"Then they should be jubilant," Sean said dryly. He left through the kitchen door and headed toward the stables. All at once he stopped and lifted his head like a stag scenting the wind. The opportunity he needed was at hand. He ran back into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. Without knocking, Sean strode into her bed- chamber.

"Emerald, it's raining!"

A dozen pairs of female eyes gazed at him, but he spoke as if he and Emerald were alone. "You've never experienced anything as soft as an Irish summer rain." He held out his hand. "Come, walk with me."

The Greystones servants exchanged glances that implied the earl was mad, but Emerald, wearing a new pale green muslin, smiled with delight. "That will be all for now, ladies. I'm going out to play in the rain.a Handclasped, they opened the kitchen door and went outside.

"Sit on the step," he invited. When she obliged, he pulled off his boots, then knelt down before her to remove her slippers. "You must go barefoot in Irish rain, it's one of the rules." He lifted her toes to his lips before he released her foot, and she was thrilled at the pretty gesture.

He pulled her to her feet. "We must run like h.e.l.l and dodge the raindrops until we get to the stables. Are you ready?"

"Ready, milord!"

They dashed across the courtyard, ran laughing through the stables, and came to a halt at the rear exit that opened onto the meadow. He examined the green muslin covering her shoulders and b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Are you sure you avoided every last one?"

"I did! Dry as a bone," she declared.

"Good. Now we stroll."

Hand in hand they sauntered into the meadow. Before they had gone a yard the lush green gra.s.s soaked them to their knees. "Feel how soft and warm." They turned up their faces in worship. "Catch it on your lashes; let it drip off your nose."

"It's magica"I can smell it," she cried, then put out her tongue to taste it.

"Is it good?"

"Delicious," she declared.

He lifted her arm and sniffed her wet skin with appreciation, then he ran his tongue from her wrist, up the inside of her arm, to her elbow, licking the raindrops as they ran in tiny rivulets. "Mmm, rain-drenched skin is intoxicating. Try it," he invited.

She cast him a provocative look from beneath lashes spiky with wetness, then set her tongue to his throat where his soaking shirt fell away. His hands closed over her b.u.t.tocks and he pressed her against his body as his c.o.c.k lengthened and hardened. "The rain makes everything grow," he whispered.

"I told you it was magic." She eluded his embrace and went dancing across the meadow, shoulder deep in wildflowers. He watched her go, then followed in hot pursuit. When he caught her, he pulled her beneath him in the long gra.s.s and lay full on top of her.

She laughed up into his dark face, tailing more in love with him every minute.

"Wriggle your shoulders. You have to get wet all the way through to your skin."

Emerald wriggled more than her shoulders, and Sean rolled his eyes in mock bliss. "Now you," she said imperiously, and he rolled with her in the wet gra.s.s until she lay atop him.

Outrageously he rubbed all his hard body parts into her soft ones and left the both of them breathless with desire.

Emerald didn't want their play to end. Sean could tease unmercifully, then suddenly stop, leaving her devastated. This time she wanted to take him beyond the limits of his control. She sensed a pattern in his play. When she advanced, he retreated; if she withdrew, would he become ravenous?

"Sean, will you take me into the garden?"

His eyes, silver as the rain that drenched them, looked up into hers with unconcealed l.u.s.t. He watched her luscious b.r.e.a.s.t.s rise and fall. She was panting with need, in a fever to have him plunge inside her. Only a moment ago she was writhing all over him. Why in h.e.l.l was she asking to go into the garden?

With a sweet and charming patience he did not feel, he replied, "When you ask so prettily, how can I refuse you anything? It would be my greatest pleasure to take you into the garden."

He followed her from the meadow, across Greystones's wide lawns, and into the magnificent garden. The drenched roses temporarily hung their heads; when the sun came out again they would lift their faces and shamelessly flaunt their beauty.

Emerald walked beneath the spreading branches of a young copper beech that sheltered her from the rain.

"Don't move," Sean ordered. Framed beneath the leaves, she looked like a beautiful water sprite. He reached up to a branch and gave it a vigorous shake. A million water droplets cascaded down upon her, making her laughter ring out like a silvery bell. As they strolled past the resplendent flower beds, the fragrance was heady enough to make them drunk.

Sean reached out to pluck a foxglove blossom, then held the tiny chalice to her lips so she could drink from it. Seized with playful mis-chief, Emerald waded into the pond and bent to pluck a water lily. Its curved petals, shaped like a bowl, were brimful of rain. With a provocative laugh she tossed the water all over him.

Without hesitation he waded in after her and, with a great whoop of victory, lifted her high in his arms. With his mouth against her ear, he whispered, "Now comes the best part, where we rub each other dry."

He carried her through the grand front entrance to the foot of the staircase.

With his lips still against her ear he coaxed, "Put your wet legs around me."

Emerald complied, her wet arms about his neck, her legs about his hips. In this intimate position he climbed the stairs, then paused at his bedchamber door to open it.

She lifted her face so that they could look deeply into each other's eyes. "Isn't this where I kick you in the groin, spit in your eye, and let you cool your heels for the next two hours?"

His humor had deserted him. He brought his face close to hers without breaking eye contact. "No! This is where you yield up to me everything I desire." He slammed the door shut behind them with a bare foot, then set her down in the middle of the chamber. "Don't move an eyelash!"

He pushed back the drapes from the tall windows. The sky was clearing now and the late-afternoon light flooded in. He brought a pile of towels and dropped them at their feet. First he dried her hair, rubbing it furiously until it fell about her shoulders in a thousand tiny black ringlets.

Emerald was mesmerized by the deliberation of his actions. He was in no hurry, but seemed to have a definite plan in mind for this loving. He was meticulous about which parts he wanted uncovered first and which he wanted concealed. He undid the top of her muslin dress, which was completely drenched and clinging to her body. He slowly peeled it away from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then did the same with her now transparent shift. He pushed the garments down until they were below her waist, then stared at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hungrily.

Freed of their constraint, they sprang forward impudently, all shiny and wet from the warm rain. She watched him peel off one black leather glove, then thought he was reaching down for a towel, but he was not. Instead, both hands went beneath her skirts and slowly slid up her wet legs and thighs. When he reached her bare b.u.t.tocks he pressed her forward, then clipped his head so that he could tongue the wetness from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

As his mouth moved ever closer to her nipples, so, too, did his hands slide round to her mons. At the same moment his tongue snaked out to lick the taut tip of her breast, his thumbs pressed open the tiny wet folds between her legs. He felt her body begin to quiver from the sensations he was arousing. He gently blew warm breath on the hard little buds and watched them ruche even tighter.

"It excites a woman when a man puts his hands up her gown. It makes her think he is doing something wicked and makes her feel very naughty."

Emerald gasped as he drew one fingertip along her cleft. What he said was absolutely true. He was wicked and she was naughty. Already she wanted to scream from excitement, yet knew with a knowledge as old as Eve's he had only just begun.

He licked and tasted her from throat to navel in a very delicate manner. Then his mouth devoured her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. At the same time his thumbs, one bare, one sheathed in black leather, alternately drew circles about the rosebud that nestled in the damp black curls at the tip of her cleft.

Emerald uttered incoherent love sounds as he played with her body and aroused sensations she'd never dreamed a woman could feel. "Ooh, ahhh, ummm, oooh." As she surrendered her body to his hands and mouth, expressing her joy with such surprise, he could tell she had never been pleasured before. A wild thrill ran through him. Her husband had taken her virginity, but he had never been her lover.

"Now it's time for you to watch what I do to you," he murmured intensely, "and for me to watch you receive your pleasure." He pushed the pale green muslin down over her hips, all the way to her ankles, then helped her step daintily from the rain-soaked garments. As she stood before him in naked splendor, Sean's dark pewter eyes made love to her.

He made her feel utterly beautiful. Then he picked up a towel, rolled it into a tight rope, and slipped it between her legs. He drew it back and forth, slowly, sensually. He watched her eyes become sultry as he initiated her into foreplay, watched the scream build in her throat as the stimulation became almost too much for her to bear. Then he enfolded her in his arms so the kissing could begin.

He took possession of her mouth just as her scream erupted. He kissed her until her scream turned to sighs. Sean was certain her woman's center had never built and erupted in climax. He wanted to teach her body to be so s.e.xually responsive, she would come at his touch.

He slid down on his knees so that her lower body lay across his hard thighs.

Then he slipped one long finger up inside her and held it still. Her eyelids were heavy with sensuality as his mouth covered hers. By kisses alone he intended to bring her to o.r.g.a.s.m; feel her sheath tighten, throb, and pulsate as it gripped and squeezed his finger.

Emerald's thighs sprawled open wantonly, inviting him to thrust, to plunge, to slide, to surge, but his finger remained motionless. His tongue, however, did all the things to her mouth that her body craved. At last he was rewarded as he became aware of a pulse point deep within. It fluttered erratically and the walls of her sheath tightened as her tension built. Her mouth opened fully so she would not impede the hot, sliding friction of his tongue.

Sean felt the exquisite pulsations upon his finger, feather light at first, then becoming stronger with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. Sean began to ravish her mouth with savage abandon, mastering her with his tongue until he felt her yield, above and below.

Emerald spasmed, squeezing the entire length of his finger. Her climax was so hard and fast, he thought her walls might crush him. She cried out into his mouth and thought she might faint from pleasure.

He was so pleased with her generous response, he wanted to reward her. He slipped his finger from her and covered her entire mons with his cupped palm. Then he caressed, squeezed, and stroked until her hot shudders melted into liquid tremors.

Suddenly the air was rent with a sharp crack. Emerald's eyes flew open and a jolt went through her body. "What was that?" she cried.

"It was a gunshot." Sean was already on his feet, heading toward the door.

"My father."

"Your father?" Emerald asked incredulously.

Sean quit the chamber without further explanation.

Emerald sat back on her heels, stunned by the revelation. She had seen no evidence of Shamus O'Toole at Greystones and a.s.sumed Sean's father dead along with the rest of his family. Her hands tried to disentangle her damp dress from her shift. She pulled the muslin over her nakedness, then followed in Sean's wake.

She ran outside and the sound of men's voices drew her across the lawns in the direction of the sea. A small group of men had gathered on the causeway that led to the harbor below. She stopped, hesitating to go farther, until suddenly she recognized the figure of her brother, Johnny. Fear gripped her throat as the men helped him to his feet and the realization dawned that Johnny was the one who had been shot at.

18.

Emerald picked up the hem of her wet skirt and her bare feet fairly flew across the distance that separated her from her brother. "Johnny, Johnny, are you all right?"

Though he was white and looked shaken, his voice was calm enough.

"Emerald, I'm fine."

She threw her arms about him, almost sobbing with relief.

The English crew who had accompanied John on the Swallow stood glaring at the Irish crewmen commanded by the FitzGeralds. Tempers were so explosive, a brawl threatened.

Sean gave terse orders. "There will be no trouble; get back to your vessels."

The men cast wary glances in the direction of the gatehouse tower, but obeyed the voice of command.

"Someone tried to kill you!" Emerald shook her brother to make him understand.

"Em, if Shamus O'Toole had aimed to kill, I'd be a dead man now.a Sean grinned at John and thumped him on the back. "You have the right of it.

Let's go and get a drink into you."

They walked off like the best of friends, leaving her with her mouth open. She had disappeared from home over a week before, yet John wasn't surprised to find her at Greystones. Sean and her brother seemed thick as thieves. Did he conic here often? If so, why the h.e.l.l had someone been shooting at him? b.l.o.o.d.y men! If they think they are going to keep me barefoot and ignorant, they can think again!

Emerald's Irish was up. She was never going to suppress her anger again. She intended to vent it on someone. She headed for the gatehouse in search of a victim.

She gave a perfunctory knock and walked straight in. She was met by Paddy Burke, who was on his way out.

"Who's doing all the shooting?" she demanded.

"One shot," he corrected.

Her eyes blazed her anger. "Who?" she demanded, hands on hips.

Paddy Burke jerked his thumb toward the tower. "Himself."

She watched him make a hasty departure before she headed up the stone stairs.

Shamus O'Toole sat by a tower window, gripping a spygla.s.s. Beside him, four guns stood against the stone wall.

"You almost killed my brother!" She flung the accusation with angry pa.s.sion, not caring about the consequences.

Shamus chuckled with glee. "I wasn't trying to kill him or he'd be dead. I only wanted to scare the s.h.i.t out of him."

"Well, you didn't! You scared it out of me! Why did you shoot at him?"

"He's a Montague," Shamus explained.

"So am I."

"Never boast about that, la.s.s." His bright blue eyes examined her from head to foot. "Yer a FitzGerald by the looks of ye; now, there's something to brag about.

Come over here to the window and let me have a gander at ye."

She moved forward, not because she wanted to, but because she didn't want him to think she feared him.

"Ye have a definite look of my Kathleen; no wonder Sean is enamored of ye.

Have ye been walking in the rain, la.s.s? She loved to do that too." His eyes took on a faraway look and Emerald had the uncanny feeling he had gone back to the past. She decided Shamus O'Toole was a bit unstable. He probably wasn't responsible for his actions. Whyever would he live up here like a recluse when the magnificent Greystones was so s.p.a.cious? Someone must lock up the firearms. She would speak to Sean about it tonight.

"Go an1 get those wet clothes off, Beauty; ye'll be late fer dinner."

Emerald had the distinct impression that Shamus thought he was speaking to his wife. "Ia"I will. . . . I'll go and do it right away."

Back in her chamber the mirrors showed her she looked like a ragtag Gypsy girl. She chose a lavender-blue silk to boost her confidence and her courage. She had a lot of questions she intended to pose. She whirled about as the connecting door opened.

"My love, I'm sorry we were so rudely interrupted before, but I had no idea your brother would drop in on us today."

She refused to blush. "Where is he?" she demanded.

"Why, in a guest bedchamber, of course, two doors from your own. Shall we collect him for dinner?"

Emerald bit her lip; she wanted to talk to Johnny alone. Sean held out a gallant arm and it would have seemed childish to rebuff him. When they stepped into the hall, John was there before them and they went down to the dining room together.

Sean pulled out her chair. "Will you sit between us, my love?"