As Sean had planned, he sailed down the Irish coast to the seaport where Emerald's mother lived. As the Sulphur dropped anchor in the Bay of Wicklow, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had known of Amber FitzGerald Montague's whereabouts as soon as he returned to Ireland. Mr. Burke told Sean all about her arrival the day before they buried his grandfather, and how Shamus had provided the money she used to set herself up in business.

Sean had hated her for years because she was a Montague and for the part she had played in Joseph's destruction, but he had begun to realize that Emerald loved her mother deeply and longed to be reunited with her. He decided to see the woman for himself; talk to her, question her. Only then would he make the decision about inviting her to Greystones. After what Montague did to her, she must hate the man almost as much as Sean did himself. Perhaps she would make a better ally than enemy. Perhaps he could use her, too.

Sean left his crew aboard and disembarked his ship. He walked past the boardinghouses and grog shops that lined the docks and made his way to the more affluent end of town. He went up the steps of an elegant stone house at the end of a long street and lifted the heavy bra.s.s door knocker. He was shown into a business office by a maid in a starched cap and asked to wait.

Amber FitzGerald entered her office briskly, then her footsteps taltered as she came face to face with the gentleman who was waiting to see her. She was shrewdly knowledgeable about men, usually able to size them up in a glance, but this one was different. He had the most arresting lace she had ever seen, as well as the proudest carriage, and darkest eyes.

It was possible to tell his age. Though not advanced in years, there was nothing youthful about him. Dressed dramatically in black, he was, she saw immediately, a figure of authority. He looked like a man who would break the rules if it suited his own purpose; he looked dangerous.

Amber knew she had never laid eyes on him before and yet there was a vaguely familiar quality about him, as if she should have been able to guess his ident.i.ty immediately.

Sean O'Toole found it difficult to believe that the ravishing young woman before him could be old enough to be Emerald's mother. He looked more closely and saw the fine lines about her eyes and mouth. They did not diminish her attractiveness; rather they added to her allure, hinting at worldly experience.

Her gray silk gown was tastefully elegant and understated, yet it was a clever foil for her blazing hair. He watched her mouth curve into an easy smile, expressing complete confidence that she could handle any man breathing. Joseph's words stole to him from the past: If you could see her, you'd understand. And now he did understand. Perfectly. She was feminine down to her fingertips; exactly like Emerald, except for her coloring.

"I am Sean O'Toole."

Amber's eyes widened. How could this possibly be the young Irish Prince her little girl had fallen in love with? He had a stark male beauty an older woman of vast experience might appreciate, but how could such satanic looks appeal to a child?

Looking at him brought all Joseph's essence rushing back to her, making her gasp at the bittersweet memories.

"Please ... sit down." Her hand indicated an elegant gilt chair. She poured him Irish whisky and a small gla.s.s of dry sherry for herself, then she sat in the chair opposite his, rather than placing the barrier of her desk between them.

"I know what he did to me, and I have learned what he did to Joseph, but I can only imagine what he did to you."

"No"a"he slowly shook his heada""I don't believe you can, Amber."

As he spoke, she watched his face, his eyes, and felt some measure of his pain. She realized he was greatly altered both on the inside and on the outside. "You survived."

Again, he slowly shook his head. "Not wholly. Much of me died." Why was he telling her these things? Perhaps because she was a man's woman, easy to talk to, and she, too, had suffered and survived, but not wholly. "The part of me that survived lives for revenge."

"I understand that concept. It almost consumed me, until I learned to set it aside until the moment of reckoning arrives. All things come at their appointed time."

Sean sipped his whisky, rolling it about his tongue, savoring it. "That is a plat.i.tude that has helped you survive. I am too impatient to await the sands of time.

The first thing that died in me was my faith in G.o.d. I replaced it with faith in myself."

"Perhaps it is simply pride. When we are forced to do degrading things, the heart swells with hatred and pride."

"I have no heart, no conscience, no fear, no love, no pity, no shame."

"If most of your emotions are dead, will you be capable of enjoying your revenge when you take it?"

"Pa.s.sionately; I am quite capable of hatred. I am well along the road of revenge. These days I simply think of it as justice."

Amber smiled. "We are so alike." She knew he was here for a purpose and since he had only one purpose in life, he meant to use her. Well, let him try. She had learned to turn the tables on men. Now it was she who used them.

"What do you know of your children?"

Amber's heart lurched, then stopped for a moment. Dear G.o.d, how vulnerable she became at the mere mention of them. "I know nothing, save the fact that they are children no longer." She could not conceal the longing in her eyes; she hungered for news of them.

"Your daughter is wed to Jack Raymond."

Amber shot to her feet, her hand clutching her breast. "That wh.o.r.eson married my precious Emerald to his brother's b.a.s.t.a.r.d? I'll kill him!"

"At the present time she lives with me at Castle Lies."

Relief washed over her. Emerald had loved Sean O'Toole since she was a child. Amber's relict was short lived. Had he not just told her he could not love? Had he not referred to Greystones as "Castle Lies"? Sean O'Toole had an agenda; he would use anything and anyone to accomplish it. He held her daughter in the palm of his hand. What about her son? She looked at Sean's hands encased in black leather, and she shuddered.

"What of Johnny?"

"He is far shrewder than his father ever dreamed. We are allies, just as William and Shamus once were."

"No good ever came from a FitzGerald-Montague alliance," she said bluntly.

"I do not seek good. I have the means to ruin Montague financially and to utterly destroy his reputation, but I shan't be satisfied until I have heaped humiliation upon Montague and Raymond in the eyes of the world." His eyes glittered dangerously. "I have such a weapon in my hands." He veiled the hatred in his eyes and turned to the reason that had brought him. "Amber, will you come to Greystones, for a visit with Emerald?"

She paced to the desk and back, wondering if Emerald would ever forgive her. It didn't matter. She would sell her soul for a chance to be with her daughter again. d.a.m.n you, Sean O'Toole, you knew when you came here what my answer would be.

Amber opened her mouth, then shut it again and paced to the desk one more time. She turned to face him. "I will come if you give me your word about something."

"Your secret is safe with me, madam. I will not tell Emerald that you own a brothel."

26.

The raging sea calmed, the wind dropped, and the autumn sun reappeared.

Though Emerald did not believe that G.o.d had answered her prayers, nevertheless she offered up thanks as she sipped Tara's potion that banished her morning sickness.

When she was dressed she went along to Nan's bedchamber, thinking a ride in the sunshine would do them good. Perhaps Nan could teach her to be a better horsewoman. When she opened the door, she was dismayed to find Nan with her fair head hanging over the edge of the bed, vomiting into the chamber pot.

"Oh, dear, no," Emerald murmured softly.

Nan raised startled eyes. "I must have eaten something that upset my stomach."

"Nan," Emerald said softly, "there's no need to pretend with me. You are likely having a baby. I know all about morning sickness; I, too, am with child."

"G.o.d in heaven, what am I to do?"

"The first thing is to stop your nausea. I'll get Tara."

"No, you must not!" Nan cried with alarm.

"She knows about me and the shock didn't kill her."

"Oh, Emerald, it's nor the same," Nan moaned.

"I'll get you sonic of my chamomile and rose. I'll be right back."

When Nan's retching finally ceased, Emerald bathed her face and hands.

"I don't want Tara to know. She'll tell my mother and I shall bring terrible shame down upon her."

"Which one is your mother?" Emerald asked, feeling embarra.s.sed that she couldn't keep the FitzGeralds straight.

"Maggie is my mother."

"Oh, dear," Emerald said, knowing immediately that chast.i.ty was exceedingly high on that good woman's list.

"I'm so sorry that you, too, are in trouble, Emerald. But no one would dare challenge the earl, or breathe one word of criticism about you."

"Ha! You should have heard the things Father Fitz said to me yesterday, and he doesn't even know I've conceived. In his eyes and in G.o.d's, I'm an adulteress!

Neither you nor Johnny is married, so it's not nearly the sin I've committed."

"Is Sean happy about it?"

Emerald reflected a minute before she answered. "I'm not sure. One thing is certain, he isn't delirious. He refused to believe it until last week at Maynooth."

"Men are funny," Nan murmured. "Johnny won't believe me either; we only did it once. He'll be that angry with me."

"d.a.m.n it all, Nan, it's you who should be angry at Johnny, not the other way about! Nan, the FitzGeralds will find out sooner or later. A pregnancy isn't something you can hide for too many months."

"Can I stay here?"

"Of course you may, but Sean will find out."

"OhmiG.o.d, he'll be furious with me!"

Emerald silently agreed with her.

"Please don't tell him?" Nan pleaded.

"I won't tell him."

"And don't tell Johnny?"

"Nan, I won't, but you should tell him. He should marry youa" and sooner rather than later."

"Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"The FitzGeralds may not agree. They hate the English in general and the Montagues in particular."

Nan rocked herself back and forth, trying to find a way out of her terrible predicament. "If the earl approval, they'd capitulate. Emerald, you must start working on him the minute he gets back. Don't mention the baby, but suggest that your brother should marry a FitzGerald. A few hints at the right time wouldn't go amiss and might make him amenable to the idea."

Emerald rolled her eyes. G.o.d Almighty, the girl hadn't the faintest notion of Sean's immalleable personality. "Do you feel better? I'll get Tara to mix up some more of her magic elixir, without letting on to her that she's making it for two."

Emerald realized they wouldn't be riding this morning. "I want you to stay in bed and rest. I'll take a book up to Shamus and read to him. He enjoys it so much, and it will keep Tara away from you."

When Emerald arrived in the watchtower, Tara had just given Shamus a limb rub with the ointment she had mixed from the root of iris. His spygla.s.s lay forgotten on the windowsill and he looked more relaxed and contented than Emerald had ever seen him.

"I've come to read to you. I hope this is more to your liking than the last book I brought."

"What is it, Beauty?" he asked eagerly.

"It's Marco Polo's Travels."

"Ah, just the ticket to fuel my wanderl.u.s.t." He winked.

Emerald settled herself beside him and, becoming as engrossed as her audience, didn't stop reading for almost two hours. Finally she closed the book.

"My throat is dry as a bone."

"Tara, pour us all a dram. What's yer poison, my beauty?"

Tara poured Shamus whisky, but for herself and Emerald she served a liqueur that tasted of pears.

"This is delicious. Did you make it, Tara?"

"Of course I made it. I spend hours in the stillroom communing with nature."

As she sipped her drink, Emerald said reflectively, "I didn't realize Nan was Maggie's daughter."

Shamus chuckled. "Maggie, now, there's a straitlaced woman for you.

Wouldn't approve of your brewing intoxicants from pears."

"Nor of your whisky imbibing," agreed Tara. "She's the next one to spend a month at Greystones."

The chuckle left Shamus's voice. "Why is it women enjoy depriving; men of their pleasure?'"

Emerald stood up and squeezed his hand. "Not all women, Shamus." She picked up his spygla.s.s and lifted it to her eye. "Some of us understand what pleasure is all about." Suddenly, she gasped as if she had seen something she couldn't believe. She put the gla.s.s to her other eye to make sure. "He's home! Sean's home!" She dropped the gla.s.s into Shamus's lap, lifted her skirts in both hands, and began to run.

"By the Virgin, I'll bet my son understands what pleasure is all about!"

Emerald ran down the tower steps, then beneath the arch of the gatehouse and across the lawns that led to the short causeway above Greystones's harbor.

Breathless, she paused to watch the Sulphur dock at the stone jetty; it was truly a beautiful sight. Her eyes traveled the deck, skimming over the dark heads until she saw him at the wheel. There was no mistaking the tall figure, garbed in black. The moment she saw him she began to wave frantically. When he raised a black-gloved hand, she began to hurry down the long descent to the jetty.

Emerald could hardly contain her excitement as she waited impatiently for him to disembark. She was so glad she had donned the soft peach wool gown this morning, for she knew how flattering it was. As he came striding toward her, she cried out his name with joy, "Sean . . . Sean," and then she was enclosed in powerful arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

"Oh, I missed you. ... I love you. ... I missed you so much," she cried between kisses.