Skye O'Malley

“Imperative I see you alone, without Skye’s knowledge, immediately. Meet me aboard my ship tonight at ten.”

Geoffrey Southwood, raising an elegant blond eyebrow at the cryptic message, made an excuse to his bride and rode off, promising a swift return. Arriving at the docks, he was escorted aboard the Mermaid to the captain’s cabin, where he was surprised to find the Irishman, Burke, waiting with Robert Small.

Geoffrey flung his cloak to the little cabin boy and, nodding to both men, sprawled his long frame into a chair. “Well, Robbie, what’s so important that you would take me from my bride on my honeymoon?”

“Have some wine, my lord,” said Robbie. “You know Lord Burke?”

“We’ve met. The Burgundy, Robbie.”

Robert Small poured wine for himself and his guests, and when the cabin boy had served the goblets, Robbie instructed him, “Stand watch outside, my lad. We’re not to be disturbed unless the ship is sinking. Do you ken?”

The boy grinned. “Aye, sir!” he said, and closed the door behind him.

Robert Small sat back and drew a long deep breath. “Geoffrey, I’ve news that should make you happy, but it is of a very delicate nature. For several months Lord Burke has been quite confused by Skye’s name and appearance. When you were bedded at Greenwich several nights ago he saw a mole on Skye’s… um, Skye’s… Skye’s person!” he gasped, as Southwood’s green eyes darkened.

“The tiny star?” Geoffrey asked softly.

“The very same,” answered Niall.

“You’ve big eyes, Irishman,” said the Earl, his voice soft with warning.

Niall bit back a hot-tempered reply. Damn the arrogant, possessive English bastard! Robert quickly resumed. “When Lord Burke saw the mark on Skye he was able to make a positive identification, although he was still quite confused as to why Skye did not acknowledge knowing him. He has mentioned names and places to her and is convinced that she has no knowledge of them. So he came to me this afternoon.”

“And?” Geoffrey Southwood’s voice was icy.

“She is Skye O’Malley,” said Niall Burke. “The O’Malley of Innisfana, herself, and vassal to my father, who is the MacWilliam. Skye O’Malley disappeared several years ago off the North African coast and was presumed dead. Robert Small has explained her loss of memory to me. I felt, my lord, that you should know her true identity, but the captain and I were fearful of disclosing these facts to Skye herself.”

Geoffrey Southwood’s eyes narrowed just slightly at Niall Burke’s familiar use of his wife’s name. ‘Tell me of my wife’s family,” he said pointedly.

“Both her parents are dead, her father just a year before she was lost. She had a stepmother and uncle of whom she is quite fond, five older sisters, a younger brother, four younger half-brothers, and two sons by her first marriage. He’s dead, my lord,” Niall finished quickly, seeing the Earl go white about the lips.

“Did she love him?”

“Certainly not! He was a bastard who delighted in mistreating her. He was dead before she left Ireland, proving that there is a God in Heaven.”

Geoffrey Southwood’s eyes narrowed further and glittered dangerously at the impassioned tone in Lord Burke’s voice.” And what, my lord, was your connection with my wife?”

“We grew up together,” said Niall. The lie slipped coolly off his tongue. “Her father was the O’Malley of Innisfana, her mother, Margaret McLeod, of the isle of Skye. When Dubhdara O’Malley died he made Skye his heiress until one of her brothers was old enough and showed an aptitude for the family seafaring business. Skye had always been her father’s favorite, and had her father not finally sired some sons it probably would all have gone to her anyway. After the O’Malley died she swore her fealty to my father, as had all the O’Malley chiefs before her.”

“And what was she doing on a ship off the North African coast?” demanded the Earl.

“The O’Malleys have been great sea rovers for centuries. Her trading fleet had made inquiries of the Algerian government with regard to beginning trade. When the Dey of Algiers learned that the O’Malley chief was a woman he insisted on meeting her before he would continue their negotiations. Representing my father, I accompanied her on that voyage. A severe storm tore the Dey’s protective pendant from our mast, and when the storm ended we fought a sea battle with Barbary pirates. They didn’t know mat we were under the Dey’s protection. We had almost succeeded in driving them off when one pirate swung across the gap between the ships and carried off the O’Malley. Before we could retrieve her a fog bank separated the ships. I had been severely injured, and was taken to the island of Mallorca. The rest of the O’Malley fleet sought for Skye, with the Dey’s aid, but no trace of her was found.”

“And that,” explained Robert Small, “was because she wasn’t channeled through a regular slave market, but disposed of in a private sale.”

“Her family should be notified, Southwood. With your permission I should like to write to her uncle, who is the Bishop of Connaught. Captain Small and I thought that perhaps, after your child is born, you would tell her.”

“Lord Burke is a gentleman, Geoffrey,” said Robbie apologetically, “but since he was all for rushing to your house and telling Skye of her past, I found it necessary to explain her delicate condition to him.”

“I congratulate you on your good fortune,” said Niall feelingly.

“I understand you lost your only son recently.”

“Thank you,” said Geoffrey, softening a little.

Robert Small heaved a sigh of relief. They weren’t going to kill each other. “Well, gentlemen, we all have Skye’s interests at heart,” he said. “We’ve agreed then that Lord Burke will inform the O’Malleys of this happy turn of events, but that Skye will not be told until after the birth of her child.”

The two young men nodded their assent, and Robbie raised his goblet. “To Skye and her happiness!” he declared. Geoffrey Southwood smiled for the first time since entering the cabin, his green eyes meeting Niall’s silver ones. “That’s an easy toast,” he said, and Niall Burke smiled back, raising his own goblet. Suddenly, from outside the cabin there arose a small uproar. The piping voice of the little cabin boy was heard protesting in concert with a deep masculine voice. Southwood cocked his head. “Sounds like de Grenville,” he said. The words had hardly left his mouth when the door burst open to admit that gentleman. The little cabin boy was close to tears and clung valiantly to the nobleman’s doublet. “I told him he couldn’t come in, Captain! I told him!” “That’s all right, lad,” said Robert Small in a kindly tone. “I can see you’ve done your best, but in this instance you’ve been outgunned. Go back and guard my door again. You did well.” The boy wiped tears away with his sleeve. Saying “Aye, s-sir,” he took up his post again.

Robert Small turned coolly to de Grenville. “Well, Dickon, what is so important that you forced your way in here?” De Grenville shook his flowing lace cuffs free of imaginary wrinkles. “A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, Robbie! Hello, Southwood… Burke. Mayhap you gentlemen will join us.” He turned again to the captain. “Robbie, fate smiled on you when it delayed your sailing. I’ve been sent word that the ‘Book Lady’ is to perform at Claro’s tonight, and I’ve obtained time in her bed for both of us!”

“The ‘Book Lady’?’ the Earl interrupted.

“Ah, Geoff, you’ve been so busy in the wooing of your new wife that you’ve missed this delicious phenomenon. She’s just appeared at Claro’s in the last few months. They say she’s a bored noblewoman, but she’s always masked so who’s to know for certain? Her manners are flawless, and she speaks like a noblewoman, so the gossip may be right.”

“Perhaps she’s just a good actress,” suggested the Earl. “I think she’s well bred. Her bone structure and skin texture are fine,” replied de Grenville.

“Why do they call her the ‘Book Lady’?” asked Niall Burke. “Ahhh,” breathed de Grenville again, “there’s the fascinating part. Let’s face it, gentlemen, a whore’s a whore, but the Book Lady is an artist. She’s got a naughty book from the Far East, filled with the most gorgeous illustrations of people fucking. If you desire, you pick a page and she’ll duplicate it with you. They say she’s expert in all she does, and she certainly loves her work. There’s been talk of her and Claro having a contest to see who can fuck the most men in a twenty-four-hour period. By God, Robbie! We’ve a good time ahead of us tonight! Southwood! Burke! Will you join us?” “No, Dickon, not I. What man married to my Skye would seek other entertainment?”

A hot pain pierced Niall.

“What excuse did you use to Skye when you came here?” asked Robert Small.