“I don’t know, Robbie, but anyone would be better!” “The marriage is valid, lass. There isn’t a court anywhere that would invalidate either the contracts or the proxy ceremony and there are no grounds for annulment. Whether you like it or not, you’re now Lady Burke.”

“Go to Hell!”

Robbie began to chuckle. “By God, I never thought to see you bested, but that sly old ecclesiastical fox has done it and done it well.”

Skye’s blue eyes began to narrow and grow smoky with anger. But Robbie was so tickled by the situation that he failed to note her growing rage. He prattled on. “At least he’s chosen you a real man.

Lord Burke is similar in character to both Khalid and Lord Southwood. No, indeed, you can’t complain, Skye lass.” And his mouth fell open with shock as the crystal decanter shattered just above his head, spattering diamond shards of glass and ruby-red droplets of wine down the wall.

“This match has been made by my uncle, Lord Burke, and the MacWilliam with the sole purpose of breeding another generation. Well, without my cooperation they can’t get the new generation, can they?” she said softly, ominously. Then she continued, “Geoffrey has not been dead a year. I cannot possibly be a proper wife to Lord Burke while I am still in deep mourning. And then, of course, there is my semi-mourning for another year. As you are certainly aware, Robbie, propriety must be strictly observed.”

Robbie began to look worried. “You can’t mean you’re going to deny him his rights?”

She laughed, a harsh sound. “His rights? What rights?” Robbie felt a sinking sensation. “He’s your husband,” he said weakly.

“I didn’t pick him. It was all your idea, and de Marisco’s and my uncle’s and the MacWilliam’s. All I asked was the right to chose, for I am the one involved. I am entirely capable of planning my own destiny. Instead, I have been married off without even the courtesy of a single discussion. Well, Robbie, if I must live with the consequences, then so must you all-including Niall Burke.”

Robbie’s sinking feeling deepened. What had they done? Not just to her, but to Niall Burke as well? He did not regret his advice. Marriage had been the only solution. But the Bishop of Connaught had acted high-handedly. Robbie suddenly realized that he knew her better even than her own family did. Well, why not? When Skye had left them she was still a girl, her character just beginning to form. They still thought of her as a young girl. Those two sly old men hadn’t stopped to realize that a cleric and a provincial nobleman could scarcely conceive of the kind of life Skye had led in the last several years. What could they know of men like Khalid el Bey? He sighed. God, how much simpler it would have been if Khalid had lived. Skye would have had a dozen of his children and grown pleasingly plump on Turkish pastries. Then he chuckled at himself for being a fool. She simply wasn’t that kind of woman. “You cannot hold Lord Burke responsible for this situation. Though I am sure the idea of finally being wed to you has him ecstatic.”

“He of all people should have known better than to wed with me without my personal consent.”

“Perhaps your uncle convinced him that he had it.” In actuality Niall Burke had been astounded when, arriving home from a hunting trip, he had found Seamus O’Malley and his father sitting together getting companionably drunk.

“Behold! The bridegroom cometh,” chuckled the bishop. Niall Burke felt his anger rise. “I warned you,” he snarled at his father, “I warned you to make no matches for me!” The old man snickered. “You are being married February third, my son.”

‘The hell I am!” was the outraged reply.

“My niece will be so disappointed,” the bishop cackled, and the MacWilliam joined in his laughter, the two old men doubling up like fools.

Niall wondered if the smoky peat whiskey they were drinking had been tainted. His bewilderment caused the two to laugh harder, tears running from their rheumy eyes and down the worn old faces. Finally the bishop wheezed, “My niece, Skye, has given me her permission to arrange another marriage for her, now that Lord Southwood is dead. Your father and I have decided that since you were once intended to wed, you should do so now.”

“And Skye is coming to Ireland to wed me?” Niall was incredulous.

“No. We’re celebrating the marriage by proxy on February third. You are to go to England, for she’ll not come to Ireland and rob her little son, the Earl, of his rightful inheritance.”

“What’s the hurry?” Niall was suspicious, knowing these two old schemers for what they were.

“Lent, my lad. You know we cannot celebrate a marriage in that solemn season. D’you truly want to wait till after Easter to wed and bed Skye? After all these years?”

“Very well then,” said Niall. “I agree.”

“He agrees!” wheezed the MacWilliam with helpless mirth. “Praise be to God!” cackled the bishop, gasping for air. Niall Burke thought them both drunk, or mad, or possibly both. The contracts were signed the following day, and all Niall could think about from that point on was that Skye would soon be his. How sweetly modest she still was, even after all this time. What an adorable creature to have her uncle arrange the match instead of making the contracts herself. After all, she was hardly a maiden and not likely to be shy of him. His mind was so full of memories of Skye that the woman he had known so unhappily in England faded and the girl he had known so long ago took her place.

Consequently he was unprepared for the cold woman who greeted him at Lynmouth Castle. It was but a few weeks after their marriage, when the winter weather had cleared. He had left the MacWilliam’s stronghold to travel across Ireland and take an O’Malley ship from the east coast town of Cobh to Bideford. In Bideford he repeated what he had done several years prior, and hired a horse for the ride to Lynmouth. He came alone, unheralded, without an escort. Riding across the lowered drawbridge into the courtyard, he said to the servant who ran out to greet him, “Tell the Countess that her husband has arrived.” The servant’s mouth dropped open, then he turned and ran.

Niall Burke calmly stripped off his riding gloves and strode into the castle. As he entered the hall, Skye came toward him. She was dressed totally in black. She was cool and elegant and very formal. “You should have told us you were coming, my lord. Have my servants seen to your retainers?”

“I have none. I came as soon as the weather cleared. There was no time to send word ahead.”

“We’ll have rooms readied for you, my lord.” He looked puzzled and she explained, “My husband is not dead a full year, my lord. I am still in mourning.”

“I am your husband, Skye.”

She smiled frostily. “My late husband,” she amended in a tone meant to convey how crassly he was behaving.

“Then why did you marry now, Skye?”

“My uncle had my permission to seek possible candidates for a marriage for me and nothing more. Instead he arranged this proxy marriage. I did not even know of the wedding until two days ago.” “You didn’t want to marry me?”

“It is of little importance to me whom I wed, though I should have preferred having a choice. You see, Lord Burke, it was necessary that I take a husband.” She told him about Dudley and her need to protect both herself and her children.

Her words stunned him, and as their import sunk in he was torn between anger, pity, and laughter. In his eagerness to regain her, he had accepted a simple explanation for a situation that he ought to have known was not simple. From her icy demeanor, he decided that the MacWilliam would have a long wait for a grandchild. Oh, he could shout and bluster about his marital rights, but he suspected that would gain him only scorn. He decided that he would play the gentleman and wait. A rueful smile touched the corners of his mouth, for it seemed he was forever waiting for Skye O’Malley. “You do need a permanent man in your life,” he said, “and who better than me? We loved one another once. Perhaps we will again.” “Or perhaps not,” she said. “Love, it has been my experience, brings more bitterness than sweetness. I have lost two men I loved to death. I have the memory of bitter words between us, and although I forgave you because Geoffrey asked me to, I cannot forget those words.”

“I regretted them the moment they escaped my lips.” “You were ever impulsive, Niall. Impulsive and heedless of the havoc your actions wrought. You are now my lawful husband but unless I can learn to love you again this marriage will be in name only. I have never given myself to a man I disliked.” “You liked Dudley?”

“I despise Robert Dudley as I did Dom. They took, yes, but I never gave! Do you understand me?”

“And I do not make a habit of forcing unwilling women, my dear wife. I have no intention of doing so now. do you understand me?” “Then we should get on quite well, Niall Burke. You will keep to your place, and I to mine.”

He bowed mockingly to her. “It shall be just as you say, madam.

Has the Queen been notified yet of this match?” “The messenger left for Hampton Court the same day I received word from my uncle.”

“Then Elizabeth should know by now that a man stands by your side at Lynmouth.”

And Elizabeth did know. The Queen had been angry at first.

“How dare she?” stormed Elizabeth. “She has not my permission!”

“Aye, she does, madam,” put in Cecil, Lord Burghley.

“She does?”

“Indeed,” the chancellor said smoothly. “You signed the papers several months ago when the Bishop of Connaught applied for permission for his niece to wed again. I believe that Lord Burke was at one time betrothed to the Countess of Lynmouth. It is an excellent match, madam. Skye O’Malley is head of the O’Malleys of Innisfana, a wealthy seagoing family. She will not, I suspect, leave England until her son can manage his own estates-which will not be for a long time. Her family will never dare to rebel against the Crown for fear of reprisals against her. We have therefore neutralized a potentially powerful enemy. The same can be said of the Burkes. Niall Burke is the only heir to the MacWilliam of Mid-Connaught. He and his people dare not act against England as long has his heir is in England, and he will be as long as his bride cannot leave. That is why I advised you to sign the papers allowing the Countess to wed again.”