“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 is a reasonable explanation for your meeting secretly in a cave at night with an attractive man who seems to enjoy kissing you, I would enjoy hearing it.”

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, he knew better. She loved him. He knew it, even if she wasn’t willing to admit it yet. He rinsed her back off with the sponge and moved on to the more interesting portions of her anatomy.

He felt his desire mounting but pushed his hunger down. First he wanted to hear her explanation. Lifting her from the tub, he wrapped her in a large towel and placed her on the settle by the fireplace. He took a smaller towel and rubbed her dry. Ignoring the pale-blue silken gown Daisy had laid out, he tucked Skye between the down feather bed and fox coverlet.

He undressed and washed himself lightly, then dried off and climbed into bed beside her. Turning to look at her, he said quietly, “Now, madam.”

“Adam de Marisco is my friend,” she said.

“Adam de Marisco is in love with you,” he returned bluntly. “But I was never in love with him,” she said. “It was he who insisted I marry again, and he has fussed at me ever since to make peace with you. I believe he sees your side of things better even than mine,” she frowned.

“I’m relieved to know that the lord of Lundy is on my side,” murmured Niall wryly, “but that still does not tell me why the two of you were meeting in secret.”

She sighed. “It began long before we were wed, Niall. After Geoffrey’s death, when Lord Dudley forced himself upon me, I complained to the Queen. In effect Elizabeth gave me to Dudley as a toy, for his pleasure. I will never forgive her for that, for all she is Queen of England. In fact, her authority ought to mean a greater sense of responsibility. I wanted revenge on her and I still do. The privateers who have been harrying this coast since last summer are mine, my O’Malley ships and crews. Adam de Marisco allowed us sanctuary on Lundy, and helped us to dispose of the cargoes.” “His price for this aid?” Niall managed.

“A percentage of the profits, Niall,” she said sharply, then continued. “In a few days we will take the Santa Maria Madre de Cristos, King Philip’s treasure ship meant for Elizabeth. She will never see so much as one gold piece!”

Niall was so stunned that for several minutes he could not speak at all. Various emotions rose and ebbed within him like a tide. Amazement and admiration at her daring. Anger that she should endanger them all in her quest for revenge. Sorrow that he had not been there to protect her from Dudley. He didn’t know whether to kiss her or kill her.

“You can’t beat me,” she said, anticipating him. “I am with child.”

“Good God, woman!” he burst out, and she began to cry. Then Niall started to laugh. “You’re the most impossible female God ever created, Skye. You wage war on England, and still retain all you possess. Did it never occur to you that you might be caught?” “No!”

“Indeed, and why not?” He was fascinated.

“There is nothing to connect me, de Marisco, or the O’Malleys with any acts of piracy.”

“You’re sure?”

“Aye. My ships fly no flags. My people do not speak, they communicate with whistles and hand signals. The cargoes have been carefully disposed of, and I even pirated two of my own ships last summer to keep suspicion away from me.”

“But Cecil has obviously sent de Grenville to capture the pirates.

You can’t take this bait.”

“My fleet sails tonight from Lundy. By the time Dickon and his people meet the Santa Maria its cargo will have been long since removed and stored safely in caves on Inishturk. This is my last venture against the Queen, Niall. I swear it.”

“And de Marisco kissing you? I trust that was a last venture as well?”

“He was saying good-bye,” she said softly.

He pulled her into his arms and brushed her lips with his. “When is the child due?”

“Our baby will be born early next winter.”

“There will be no more adventures, Skye,” he said sternly. “I want your promise.”

“I must think on it,” she said mischievously.

“Madam, your word!” he thundered.

“Very well, my lord,” she lisped meekly, and he looked at her suspiciously. Skye giggled. “I’m having a necklace and a pair of earrings made from the emeralds taken from the treasure ship. I shall so enjoy flaunting them under the Queen’s nose.” Niall laughed again. “Impossible!” he said, and kissed her again. Less than a week later, on Midsummer’s Eve, Skye and Niall stood in the west tower of Lynmouth Castle and watched the celebration bonfires spring up on Lundy. Three, lined up straight in a neat row, told her what she wanted to know. The Santa Maria Madre de Cristos had been successfully taken and its cargo was already hidden. A deep satisfaction swept over her. Turning to her husband, she said, and meant, the words he had so eagerly worked to hear. “I love you, Niall.” With a glad cry he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

The Devon summer was sweeter that year than any summer they remembered. But in London, Elizabeth Tudor fumed with impotent rage. King Philip’s treasure ship had been boldly pirated from under de Grenville’s very nose. The King was both outraged at the incident and frankly scornful of Elizabeth’s ability to keep order in her own land. This piqued Elizabeth more than the loss of the treasure. She had borrowed heavily from the goldsmiths to finance her household, anticipating the wealth of the treasure ship. Now she was heavily in debt and several of her creditors had already shown they were not intimidated by her royal office.

“Is there no evidence to connect Lady Burke with the piracy, Cecil? Surely there is something we can use?” William Cecil had finally confided his suspicions to Elizabeth.

“Madam, there is nothing. All the O’Malley ships are where they should be, and there is no evidence of the treasure ship’s cargo anywhere. We searched both Innisfana and Lundy.” “I want her arrested, Cecil.”

“On what charges, madam?”

Elizabeth whirled to face him and he saw the angry red patches on her white cheeks. “I am the Queen, Cecil! I do not need formal charges! Lady Burke has offended me, and I want her in the Tower!” “Madam!” Cecil was shocked. “This is not like you.”