Skye O'Malley

by Bertrice Small

  “Or I kill him,” mused Lord Burke quietly.

  CHAPTER 6

  SKYE’S SON, EWAN, WAS BORN IN EARLY SPRING. EIBHLIN HELPED deliver her new nephew, having come to the O’Flahertys’ immediately after Twelfth Night. Eibhlin was shocked by the poverty of the O’Flahertys’ tower house. Anne had, of course, repeated Skye’s descriptions of her home, but the nun had assumed that Skye’s bitter disappointment over her marriage caused her to exaggerate. Now she saw that everything Anne had reported was dismayingly true.

  The masonry of the tower house was in poor repair and there were drafts everywhere. The floors were covered by nothing except dirty, much-used rushes. The few wall hangings were threadbare and virtually useless for warmth, let alone comfort. The furniture was sparse as well. Eibhlin was puzzled. She knew that her father and stepmother had sent a number of fine pieces along to Skye, but when she questioned her younger sister all she got was a mumbled answer about Gilly and Dom and their endless debts.

  Having her sister with her made it a happy winter for Skye. Ewan’s birth was a relaxed and easy one, and Eibhlin left four weeks afterward. She returned within several months to aid her sister once again, for Skye’s second son, Murrough, was separated from his brother by but ten months.

  Murrough made his entry into the world during a brutal midwinter storm. Fortunately this birth was also an easy one, for Eibhlin had other factors beside the baby to contend with. The strong winds had blown so hard that the floors of O’Flaherty House were covered with half an inch of snow in some places. It had blown through cracked walls and the sheepskin-covered windows. The fires had gone out several times, and Eibhlin had been hard-pressed to keep her sister and the newborn boy warm and dry. Eibhlin was angry. She was ashamed that her sister should live this way. Skye’s dowry gone to pay gaming debts, or for wine, or to buy gifts for the women Dom and his father amused themselves with. Eibhlin made herself a vow: Skye would have no more babes, especially so quickly, until Dom grew up and took his responsibilities seriously.

  “Ten months between babes is too soon,” she scolded. “Now you must rest at least a year or two before conceiving again.”

  “Tell Dom,” said Skye weakly. “He’ll be on me within the month. Despite his whores, he harbors a constant lust for me. Besides, I thought I could not conceive as long as I nursed Ewan.”

  “An old wives’ tale that has done more harm than you can imagine,” replied Eibhlin. “And I shall talk to Dom myself. Then I’ll give you the recipe for a potion that will prevent conception.”

  “Eibhlin!” Skye was both amused and shocked. “And you a nun! How on earth do you know such things?”

  “I have as much knowledge as a doctor,” replied Eibhlin. “More perhaps, since I have also learned midwifery and herbal medicine from the old ones. Doctors scorn these things, but they are wrong to do so. I can tell you several ways to prevent conception.”

  “But does not the Church forbid such wicked practices, my sister?”

  The nun answered forcefully, “The Church has not seen innocent babes dying of starvation because there are too many mouths in the family to feed. They have not seen little children and their sickly mothers freezing to death, blue with the cold, because there are not enough blankets or clothes in the hovels they call houses—not even food or wood for warmth! What do the well-fed priests and bishops, snug in their stone houses on this snowy night, know of these poor souls and their endless torments?

  “I help where I can, Skye. For those innocent and superstitious poor I offer a ‘tonic’ to help them regain their strength after the ordeal of several births. They know not what I give them. If they did, they would not take it because they truly believe the Church’s threat of eternal damnation. You, sister, are not so foolish.”

  “No, Eibhlin, I am not. And I want no more of Dom’s children. I will not be made old before my time, nor shall I nurse this child knowing what I do now. One of Dom’s women gave birth but a month ago. She has breasts like udders, and it will amuse me to have her nurse both Dom’s son and his bastard. She can live in the nursery with both boys and have Ewan’s wet nurse for company.”

  “You’ve grown hard, Skye.”

  “If I were not, Eibhlin, I should not be able to survive in this house. You have been here enough to know what the O’Flahertys are like.”

  The nun nodded. “Have you had any luck in finding a husband for Claire?”

  “None, and I’m not likely to unless I can convince Da to dower her. Gilly and Dom have gambled away the dowry left to Claire by her mother. There’s nothing left. And if I didn’t know better, I would swear she was a half-wit, for she cares not. The few young men who have come calling have been met with indifference. One is too fat, another too lean. This one is a buffoon, but that one lacks a sense of humor. One is too ardent in his wooing, and another has no blood in his veins. I don’t understand her at all! She has no religious vocation, no passion for anyone so far as I can see. Nor does she seem to desire to control her own life, as I did. She cares for nothing.”

  “Perhaps she is merely content to stay with her father and brother. Some women are like that.”

  Skye looked candidly at her sister. “Do you really think Claire O’Flaherty is like that, Eibhlin?”

  “No,” came the quick reply. “She’s a sly and secretive girl for all she looks like an angle. There is something …” and here Eibhlin hesitated, loath to criticize yet genuinely concerned. “There is something unwholesome about Claire,” she finally finished.

  Skye agreed. But there seemed nothing she could do with Claire unless she could find a husband for her. What bothered Skye most was that Claire always appeared to be laughing at her, hugging some secret to herself that she would not share with anyone else, least of all Skye.

  Eibhlin soon left to return to St. Bride’s, but she talked to Dom first. He said later, “Since your sister tells me your health will suffer if I get another son on you, you can hardly complain if I seek diversion elsewhere.”

  “Have I ever complained before?” she asked him, amused, hiding her delight in the knowledge that she would be spared.

  “Nay, you’re a good lass, and you’ve given me two fine boys.”

  Skye smiled sweetly, and bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Dom saw her only as a credit to himself. She had become, he thought, exactly what he’d always wished her to be—a gracious chatelaine and a good breeder. He was willing to be generous now, to leave her alone for the time being.

  Her life now took on a sameness, giving her the peace she craved. She worked to run the estate so that it supported them all and still paid the MacWilliam his annual tribute as their overlord. Neither Dom nor his father cared what she did as long as they had the time and the wherewithal to pursue their own pleasures.

  She drove her peasants hard, though she was fair. Used to the laxity of the O’Flahertys, they had gotten out of hand. At first they resented her, but when winter came and the peasants found themselves warm, dry, and well fed for the first time in years, they blessed their lady. She had managed the miracle of preparing them for winter.

  Then Ewan was past two, and Murrough sixteen months, and one day Skye realized that in all those sixteen months Dom still hadn’t come near her. Silently she blessed the woman or women who were keeping her husband amused. And it came to her that it had been many months since she had heard any gossip linking Dom with any particular woman. It was a disquieting thought.

  It was June again, and Skye was eighteen. The weather was unusually sunny and warm for Ireland. Her healthy, fully healed young body was beginning to crave loving once again, even Dom’s. Though they had been invited twice more to spend Twelfth Night with the MacWilliam, she had kept to Ballyhennessey, using her pregnancy as an excuse not to travel, and playing ill the second time.

  She dared not see Niall again, although both her mind and her body craved him with a desperation that almost tore her apart. With the knowledge imparted to her by Eibhlin, she might easily have
become his mistress, with no one the wiser. The temptation had been fierce, but she held herself in too high a regard to be anything less than his cherished wife.

  Dom and his father had attended the Twelfth Night revelries. Skye had insisted that they go to the MacWilliam’s castle, leaving her behind with her babes. Though she had impressed upon the two men the importance of every opportunity in finding Claire a husband, they had returned both times to say that no suitable husband could be found. Skye could not understand it. Thanks to Dubhdara O’Malley, Claire now had a respectable dowry that neither her father nor her brother could steal. Either the girl was being too fussy, or else there was someone in Claire’s life whom she knew was not suitable, but foolishly sought after anyway. Skye was determined to find out what was going on, for Claire O’Flaherty was seventeen now and Skye did not want to have her with them the rest of their days.

  Skye picked her time carefully, choosing an evening, after the meal, when both Gilly and Dom had disappeared. She had seen Claire head for her own rooms at the very top of the tower house. Skye had never been there before. She had never been asked, and there had never before been a reason to violate Claire’s privacy.

  When the house had quieted, she slowly climbed the stairs to her sister-in-law’s apartment. Entering the dayroom, Skye was shocked to find many of her long-missing dowry items. The windows were hung with the French velvets she had planned to use in her own chambers. The small polished oak sideboard Dubhdara and Anne had had made particularly for her stood against one wall. On it was her small silver tray with her hand-blown Venetian goblets and decanters! “God’s nightshirt!” she swore under her breath. “I’ll skin the sly bitch!” Dear God! There were her silver bowls and candlesticks! Stunned, then furious, Skye was about to storm off to seek out her husband and demand an explanation when she heard laughter and the murmur of voices—one very definitely masculine—from the bedchamber above.

  So, she thought, Mistress Claire does have a lover! Well, whoever he is he’ll soon find he has himself a new wife, unless, God forbid, he already has one. Serf or lord, she’ll wed him! Silently Skye crept up the stairs, reaching the little landing, then neared the bedchamber’s half-open door. The closer she got the more vividly she heard the sounds of vigorous lovemaking. Reaching the door, she peeked into the room.

  What she saw confirmed her suspicions. Claire and a man, both naked, were intertwined. Color flooded Skye’s face at the sight of Claire’s long, white legs wrapped tightly about her lover. He brutally rammed himself into the writhing, straining woman. Claire began to moan.

  “Harder, Dom! Harder! Yes, yes, brother darling! It’s so good! So good!”

  Skye felt the first wave of nausea sweep over her as she clung to the door. Dom! Claire’s lover was Dom! Her own brother! Slowly Skye slipped to the floor, still clutching the door, faint with the sight.

  “Whore!” Dom growled. “What a little whore you are, sweet sister mine. Shall I fuck you until you can’t stand up? I’ve done it before, haven’t I? Tonight, however, it pleases me to fuck you till you beg me for mercy, and then you’ll pleasure me in a hundred other ways I can invent!”

  “Yes, yes …” breathed Claire. “Whatever you want, my darling! I’ll do whatever you want! Oh, Dom, don’t I always?”

  Still on her knees, Skye was frozen with both horror and terror.

  “On your hands and knees, bitch!”

  Claire scrambled to obey, and was quickly and cruelly sodomized by her brother. Skye felt the bitter taste of bile rise in her constricted throat as Claire panted, “Hurt me, Dom! Yes! Hurt me!”

  Still Dom did not spend. Now he lay his sister on her back and, straddling her, put himself into her open, eager mouth. Skye closed her eyes to blot out the sight, but she could not close her ears to the throaty, gobbling noises made by Claire, or the groans of pleasure made by Dom. Unable to contain herself, Skye sobbed aloud.

  Claire shrieked, “Oh, my God! There’s someone here! Someone has seen us!”

  Dom leapt from the bed and, yanking the door fully open, caught sight of his half-fainting wife. “Well, well,” he murmured nastily, “what have we here? It’s my sweet wife.”

  Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Bitch! How dare you spy on me!” she shrieked.

  “I wasn’t s-spying.” Skye’s voice was shaking. “I came to t-talk to you about getting m-married.”

  Dom began to laugh uproariously, but a look from his sister quieted him. “Married?! Why on earth would I want to marry, you ninny?” rasped Claire. “The only man I’ve ever loved is Dom, and I don’t ever intend leaving him. He’s mine! The only reason he married you was for the money, and to get heirs. He’s got both now, and we don’t need you at all, except to run the estate for us. So get out of here, and don’t ever come back again snooping and spying!”

  Skye turned to flee but Dom’s big hand grasped her shoulder. His other hand slid around to squeeze her breast and as the nipple hardened he laughed softly. “It’s been a long time, Skye.”

  She tried to pull away. Claire snarled from the bed, “Leave her be, brother! You don’t need her as long as you have me!”

  “Be quiet, bitch! She has pleasured me too, and now I think I would have you both at the same time.”

  “No!” wailed Skye, struggling to reach the door, but his arms closed about her and Claire, a sudden vicious look in her pale-blue eyes, reached out and ripped Skye’s gown from her. As her sister-in-law’s body became more visible, Claire’s gaze softened, becoming almost dreamy, and she reached out again, this time to caress Skye’s body. Skye shrank from her touch, sick with revulsion. Claire laughed nastily. “Let me have her first, brother. Let me prepare her for you, please! You can watch while I love her. Remember how you loved watching me and the little maid I once had?”

  “No, Dom! Oh, God, no!”

  Dom smiled sweetly at his sister, his eyes bright with memory. Then he nodded. “I’ll watch, but when I’m ready, Claire, you must give over. Promise me now? No teasing like you did with little Sorcha.”

  “Yes, darling,” Claire purred, and then with Dom’s aid they tied the struggling Skye’s arms to the bedposts.

  Claire straddled her victim and, holding Skye’s head between her hands, she kissed her slowly, and wetly. Skye seemed faint and, laughing, Claire began leisurely to explore the shrinking flesh. The degradation she was inflicting added to her enjoyment. Taking Skye’s nipples between her thumb and forefinger, she rolled them gently before bending and sucking on them. Bound though she was, Skye fought to escape, but her helplessness only stimulated her antagonist.

  Slowly Claire slid her lush body down Skye’s until their breasts and bellies met. Then she rotated her pelvis and mons veneris against Skye’s, murmuring vilely, “Don’t tell me that, with all the sisters you have, you’ve not done a bit of girl-fucking in your time. And remember—while we pleasure each other, Dom is watching us and readying himself for both of us, big bull that he is. Don’t fight me, sister, for now that you know about Dom and me there’s no reason we cannot share him and enjoy each other all the time.”

  Skye turned her head away, ashamed of what was happening to her and confused by the stirrings of desire she was beginning to feel. Claire thrust and moaned against Skye’s helpless body with increasing fervor until suddenly Dom pulled her away and, mounting his wife, thrust into her.

  Skye screamed, which only seemed to madden him. Claire was now kneeling within Skye’s view, slack-mouthed with lust as she watched her brother use his wife. When Dom had sated himself with Skye he rolled off her and loosened her bonds. He pushed her away, pulled his sister over, and mounted her next. Skye curled into a tight, protective ball, and sobbed. She had never felt so fouled in her entire life. She knew that if anyone so much as touched her again, she would kill.

  Strengthened by this realization, she marshaled her courage and crawled off the bed. Stumbling across the room, she reached the door. Dom and his sister had finished by this time and Claire saw her. She c
ried out, “She’s escaping, Dom! Get her back! I want her again!”

  Dom lurched off the bed and lunged for his wife. Skye had now wrenched the door open. As he reached out for her, Skye sidestepped him. Dom stumbled through the door, lost his balance, and fell screaming headlong down the flight of stone steps leading to his sister’s day chamber.

  There was a stunned silence. He lay still, twisted grotesquely. Claire leaped from the bed and stood gazing down into the room below. Then she turned on Skye and howled, “You’ve killed him! You’ve killed Dom!”

  Holy Mother forgive me, thought Skye, but I hope so! Then as relief brought strength sweeping over her, she turned on Claire and furiously slapped her, leaving the imprint of her hand on the girl’s face. “Shut up, you vicious little bitch! Shut up!”

  “We must get help,” whimpered Claire.

  “Not yet.”

  “You do want him dead,” came the horrified accusation.

  “I’ll not deny it,” said Skye flatly, and Claire shrank away from her. “But before we can get help we must all dress. How will it look to the servants to find the three of us mother naked? I’ll not put that scandal on my sons. Get dressed! Then go and fetch me some clothes from my room. Quickly!”

  The procedure seemed to take forever, but at last both women were dressed. Struggling together, they forced Dom into his clothes. To Skye’s sorrow, he was still breathing.

  “Now,” said Skye, “rouse the house.”

  “What will I tell them?” quavered Claire.

  “That Dom has had an accident. I will handle the rest. Go, now!”

  Claire fled, shrieking loudly enough to rouse the entire household, and quickly the room was filled with babbling servants. Skye calmly directed the removal of her injured husband to his own rooms. The family’s surgeon was sent for and arrived as the dawn was breaking.

  Dom lived, but it would have been better if he had died. His spine was broken in two places. He was paralyzed from the waist down. He would not walk, or function as a man, ever again.