Skye O'Malley (6 page)

An audible sigh rippled through the room as the men and women admired and envied the young virgin’s perfection. The bridegroom was visibly affected. Skye was exquisite, with her small, pink-tipped breasts, her slim, long legs ending in slender, high-arched feet.

Suddenly the guests were thrown into shock as Niall Burke pushed forward, boldly allowed his silver eyes to slide over the bride, and announced, “O’Malley! As your overlord I claim the
droit du seigneur
of this woman.”

The master of Innisfana swallowed hard. “A poor jest, my lord,” he replied, now very sober. He was hoping to God that Burke was only drunk, but he knew Burke wasn’t. “My daughter’s no peasant wench,” he stated firmly.

Lord Burke drew himself up to his full imposing height. His proud glance swept the room. “I am your overlord, Dubhdara O’Malley. You swore obedience to me on my tenth birthday. It was by my most generous hand that you received this barony of Innisfana. Our laws demand that you comply with my request.”

“No!” shouted Dom. “She’s mine! Mine! And I am not your vassal.”

Lord Burke looked scornfully at the younger man. “I will remind you, O’Flaherty, that your family owes obedience to my father—whose deputy I am. I claim the
droit du seigneur
of your bride. Will either of you gentlemen endanger your families and insult me over a girl’s maidenhead? Besides, O’Flaherty, when I am finished schooling her she’ll be much more to your taste. You are not, I understand, very good with virgins.”

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room. Dubhdara O’Malley shifted uncomfortably. Then suddenly it came to him that the final decision rested with his new son-in-law. “I yield to you, my lord,” he said quickly, nearly sighing with relief.

The complete silence in the hot little room was finally broken by Dom’s voice. “I’ll pay a penalty, my lord,” said Dom. “You have but to name it.”

Niall Burke eyed Dom arrogantly, then drawled, “Your life, or the wench’s maidenhead.”

A gasp went up. This was high drama, the sort of thing that would be spoken of for years to come in both the halls and hovels of Ireland. Why was Lord Burke so intent on having the bride? To be sure, she was a lovely creature, but it was very rare for an overlord to claim the
droit du seigneur
of a vassal’s bride.

Dom O’Flaherty whitened, then reddened, with fear and helpless rage. His eyes swept over Skye, then back to Lord Burke. He pictured them locked in an embrace. Damn the bastard! thought Dom. He’s got me trapped! At last he said savagely, “I yield. And damn you to hell, my lord Burke!” Turning, he stamped from the chamber, followed quickly by the O’Malley and the rest of the guests.

Niall Burke walked slowly to the door of the room and, shutting it, slammed the bolt home. Turning back, he looked at Skye. Throughout the whole exchange, she had remained as silent and still as a hiding rabbit. “I do mean to take you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes were enormous, blue-green against her white face. “I know,” she answered softly. “You’ll have to tell me what to do. No one has ever told me what is required, and I am very ignorant. Anne didn’t have time to explain,” she finished helplessly.

A warm smile lit his features, and he was suddenly her Niall again. “I think, sweetheart,” he said in a kindly voice, “that the first thing would be to get you into bed. You look chilled.” With a sweeping movement he pulled the covers back and, scooping her up, gently tucked her beneath the down coverlet.

“Kiss me, Niall.” It was a simple request, and it was also the first time she had called him by his name.

“I have every intention of doing just that, Skye. Give me but a moment to divest myself of my clothes.”

“Please, now!”

Had she been anyone else he would have made a ribald jest. She was so intense. So urgent. Instead he bent, kissed the lips she offered. It was a sweet kiss, and they were both loath to stop, but finally she drew away. “I had to be sure it would be as lovely with you this time as it was the last. When Dom kissed me today I wanted to die because he revolted me so.”

“And is it still as lovely, my darling?” His silvery eyes caressed her warmly.

“Yes, Niall. It is still lovely.”

Thoughtfully, without haste, he removed his clothes and approached the bed. “Have you ever seen a man naked before, Skye?” The firelight from the small corner fireplace flickered across his bare body.

“Only the top part. The sailors often strip their shirts off when it gets too hot. I’ve seen bare feet, and part of the leg too.” Her eyes slowly traveled the length of him, lingering a moment on his sex, then blushingly moving upward.

He grinned mischievously at her. “I trust I meet with your complete approval, sweetheart,” he teased, climbing into bed with her.

Her heart-shaped face was very serious. “I don’t understand how it works.”

“Let me worry about that,” he answered. Taking her into his arms, he rolled her beneath him. “Ah, Skye! Sweet Skye! I have dared much for you, my darling.” His mouth found hers again, but this time it was different. His lips teased, playing lightly across her mouth, her fluttering eyelids, her forehead, cheeks, chin, and lastly the tip of her nose.

The shock of his sweet assault left her slightly breathless, and she was certainly not ready for the warm hand that gently cupped her breast. “Oh!” Then, “Oh, Niall, I am sorry I am so small,” she apologized shyly, unable to meet his warm gaze.

“You are perfection, Skye. See how sweetly your breast nestles into my hand? It is like a little white dove.” He bent his dark head and kissed the pink peak, pleased that it hardened almost immediately beneath his lips.

Gently he pressed her back among the pillows, lightly straddling her. His warm mouth now pressed kisses all across her trembling breasts, taking pleasure in her rapid rise to passion. Her beautiful hair billowed shining and dark across the white linen pillows. Head thrown back to reveal the slender column of her throat, she tempted the warm lips to leave a string of burning kisses down the quivering flesh.

His big hands slipped over her torso, enjoying the silken skin. Suddenly Skye was afire, and she moaned helplessly, frightened. Her body felt liquid. She was languid, yet filled with a great strength at the same time. His voice murmured soft and reassuring words of love.

Still she gasped softly, surprised as his fingers gently explored her, probing tenderly, forcing the tension from her body. Then she became aware of a new touch, that of his manhood, hard against her soft leg. Gently his knee nudged her thighs apart. The pulsing root of him touched the tip of her womanhood, and in a sweet haze of fear and desire she heard him say, “It will hurt you just once, Skye. After that there will never be pain again, my love.”

“Yes! Yes! Oh, please, yes!” she panted, not even knowing what it was that she sought, but desperately wanting it. A deep, burning pain quickly receded, leaving her filled with a wonderful, throbbing warmth. His silvery eyes met her blue ones, and passion mirrored passion as he loved her. For a moment they hung suspended in time and then she cried out her pleasure as his hardness broke, filling her with his creamy juices.

After a few breathless minutes he rolled away and cradled her in his arms. He stroked her hair, marveling at its soft density. When he spoke again his velvety voice held the faintest hint of a tremor. “Thank you, Skye, my little love. Thank you for the most precious gift a man can receive from a maiden.”

She moved so that she could see his face, her new womanhood making her brave. “I have waited all my life for you, Niall Burke. Do not leave me now, for I should sooner be your leman than Dom O’Flaherty’s wife. I would go where you go.”

He sighed. “I cannot let you go now, Skye. We will get your marriage annulled based on your adultery with me. I have no intention of returning you to O’Flaherty. We will leave for my father’s castle in the morning. Your husband is a vain peacock. A fat financial settlement and a new and noble bride should soothe his swollen pride.”

“You will not leave me?” Her eyes were shining with happiness. “Oh, Niall! I love you! I love you so much!”

“God, sweetheart, I adore you!” He kissed her hard. “I love you too, my darling. I love you!”

Their bodies melted together once more. Skye was completely overwhelmed by these new and delicious stormy sensations sweeping over her. Her body responded to his every touch, eagerly seeking each new thrill.

He lay on his back and, lifting her, lay her atop him. Her blushes delighted him. Shyly she hid her face in his shoulder. He chuckled. “Nay, sweetheart, now you must love me.”

“But Niall, I don’t know how,” she protested.

“Touch me, Skye. It’s the best start.”

She sat up, her legs on either side of his torso. She couldn’t quite meet his gaze yet. Shyly she touched his chest with a trembling hand. The dark mat of hair was soft, his skin smooth and warm. Her hand moved to his shoulder, then down his well-muscled sword arm. In a sudden bold move she leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her breast. Niall softly caught his breath and waited for her next move. Slowly she rubbed his face and then a
hard little nipple was against his lips. It was now Skye’s turn to gasp as she found the taut little peak in the warmness of his mouth. His tongue teased it, sending darts of fire through her. She wriggled, eyes half closed.

His arms came up around her, and she once more found herself on her back. He caught her hand and drew it down to his manhood. Unbidden she caressed him with devastating effect. He groaned into the dark and tangled night of her hair. The clean, heathery smell of her soap, the warm woman scent of her body maddened him. Again he slid his great sword into her sweet sheath.

Sighing, she took as much of him to herself as she could. Her arms held him as tightly as his held her.

“Put your legs about me, my darling. I cannot have enough of you.” His voice was strange, fierce and husky. Obeying, she cried out softly as she felt him drive deeper into her soft body. The world about her exploded into a whirlpool of pleasure upon pleasure. It could get no better, and yet it did—with each smooth thrust.

“Niall! Oh, Niall, I die!” she finally sobbed, seemingly unable to bear any more. He was experienced enough to control their spiraling rise, but he could not stop loving her. “Just a little more, Skye. Ah, God! You’re so sweet! I don’t want to stop!” he muttered thickly. “No! No! Don’t stop! Please, no!” she whispered back frantically. She did not want to leave this marvelous world. Deeper! Deeper! Faster! Faster! They were lost in each other. As they climaxed together she gave a long wail, half in joy, half in sorrow.

Gathering her to him, he crooned low, “Ah, Skye! Sweet Skye! You are perfection, my little love. Pure perfection! I love you so, sweetheart.”

Her blue-green eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but they shone with love. “Give me a son, Niall!” she whispered fiercely.

Tenderly he stroked her cheek. “In time, my darling. In time. Now sleep, Skye, my love. In the morning we will face the world with the shocking news that we would be together. We will need to be well rested to meet the uproar that’s sure to follow.”

“You meant it when you said you wouldn’t leave me?” Her voice trembled.

“Aye, sweetheart! Only the devil himself can separate us now, Skye.”

“I’d go with you into Hell itself, Niall,” she answered passionately.

At last, enclosed in each other’s arms, they fell asleep, trusting the power of their love.

CHAPTER 3

I
N THE GRAY HALF-LIGHT BEFORE DAWN
N
IALL
B
URKE AND
S
KYE
lay sleeping. Heart hammering, the little pot boy crawled through the unshuttered window and for a brief moment stared quite openmouthed at the two people lying on the bed. Both were naked. The man was on his stomach, face down, his arm flung across the woman. She was curled on her side. The pot boy, who was rarely freed from his kitchen, thought the two were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He felt saddened at what he must do. The woman stirred in her sleep and, guiltily recalling his duty, the boy tiptoed across the room. Softly sliding the bolt back, he opened the door.

Dubhdara O’Malley and three of his men-at-arms came silently into the room. O’Malley nodded to his retainers. Niall Burke was swiftly pulled off the bed, a cloth stuffed into his mouth. Then he was half-dragged, half-carried out of the room, the door shut softly but firmly behind him. Fiercely Niall struggled against his captors, who hustled him down into the main hall of the castle. He was not afraid, for he knew that if it had been his life they sought he would already be dead.

“You’ll not yell, my lord?” O’Malley asked him when they entered a room down the hall.

Niall shook his head. His arms were freed and the gag was pulled from his mouth. He took up the goblet of ale placed at his hand. Drinking it, he began to dress in his clothes, which the little pot boy had thoughtfully brought along. Niall Burke was furious, but arguing with the O’Malley stark naked put him at a disadvantage. His antagonist spoke first.

“You will be on your way immediately, my lord. Young O’Flaherty has spent an unhappy night, drinking and abusing Skye’s maid. The sight of you now could drive him to rashness. I should not like to answer to the MacWilliam if his heir were harmed.”

Niall yanked on his boots. “I want Skye’s marriage annulled, O’Malley! For three days I tried to get to you, to ask you to call off this marriage. I love Skye, and she loves me. I want her to wife. I’ll see that O’Flaherty is pacified with a new bride and a large bribe. Why do you think I did what I did last night? To
amuse
myself,
man? I love your daughter, O’Malley, and I hope my action will force O’Flaherty to give her up.”

Dubhdara O’Malley looked amazed. “Laddie, laddie! If I have nothing else in this world I have my good name and my good word. The word of Dubhdara O’Malley has never been questioned because it is as good as gold. I have never broken my word! I will not do so now. Skye was betrothed to Dom as a child. Even if I had postponed the marriage, your father would not permit you to marry an O’Malley of Innisfana. For you, it will be an O’Neill, an O’Donnell, or an O’Brien—daughters of the high aristocracy. Not my little lass.”