of Connor FitzBurke, Niall Burke's bastard brother. When they had been driven from Burke lands, the FitzBurkes had come with the elderly bishop, to care for him. The two women embraced warmly, and Maeve FitzBurke stepped back to hold Skye at arm's length. She was a small, pretty woman with warm, brown eyes and reddish hair.
'How is it possible?'' she said. 'You're as beautiful as ever! D'ye never age, Skye O'Malley?'
'Look closely, Maeve, and you'll see the lines,' Skye laughed. Then she drew Adam forward. 'This is my husband, Lord de Marisco, Maeve.'
Maeve smiled warmly. 'I'd heard ye were a big man,' she said. 'Come in then for he's been waiting impatiently for ye to arrive since after mass.'
'Where is Connor?' Skye asked as they entered the house.
'Off seeing to the sheep and cattle that His Grace keeps these days,' was the reply as Maeve led them up a staircase. 'Don't be too shocked, Skye. Yer uncle is an old man, and it broke his heart when the English Queen took Burke Castle from little Lord Burke. He's failed over the last few months, and he's not strong. He feels the cold greatly this autumn, and I doubt he'll live to see the spring.'
Skye felt unbidden tears pricking at her eyes, and she stopped a moment to regain her control. Maeve seemed to know, and paused before the paneled oak door, her hand upon the latch. 'I’m all right now,' Skye said softly, and Adam reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
Maeve swung the door wide, saying as she entered the room, 'Well, my lord Bishop, and here she is at last!'
The old gentleman in the plaid woolen shawl by the fireplace looked up, and Skye ran toward him to kneel at his side and kiss his gnarled hand with its heavy gold ring of office. 'So, lass!' His body might be frail, but Seamus O'Malley's voice was as strong as ever. 'Get up, Skye, and let me look at ye! At least my eyes are still sharp. Ye're as fair as ever, lass. I remember when ye were born, and Dubhdara was so disappointed ye weren't a lad, but ye were a beauty even then and immediately stole his heart.' He paused a moment, 'Even as ye stole mine, too.'
Skye bent and kissed him on the forehead. 'Dearest Uncle,' she murmured.
'Now dammit, lass, don't be going sentimental on me,' he grumbled. 'Introduce me to this giant I suspect is yer husband.' He thrust his hand forward for Adam to kiss.
'Indeed, Uncle, this is Adam de Marisco, my husband,' Skye said.
As Adam made his obeisance to the bishop, Seamus O'Malley grinned, and said, 'Aye, he's just right for ye, Skye. Worships the ground ye walk on, I can see, and spoils ye shamelessly. Still I see enough strength in him that ye'd best beware of driving him too far lest he beat ye, as ye no doubt deserve on occasion. Sit down, nephew! Ye're as tall as a tree, and I prefer to speak to ye face to face, not face to codpiece!' He cackled at his own wit, then commanded, 'Maeve! Bring some whiskey, for I'm fair chilled. 'Tis a bitter day, a bitter day.'
They drew up chairs, and sat facing the old man. Almost at once he engaged Adam in a lively conversation. Skye was content to sit back watching the men she loved, and swirling the amber fire called whiskey around in her goblet. Her eyes devoured her uncle lovingly. He had grown old in the several years since she had seen him. His hair was now snow white, though once it had been as black as hers. His eyes, however, were still bright blue, and lively with interest in the world about him. He was thin, and his bony hands trembled with the effort of holding his glass. How he conducted the daily mass she did not understand, except that he obviously put all his strength into it and then spent the rest of his time resting from the effort.
'Skye?' His voice penetrated her thoughts.
'Aye, Uncle?'
'I’m sorry about Burke Castle. Will the Queen return Padraic's lands?'
'Nay, Uncle. She gave him lands in England. She said he'd be raised as a good Englishman, and 'twould be one less Irish rebel for her to worry about.'
Seamus O'Malley nodded and smiled slightly. Although he saw the humor in it he also saw the wisdom in it. 'Ye've few ties left in Ireland, lass.'
'I’m still the O'Malley, Uncle.'
'For how long, lass? 'Tis not fair ye retain the office now that Dubhdara's sons are grown.'
'Grown into selfish fools, Uncle!' Skye snapped. 'I’d be doing Da a disservice to make Brian the O'Malley right now. All he wants to do is pirate with our cousin Grace. He cares nothing about building our wealth. All he wants to do is waste it!'
'What will ye do then, lass?'
'I’ve suggested if he wants to go pirating with his brothers that they obtain letters of marque from the Queen, and pirate the Spanish Main rather than English shipping. That way, they can keep on the good side of the Queen without really serving her, and fill their own coffers with good gold at the same time. Brian agreed, and Conn is to come to England with me to speak with the Queen. If Brian and the others will keep out of trouble in the next year, I’ll turn over my badge of office to him, and consider my duty to the O'Malleys done.'
''Tis fair,' the bishop agreed.
'I don't want the power any longer, Uncle,' Skye said. 'I've had it all my life, it seems, and I'm tired. My children have grown up barely knowing me, but I’ll not let my youngest, Velvet, be without me after this. I've a home in France, and the Queen has promised us estates to make up for Lundy.'
'The restlessness is gone then, lass?'
'Aye,' she said. 'I seek peace now, Uncle, and I know that it lies with Adam and our daughter, and my other children.'
Seamus O'Malley nodded. 'Yer father, God assoil him, was like that when he married Anne. He never wanted to go far after that. Ye've already found yer peace, Skye lass, and I'll not tell ye to be a good and faithful wife to Adam, for I can see that ye already are. It makes me happy to see it, for if things are right with ye, then I can rest easy and face my brother with a clear conscience.'
Skye rose from her chair and, bending down, kissed her aged uncle, hugging him hard. 'Seamus O'Malley, I love you!' she said.
The old man smiled over her shoulder at Adam, and hugged her back. 'Whist, lass! Next ye'll be weeping all over me!' he scolded her lovingly, but his expression was one of pleased delight at her open show of affection.
They stayed the entire day, and overnight as well. It was a happy time for them all. In the morning when they were ready to leave Skye hurried to her uncle's rooms to bid him farewell, Adam following. Seamus O'Malley sat by the fire once more, his head upon his narrow chest, his hands resting quietly in his lap. The fire crackled noisily, but it seemed not to disturb him. Skye smiled down on him, and called softly, 'Uncle, I must go now.' There was no answer. 'Uncle?' She reached out to gently shake him, and he was cold to her touch. Skye's hand flew to her mouth.
Adam de Marisco knelt to inspect the old man. When he rose there were tears in his eyes. 'He's dead, Skye,' the lord of Lundy told his wife, and then gathered her into his arms while she wept stormily.
The Bishop of Mid-Connaught, Seamus O'Malley, was buried on his favorite niece's thirty-fourth birthday. He had been waked for five long days, for it had taken that long to gather all of Skye's brothers and sisters and their families on Innisfana. Looking around at Skye's sisters, Moire, Peigi, Bride, and Sine, Adam was startled by their plainness in comparison with his wife's beauty. He had never noticed that plainness in Eibhlin, for the nun was so full of life and her work. The others, however, were prim women who openly disapproved of their youngest sister's liaison with an Englishman. Only the fact that Adam de Marisco shared their faith made him barely tolerable to them. Hearing their tales of their struggles with the English, he could understand their bitterness. They were old before their time with childbearing and the harshness of the land in which they lived. None had attained either the wealth or the fine matches that their youngest sister had. They had come with their husbands, bluff, red-faced men, none of whom could speak the English tongue. Adam, fortunately, knew enough Gaelic to converse briefly with them; and it was decided among Skye's brothers-in-law that if her English husband could speak the Gaelic, he mightn't be too bad a fellow. It was also noted with approval that he could hold his whiskey, and seemed to have firm control of his wife, who was thought to be too forward for a woman.
Michael O'Malley said the mass for his uncle, and afterward the coffin was carried to the family burial ground by the bishop's four younger nephews, his great-nephew, Ewan O’Flaherty, and Connor Fitzburke. In the hall afterward, Moire said what they were all thinking.
