her to the exquisite soul-rending heights that Geoffrey had, but he gave her pleasure and was delighted that she cared enough to give him pleasure in return.
It had been a melancholy Christmas and New Year. Skye had kept to the Southwood family customs, decorating the Great Hall with pine and holly, burning a Yule log, offering the wassail bowl to the carolers and mummers, but it had not been the same without Geoffrey. Skye’s sons and twin stepdaughters remained in Ireland and she hadn’t seen them since the previous summer when she had made her secret visit home. Susan Southwood preferred to remain in Cornwall with the Trevenyans. Only Robin and Willow were at Lynmouth. Dame Cecily had contracted a bad chill and remained at Wren Court. Skye insisted that Robbie remain too, so that his sister would not be alone.
Several days into the New Year, Skye decided to go to Lundy. Sending to Wren Court for news, she learned that Dame Cecily was up and about again. They would be delighted to have the children and would return with them to Lynmouth in time for Twelfth Night, which they would all spend together. Skye intended asking Adam de Marisco to come back with her and join them in the celebration. His presence might soften the pain of the memories that continued to assail her.
Dressed in her doeskin doublet, boots, woolen hose, and a heavy wool cloak, she sailed the eleven miles to Lundy alone. Skye now kept a small boat moored at the foot of the cliffs on which Lynmouth Castle was located. In the first sleepless nights following Geoffrey’s death, she had wandered aimlessly about the castle and, during those nocturnal wanderings, had found a passage that wound down and down and down to emerge into a small, well- hidden cave just above sea level. She had emerged from the cave into the bright moonlit night to find herself on a comfortable-sized ledge, the sea lapping just a few inches below her feet. The moon was full and the tide high, which meant that the sea would never rise higher than this. The cave wouldn’t flood except possibly in an extremely severe storm. Looking closely along the rim of the ledge, she had finally found the flight of stone steps she sought, and the round, barnacleencrusted heavy iron ring. Obviously some long-dead Southwood had had an interest in the sea.
She had come back later with Robbie, and they had thoroughly explored the cave, finding iron torchholders, rusted, but still serviceable, at intervals along the walls. Daisy’s fifteen-year-old brother, Wat, had been assigned to clean out the cave, to keep torches always burning, and to see that Skye’s boat was always in readiness.
She had never fully tested her knowledge of seamanship since her memory had returned, for there had been no need or desire. The first time she had again sailed in a small boat had been with Robbie on that inaugural trip to meet her own Irish ships, and once she sailed with MacGuire to St. Bride’s for a reunion with her favorite sister, Eibhlin. Eibhlin had grown plump but was as tart as ever. Returning to Innisfana, Skye had taken the tiller from MacGuire and discovered that her sailing skill was entirely intact.
Home again at Lynmouth, she had taken to sailing out occasionally into the Bristol Channel. The first time she was caught in a sudden summer’s afternoon squall she had felt not fear, but pure exhilaration sparking her. After that, all doubts about her skill disappeared. Skye hesitated before sailing to Lundy on that cold January afternoon. The day was far too beautiful, a real weathermaker if her sailor’s instincts were correct. Still, it had been a depressing two weeks at Lynmouth Castle, and she longed to laugh and be frivolous. “Little girl!” Adam greeted her, delighted. “You must be fey, my beautiful Irish witch! I’ve been thinking about you for days.” He enveloped her in a bear hug that left her breathless. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her upstairs to his lair.
Laughing, she protested, “Adam! What will people think?” But she was glad. She felt safe and warm and happy in this man’s arms. They undressed each other quickly and made delicious passionate love until, sated, they lay back amid the tumbled feather pillows, warm beneath an enormous fur coverlet. He reached for her hand, found it and held it tenderly in his grasp. “I wish to Heaven that you could love me, Skye O’Malley,” he said quietly. “I do, Adam,” she protested. “You’re one of my best friends.” But she knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear and she felt suddenly sad, realizing that she could not go on using this gentle giant to ease her own sorrows when he felt so much more deeply for her than she did for him. “Adam de Marisco, I never meant to hurt you, but it seems to me that I have. I beg your forgiveness.” “No, little girl. I started this. I have been well punished for my arrogance. However, I am going to send you home now. I can no longer just spend time with you in bed and not have all of you.” She understood and, rising quickly, dressed. “I came today to ask you if you’d come to Lynmouth for Twelfth Night.” He looked up from buttoning his shirt. “I’ll come. They say lovers can’t be friends, but we are.”
Outside the sky was darkening fast. A single clear star hung overhead, and in the west the last of the sunset was a cold lemonyellow smudge on a stale-gray horizon.
“Snow coming,” he noted.
“I thought so too. Come with me now.”
“No, but I’ll come later tonight, for ‘twill start to storm by early morning.” He helped her down into the boat. “The wind’s from the west, little girl. You’ll be home quickly.” Untying the boat, he threw the rope to Skye.
“I’ll have the cave entrance well lit, Adam. Until later!” She blew him a kiss and he pushed her craft away from the stone quay. The breeze caught quickly at her sails and she was off. The fresh winds sent the little sailboat skidding swiftly across the tops of the waves and though it was dark when she reached her mooring, this was still, she was sure, the fastest passage she’d ever made from Lundy. She secured the boat tightly. Taking a torch from inside the cave, she lit the ledge beacons so Adam might find his way safely. Then she began climbing up into the castle. She thought she could hear sounds of revelry, which was indeed confusing. Arriving at the level of her apartment, she moved along the hidden interior passage until she reached the door that would admit her to her rooms. Flipping the hidden lock, she stepped into her antechamber, pulled the door shut behind her, and drew the tapestry back into place. She could now hear definite sounds of merrymaking below in the Hall. Puzzled, she moved toward the door that led into the public hall, but the door opened suddenly and Daisy flew in, slamming it behind her.
“Oh! Mistress Skye! Thank God you’re back!”
“What is going on down there?” demanded Skye. “Right after you left, milady, Lord Dudley and a group of his friends arrived. He was furious to learn you weren’t here, and then he just took over, ordering a feast, sending into the village for some girls.”
“What!?”
“Maids,” he said. “They had to be maids,” Daisy explained tearfully. “Oh my God,” said Skye. “Are the girls all right, Daisy? I’ll send them home immediately. They’re probably frightened to death. The Earls of Lynmouth haven’t allowed that sort of abuse in years. Trust Dudley, the fiend, to revive such an appalling custom!” “It’s too late, milady. The girls have already been ruined,” said Daisy.
“Are they all right, though?” asked Skye.
“All except little Anne Evans. She bled quite heavily.” “Christ’s bones! Anne Evans is but twelve! Damn! Damn! Dudley will pay for this! I’ll raise such hell with the Queen now that she’ll be forced to punish him this time!” Skye slammed into her bedroom. “I shall have to pay a bounty to the families involved. Were any of the girls walking out yet?”
“Four, milady.”
“And something to the young men to marry them immediately.
Damn!” She whirled on Daisy. “Don’t stand there gawking, girl! Get me a dress! I can hardly go below like this, can I? The lilac velvet should do. No farthingale, just three petticoats, I’m not at Court.” She tore off her sailing clothes.
Thick-fingered, Daisy struggled with her mistress’s gown. Stumbling, she almost spilled the contents of a jewel case at Skye’s feet. “Easy, my girl,” soothed Skye, plucking an amethyst necklace from the box and clasping it around her neck.
“They’re fearfully drunk,” whispered Daisy, terrified. “Maybe you shouldn’t go downstairs, my lady. Lord Dudley is the worst of all. It was he who hurt little Anne Evans.”
Skye put a gentle hand on Daisy’s cheek. “Listen to me, my girl,” she said. “I know it would be easier to bolt my door and go to bed. Dudley would not know I’d returned, and God knows I dread facing him. But I am the Countess of Lynmouth. Lord Dudley has, in my absence, abused my hospitality and injured my charges. It is my duty to set things right. I should betray the trust Geoffrey left me were I to do otherwise, Daisy. D’you understand?” Daisy bowed her head, ashamed, then said, “I’ll warn the guard you’re back. If there’s any trouble, they’ll come.” “Good
