Skye O'Malley

by Bertrice Small

  “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

  IN THE GRAY HALF-LIGHT BEFORE DAWN NIALL BURKE AND SKYE 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.”

  Niall’s silver eyes flashed. “She is fit to be a queen, O’Malley!”

  “Ah, laddie, you’ll get no argument from me on that account! But my daughter is Dom O’Flaherty’s wife till death parts them. You’ve exercised the droit du seigneur on the bride. There is nothing else here for you. Go home. Leave me to mend the broken fences, and my child’s broken heart.”

  “I will not leave without Skye, O’Malley! She comes with me!”

  The master of the castle barely nodded to his men. Niall Burke was tapped lightly on his head, rendering him unconscious. “Carry him to the boat, and tell Captain MacGuire to take him home. MacGuire’s to put this letter directly into the MacWilliam’s hand, and await a reply,” O’Malley said tersely.

  O’Malley sat watching a moment as his most honored guest was slung over the shoulder of one of his men and removed from the hall. Then, without a backward glance, O’Malley returned to his daughter’s bedchamber. He shook her awake gently. “Skye, lass! Wake up now.”

  Slowly her blue eyes opened, then widened in surprise. “Da?” Her gaze quickly swept the room, and her voice became a frightened whisper. “Niall?”

  “Gone, Skye. Niall Burke has gone home.”

  “No! He promised we would never be parted! He promised!”

  “Men frequently make promises in the heat of passion that they have no intention of keeping,” said the O’Malley brutally. “Get up and get dressed, daughter. You’ll go with Eibhlin to her convent on Innishturk until Dom’s temper cools, and we’re sure you don’t carry Burke’s bastard. I’ll send someone to help you dress.”

  “You’re lying to me, Da! What have you done with Niall?”

  “I’m not lying, Skye. Burke has gone home.”

  “Where’s Molly?”

  “She’s sick this morning,” O’Malley said as he left the room.

  Skye sat numbed. He had promised they would not be parted! He had meant it! She knew he had meant it! Where was he? Had they killed him? Oh, God, no! She began to tremble. No. Of course they hadn’t killed him. Her father would not kill his overlord’s heir.

  Perhaps, said an evil voice in her head, perhaps he is telling you the truth. After all, your experience with men is not great. Perhaps the great lord’s heir has amused himself with you, and has now gone back to his own. Her heart began to hammer fiercely, and for a moment she thought she would faint. Then, from deep inside, Skye called on the reservoir of strength she had built up over the years. If she listened to doubt she would go mad. She must trust to her intuition. Skye O’Malley would not give in to panic.

  Climbing from the bed, she walked naked across the chamber and drew her clothing from a leather-bound trunk. She began to dress, first pulling on her underclothes, then a skirtlike object. This garment was a design of Skye’s own fashioning. O’Malley had objected to his daughter wearing men’s clothing, but Skye had felt hampered aboard ship by long skirts. So she had made her skirts into wide pants that came below the knee. Beneath, she wore hose and knee-length leather boots. She had cut her chemises off at the waist, hemmed them, and worn them beneath her silk shirts.

  Washed and dressed, her long black hair braided and affixed atop her head, she gathered up a dark plaid cloak and left the room. She found a man-at-arms waiting, and directed him to fetch the small trunk in her room and see it safely stowed in the waiting boat.

  Regally, she descended the stairs. Below, in the castle’s main hall, her father, her sister Eibhlin, and Dom awaited her. Dom looked terrible. His eyes were badly bloodshot and puffy, and his face was marked with several scratches and bruises. She steeled herself for the confrontation. “Good morning, Dom.” He eyed her angrily, nodded, but said nothing. She shrugged, then turned to her father. “I am ready to go, Da, but before I do I want to know the truth. Niall would not have left me unless forced.”

  Dom O’Flaherty’s light-blue eyes widened, then narrowed. He turned to his father-in-law. “What the hell treachery is this, O’Malley? It’s bad enough that Burke demanded the droit du seigneur of my bride before the entire district. Now it appears she was in collusion with him!” He whirled on Skye. “You little bitch! How long has it been going on? How long have you been whoring with Burke? I ought to beat you black and blue!”

  Skye eyed her husband coldly. Her voice was calm and level. “I met Niall but a few days ago, Dom. Yes, we are in love. I do not understand how it happened, but it did. I do not particularly like you, Dom, but I would not have hurt or embarrassed you deliberately. Niall Burke wants to marry me. Give me an annulment. You don’t love me. Niall will arrange for you to have a new and noble bride, and a fat financial settlement to soothe your wounded pride.”

  Dom looked as if she had lost her mind. “Have you given me a half-wit to wife, O’Malley?” He turned on Skye. “Listen, you little fool! The MacWilliam isn’t about to let his heir marry with the likes of you. Niall Burke is a rake. He wanted only to fuck with you, which I’ve no doubt he did quite well if his reputation is warranted. It’s over! Now you’ll go with Eibhlin to Innishturk until I’m sure Burke’s seed did not take root. When you come home to me, Skye, you’ll be a proper wife—like me or no—and you’ll go no more awhoring. Get out of my sight now, woman!”

  “Da!”

  “Obey your husband, Skye. He is your master now.”

  “Never
!”

  Dom O’Flaherty leaped the distance between them and, grasping Skye by the arm, slapped her brutally several times. Shocked, for her father had never hit her, she could only try and protect herself from his blows. “Whore! I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me!” He shook her hard. Furious and fearful both, Skye pulled away angrily.

  “Whoreson!” she hissed. “Hit me again and I’ll stick a knife into your black heart!”

  “Enough!” roared O’Malley, stepping between the two. “Enough, Dom!” His voice was sharp. “Eibhlin, take your sister to the boat, and go.”

  Skye’s eyes were almost black in anger. “I’ll not forgive you for this, Da,” she said quietly. Shooting him a look of pure hatred, she left the hall with her sister.

  Outside, the day was chill and gray. The wind whipped the women’s cloaks about them as they hurried across the drawbridge and through the rose garden. For a moment Skye stopped. Her eyes softened and swam with tears. Plucking a red rose, she inhaled its fragrance, sighed, and continued on her way, carefully picking her way down the path that led from the cliff top to the damp beach below. A sailboat and two of her father’s men waited on the beach. She could see her trunk already in the boat. One of the men helped Eibhlin into the little craft. Skye brushed aid aside, clambering up into the craft and seating herself in the stern. She took a firm grip on the tiller. While one sailor pushed the boat from the damp sand, the other hoisted the sail.

  The sailor Connor grinned, nodded, and sat back when Skye took the tiller. They’d be at Innishturk Island in a jig time, for no one could sail a boat like Mistress Skye. The other sailor, newer to O’Malley’s service, sat silently.

  Skye tacked the boat smartly across the castle’s sheltered cove and nosed it into the open sea. The day was turning fair, and there was a good breeze. The small boat skimmed across the deep blue waves. Innishturk, but a few nautical miles away, was easily visible. Skye carefully set her course to bring the craft in on the piece of coast closest to Eibhlin’s convent.