“No more, Annie! I am happy to settle for five sons, and the bonniest wife in Ireland! I don’t want to lose you, love.”
She smiled weakly and patted his hand. Then suddenly she re- membered her promise. “Skye…” she began weakly.
For a moment he looked puzzled, then his brow cleared. “Skye’ Ah, yes! The wedding is scheduled for tomorrow. You’d not have it called off, eh love? Well, don’t worry, Annie. Skye will be wed tomorrow, never fear. You just rest and get strong, and if you’re awake before tomorrow evening I’ll send the bride and groom in to visit you.”
She tried to speak, tried to tell him that he must call it off, that the wedding of Skye and Dom would be a terrible mistake. But the herbs and exhaustion had taken effect. Anne struggled to speak, but could not. Her eyes slowly closed and she couldn’t open them again. Anne O’Malley had fallen into a deep, drug-induced sleep.
Chapter 2
Dubhdara O’Malley stood looking down at his sleeping daugh- ter. It shocked even him to realize how beautiful Skye really was, and he wished he had the name and the fortune to assure her a nobler husband than young O’Flaherty.
He bore no love for the English, but he knew mat their royal court was at this moment the center of the earth, and he thought how Skye would shine there.
Still, he hadn’t done badly by her. Her husband would be the next chief of the Ballyhennessey O’Flahertys, and Skye would be mother to the chief after Dom. He had her safely settled. He’d miss her, though. Well, he chuckled to himself, why not admit he had a special place in his heart for the lass? She was pure O’Malley. Himself in female form, and like none of his other children.
For a few minutes more he watched her in silent wonder, and men he gently shook her by the shoulder. “Wake up, Skye! Wake up, lassie.”
She resisted, having no desire to be yanked from the dream in which she and Niall were kissing. He persisted, however, and finally she opened her eyes a bit. “Da? What’s the matter?”
“Annie’s been delivered of a fine, healthy son, poppet. But she’s fair worn with the effort. Still, she doesn’t want your marriage postponed. The wedding feast will go on as scheduled, but you and Dom are to be married in an hour in the family chapel. Get up, Skye lass! This is your wedding day!”
She was instantly awake. “No, Da! No! Anne promise!-“
“It’s all right, love,” he interrupted. “It’s all right with Anne.
She’s sorry to miss the festivities, but she knows that, with a castle full of guests, we couldn’t postpone it.”
Skye sat up, her long dark hair tumbling about her white shoul- ders. Her eyes were enormous and deep blue in her heart-shaped face. He shifted his eyes uncomfortably from the perfection of her small breasts, visible through the thin lawn of her shift. “Da! Listen to me, please! I do not want to marry Dom O’Flaherty! Oh, why won’t you listen to me?!”
Dubhdara O’Malley sat down on the edge of his favorite child’s bed. “Now, poppet, we’ve been over this before. Of course you’re going to marry Dom. He’s a fine young man, and it’s a good match for you. These bridal nerves are natural, but you must not give way.”
Why didn’t he understand? “No, please, Da! No! I hate Dom! I cannot… I will not marry him!” There was an hysterical edge to her voice.
“Skye!” His voice had become stern. “Enough, now! I have post- poned this wedding for two years in hopes you would outgrow your willfulness, but no more, poppet! You’ve no reason to cry off, no religious calling, only silly maiden fears that will have vanished by this time tomorrow.” He stood up. “Make yourself beautiful for Dom, poppet.” And he left her.
Skye began to weep, a combination of frustration, anger, and fear. Great, gulping sobs of anguish poured hot and salty from her eyes until they were almost swollen shut. Molly, finding her young mistress in this shocking state, turned about and sought the lady Eibhlin. The young nun came instantly and, taking her younger sister into her loving arms, tried to soothe her. When the sobs had finally abated, Eibhlin laid her sister back on her pillows and mixed some herbs in a goblet of wine that she made Skye drink. The medication would soothe her. Eibhlin had seen cases of bridal nerves before.
Next the nun took soft pads of linen soaked in rose water, and lay them on Skye’s closed eyes.
“It will take the swelling down,” she told Molly. “We’ll let her rest for half an hour, then dress her for the wedding.”
Very soon thereafter, Skye O’Malley stood beside Dom O’Flaherty in the castle’s candlelit chapel and was wed. All the guests agreed that there had never been a more beautiful bride. Her gown was of creamy white satin with a deep, square neck edged in a wide ruffle of silver lace. The low neckline gave the groom a fine view of her breasts, and Dom O’Flaherty licked his lips in anticipation at the sight of small, pink nipples.
As the elderly priest intoned the ancient Latin words of the cer- emony over them, the bridegroom thought lasciviously of how he would pillow his head tonight on those soft breasts. When she raised her hand to receive the marriage ring, Dom noted the richness of her gown for the first time. The sleeves were slashed, the inserts filled with silver lace. This lace also edged the wrists. Her beautiful Mack hair was unbound, in recognition of her innocence, and topped by a simple wreath of sweetly scented white flowers.
She was whiter than her gown, and had Dom bothered to look closer, he would have seen the helpless, trapped look in her eyes. The drug given her by her sister forced her to comply with the farce. Her responses were so low that they could barely be heard, and she moved like a puppet. Her family assumed it was bridal nerves.
They were pronounced man and wife. They turned to face their families and, at that moment, the chapel doors were flung open, revealing Niall Burke, his face anguished, his eyes stark with a pain that only she could understand. Skye simply wanted to die.
“Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!” came the ribald shouts.
Dom O’Flaherty turned Skye so that she faced him. “Now,” he said triumphantly, “you belong to me!” His mouth found hers. He forced his tongue between her soft lips and into her mouth. Around them came the crude cries of encouragement. The tongue was soft, and demanding. Seeking to escape this horror, Skye fainted.
“Ho!” shouted Dubhdara O’Malley, well pleased. “Here’s fine proof of my lass’s innocence! Her first kiss and she swoons! Loosen her laces, lad. You’re no stranger to women’s clothes, or so I’m told.”
While the laughter that greeted O’Malley’s sally echoed around the chapel, Dom O’Flaherty picked up his bride and carried her from the room. Helplessly Niall Burke watched as the unconscious Skye was borne back to her room. He wanted to hit the smug young man who cradled Skye in his arms with such obvious pride of ownership.
For the first time in his life, the heir to one of the most powerful families in Ireland had been thwarted. For the last three days Niall had tried unsuccessfully to see the O’Malley, but Dubhdara had been unavailable to his guests because of his young wife’s lying in. Under the circumstances, Niall hadn’t expected them to marry Skye off so quickly. He had thought he had time to speak with the O’Malley. Though the situation would have been embarrassing, there would have been no real disgrace in O’Malley exchanging the heir to Ballyhennessey for the heir to the MacWilliam of Mayo.
Niall pushed, along with the family, into the bedchamber. Dom laid his burden upon the bed. With nimble fingers the bridegroom loosened the girl’s laces. Momentarily forgetful of his audience, Dom caressed the soft, creamy swell of Skye’s breast. The hunger in his pale-blue eyes was unmistakable, and Niall felt a murderous rage well up in him.