He put a black-gloved finger beneath her chin and raised it until her green eyes met his. "Irish, I've only just begun."

She slapped his finger away, dug her fists into her hips, and planted her legs firmly apart. Just as she opened her mouth to berate him, he swooped down behind her, thrust his head between her legs, and lifted her onto his shoulders.

"Hang on, Irish," he warned as he galloped from the room.

Just as she was about to scream, he did something worse. He c.o.c.ked his leg over the polished banister and the two of them went careening down its graceful curve and shot clean off the end of the newel post in a heap on the carpet.

"Ouch!" she cried, lying full on top of him.

"I cushioned your fall," he protested with laughter.

"Cushioned? You're harder than the floor!"

Sean rolled his eyes wickedly. "Irish, you have no idea."

Mr. Burke came into the hallway with two dogs at his heels. When they saw the couple sprawling on the floor, the animals joined in the fun. Sean's wolfhound rolled on his back in ecstasy and pawed the air. The greyhound sat in Emerald's lap and licked her ear with a delicate sweep of pink tongue.

Emerald squealed and dissolved into laughter. "Ooh, I always wanted a dog, but they wouldn't let me," she gasped breathlessly.

Sean took her hand, pulled her to her feet, and they began to run with the clogs at their heels. "I lave two!" he offered. When they reached the stables, Sean said, "Here, have a cat. How about a chicken?" He pretended to chase one.

"Stop, Sean, stop." She was laughing and trying to catch her breath at the same time.

"I like to play with you." The intensity of his words stopped the breath in her throat.

Then he broke their gaze and said casually, "The tack room's through there.

Find a pair of riding boots that fit, while I saddle the horses."

As he lifted her into the saddle, she wished his hands would linger. To cover her confusion when they did not, she said, "It's not ladylike to ride astride."

"I don't want you to be ladylike," he murmured low, imagining her riding astride him. "I'll teach you to ride neck or nothing." His mouth went dry at the thought.

"Is that Lucifer, the stallion you got for your birthday that year?" He nodded and rubbed the glossy black neck. "He was just a colt then."

"So were you."

Their eyes met briefly and Emerald grasped the moment to put some questions to him. "Are you the Earl of Kildare?"

"I don't want to be the earl of anything to you; I just want to be Sean."

"If you are the earl, that means your brother Joseph must be dead."

"May he rest in peace," Sean murmured. Then he moved his mount closer to hers. "Emerald, the Irish temperament follows the weather. Today we have sunshine, so our mood must be light and happy. The sky here changes so rapidly, we'll have lots of time for gloomy, melancholy thoughts that plunge us into black despair."

She sensed he would tell her nothing, no matter how she probed. Emerald looked up at the sky and let her worries drop away from her. This was her beloved Ireland, she would seize the moment and enjoy it. As she rode along, the sky above her changed constantly. One minute it was a clear, bright blue, then a ma.s.s of gray clouds sailed in to threaten. Then suddenly, long golden beams of sunlight slanted down between the clouds and the menace was gone. It did it over and over, one minute sullen, threatening to close in; the next minute the sky sparkled with a joyous brightness that gladdened the heart.

He pointed a finger up the rolling green meadows. "The colors change like magic."

She saw a golden field turn light green, then dark green, then on through blue and purple to black.

"The feel of the air changes with the hour of day. In the morning it can be soft, in the afternoon, heavy; then miraculously light and clear in the evening."

"Ireland is quite unique," she said with appreciation, seeing and feeling it as he spoke.

"And no matter how gloomy the day has been, when the sun sets in summer, the sky is streaked red, pink, or yellow."

"The words drip off your tongue like cream."

Her words conjured such an erotic picture, he instantly turned hard as marble.

The sudden barking of the dogs told them they'd have company on their ride.

Sean broke into a gallop and the greyhound streaked past him. Emerald hadn't ridden like this since her summer on Anglesey. She gripped the mare with her knees and spurred her onward to catch up with the devil who was leading her a merry chase.

They followed the banks of the River Liffey for miles, admiring the waterfowl and wildflowers. Sean slowed so that Emerald could keep up with him. "Would you like to see a spot called Salmon Leap?"

She nodded, ready for a rest from the saddle.

At the junction of the rivers Rye and Liffey, he lifted her down from her mare and tethered their horses to a hawthorn in full bloom. It was a magical spot where one river waterfailed into the other twenty feet below. Sean took Emerald's hand as they made their way to the lower water. He lay on his stomach in the lush green gra.s.s and pulled her down beside him.

She watched in fascination as large, beautiful fish made unsuccessful attempts to gain the top of the waterfall, then fell back with a great splash, some on their tails, some on their backs. "Oh, poor things," she murmured.

"No, watch carefully. The next time they swim to the foot of the falls, the salmon leap just above the water to observe the height and the distance. Their second attempt comes so close, they almost make it."

"It's the falling water that drives them back," Emerald said breathlessly.

"On their third and fourth attempts they rise far above the water, then drop into the curvature of the waterfall."

"There! One made it!" Emerald cried joyously.

"The only successful method is to dart their heads into the water just where it goes over the rocks and lodge there for a moment, then scud upstream."

"Why do they do it?"

"The instinct to survive and procreate drives them." The lesson the salmon taught him had served him well.

"You've lain here many times." Their hands were so close, Emerald reached out and curled her hand into his. The black leather glove was a stark contrast against her creamy skin. His silver eyes searched her heart-shaped face for long minutes, then slowly he drew her hand to his mouth and kissed the tip of each finger.

At the intimate gesture Emerald's insides curled over and a frisson of pleasure spiraled deep in her belly and high in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She had never been more aware that she was female in her life; and Sean O'Toole was definitely male, all male, dizzyingly male, dangerously male.

The way she felt was nothing new, he had always affected her this way. She couldn't help it. When she hadn't seen him for years, she had managed to submerge her thoughts of him, but that only made her dreams of him the more vivid. When she was with him like this, she had no control over her feelings or emotions whatsoever.

He overwhelmed her with his powerful presence.

"Come on, Irish," he said, tugging her to her feet. "It's time to see to your wardrobe."

The greyhound was ready for another run, but the wolfhound preferred to stay until he caught a salmon.

Kate Kennedy put Mrs. McBride and her a.s.sistant in one of the receiving rooms. The dressmaker was thrilled to have been asked to Greystones by the Karl of Kildare, but curious as a cat to know the ident.i.ty of the female upon whom he was lavishing gowns. When Mrs. McBrule put some pointed questions to Kate Kennedy, she was thoroughly rebuffed. Kate wasn't averse to telling tales, but never to outsid- ers.

When the master strode into the hall with a bedraggled Emerald in his wake, Kate communicated without speaking. She jerked her thumb in the direction of the receiving room and Sean said, "Have Mary prepare them a nice lunch. We won't be ready to see them for at least an hour."

With his foot on the bottom stair he held out his black-gloved hand to Emerald. "Come."

As they ascended the staircase together, her heart thudded against her ribs.

Sean had a way of keeping her off-balance. She did not know what next to expect from him.

It certainly wasn't the large chamber on the third floor. Whole bolts of cloth stood at the center of the room, while shelves from floor to ceiling were built in around the perimeter. Material of every shade and texture imported from around the world was stored on the shelves.

"Take a few minutes to see what you like," he invited. "Use the ladder if you can't reach. I'll be back shortly."

The ladder was one that slid around the room on rails, as in a library. To a woman the storeroom was like Ali Baba's cave. Emerald's delighted gaze swept around, then up and down, taking in everything at once. Then gradually she began to single out the colors that appealed to her most. She used the ladder so that she could reach the various bolts of cloth, but all she did was touch the material in wonder.

When Sean returned he was immaculate and she realized he had changed into a fresh shirt.

"Have you not chosen anything yet? I expected to find a pile as high as a mountain."

"Everything is so lovely." Her eyes sparkled with pleasure, but still, she did not reach for any one bolt of material.

"How about a serviceable brown superfine for a riding dress? Here's a dark wine bombazine for afternoon, and I suggest this baby-blue satin for an evening gown."

He watched the sparkle leave her eyes.

"I suppose a riding dress should be serviceable," she murmured, trying to sound enthusiastic, but failing miserably.

"Serviceable and drab and dowdy, and don't forget downright ugly!"

She looked at him uncertainly. "Why are you taunting me?" she whispered.

"I'm trying to goad you into speaking your b.l.o.o.d.y mind and choosing exactly what pleases you; not what might please others, not what might please me, but what would please Emerald! Be extravagant, lavish, indulge yourself. Or do you not know how to indulge?"

Inside, in all her secret places, Emerald knew she had been born to indulge.

She lifted her chin and pointed to a bolt of peac.o.c.k silk, then to one of emerald green. Sean lifted them down. When she came to the muslins it was difficult to choose among primrose, apricot, lavender, and pale seafoam-green. She glanced at Sean, saw his mocking silver eyes, and said grandly, "All of them."

She saw his smile and realized he was enjoying himself. "Would it be impractical to have a cream-colored riding habit?"

"Wickedly impractical," he said, adding it to the pile.

Her fingers ran possessively over a bolt of burnt-orange linen. "I don't want to be greedy."

"Why not? Borrow a page from my book and take what you want in life."

His encouragement spurred her on to choose a bolt of filmy white fabric with silver threads running through it. The wools were so finespun and soft, she sighed over their beauty. With great daring she chose scarlet, imagining how vivid it would be with her black hair.

When she thought she had indulged herself more than he ever expected, she thanked him prettily and he carried all the bolts of cloth to her chamber and piled them on the bed.

"Mrs. McBride can have the chamber next to yours. By the look of things she'll be here for a month of Sundays. Shall we have some lunch?"

"Oh, I'm too excited to eat. Can't we get started?"

"You may do exactly as you please. Impatience can be an exciting quality in a beautiful woman."

Emerald caught her breath. Sean O'Toole had a few exciting qualities of his own. The looks he gave her, to say nothing of his innuendos, made her heart race.

She spent the next two hours being measured and listening to Mrs. McBride describe the latest styles. Most of the wealthy Anglo-Irish ladies came to her establishment for their wardrobes and she kept apace of the fashions in London and Paris. Emerald made some of her own suggestions, some quite bold, and Mrs.

McBride realized the young woman knew exactly what colors would enhance her dark looks to make them vivid.

The earl stuck his head in the door. "Mrs. McBride, could I have a word?"

His dark looks made her all fluttery. He was a most charming man who made all his requests in a polite manner, rather than issuing orders as most wealthy men did.

He handed her a bolt of rich cloth. "Do you think you could design the lady an evening gown in this crimson velvet and perhaps a matching cape, lined in white satin?"

"Indeed, your lordship."

"I've asked Kate Kennedy to gather half a dozen of our maids who are talented with a needle, and, of course, you'll need some work-tables. Whatever rooms you need to use, just inform my housekeeper."

"Thank you, my lord. How very thoughtful you are."

Almost as an afterthought he said, "Oh, and Mrs. McBride, could you make her one of those cunning little masks of red velvet to hide her ident.i.ty? I'd like to take her to the theater tomorrow night and don't want all Dublin to know that she is William Montague's daughter. Especially when she is so recent a bride."

The woman blinked rapidly, not believing her good fortune at the juicy piece of scandal she had just learned. Everyone in the Pale knew William Montague, brother of the vice-treasurer of Ireland. She antic.i.p.ated how her patrons' mouths would fall open when she informed them that the Earl of Kildare had taken Montague's daughter as his mistress and that they were living openly together!

16.

By afternoon of the next day, two chambers upstairs and one down had been turned into sewing rooms. When Sean strode in, Emerald noticed that every female in the room stopped whatever she was doing to gaze at him. His dark looks were so arresting, she could not blame them; he had the same effect on her.

She smiled a secret smile. She hadn't given him the chance to pull the covers from her this morning; she had been up and dressed when he came through the adjoining door. His mouth showed his amus.e.m.e.nt that she was one step ahead of him. Her smile deepened; if he wanted her saucy, then saucy she'd be.

"I've a fancy for some tight black riding breeches and some black leather gloves, just like his," she told Mrs. McBride. Then she cast Sean a sideways look from beneath her lashes that was so tempting, it made her feel feminine down to her fingertips. Then she forgot the seductive act and asked earnestly, "Are you really taking me to the theater tonight?"

"If that would please you." He lifted her hand to his lips and Emerald could not hide the excitement she was feeling. "Wait until you see my gown; you simply won't believe it's me!"

"It's time to get ready if we are going into Dublin. Kate is waiting tor you upstairs."

An hour later Emerald had to admit that Kate Kennedy made an excellent ladies' maid; one who could work miracles with a hairbrush. Emerald knew she had never looked this elegant in her life. The crimson velvet left her shoulders bare as well as a shocking expanse of creamy breast. The velvet mask didn't really hide her ident.i.ty, but it certainly made her look provocative.