reached for the pitcher and, leaning across him, sloshed more wine into his goblet. Her movement offered him a fine view of her breasts, and she noted with amusement that his breathing quickened. Niall appeared to have fallen asleep, his dark head lying upon his crossed arms. “My ships gonna be dis-disguised, Skye. Gonna look like plain old trading vessels, as helpless as the real one. Just five little ships all ready to be plucked.” He hiccoughed, then swilled more wine, spilling some of it on his doublet.
Sudden comprehension shot through Skye. “Are you telling me, Dickon, that the
He nodded. “King Philip felt it was safer that way. No one would believe that one lone, unprotected ship carried such treasure. After the ship put to sea, William Cecil thought to catch the pirates by sending my ships out disguised. Pirates attack little helpless convoy. Only this isn’t helpless. Good ol’ Cecil. Always the crafty one.” “Why Dickon, how clever! Thank heavens the Queen is acting at last to rid us of these pirates, Robbie and I lost two ships to them last summer,” she said indignantly. “Where will you meet the treasure ship?”
“Three days out off Cape Clear.”
“Then they sailed the Southern Star route,” she gently probed.
“Um,” he nodded.
“When will you meet the Spanish, Dickon?”
“A week from today,” he muttered, then slipped forward to fall asleep on the table near the snoring Lord Burke. Skye smiled, satisfied, and signaled to Daisy, who had remained quietly in her place below the salt during the evening. “You lit the tower beacons?” Skye whispered.
“Just before dusk, m’lady. Lord de Marisco is already waiting below,” Daisy whispered back.
“Have these two carried to bed, Daisy, and have my bath ready, I’ll not be long.” She hurried from the Hall and using an entry door at the end of the room, hurried down the interior staircase to the cave. “Adam!” she called as she reached the bottom, and he stepped from the shadows.
“Well, little girl, what news?”
“The ship is real! It’s the
“There are none! In a week’s time de Grenville and four of the Queen’s warships disguised as merchant ships will join the Spaniard three days off of Cape Clear. Until then the
“What’s her course?” de Marisco asked tensely.
“Southern Star.”
“It’s too good!” he began to pace. “De Grenville simply told you all that?” Adam was incredulous, his smoky blue eyes darkening. “I got him drunk,” she explained. “Dickon never could hold his wine. He always says what he shouldn’t when he’s drunk.” She was remembering mat long-ago evening when a drunken de Grenville had told her of the bet he’d made with Geoffrey. “Are you sure he was drunk?”
“Very sure, Adam.” She chuckled. When he looked at her strangely she said, “An old debt Dickon owed me has been settled by tonight’s information.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dickon? I gave orders to have the footmen carry both him and Niall to bed.”
“Your husband was drunk?”
“Yes. It was strange,” she mused. “I’ve never seen Niall unable to hold his wine. I hope he’s not sickening. More likely, he’s tired. He’s been out riding the estate for two days.”
“Do we go, Skye?” he asked.
“We go Adam. I’ve a feeling. Call it a hard Irish hunch, but if MacGuire and his men leave Lundy at once they can intercept the Spanish ship and be safely home before de Grenville and his men rendezvous with her.”
“And its cargo? Where do we store that impossible cargo, little girl?”
“Not Lundy, Adam. If the Queen’s men suspect us they’ll be all over your island, and losing you your head would be a poor way of repaying your friendship. Not here or Innisfana, either.” “Where, then?”
“Mshturk Island! The location of my sister’s convent, St. Bride’s. There are caves there that I discovered years ago when I-uh… spent some time visiting Eibhlin. MacGuire knows the caves, and the English will never think of looking there. In time we’ll smelt the gold and silver down. They can be easily disposed of in Algiers once they’re formed into bars.”
“This is the last time, little girl,” he said quietly but firmly.
“I know, Adam.”
“I’ll miss you, Skye O’Malley.”
“We needn’t stop being friends, Adam, simply because we’ll no longer be doing business.”
“Little girl, for such a smart woman you are sometimes a bit of a fool. It hurts me to see you and I know I can never have you. So when this business is done, I’ll not see you again. Lundy will be closed to you, Skye O’Malley.”
“Oh, Adam,” she said softly, looking up sadly into his face, “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know that, little girl. It was always friendship for you, but for me it was more. You’re like a star, my darling: bright and beautiful and unobtainable. I am only a simple island chieftain, Skye O’Malley, not a star-catcher, but oh how I wanted to say to Hell with common sense and keep you for myself.”
Her face was wet and her blue eyes overflowed hot tears. He gently traced a tear down her cheek.
“Don’t ever stop being my friend, Adam,” she whispered. “Never, little girl!” he answered, and then his arms closed about her and his mouth came down on hers. He kissed her gently, yet passionately, and then quickly stepped back. “I never did get to kiss the bride. Farewell, little girl! I’ll get word to you when the operation is completed.”
Then he was gone, out onto the ledge, down the steps. Through the haze of tears she saw his boat draw away, heading out into the channel, bound for Lundy. Strong arms turned her then and she wept softly against the familiar velvet-covered chest. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain to me why you’re meeting in this cave with that giant of a man?” asked Niall quietly. Skye cried harder and he continued, “I hope I’m not going to have to challenge him to a duel to protect my honor.”
“N-n-no!” she sobbed.
“Who is he, Skye?”
“A-A-dam de Marisco, the lord of L-Lundy Island.”
“Go on, love.”
She managed to bring her sobs under control and, sniffing noisily, sought for her handkerchief. He handed her his and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“Should I be jealous?” he asked. She began to wonder how long he’d been standing in the shadows on the stairs. Blushing, she peeped up at him from beneath the thick fringe of black lashes. “You weren’t exactly fighting off his advances,” Niall noted humorously. “But every time I leap to conclusions about you I find myself standing hip-deep in the wrong. So if there
Skye sneezed, then sneezed twice again. Niall shook his head and, picking her up, started up the stairs. “You’ll tell me after you’re tucked warmly in bed,” he said. He carried her into her bedchamber. “I believe your mistress has caught a chill,” he told Daisy. “I’ve a hot tub ready, my lord,” she replied. “I’ll take care of her.”
“No, Daisy. I will. You’re dismissed for the night, lass.” Skye’s servant hesitated, then shrugged and obeyed. She would never, she decided, understand the gentry. She sometimes wondered if they understood themselves.
Skye kicked her shoes off and stood quietly as her husband unlaced her. “I thought you were drunk,” she said.
He smiled. “I thought you might. You were doing such a fine job of picking de Grenville’s brain that I didn’t think you needed me.” He got the gown unfastened, and drew it off her. Then he undid her petticoat and underblouse, and pulled them off too. Kneeling, he took her garters off and unrolled her stockings. When she was naked he picked her up and deposited her in the hot tub. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. “I know,” he said, “that cave can be damnably damp and cold.” She murmured agreement and came close to purring when he began soaping her back. Niall’s mouth turned up again in a small smile. Less than half an hour ago he had stood in the shadows, on the cave stairs, and watched a strange man make love to his wife. A month ago he might have acted rashly. Now, however,
