She gave him her best smile, and he felt his heart lurch. “My name is Skye.”
“For the island?”
“My mother came from there.”
“You look Irish, but your speech is of England and of Ireland.
Why?”
“You are certainly nosy, de Marisco. I offered you a straight business proposition, not the story of my life.”
The smoky blue eyes narrowed. “I like to know with whom I’m doing business, Skye O’Malley.”
Her eyes flashed. He continued. “You tell me that you wish to wage war on the Queen of England. Before I risk my small standing, I’d like to know why I should join your personal war.” She considered a moment, then nodded. “My late husband was the Earl of Lynmouth. You can see the lights of my castle from your own windows. When Geoffrey died several months ago, from the white throat, he left me sole guardian to our combined families, my own children, his children, and our son, who is Geoffrey’s heir. But Queen Elizabeth overruled his will in the case of Geoffrey’s heir, and sent her favorite, Robert Dudley, to be our son’s governor. The Earl forced his attentions upon me, and when I complained to the Queen she told me quite frankly that she wanted me to accept those attentions. She expects me to act as her whore in order to keep her favorite happy. Both my late husband and I were loyal servants to the Queen while we were at Court. I don’t deserve this shabby treatment, but I can’t endanger my son by doing anything openly against Elizabeth.”
De Marisco sucked in his breath sharply. He was an ethical man in his own way, for all his business “ventures” were considered unorthodox. “Well, she’s Harry Tudor’s brat for sure, and as ruthless as both her father and that witch who spawned her, Anne Boleyn. All right, Skye O’Malley, Countess of Lynmouth, tell me what you plan and then we’ll see if I’ll help you.”
“My English fleet brings great riches to England, and the Queen accepts a fat share of it. Her coffers fill daily with the profits of all ships doing business from England. If my Irish ships rob selected vessels, including my own so that no suspicion falls on me, then I hurt the Queen in an area where she can least afford it. But the pain will not be made public. That is why I need the island of Lundy, de Marisco. It is only eleven miles off the Devon coast, and I can be here and back within a single day if necessary. “My privateers can be safe here on Lundy, and no one will be the wiser. You wouldn’t try to tell me that all the goods going through this island are legal trade, now would you?”. Adam de Marisco laughed pleasantly. “It seems, Skye O’Malley, that you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you. Nevertheless I’m not adverse to a bit of piracy, so I’ll make you a proposition. You can have my aid, and sanctuary on Lundy for your ships in exchange for one percent of the goods you take, and-“ he paused a moment, then finished quickly, “and if you’ll spend this night in my bed.”
She went white. Recovering quickly, she said, ‘Two percent of the goods taken, and not a penny more.”
“One percent, and this night,” he repeated, a mischievous smile flickering across his handsome face.
“Why?!” she burst out.
“Because you are beautiful and a lady, and I know of no other way for someone like me to possess something so fabulously rare as someone like you.” She seemed genuinely troubled, and he continued, “Come, Skye O’Malley, if you really desire vengeance on your enemy then no price is too high. It’s only one night, sweetheart.” Skye was torn. She knew her plan was flawless, but it could succeed only if she had the use of Lundy. She thought of Elizabeth Tudor calmly admitting to using her. She thought of Robert Dudley and his perverted, degrading possession of her-a possession which had in all likelihood only just begun.
Now Adam de Marisco wished to possess her also, but he at least offered a fair return. She sighed, ruefully recalling Robbie’s warning that unless she married again she would be prey to men. She looked at the huge man, and realized that he was not unattractive. If she were lucky, he was also not as debauched as Dudley. “Until midnight,” she bargained.
He shook his head. “The whole night, and no weeping or lying limp like a dead thing.”
“Dammit, man, I’m no whore to perform for you!” “Precisely, Skye O’Malley. You’re a beautiful and, I suspect, a passionate woman. I want no holding back of those passions because of mistaken virtue. I should be far more shocked by a lack of fire in you than an abundance of it.”
She blushed furiously, and his laughter rumbled about the room like distant thunder. “Is it agreed, then?” He held out his hand. She hesitated, then grasped the great paw with her own elegant hand. She wasn’t protecting any maidenhead, and so much was at stake.
“It’s agreed,” she answered him.
“I should like to hear you say my Christian name, Skye O’Malley.”
“Very well, Adam, I agree.”
“I’m not a bad fellow,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” That innocent reassurance comforted her. “I’ll have to direct my people first. I’ll need an hour or two, and I’d prefer it if our liaison tonight were kept secret.”
“Of course,” he assured her. “I have no need to brag.” “And then there’s my uncle, the Bishop of Connaught. He travels with me.”
Adam de Marisco had the good grace to look abashed, and a small giggle escaped Skye. He grinned at her. “That’s a nice sound, Skye O’Malley. you should laugh more often. Well, now, and how do we rid ourselves of the bishop?”
“He has a partiality to good French Burgundy. You wouldn’t happen to have any on this rock of yours?”
“I’ll send a small cask out to the ship at once,” promised the lord of the isle.
Skye returned to the
Stopping by her uncle’s cabin, she found Seamus O’Malley already enjoying the wine. “The lord de Marisco has been most hospitable, Uncle. We have almost reached an agreement, and I am going ashore to have supper with the gentleman. Will you join us?” She knew he would refuse.
“Nay, Niece, I am quite comfortable here with my book on the Life of Saint Paul, and the excellent Burgundy sent by our host. It is really quite superior.”
She bent and kissed his dark head. “Good night then, Uncle.
Sleep well.”
“You also, Skye.”
She went ashore again, this time wrapped in the anonymity of a dark cloak. She arrived at Adam de Marisco’s chambers to find the table laid with a cold supper. Adam took her cloak, his hand lingering a moment on her shoulders. When she tensed he said quietly, “I’ve never raped a woman, little girl. Let us go easily, and you’ll not regret your decision, I promise you.”
“I’m not so little, de Marisco,” she retorted. “I’m tall for a woman, and taller than many men.”
He turned her about and lifted her so that she was at eye level with him. “My name is Adam, little girl, and though you are tall for a woman, I top you by a good foot.” Setting her back down, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Then we’ll eat later.” And before she realized what it was he intended, he had her gown unlaced and was pulling it off her. She gasped, clutching at her chemise, but he paid her no mind. Loosening her grip on the fragile silk, he stripped her naked. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her from the room into an adjoining bedchamber. One arm cradled her while the other hand pulled back the bedcovers.
He gently tucked her into the biggest bed Skye had ever seen.
She lay quietly watching as he pulled his own garments off.
Clothed, Adam de Marisco was impressive. Naked, he was magnificent.
Perfectly proportioned, he had thighs like tree trunks, shapely, well-muscled arms, a lean torso, and a great broad chest covered in a thick mat of dark hair. His arms and legs were also liberally furred. He was, in fact, the hairiest man she’d ever seen. He watched her reaction to his nudity, a faintly amused smile upon his sensual lips. Quickly he climbed into bed with her. Skye braced herself for his assault, and when nothing happened she turned slightly to look at him. He was gazing at her, and she blushed, caught in his careful scrutiny. He reached out and drew her close. The arm that held her was strong, the body against which she was pressed was warm and clean-
