’, mistress,” breathed Molly reverently. “I never seen you look so beautiful! What a pity Master Dom’s not here now to see you. You could drive a man to madness!”
Skye laughed, pleased. “Do you really think so, Molly?” Secretly she was wondering whether Lord Burke could be driven to madness.
Her insides fluttered with fearful, delicious anticipation. She almost flew out the door, bumping into her pretty stepmother as she did so.
“Gracious, Skye,” laughed Anne O’Malley. “If you would impress the hall, then you must not rush so. Make a grand entrance… slowly gliding… thusly, my love.” She demonstrated prettily.
“Your pardon, Anne. I did not hurt you, did I?
“No, love, but stop so I may look at you. Dear heaven; how lovely you are, and not yet grown. If young Dom could but see you now…”
Skye made a face. “I don’t want to marry him, Anne!” The words tumbled out all by themselves.
Anne O’Malley was suddenly serious and fully sympathetic. “I know, love. I know, and I do understand.”
“Please, Anne, please speak to Da. He adores you, and he’ll listen to you. He’d do anything for you!”
“Oh, Skye, I’ll try. You know I will. But it will do no good. Your father is a man of his word, and he has given his word on this marriage. You’re the last of his girls, and he wants you well settled. Young O’FIaherty is a very good match for an O’Malley of Innisfana.”
“I hate him!” came the whispered reply. “He’s always undressing me with his eyes.”
“Perhaps it will be different when you’re wed,” soothed Anne, though in her heart she knew it wouldn’t. “Maidens are often fearful of the unknown. But really, there is no cause for alarm, my love. Tomorrow I will come and explain it all to you, Skye.”
“Speak to Da, Anne! Please, promise me you will!”
“I will, Skye. I promise I will.”
The two women moved down the steps to the main hall of the castle, and all the while Anne was aware that Niall Burke’s eyes were fastened to her beautiful stepdaughter. At the bottom of the steps he was there, tucking Skye’s small hand in his arm, wordlessly sweeping her away while Anne watched helplessly. No one else saw the dangerous, hopeless attraction between the two. She must speak to Dubhdara!
The floor beneath Skye’s feet seemed to have disappeared. She was floating. Shyly she glanced down at the hand covering hers. It was big, and square, and brown. It was magically warm, and she could feel the strength hidden deep within it. Her heart was pounding. Why did he affect her this way?
They walked over to the great fireplace, which was flanked by enormous stone lions. It was red with the oak logs that now burned merrily with an occasional crackle and snap. They stopped and observed the leaping flames for a moment. They did not look at each other, but merely stood side by side.
Finally he spoke. “Why do you tremble when I touch you?”
“I am not used to the attentions of men,” she answered him breathlessly.
Turning her so that she faced him, he looked down at her. “I do not understand that, Skye O’Malley, for you are outrageously fair. Has no man, even your betrothed, whispered sweet words of love into your little shell ear?”
“No.” Her cheeks were softly pink now, and her voice was so low that he had to bend to hear her.
Niall Burke was enchanted. He felt something strange sweeping over him, possessing him, rushing him onward to something his inner voice warned against. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he com- manded her. “I promise not to bite you, though God knows you’re a tempting morsel.”
Shyly she raised her blue eyes to his silvery gray ones, and for a moment Skye felt as if she were drowning. She realized he felt it too! Neither could tear their gaze away. They were suspended in time, their souls flowing back and forth between their bodies, twining into one perfect being.
A great guffaw of laughter from the other side of the hall broke the spell. With shock, Niall swore, “Christ! What is it you do to me, little witch?” He was astounded by himself. “Turn your eyes from me, Skye darling, before I shame us both.” He signaled a servant bearing a tray of wine goblets and, snatching two, gave one to Skye. He gulped down the other, welcoming the burning sensation that spread through his stomach. It gave him something to concen- trate on, to prevent himself from carrying this girl away from the hall forever.
When dinner was announced, Lord Burke, as the highest-ranking guest, was seated next to the bride-to-be. He was artful enough to hide his troubled emotions, but the meal tasted like sawdust to him. He was a man of the world, experienced beyond most, but the girl had affected him as no other female had ever done. He admitted to himself that he desperately wanted to bed the wench, but there was a great deal more to it than that, something he had never felt before. It had all come on him so quickly that be couldn’t understand it