Shane came back to stand beside his brother, but still had a possessive arm about Sabre.
O’Neill said, “Ye say I never give ye anything, so just to make a liar out of ye, I’ll give ye a little gem of information. Philip of Spain sails his Armada for England in August.”
Shane looked at him through narrowed eyes. He did not doubt for a minute that the O’Neill knew Philip’s plans. He was only suspicious as to why he should be sharing his knowledge with sons more loyal to England than Ireland.
“Well, lads, will ye stay and get drunk wi’ me tonight?”
Shane declined. Drink-sodden Irish tempers would flare up like flash fires once the sun was down and the smoky Irish whiskey was liberally passed around. “I’ve better things to do,” said Shane bluntly.
O’Neill eyed Sabre with a leer. “Ye’ve yer work cut out for ye, lad.”
Shane saw Sabre favor the old man with a wicked smile and knew they shared some secret.
Sabre’s eyes widened when they left the fortress, for outside waited the entire crew of the Defiant Dwarfed between the two tall Hawkhursts she looked up at Shane. “Did you expect to fight a battle?”
“In truth I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready to wage war to get you back.”
Matt spoke up. “We had one hell of a time. The Defiant couldn’t go any farther than the Lough, so we left her anchored at Shane’s own town of Newry, piled the crew into the lifeboats, and rowed up the River Bann and the River Blackwater.”
“You make me feel like Helen of Troy,” said Sabre appreciatively. “Now I suppose you’ve to do it all again to get back to the ship.”
“’Tis nothing,” boasted Matt. “Every man jack of them would have gone twice the distance.”
Though the night was black and chill for July, and her feet and skirts were drenched from the rough terrain they walked, she had never felt safer in her whole life. These were men, and more, these were her men!
Shane bent down to murmur, “I’m sorry to drag you from your warm bed. Let me carry you, love.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, for he must be every bit as weary as she, but she longed for his touch and in a weak moment gave in to the need for him. She stopped in her tracks and reached up loving arms. “Please pick me up?” she whispered, and with a satisfied grunt Shane swept her up against his heart. He was instantly conscious of the blood flowing hot and thick in his veins and of the heavy, sweet ache that flooded his loins. Whatever good intentions he’d had about giving her a divorce vanished the instant he clasped her to his body. Her breast was crushed against his chest, his arms held her slender thighs, and her delicious buttocks brushed the tip of his manhood, ripe and swollen with desire. The exquisite torture drove him forward, dispelling any fatigue he might have felt. If Sabre insisted on keeping a barrier between them, he decided in that instant, he would enjoy smashing it.
There was something wickedly exciting about being carried so close in Shane’s arms. It was a singularly erotic journey for both of them. Never had she been more aware of his powerfully muscled torso, and as the wind blew strands of her hair across his cheek, he thought he would go mad with longing. When they reached the boats, he did not relinquish her, but sat her between his legs where she was secure and sheltered and intimately close to him. Though they were in a crowded boat, for them the world receded until they were aware only of each other and their longing. She drew strength from his strength, her weariness drained away, and she was left with such a heightened feeling of anticipation for the love he would make to her when finally they reached his cabin aboard the Defiant. She had somehow fallen madly in love with her husband and craved the drugging, passionate kisses only his mouth could give her.
When they reached the ship, he lifted her once more into his arms and climbed the rope ladder to the deck with one strong arm. As her arms crept about his neck, he could not resist the tempting mouth just below his own, and captured her lips in a searing kiss that left them both dizzy with hot desire. He swept down to the captain’s cabin and laid his precious burden upon the wide berth. He lit the lamp, then went down on his haunches before the safe in the corner of the cabin. He held something in his cupped hand as he came back to the bed.
“Sabre,” he whispered tenderly, “can we begin again? I swear to woo you as you deserve. I pledge on my honor not to rush you. All I ask is a chance to make you fall in love with me.”
She almost told him how madly she loved him already, but liked the notion of being wooed so much, she held her tongue. His arms encircled her in a surprisingly gentle embrace. His lips and tongue slowly explored the warm honey of her mouth. Then he drew back with a deep sigh and lifted one of her hands to his lips. He placed a tender kiss upon her palm, then filled it with a chain of diamonds. “Good night, my beloved,” he whispered, and arose reluctantly from the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?” she asked in alarm.
“I’ll never force you to share my bed again, darling. I’ll bunk in with Matthew on the voyage home.”
She blinked, not believing that he had left her to sleep alone, and had sworn to do so for the rest of the voyage. She looked down at the fortune in diamonds he had poured into her hands and a sob caught in her throat. It wasn’t jewels she wanted, it was the hard, muscled length of him. Her body screamed with her need to have him fill her, and now, of all ridiculous things, he had decided to play the gentleman and give her the wooing of which she accused him of cheating her!
Chapter 24
It was a long time before she succumbed to sleep but once she did, the erotic dreams that filled the remaining hours of the night and the early morning made her blush profusely long after she had awakened from them.
Shane and Matt lay in twin berths talking for hours. They spoke of their childhood and of their deep love for Sebastian Hawkhurst. They both agreed they would have preferred him to be their blood father, yet secretly each was proud that the blood of Irish kings ran in their veins.
“Do we believe him about Spain?” asked Matthew.
“We had better believe him. He has worked hand in glove with Philip of Spain to know the exact date the Armada sails against England. That is when he will begin the Irish rebellion, while Bess has her hands full.”
Matthew said somberly, “You paint a bleak picture … war with Spain, then war with Ireland.”
“I’m a realist, Matt. If we meet Spain head on and fight the battles at sea we will snatch victory for England. Then perhaps we can work out a lasting peace. Ireland is different. The battles will be fought on land. It will be a long and bloody business. You know how service with the English army in Ireland is dreaded. No matter how many times England crushes her under its yoke, rebellion will break out again, for the Irish are fanatics, mad buggers. They’d rather fight than eat!”
“Our time is short; will you go to the queen or Burghley with the information?”
“The Defiant and I are going home to Devon, for that is where the Armada will land if we allow them to get that far. I’ll sail you across to Liverpool and give you messages for the queen and Burghley. I’ll alert Drake and the lord high admiral, Howard. The Navy has been preparing for quite a while, for it has been no secret that Philip means to sail against us. I want you to order all Hawkhurst vessels home to Devonport. I’ll give you written orders for the captains,”
Matthew felt honored to be trusted again with these weighty responsibilities and knew at last that he was forgiven for his treachery. “You’ll have little time with Sabre,” said Matthew on a personal note.
Shane smiled into the darkness. “Time enough for a wedding. Spain … England … the whole bloody world will have to wait.”
First light saw the Defiant weigh anchor and head down the Carlingford Lough to the Irish Sea. Hawkhurst was a man who captained his own ship, and Sabre found him on the quarterdeck.
“Sweetheart!” he welcomed. “This glorious land belongs to you.” He took her small, cold hand and warmed it with
his own. She gazed upward at the mountains shrouded in mist. “Perhaps we should let O’Neill have it,” she said softly.
“Sabre, take a lesson from me—hold what is yours!”
Her eyes flew from the mountains to his face, lingering on the hard, chiseled mouth and strong, arrogant jaw. His prominent cheekbones reinforced the impression of power and ruthless vitality. His dark, harshly handsome features brought a rush of love, and she whispered, “I will … I will hold what is mine.”
“We’re about to cross the Irish Sea to Liverpool. If the weather holds, we’ll be there before dark. Will you give me the pleasure of your company and dine with me tonight?”
“It will be a great honor to dine with the captain of the Defiant,” she said with a provocative sideways glance.
God’s breath, he thought, does she know what her smile has just done to me? Of course she knows, he thought, Sabre is all woman.
“I had better go below, for once we are in the Irish Sea I shall disgrace myself.”
He lifted her hand to his cheek in a quick caress and said with concern, “Love, are you still seasick? I cannot fathom it, you should have had your sea legs long ago. Rest while you can and I’ll come to check on you in an hour.”
“Try not to rock the boat,” she said, laughing as she disappeared belowdecks. Sabre experienced only nausea with no retching or vomiting, and once the ship docked at Liverpool even the nausea disappeared.
Shane and his brother were closeted together over two hours before Matthew departed the ship with letters for the queen and written orders for the Hawkhurst captains.
Shane and Sabre sat down to a delicious seafood dinner catered by a famous master chef of Liverpool—steaming silver tureens filled with chowder bisque, scallops, shrimp, crab, and lobster. There was everything from delicately baked whitefish to succulent, almost decadent golden fried oysters.
Sabre was most reluctant to try the oysters, but Shane tempted her over and over by extolling their virtues and begging, “Trust me, darling, they are delicious.” Gingerly she bit into one and to her surprise she loved it. “Mmm,” she teased, “more delicious than making love!”
He scooped her into his lap and fed her half a dozen more. She shivered as his strong brown fingers brushed her lips. “You are cold, love,” he exclaimed, misreading her shiver. “I swear Liverpool is the dampest city on earth.” He opened the door on the small brazier and fed it with coal, then poured them each a goblet of Chablis and pushed a large, sprawling chair before the stove. He pulled her down onto his knee again and she laid her head against his wide chest, hearing nothing but the heavy hammer of his heart. They sat quietly in a close, warm silence, and he knew by the way her body had relaxed against his, there was no barrier between them in this moment.
“You do not fear Philip’s Invincible Armada, do you?” she asked in wonder.
“Nay. Though Spain may have the finest ships in the world, battles are won not by ships, but by the men who sail them. England outclasses Spain by courage and genius of seamanship. They don’t stand a chance.”
Confidence, that is the secret of his success. He never doubts himself she thought silently, and by association he has given me confidence in myself. What a priceless gift, she reflected.
His eyes moved down the length of her body, watching the play of the fire’s light over the silk of her gown where it clung to her curves, leaving little to his heated imagination. He wondered how long he would be able to remain in this position before his aroused condition became obvious. “Sabre,” he began tentatively, “you told me at Blackmoor that you wanted me to woo you, to propose marriage to you, and to exchange wedding vows in church with you, and believe me, darling, when I tell you that I want those things even more than you do … but … sweetest … we don’t need to divorce … we can do these things without going through a divorce.”
“Can we, my lord?” she asked solemnly, with wide-eyed innocence.
“Sabre, will you marry me? I want to take you home to Devonport; we can be wed in the church there.”
She wanted to tease him, to leave him in an agony of uncertainty while she pretended to ponder upon his proposal, but she loved him too fiercely to make him wait one moment longer. “I love you with all my heart. Of course I will marry you again.”
Suddenly he felt almost shy with her. If he fumbled now, he would look like an untried boy attempting to mount his first conquest. He stood up with her in his arms and carried her to the berth. Gently he kissed her eyelids and the tiny black beauty mark on the tip of her cheekbone that he adored so much. “Good night, my dearest, darling Sabre.”
Suddenly she knew he would not touch her before their wedding night. She closed her eyes to dispel the sharp disappointment that washed over her. Pray God they reached Devonport soon or there would be two people dying of starvation.
As soon as the Defiant rounded Lizard Point at the tip of Cornwall, Hawkhurst unfurled the sail with the magnificent dragon symbol to announce the arrival of the Sea God to his people of Devonport. Beside him Sabre could not believe the throngs of cheering townspeople who crowded the stone-walled wharves waiting to receive their legend. Horrified, she cried, “How can I face them in this gown I’ve had to wear for over a week?”
“Your beauty will blind them, as it did me,” he promised.
It was noon and the bright sun blazed across the dazzling harbor, making everything seem so warm and welcoming. Sabre gazed at the big house atop the cliffs and it was love at first sight. Flowers grew everywhere in profusion, all down the cliffside and along every pathway. The whole town, it seemed, loved him, and the way they smiled at her, they were prepared to love her too. He took her hand and carefully guided her down the gangplank to the wharf, where he mounted some stone steps and held his arms up for silence.
“I have urgent news for you. Within the month Philip of Spain sails his Armada against us.” The vast crowd were silent as they hung on every word. “Devonport has the finest seamen in England. We will sail out from our home port and destroy the enemy!”
The cheer that rose up deafened them. “Soon our port will be overflowing with vessels from the navy and with Drake’s ships. Our streets will serve as home base for such famous men as Hawkins, Frobisher, Howard, and Raleigh. Let’s show them our hospitality and open our hearts and our homes to them!”
Again the voices swelled in a cheer to show their generosity. He held his hands up for silence. “The most important news I’ve saved for last … we are going to have a wedding! You are all invited!”
The crowd went mad. It surged forward and lifted the happy couple to its shoulders and carried them all the way up the cliff to the doors of Devonport House. The servants had been preparing food since the dragon sail had been sighted two hours past. They always cooked enough to feed the whole crew of their master’s ship when it sailed into home port, but news of a wedding to which the whole town was to be invited sent them scrambling to triple their preparations.
“I have nothing to wear,” wailed Sabre with chagrin. At Thames View she had enough gowns and jewels literally to sink a ship, but here she had only what she stood up in. He swept an arm about her to lead her up the main staircase. He opened the door to his mother’s bedchamber and threw open her wardrobes.
“Georgiana is every bit as vain and extravagant as you are where fashion is concerned. Among all this I am certain even you, my darling, will be able to find something that strikes your fancy. I must go and open the wine cellars for the upcoming celebration and write a note for the chaplain to expect us at the church shortly.” He kissed her tenderly. “I’ll order you a bath brought up.”
“Shane”—she put a tentative hand out—“my lord … are you sure … you wish to marry your mistress?” she asked in a small voice.
“Oh, my darling, my little love, I will accord you every honor. I will always call you my lady.”
Her voice trembled with her great love for him. “I promise to always call you my lord.”
&nb
sp; The church was such a simple little whitewashed building, Sabre feared she was overdressed to exchange their holy vows, but Lord Devonport was resplendent in black and gold. The silver tissue gown Sabre had chosen had stood out from the others in the wardrobe as most suitable for a wedding. She wore her long copper tresses brushed out, and in place of a headress wore the simple chain of diamonds he had given her. She carried white roses hurriedly cut from the garden by the admiring servants.
The church was crowded and the doors were left open so that some of the people gathered outside could hear the exchanged vows.
Ignoring custom, Shane took both her hands into his and looked deeply into her eyes during the entire ceremony. He was determined to show her that this time he took his vows most seriously, and Sabre paid rapt attention to each word, each detail, so that she would remember it forever.
In an amazingly short time it was over, except for the celebrations, which would go on all night. They were showered with rice and flower petals as they made a slow progress back to Devonport House. Then the doors were thrown open and the people of the town took turns to come in for refreshment and drink a toast to the newly-weds.
The gardens were filled with dancing and musicians playing on their homemade instruments. Shane took Sabre out into the gardens, where they danced with as many of their people as their feet would allow. As the sun set over the sea, turning everything to crimson and then sudden blackness, the tension between the lovers grew in intensity. Finally he took her firmly by the waist and made his need known to her.
“Sabre, I can wait for you no longer.” She stood on tiptoe, slipping her hands behind his neck to tangle in his lion’s mane of dark curls, and reached up her soft mouth to him. A great cheer broke out among the revelers, which rose to fever pitch as he swung his bride up into his arms and carried her to his own private wing of the house.
The Hawk and the Dove Page 31