He turned back to Montague. "Yer crew can unload the cargo onto the dock.

There's plenty lads about if they need a hand."

As usual Montague showed no curiosity regarding the cargo's final destination, which was likely the reason the two men had been able to deal together so long. William seemed only interested in the gold the shipment would bring him, and that was the way O'Toole wanted it. Montague left Jack to oversee the unloading and accompanied Shamus to the house.

"I didn't bring much ammunition for the guns, but I can supply you with a shipload next week."

"Good enough." Shamus nodded. "Get it as far as Anglesey, and we'll do the rest." When William looked relieved, Shamus chuckled inwardly; he'd bet a penny to a pinch of s.h.i.t the ammunition was already on Anglesey. Montague was too big a coward to transport a cargo of explosives that could blow him to kingdom come.

Wicked Willie had too many sins on his soul to meet his Maker with equanimity.

As Kathleen saw them approach she gave her father's arm a warning squeeze and stepped forward to greet Montague. "Welcome to the celebration, William."

When she offered him her hand, he took it to his lips, openly a.s.sessing the beauty of her face and form. She knew the Englishman found the FitzGerald women highly attractive. It was no wonder he'd lost his head entirely when fifteen-year-old Amber had cast her lure his way.

"I didn'i come alone. I've brought my son and daughter to ac quaint them with then mother's side of the family."

"And about time, too, but where is Amber?" Kathleen asked pointedly.

"She sends her regrets; her delicate const.i.tution makes a sea voyage a penance," William said smoothly.

If she can stomach you, she has a const.i.tution of iron, and as to penance, I suspect she pays that every day of her life. "I'll go and find them and make sure they are enjoying themselves. Father, pour William a double; by the sober look of him, he's a deal of catching up to do."

Edward FitzGerald and William Montague hadn't had dealings together in years, at least none that Montague was aware of, the earl thought wryly. He had given Montague one of his brother's daughters in marriage, knowing full well the little minx wouldn't take no for an answer. Amber had seduced the English aristocrat, all right, but only by being clever enough to refuse him s.e.xual liberties until he'd pro- posed marriage.

Edward poured him a gla.s.s of smoky Irish whisky. "Yer a fortunate man, Montague. Ye have something I was denied, a son." His firstborn, Kathleen, had been a twin, but her brother had been stillborn. "The daughter was inevitable, every FitzGerald dead or alive has produced one, but the odds were against a son."

"I understood you were one of twenty-three children. Your father obviously produced sons."

"Not many, and none save me who survived. One died in infancy, another three lived long enough to produce daughters before their early demise."

"So all the male FitzGeralds who crew the merchant ships are third generation," Montague concluded thoughtfully.

"They are indeed," said Edward, raising his gla.s.s. "A toast to grandsons!

Where would we be without them?"

William Montague cursed himself for a fool. The FitzGeralds were so numerous, he'd never given the succession a thought. Why had it never dawned on him before that Shamus O'Toole's eldest son was Edward FitzGerald's heir and the next Earl of Kildare? A plan almost lull blown came to him. Why not betroth his daughter, Emerald, to Joseph FitzGerald O'Toole? Perhaps a daughter could be of some use after all.

5.

Emerald caught her breath at the magnificence of the Georgian mansion in its perfect setting. So this is Castle Lies, she thought with a shiver of antic.i.p.ation as she scanned the throng, looking for a certain face. When she did not find it, she took her courage in both hands and approached a group of young FitzGeralds. "How do you do? I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

There was a moment's dead silence as the girls' eyes fixed upon the intruder and swept over her velvet-covered high b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Well, now, if it isn't the queen of England," said Fiona. The other girls laughed maliciously.

Emerald bravely swallowed the taunt and tried again. "I'm a Fitz-Gerald on my mother's side . . . I'm half Irish."

"Which half would that be? The top half?" Fiona drawled as two young men ogled Emerald's b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Sure, if she's Irish, she must be one of the little people," Dierdre suggested.

The warm blood drained from Emerald's cheeks. Never had she been more painfully aware of her small dark appearance.

"What's your name, then?" one of the girls asked.

"The lady's name is Emerald," a deep voice said from behind her.

Emerald turned and looked up into Scan O'Toole's dark laughing eyes and suddenly it didn't matter that the girls had been cruel to her. Nothing, mattered except he was there, laughing down at her, close enough to touch. She tossed her dark curls over her shoulder and gave him a radiant smile. "Happy birthday, Sean."

He grinned, remembering their last encounter. Her admiration for him was plain for all to see. His heart skipped a beat. A dose of hero worship on his birthday was no unpleasant thing. His gaze traveled over the green velvet gown that showed off her feminine curves, then he bent and whispered, "This fashionable lady is never Emerald Montague? How did you become a woman in one short week?"

She laughed up into his face, clearly delighted that he thought her grown-up.

Sean took hold of both her hands and heard her swift intake of breath as he gallantly lifted her fingers to his lips. He saw her eyes on his mouth and guessed she was wondering for the first time in her life what a man's kiss would be like. "I know what you want to do," he teased.

"What?" Emerald gasped, her cheeks rosy.

"Dance, of course. Shall we?" He offered his arm and when she took it, Sean twirled her across the lawn. He bent again to whisper, "We'll have to wait until we're alone to do the other."

With Sean's strong arms about her, Emerald felt as if she were floating on air.

Her heart sang with the nearness of him and excitement spiraled all about her. When the dance ended she was thrilled that Sean kept his arm about her, then swept her into the next dance as the music changed. She wanted to stay in his arms dancing and flirting forever.

His cousin, Fiona, tapped him on the shoulder. "Sean, you promised to dance with all of us."

"So I did," he said gallantly, but before he let Emerald go, he winked at her and whispered, "Meet me later at the stables."

The females, both old and young, now cl.u.s.tered about Sean, and as promised, he danced with every last one. When the fiddles struck up a familiar tune, the cry went up, "Give us a jig, Sean!" Always ready to oblige an audience, Sean jumped onto a keg of ale and danced the jig without missing a step, on a stage that measured less than a foot across.

Though he laughed and talked with everyone around him, Sean was acutely aware of Emerald. He knew the moment she headed in the direction of the stables, It took him less than a minute to get away from the FitzGerald cousins, but before he could follow Emerald, Shamus joined him for a quiet word.

"Did ye check on the guns from the Defense?"

"Yes. The count was exact, but the ammunition's short."

Shamus nodded. "I'm aware. We'll have to get it ourselves from Anglesey."

They joined Montague, who stood talking with Edward FitzGerald and Joseph.

Disappointment had swept over Joseph like a cold wave when he saw that Amber had not accompanied William Montague. He was drawn to the Englishman's side despite his aversion to the man, in hope of hearing him speak her name. Joseph was beginning to suspect he was badly infected with the disease known as love.

Montague said, "I appreciate the invitation, Shamus, and I'd like to extend one of my own. Since Joseph here is being groomed for politics, I offer the hospitality of my home in London for the season. It would give him the opportunity to sit in Parliament and the Commons and observe things from the other side. I could introduce him to some influential people. Don't forget my brother Sandwich has the entree to every great house in London, political and otherwise, and he's a crony of the Prince of Wales himself."

Shamus looked at his father-in-law to gauge his reaction. FitzGerald hated the British Parliament with a vengeance.

Edward smiled at Shamus and said with n.o.ble tolerance, "London would be an invaluable learning experience for Joseph. Though I hope it will never happen, I am cynic enough to realize that one day the parliaments of Ireland and England could be united."

Suddenly the idea of London appealed to Joseph immensely because Amber would be returning there soon. He held out his hand to Montague. "Thank you for the invitation. I have sailed into the Pool of London with cargoes, but I've never had an opportunity to enjoy London's social life."

"I'm returning to London earlier than usual this year. The Admiralty has its hands full with this French business. Another fortnight in Liverpool is all they will allow me."

Sean bit down on his lips to stop himself from laughing in their faces.

Joseph's brains were all in his c.o.c.k at the moment, Still, he wouldn't say no himself to a visit to London. It was the world's center for merchant shipping and with the war in France the opportunities for profit would be rife. Sean caught Joseph's eye and the brothers excused themselves and strolled off in the direction of the stables.

"Are you insane, Joseph? The l.u.s.t on your face was written plain for everyone to read. When he offered his hospitality, it didn't include tupping his wife. Christ, Joseph, stop l.u.s.ting after forbidden fruit. Get yourself laid this afternoon. We are crotch-deep in willing wenches today. Open your eyes and see what's beneath your nose."

Joseph stared after his brother as Sean went into the stables. By G.o.d, why hadn't he seen what was under his very nose? Montague would be here the rest of the day, while Amber was alone on Anglesey. Joseph smiled. I will get myself laid this afternoon! He headed for the house to retrieve the present he had for his love.

As soon as he had seen the precious amber in a cargo from the Baltic Sea, he knew she would love a pair of earrings with their sun-spangled inclusions.

When Sean entered the stables, he found Emerald admiring his new Thoroughbred. "h.e.l.lo again, Beauty. This fellow is Lucifer."

"I guessed he was yoursa"he suits you. He looks dangerous."

Sean laughed. "Meaning I look dangerous too?"

She gave him a provocative sideways glance. "Perhaps."

"We're both gentle as lambs," he teased, "let me show you." Sean rubbed the stallion's long black nose, then, resting his hand against the sleek neck, mounted onto its bare back. "Would you like to come up?" he invited.

When Emerald hesitated, he urged, "Don't be afraid."

She tossed her curls at him. "I'm not afraid." The moment she stepped close, he swooped down and lifted her before him with powerful hands. "Ooh!" she cried breathlessly, clinging to the black mane.

He set her between his thighs. "I won't let you fall." As he slipped an arm about her tiny waist, the scent of her hair stole to him. He lifted it, then set his lips to the nape of her neck and felt her shiver. "You're the prettiest girl here today."

Sean's head shot up as someone came into the stables. "d.a.m.n!" A formally dressed youth stared up at them. "Emerald, I've been looking for you."

"Johnny! This is Sean O'Toole." She slipped down from the horse guiltily.

"You must be Emerald's brother. Welcome to Greystones."

The youth flushed to his eyebrows. "Hallo, Ia"I hope you don't mind my looking through the stables, I'm mad about horses."

"Of course I don't mind," Sean said, trying to put the timid boy at ease. So this is Montague's son. He looks afraid of his own shadow, no wonder his father terrifies the s.h.i.t out of him.

"He's a beauty," Johnny said, reaching out a hand to stroke Lucifer's neck.

"Do you plan to race him?"

"Possibly," Sean said, dismounting. "Are you interested in racing?"

"Oh, yes," Johnny said eagerly. "My mother has told me Kildare is the center of Irish horse racing. What I wouldn't give to see the Curragh. Is it still the same as it was when she lived there?"

Sean nodded. "Yes, it's a plain of luxuriously thick gra.s.s that stretches for five thousand acres without a fence or a tree."

"Johnny is good with horses," Emerald said proudly.

Opening up to Sean's warm personality, Johnny confided, "I'd like to breed them, but my father has very different ideas. He's shoving me into the Admiralty, even though the sea terrifies me and I suffer dreadfully from mal de mer."

"That's too bad, I was going to invite you to have a look at my new schooner, later." Sean glanced at Emerald, silently inviting her to his ship.

"Thanks, but I'd rather stay here with the horses, if you don't mind," Johnny replied.

"Be my guest. Sometime you'll have to visit Greystones without your father and we'll go to the Curragh and watch the races."

"G.o.d, I'd like that!" Johnny impulsively shook Sean's hand. Not many young men befriended him and he could hardly believe O'Toole, who captained his own ship, had treated him as an equal.

"I'd better get back to the celebration," Sean said, excusing himself.

When he'd gone, Johnny said to Emerald, "This place is fabulous, are you enjoying yourself?"

Emerald wrinkled her nose. "I was, until you interrupted us."

"You shouldn't have been alone with him."

"You didn't give us a chance to be alone!"

"I'm sorry," he relented. "Go and find him, you don't have to stay here with me."

As Emerald walked past the stone bal.u.s.trade, Kathleen O'Toole's graceful skirts swept down the steps of the terrace. "Why, there you are, I've been looking everywhere for you, darling." She took Emerald's small hand in hers. "Come with me so we can have a private word."

Emerald was led into a magnificent receiving room. Kathleen sat her on a cushioned window seat overlooking a walled garden and placed a gla.s.s of wine in her hand. "I'm Kathleen O'Toole; now, then, tell me how my dearest cousin Amber fares."

Emerald realized the lady was Sean's mother and an older cousin to her mother. With great daring she swallowed a mouthful of wine and then another. Her words came in a rush. "My mother is well, but she longs to come home for a visit.

My father will never let her ... I think he's afraid she would never come back to him."

Kathleen's heart turned over at Emerald's innocent confidence. "Well, now, she's a beautiful young woman and we cannot fault your father for being possessive of her."

"She misses the FitzGerald clan fiercely. I tried to make friends with the cousins, but because I'm from England they think me an enemy."

As Kathleen looked at the exquisite elfin creature, gowned in fine velvet, she could easily believe the FitzGerald females had behaved like jealous cats. "Darling child, you've got hold of the mucky end of the stick. The FitzGeralds saw no farther than your velvet gown and lovely high b.r.e.a.s.t.s. One look was enough to tell them you'd steal the lion's share of attention. Go back to the dancing and enjoy yourself.

Isn't this my sons' birthday celebration?"

Emerald finished the delicious wine and confided, "I met your son on Anglesey when he came on Admiralty business."

Kathleen watched her black lashes flutter to her cheeks and saw the pretty blush transform her face. They both glanced up as a tall figure descended the staircase in the entrance hall. For a moment Emerald mistook the dark head for Sean's and Kathleen heard her swift intake of breath.