Her mind took wing, flying back to the halcyon days on the Island of Anglesey, where they had lain on the sun-drenched sand together. She had been completely infatuated with the beautiful Irish youth. He had stolen her heart and never given it back. She realized with a jolt that she found him twice as attractive now with his lithe hard body, his dark sculpted face, and pewter gaze that pierced her to the core, melting her very bones.

You are as wickedly wanton as your mother! Emma accused.

Perhaps I am, Emerald said dreamily.

She ran her hand over the brocade bedcover, richly embroidered with a green vine. Tiny flowers grew along its stems, cunning insects sat on its leaves, and songbirds perched in its branches. She thought of all the time and all the love it had taken someone to embroider it.

She moved to the tall windows to watch the deep shadows gather in the trees.

In her childhood she had been enraptured by tales of enchanted forests. Her heart jolted against her ribs as she heard a noise at the door and saw it slowly open. He's come!

But it was only Kate Kennedy, her arms filled with sheets and towels.

"The bed is already made up," Emerald ventured.

"Stab me, child! It's not made up to the master's exacting standards. He's a fanatic about bed linen. It must be spotless, fresh, ironed smooth as silk, and scented with lavender."

"I see," Emerald said slowly. The implication was that the master would be using the bed.

"Ye'll get used to the earl's ways in time. Nothing short of perfection satisfies him."

"The earl?" Emerald puzzled.

"He's the Earl of Kildare, did ye not know it, ma'am?"

Emerald shook her head, confused once more.

"I'll get Mary Malone to make you up a tray. Sure an' ye must be starvin' by now."

Once more alone, Emerald sat down in an elegant wing chair and relived the painful night she had returned from the O'Toole birthday celebration. Her father had announced, "I have talked Shamus O'Toole into a betrothal between Emerald and his son Joseph. Our daughter will be the next Countess of Kildare."

If Sean was the Earl of Kildare, then Joseph must be dead. Somewhere in the hidden recesses of her mind she had always a.s.sumed her mother had run off with Joseph. Emerald had so many questions Sean hadn't answered. Was his entire family dead and gone? Emerald moved across the room to the adjoining door. After a moment's hesitation she knocked. There was no answer. With great trepidation she opened the door a crack and looked about. His chamber was empty.

In the gatehouse tower three men sat drinking smoky Irish whisky.

"Ye've been gone a whole month. I was starting to worry."

"Never worry about me, Father. I laugh at Fate and tell it to kiss my a.r.s.e! I have pledged to destroy them and nothing shall ever stop me."

"But the Montagues are so cunninga""

"When it comes to cunning, the b.l.o.o.d.y-fool English are rank amateurs."

Paddy Burke frowned. "Ye've brought their la.s.s back with ye."

"I have, Mr. Burke," Sean said quietly.

"Too bad ye didn't bring her father," Shamus stated. "The minute his shadow falls on my land, he's a dead man!"

"I don't want him dead yet, Father. I had a long session with Sir Horace Walpole and other ambitious politicians. I told them the Montagues had the whole of the Pale in their pockets and could smuggle anything in or out of Ireland with impunity. They knew bribery was rife, but they did not suspect the Montagues themselves. I then informed them William Montague had used his high position in the Admiralty to sell guns to the previous Earl of Kildare; guns that were meant to fight the war in France. I pointed out he was only able to do it with the complicity of his brother, Sandwich, who is conveniently first lord of the Admiralty."

"Did they believe you?" Shamus demanded.

"Oh, yes, their reaction was as explosive as if I'd thrown gunpowder into the fire."

Shamus downed his whisky and licked his lips with glee. "The Montagues are so busy hating and despising the Irish, they have woefully underestimated us."

"I took time to cultivate the friendship of the Duke of Newcastle. We hit it off quite well; he has a charming and receptive d.u.c.h.ess," Sean reflected, sipping his liquor.

"I hope ye're not planning on making a career of collecting other men's wives.

I think stealing Montague's daughter is enough."

Sean's mouth curved in the familiar half smile. "They're so susceptible to a little Irish charm."

"How can Newcastle help us?"

"He has the king's ear. At this very moment he could be telling His Majesty that the Montagues are running two slave ships. They are too cunning to have them registered in their own name; they are registered to Jack Raymond."

"Has the law abolishing slavers finally pa.s.sed?" Paddy asked.

"A bill prohibiting English vessels from the slave trade is before Parliament, Mr. Burke, but that has not stopped the filthy practice. The king and Prime Minister Pitt are incensed that English vessels are still actively involved. When they learn their first lord of the Admiralty owns slavers, he will be instantly condemned."

"Won't the fact that the Montagues are friends of the Prince of Wall's keep them from being thrown out of office?" Shamus worried.

"Make no mistake, Father, King George rules England. His fat son is a laughingstock."

"That's good. If those filthy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds lose their positions at the Admiralty, it will cause such a scandal, we'll have our revenge!"

"Part of it," Sean said softly. "They'll lose stature in the eyes of society, but they'll still be wealthy. I intend to ruin them financially as well. I've given new orders to the captains of over half our fleet."

Paddy Burke saw the determination in the set jaw. Sean often smiled, but Paddy noticed his dark eyes rarely matched the smile.

Sean set his empty gla.s.s on the mantel and stretched his arms above his head.

"I'll bid you both good-night."

Paddy Burke followed him to the door. "Does the la.s.s know that her mother lives just down the coast in Wicklow?"

"No. She knows nothing of Amber, and that's the way I want it."

"Do you intend to ravish the la.s.s?" Paddy asked baldly.

"Ravish her? I don't just want her body, Mr. Burke, I intend to own her soul."

The veneer of civilization was very thin over the savage man who stood before him. Mr. Burke knew that beneath the humor and charm, Sean O'Toole was the Prince of h.e.l.l.

Emerald ate her dinner in solitude. The food was perfection itself, far superior in quality and taste to anything prepared in Portman Square. Each time her chamber door opened, Emerald's heart lurched against her ribs, but each time it was Kate Kennedy.

"I've drawn ye a bath, ma'am, if ye would be so good as to follow me.

Emerald, in the habit of being amenable, did as she was bid. She was surprised at the size of the bathing room. It was all pristine white marble with mirrors everywhere. A silver basket held a generous a.s.sortment of soaps, lotions, sponges, and loofahs, and beside the basket sat a mountain of snowy Turkish towels.

It took her a while to get up enough courage to remove her dress, Her fingers went to the silver brooch, which she had fastened to her shift where it couldn't be seen by prying eyes. Suddenly she knew that Scan had been at her wedding, He had brought the gift himself! Why, oh, why hadn't he spirited her away before they had legally wedded her to Jack Raymond? Now everything was in such a terrible coil!

She sighed heavily and, keeping her eyes downcast, managed to bathe without looking at herself.

Back in the primrose bedroom she realized she would have to sleep in her shift, since she had no nightclothes. She climbed into bed and nervously fingered the little dolphin. She sat rigid, waiting for him to come. He was a devil! Why didn't he come and get it over with? She would fight him, when he came. She shivered with distaste as she thought about the physical intimacies Jack forced upon her.

As her candles burned low, Emerald began to yawn. Her mind flitted about over the unbelievable things that had happened to her today. Briefly she wondered what Jack and her father would do when they discovered that she was missing. Her mind shied away from thoughts of them. Her eyes closed as sleep beckoned. They would never in a million years know where she was.

At Portman Square, Jack Raymond and William Montague knew exactly where she was. They ground their teeth in impotent rage as they stared at the note that had been delivered to them. Though it was unsigned, both knew instantly who it was from.

When Emerald has an Irish b.a.s.t.a.r.d in her belly, I shall return her to the bosom of her loving family.

"You should have killed the Irish swine, the night you stabbed Joseph!"

Montague charged.

"We both had a stab at Joseph O'Toole. Don't think you can wash your hands of murder!" Jack Raymond's tone held a threat.

"For Christ's sake, we're in this together, let's not savage each other's throats."

Both men had enough to worry about without the added humiliation of Emerald's bringing dishonor to them. It seemed when troubles came, they came in mult.i.tudes. The Earl of Sandwich was not only being accused of incompetence and corruption, he was being investigated for treason. The Montagues were all running about in circles trying to control the gossip, but the scandal was on every tongue in London.

"We'll go together and fetch her back!" Jack declared.

"We can't do that. The minute we set foot on their land, we'd be dead men.

Shamus O'Toole has been waiting years for me to make that fatal mistake."

"Then send John, let him talk terms ... see how much O'Toole will take to let her go," Jack suggested desperately.

"Sean O'Toole is the powerful Earl of Kildare. Do you think John capable of dealing with him?"

"He's the only hope we've got," Jack said flatly.

With no thought for John's safety, Montague agreed, then directed, "Burn that note before it falls into the servants' hands. We've scandal enough in the family."

15.

The early sun seeped through the cas.e.m.e.nt windows of the primrose room.

At the same moment Emerald realized she was alone, Sean came through the adjoining chamber door. She clutched the sheets to her chin and lowered her lashes.

"I won't allow you to waste one precious moment of this glorious day." His face br.i.m.m.i.n.g with mischief, he took hold of the covers at the bottom of her bed and with one quick snap of the wrists removed them entirely.

Emerald huddled in her shift, trying to make a small ball of herself.

Some of the mischief left his face. "Devil take it, where's the fun in teasing a la.s.s who won't play?"

"What do you want?" she murmured guardedly.

"I want you to raise your lashes and reveal those beautiful emerald eyes. I want you to smile and laugh and play the coquette. I want you to use every emotion that should come naturally to a gorgeous woman. You've been kept in a box. I've just opened the lid! When you are vastly amused at something, I want you to laugh so hard, you have to hold your belly while the tears run down your face. When you get angry, I want to see the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes. I want to see you give as good as you get. When I pull off your covers 1 want you to kick me and spit in my eye. I want to see you shake your curls and admire yourself in every mirror in the house. I want you to be so extravagant with your dress bills, you try to make a pauper of me. I want to see you in a full-blown pa.s.sion over something . . .

anything!"

His words were so unexpected, her body uncurled from its tight ball as she listened.

His eyes fell on the silver brooch. "I want you to wear jewels on your shimmy because you are unconventional, not because you have to hide them. Devil take it, Emerald, you are an Irishwoman; flaunt it!"

His words gave her the courage to raise her eyes to his. She saw he was wearing tall black boots and tight black riding breeches. His white linen shirt was open at the neck, and again he wore black leather gloves. He sat down on the bed beside her. "What would you like to do today?"

Before Emerald had a chance to answer, Kate Kennedy came in with a breakfast tray in her hands. At sight of the couple on the bed, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Sean winked at a blushing Emerald. "Kate, I'm a man, not a b.l.o.o.d.y monk. She attracts me like a lodestone." His mouth curved. "Better get used to it."

Though he spoke to Kate, Emerald knew the words were for her.

He arose from the bed, took the tray from Kate, and set it across Emerald's knees. "I've sent to Dublin for a dressmaker, but she won't be here for hours. If I find you something to wear, will you ride with me, Emerald?"

The moment she nodded her a.s.sent, he took himself off in search of suitable attire, and Emerald found it much easier to eat without his amused eyes on her.

"He slept in his own chamber," she told Kate timidly.

"Sure an' 'tis none of my affair which chamber the earl chooses. I'll make myself scarce," Kate said, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Emerald chewed slowly, digesting Sean's words along with the food. Though she hadn't had much experience of suitors, she was almost certain that Sean was wooing her. Confidence in her attraction lose a notch.

Sean returned and flung one of his shirts and a pair of boy's riding breeches on the bed. "I'll give you exactly five minutes. When you're ready, knock on my door."

For four of those minutes she sat looking at the male attire he expected her to wear. She suddenly realized the time of his ultimatum had almost run out and she scrambled into the shirt and pants in less than a minute.

When she tapped on his door, he flung it open and grinned down at her.

"h.e.l.lo, Irish, will you never learn? When a man gives you five minutes, you push him out the door and let him cool his heels for an hour."

"Please be serious for a minute. I can't go out like this . . . look at me!"

"You'll make the stableboys randy as h.e.l.l. You've the sauciest round bottom I've seen in many a year, and the outline of your up-thrust b.r.e.a.s.t.s shows through the cambric shirt with impudence. What's your problem?"

She groaned. "You, sir, are my problem!"