“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.

For a few moments she lay quietly, her face wet with silent tears.
Then she stood and, removing her stockings, wrapped herself in a
soft woolen robe before lying down again. If she could have boiled
her body she would have done so, but even that would not rid her
of the memory of his touch, the smell of his lust on her skin.

She could not stop the tears from flowing. It had all been too
much. Learning that her father and the MacWilliam had conspired
to keep Niall from her had come close to breaking her heart all over
again. It had been easier when she could simply hate Niall. Ex-
hausted, she slept.

The sudden sound of the door latch rasping woke her and she
tensed. Dom was back, and probably drunk. She lay quietly, hoping
he would believe she was sleeping.

“Skye,” came the soft whisper.

“Niall!” She sat up. “Are you mad? In God’s name go quickly
before Dom returns! Please, my lord!”

He shut the door quietly and drew the bolt closed. “Dom is lying
in the hall in a drunken stupor with his friends. My page is watching.
Should Dom awaken the lad will warn us long before he can get
here.” Dearest Heaven, she was beautiful, her black cloud of hair
swirling about her shoulders, her eyes enormous and dark with con-
cern. Niall sat on the edge of the bed and drew her into his arms.
”You’ve been weeping.” It was a statement.

“It was easier when I thought you’d betrayed me,” she said softly,
believing he would understand.

“For me also, my darling.” He reached out and caressed her dark
hair.

“Your wife-T She had to ask.

“Is keeping one of her interminable vigils in the chapel. She does
it to avoid me, but I care not. Bedding her is like bedding a dead
thing.”

“Oh, Niall…” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in his
shoulder.

“Skye! Ah, love, don’t weep! Damn, Skye, you’ll break my
heart!” His mouth gently found hers. Sighing deeply, she slid her
arms about his neck, and gave herself over into his keeping. His hand found the swell of her breast, and it seemed so natural, so
right. She pulled her lips away from him long enough to whisper,
”Yes, Niall! Oh, please love me!” Then her mouth fused fiercely
to his again, and she was lost in a burst of searing passion that swept
over her body instantly, nearly rendering her unconscious.

His hand gently caressed the ripening mound. “I wish to Heaven
he were mine,” he muttered huskily. “God! You’re so beautiful with
the babe growing in you, like one of the old Celtic fertility god-
desses.”

“I prayed so hard,” she whispered. “When I was at St. Bride’s
I prayed you’d gotten me with child. How I wept when I found it
wasn’t so. Eibhlin says they feared for my sanity. Then Dom
came…” her voice trailed off.

“I’ll kill him,” Niall said quietly.

“And what of your poor wife? Would you kill her also? What
harm has that unfortunate creature done to either of us? You say she
was to be a nun, and from what you tell me she had a true vocation.
Has she not been harmed as deeply as we?” Skye drew a deep breath
and pulled away from him, her blue eyes intent. “Niall! Oh, Niall,
my love! We are inescapably wed to other people. There is no hope
for us. I love you, Niall, but when I return to Ballyhennessey I want
never to set eyes on you again. I cannot see you and keep my love
for you from the world. Dom is already suspicious. I want no trouble
between the two of you, for he is foolish and apt to be treacherous.
I am not so innocent as to beg that you forget me. We will not
forget, either of us, but we must part.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I cannot bear to lose you
again,” he said brokenly.

“Oh, my love, you never really had me,” she answered sadly.