As the meal drew to a close, more of those seated above the salt began drifting farther down the table to cluster about Skye. Occa- sionally great bursts of laughter issued forth from the group. When the dancing began Skye refused all but the least strenuous dances, but even so she never lacked for partners. She moved proudly, and with much grace, her gown showing to great advantage. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her smile flashed again and again.
At the high board Niall Burke sprawled in his chair, glowering, his big hand clutching his jewel-studded goblet so hard it was a wonder the stem was not bent. His silver-gray eyes, pantherlike, half closed, followed her wherever she went. Occasionally he took great gulps of the dark red wine, emptying and refilling his cup several times. She was beautiful, damn her, and even in her present state outrageously desirable.
“Young Lady O’Flaherty is most popular,” ventured Darragh.
“Aye,” he growled, suddenly standing up and striding away from his wife to join the dancers. The young man partnering Skye suddenly felt a hard hand on his shoulder. Looking up to see his scowling, black-browed host, the young man quickly stepped aside. Niall clamped an arm about her waist and took one of her hands in his. Her smile faltered, but she never missed a step.
“Should you be dancing?”
“I am expecting a child, my lord. I am not mortally ill with a wasting sickness.”
“You’ve changed, Skye.”
“Nay, my lord. I have simply learned not to put my faith in pillow talk.”
They separated, and she wove in and out of the figure, meeting him again on the other side.
“I find it hard,” he said, “to understand the workings of a fickle woman’s mind. You behave as though I rejected you instead of the other way around.”
“You betrayed me. You left me without even a good-bye, and hurried home to wed and bed your ‘dead’ fiancee! I had no chance to reject you, but I do now!”
“I was not betrothed to Darragh O’Neill until after your marriage, Skye. It was her dead sister, Ceit, who was to be my wife.”
Again they were separated by the figure. When they met again, he said, “I would never have wed Darragh had it not been for your letter.”
Skye stopped dead. “What letter?” she demanded of him.
One look at her face told Niall Burke that something was very wrong, but they were in a roomful of people, some of whom were eying them with speculative curiosity. “But of course you’re ex- hausted, in your condition, Lady O’Flaherty. Allow me to escort you to a seat, and get you some chilled wine,” he said loudly, leading her from the floor. He found her a seat within a windowed alcove. Though they were plainly visible to the entire room, they had the privacy to talk without being overheard. Niall snatched two goblets of wine from a passing valet, and handed her one.
Understanding the need for deception, she leaned back with half- closed eyes feigning exhaustion. Her heart was hammering, not from weariness but from the sudden realization that they had probably been tricked. “What letter?” she asked again.
“I did not leave you willingly, Skye. Your father sent a little lad up the vine outside your window, and the boy opened your bed-chamber door to the O’Malley and his men. I was gagged, and taken from the room. I explained our plight to your father, but he would not listen. Rather he had me knocked unconscious, and taken home by one Captain MacGuire. The next day I was given a letter in which you repudiated our relationship. For God’s sake, Skye, the handwriting was feminine, and I recognized the seal as the one on your own ring.”
“We all have these rings, Niall. All my sisters, even Eibhlin.”
“I did not know,” he sighed deeply. “It would seem, my love, that those two old spiders, our fathers, have gotten their way by foul means. Damn them both!”
“Do you love her, Niall?”
“No. She was to be a nun, and in her heart she still is. She spends more time on her knees than in our bed.”
“I’m glad!” she said fiercely, and he understood.
“The child-?”
“Is Dom’s. There is no doubt, Niall. I swear it! Do you think I would be here if it were not?”
“Have you learned to love him then?”
“I will never love him, but I am his wife as you are Darragh’s husband,” she said quietly. “And now, my lord, bid me good night, for we are fast becoming the center of curiosity in the hall and I see Dom coming.”
“I will find another opportunity to speak with you,” he said. He did not leave her side, but stood waiting until Dom joined them. ”Your wife is fatigued from the dancing, O’Flaherty. You must take good care of her since she carries your heir. You’re very fortunate in that respect.”
Dom, taken off guard, was speechless. Niall bent over Skye’s hand, briefly but tenderly kissing it. “Good night, Lady O’Flaherty.” Then he was gone across the floor to rejoin the dancers.
“Will you escort me to our room, Dom? I am very tired.” She fought to keep her voice flat. Dom must not know! Not even suspect!
“Of course, my love,” he answered, his voice sweet. Helping her up, he walked her slowly from the hall. When they had gained their room she asked him to call her maid. “Nay, love, I’ll maid you myself, Skye.” His voice had become soft and caressing. It was a dangerous sign. “There wasn’t a woman tonight who could compare with you,” he murmured. “Every man envied me my beautiful wife. Every one of them imagined what it would be like to stick himself in you, but I’m the only one who can do that, Skye, aren’t I?” He had her bodice unlaced now, and drew it off. His fingers swiftly drew her gown and her petticoats down and off. Then her chemise, and finally she stood naked and shivering in her embroidered stock- ings with their gold ribbon and silk rosette garters. Slowly he let his eyes wander over the new fullness of her breasts, and the sweet swelling of her belly. His hand caressed the living roundness, and Skye, barely breathing, prayed he would be satisfied by this show of ownership.
“Kneel on the edge of the bed, Skye.”
She shivered. “Dom, please! It’s not good for the child.”
“Kneel, you little bitch! Or do you want me to believe what my eyes told me when I looked across the hall tonight to see the fine Lord Burke bending solicitously over my wife, ogling her tits? And you! You encouraged him!”
“No! I didn’t!” Every muscle in her body tensed. Then, sighing, she knelt on the edge of the bed, her knees drawn up beneath her. Her hands were clenched into tight balls. There was no fighting him. Resistance brought further punishment.
He looked down at her, so meek, so obedient. He was angry with her, and tempted to sodomize her, for he knew how she hated that particular degradation. But he feared for the child. It was his son, and it bound her irrevocably to him. Without the child she might run to Niall Burke and become his leman, making the O’Flahertys the laughingstock of all Connaught.
He did no more than loosen his codpiece and his organ, swollen already, burst forth. He saw her shiver again, and the feeling of power her fear gave him aroused him further, He easily found his way inside her, sliding his hands beneath her breasts to play with the very sensitive nipples while he moved himself with long smooth strokes. “Your hound does it mis way to the bitches in my kennel. I’ve watched him many a time,” he murmured, biting the back of her neck. She said nothing. To her relief he was finished quickly. ”I’m going back to the hall now,” he said. “Get some rest, Skye.” Fastening his clothes, he was gone.