"I don't know, Johnny, I hope so. She'll never be robust. We'll just have to coddle her; wrap her in cotton wool and never let our guard down."

"Being a good father is quite a responsibility. I've been thinking ... if one of the tenant horse farms belonging to Maynooth becomes available, I'd like to rent it from you and try my hand at breeding horses.a "I had a bigger job in mind. How about taking over the management of Maynooth for me? The stables, paddocks, and pastureland are vast. Some of the FitzGerald lads are good grooms and stable-hands, but none has a head for business. In the old days my grandfather bred the finest racehorses in Kildare. I think you are the man to restore the Maynooth stables to their former glory."

John Montague couldn't believe what Sean was offering him. "Where's the catch?" he asked slowly.

"I owe you, John. You did everything I ever asked of you, and I asked some rotten things. When I financially ruined your father, it left you penniless. When you threw in your lot with me, I vowed you'd never be sorry." Sean handed him an envelope. "This is the deed to Portman Square. It's yours, not mine. You've earned it." Sean's mouth quirked with irony. "Another reward I had in mind was Nan FitzGerald."

"I couldn't help myself," Johnny explained.

"On the contrary, you b.l.o.o.d.y well helped yourself handsomely!" And the two men laughed.

Before Sean went upstairs, he knew there was something he had to do that could wait no longer. He wrapped himself in his black cloak and slipped along to the chapel. He did not beg forgiveness for anything he had done. He would never have called the tune if he had not been willing to pay the piper. But he did give thanks to G.o.d for his children. He promised to guard them with his life and asked humbly, for Emerald's sake, that Kathleen be allowed to live.

35.

Every afternoon for a week Sean carried Emerald out onto the stone terrace so she could bask in the spring sunshine. The twins lay in an old-fashioned perambulator just outside the gla.s.s French doors, where Kate and the two young nursemaids could hear them if they so much as whimpered.

Nan, already up and about, brought her new son outside to join them. Nan had so much milk, she sometimes fed Emerald's son, as well as her own.

"Nan, I'm so grateful to you."

"Rubbish, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s get so full, they ache."

"No, no, I'm talking about Johnny. I've never seen him so happy. He's like a whole new man these days, and it's all due to you."

"He loves all the FitzGeralds and they love him. He actually seems to enjoy being part of the menagerie."

"He always needed a family to love, and now he has one."

"Sean, too, is a changed man. I never dreamed he'd be such a devoted father," Nan said. "The other night he was rocking both of them to sleep; one on each arm."

"He's the kind of man who puts a high value on something, only when lie's in danger of losing it," Emerald said lightly.

"He loves you very much, Emerald."

"Yes, I know that." But sometimes love isn't enough, thought Emerald.

Just as the afternoon shadows were starting to lengthen, Sean reappeared on the terrace.

"Did you dispatch the message to my mother?"

"I did, my love. I invited her to spend a month, if she can stand to be called 'Grandma.' "

"I've got to be walking properly by the time she gets here."

"Well, this is the day you've been waiting for. Are you sure you feel up to it?"

As he lifted her from the chaise, his lips tenderly brushed her brow.

"I've never been more sure."

"I'll miss carrying you about," he murmured.

"Oh, I'll still let you carry me, at least for a little while."

Sean carried her upstairs, knowing she would prefer privacy the first time she attempted to walk. His heart was in his mouth, his apprehension for her dangerously bordering on fear. He had been a stranger to fear for so long, yet these days fear for his wife and children never seemed to leave him.

He set her on the bed, lifted her skirts up to her hips, then removed the heavy bandage from her leg.

"Ooh, that feels sooo good," she breathed.

Sean skimmed his hands up both legs and over her thighs. "Mmm, you are absolutely right," he teased.

Emerald smiled, knowing he was using humor to cover his apprehension. She moved to the edge of the bed and set her feet to the carpet, then she looked down, comparing one leg with the other. It was a shade paler and slightly thinner than her other limb, but she hoped it would return to normal with exercise.

Sean held out his hand, but Emerald shook her head. "I must learn not to lean on you."

If her words hurt him, he did not show it.

Slowly, Emerald stood up so that her legs supported her full weight. She stood still for a full minute, waiting for the pain to start. When it did not, she felt bold enough to take a step. Suddenly, both legs felt very strange, as if they would buckle beneath her. Her knees dipped, she saw Sean brace himself to catch her, but then miraculously she straightened them and took three faltering steps. She grabbed the back of a chair to catch her breath.

"Does it hurt?" he demanded. She shook her head in wonder.

"Try it again," he encouraged, allowing his hopes to rise. Emerald turned to face him, then slowly put one foot in front of the other until she reached him.

Allowing his hopes to soar, he picked her up and swung her around. "You did it!" He kissed her soundly.

"Oh, isn't it marvelous? I want to exercise it every day. I want my legs to be stronger than they ever were. Will you take me riding tomorrow?"

"Easy does it, Emerald," he cautioned.

"Oh, I don't want to take it easy. I want to ride and swim and do so many things! How long? How long do you think before it's completely strong?"

The radiance on her face gave him untold pleasure. "With daily exercise and a nightly ma.s.sage it shouldn't take longer than a month." "I'll do it in less!" she vowed.

"I want you to teach me to dance a jig on a keg of ale."

"That's a bit ambitious, Irish." He laughed. "No, I want to do everything!" She moved against him temptingly, allowing her voice to become husky. "I want my legs to be very strong so I can do something extra special with them."

He pulled her against him, imagining her long legs wrapped high about his back. "Tell me what you want to do."

"Sean O'Toole, I want to kick your a.r.s.e all the way to Dublin for the cruel thing you did."

Sean laughed so hard, he rolled onto the bed and took her with him.

"Hallelujah! I despaired of your ever being contentious and willful again. I love your pa.s.sion and your anger. How long do you intend to go on punishing me?"

"For the rest of your life, of course." Though her words were said lightly, he saw the spark of green fire in her eyes and suddenly his apprehension was back. He had become so vulnerable where Emerald was concerned, she had the means to mortally wound him if she really should seek revenge.

She reached down to scratch her leg. "Oh, G.o.d, suddenly it's so itchy, I could tear it to ribbons."

"I prescribe a bath," he said, kissing her nose.

"A bath; what divine bliss! I haven't enjoyed a bath in almost two months."

"There's something else you haven't enjoyed in almost two months."

Emerald threaded her fingers into his thick dark hair and traced his top lip with the tip of her tongue. "Then why don't I let you start with the bath and we'll see where it leads?"

As he lifted her in his arms he suspected she was holding part of herself back from him. He decided she was giving him a taste of his own medicine and knew he would have to be very persuasive if he wanted everything. And Sean O'Toole did indeed want everything!

At the house in Portman Square, Jack Raymond also was learning to walk again, but he was not quite as lucky as his wife. His leg bone had sustained a far worse break than Emerald's and he had received no tender, loving care.

During the weeks he lay abed, Jack formed a hatred for William Montague that grew daily until it matched what he felt for William's offspring. He cursed the day he had ever been born into the Montague cesspool.

William, however, treated Jack as a friend and confidant, totally unaware of the hatred that festered beneath the surface. When he saw Jack limping, he brought him his favorite walking stick, the one he used when his gout plagued him.

"Here, lad, use this until your limp goes away."

Jack wanted to break it over the old swine's head. Did he not realize the limp would never go away?

"I'm glad you're back on your feet. Now we can get down to serious business."

The only business I'm interested in is murder: you and your f.u.c.king son; my faithless wife and her f.u.c.king lover!

"We are reduced to one lousy ship. I've had it on a coal run, earning a few stinking pounds. But I've had a bellyful of humiliation. It's time we struck back!"

"I'm listening," Jack ground out.

"The O'Tooles have everything that once belonged to me. They stole my ships, my daughter, and my beautiful wife. They even turned my own son against me, until now he's one of them!"

So, the yellow coward has run off to Ireland, Jack realized.

"I say we go and take back what's ours!" William shouted.

Are you mad, old man? I don't want anything back, I want everything destroyed! "What's your plan?" Jack asked, wondering if he could turn it to his own advantage.

"Well, we only have one ship, but we have two extra crews sitting idle. They haven't earned a penny since the Admiralty seized our vessels. With that many men, we could mount a raid and take back our ships. We could sail to Anglesey and use the island as our base. Castle Lies is only a few hours run from there. We'll be able to keep a watch on their activities; pick and choose when the cursed O'Tooles are most vulnerable."

"These sailors are cutthroats. We'll have to show them the color of our money."

"You round them up; I'll get the money." William was determined to finance this venture even if he had to strip the rooms bare.

Amber arrived in her own coach. The pair of high-stepping carriage horses were perfectly matched, and her driver's livery elegant enough for a d.u.c.h.ess. The coach was piled high with presents for her three grandchildren, for Emerald, and for her son's wife, Nan.

When Johnny walked proudly into the room carrying his son, Amber kissed them both and suddenly began to cry. "Don't cry, Mother, this is a happy occasion."

"It's been so long," she whispered helplessly.

Johnny handed the baby to Nan and took his mother in his arms.

"I know you'll make the best father who ever lived," Amber said, laughing through her tears.

"Not a bit of it," Sean O'Toole said, elbowing Johnny aside to show Amber his own son. "I'm the best father, just ask me."

Amber's tears vanished completely as she looked at the pair before her. The baby had jet-black hair and big round pewter eyes. "He's the spitting image of you."

"G.o.d help the poor little devil," chimed in Shamus from his chair beside the fire. "This calls for a celebration. Paddy! Fetch some of the good stuff from the cellars."

"Yer havin' no drink without food," Tara said firmly. "I'll help Mary Malone rustle up some dacent refreshments."

"I liked ye better when ye were doolally," Shamus declared. The teasing had started and no one was spared.

Sean said, "Ah, at last, here comes the beauty of the family."

Johnny teased, "Emerald thinks you mean her."

Amber winked. "She always was a vain little witch."

"I take after my mother." Emerald laughed.

"My daughter's beauty really puts her mother's in the shade," Sean explained to Amber.

Emerald knelt beside her mother to show her Kathleen. The little female with the rosebud mouth had tiny spirals of curls about her heart-shaped face, and eyes like green emeralds.

"Why, she's the spitting image of you," Amber declared, then laughed when she realized she had repeated herself.

"We've been so worried about her, but I think she's finally started to pick up,"

Emerald explained.

"Let me have her. I think she will do just fine. You were always undersize; no bigger than a farthing."

"But she made up for it with cheek," Johnny teased.

The celebration lasted until dark. Greystones hadn't rung with so much laughter in years. There was a tussle among Kate, Tara, Maggie, and Amber over who would bathe the babies.

"My G.o.d, there's no pecking order around here. I say the grandmother should be in charge," Amber declared.

"Well, now, since I'm the grandmother, I agree with ye," Maggie said with triumph.

"Yer all flown with wine," Tara accused.