Dream Lover Part 22

They were halfway up the gangplank before the man on deck watch saw them and lifted his lantern to discover who was boarding the ship.

"Good evening, sor, I'll inform Cap'n FitzGerald yer aboard. It won't be long before the tide turns." An eerie shout came from the fog and an answer floated down from the yardarm.

"Tell the captain once I get my lady settled, I'll join him at the wheel. An extra pair of eyes wouldn't go amiss on a night like this," Scan called.

"Aye, aye, sor."

The companionway was dim belowdecks. Wisps of fog turned the light from the ship's lanterns a sulphurous yellow.

Inside the main cabin the bosun from the Heron sat waiting in the dark. He'd simply walked aboard with the barrel of gunpowder on his shoulder while kegs of illegal French brandy were being loaded in the hold. When he heard footsteps approaching, he held his breath and raised the bra.s.s-barreled boarding pistol chest high.

Sean turned the k.n.o.b on the cabin door. As it swung open the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end like raised hackles. One hand swept Emerald behind him while the other drew a small, deadly pistol from his belt. Sean's heart was in his mouth, for though his pistol was loaded and primed, there was no powder in the touch hole for safety reasons. Before he could tilt the gun and tap the powder, the intruder struck a flint and set it to a hurricane lamp.

"It's a b.l.o.o.d.y good thing ye didn't shoot or ye'd have blown us straight to h.e.l.l," said a mocking Irish voice.

"Is it Dannya"Danny FitzGerald?" Sean hadn't seen him in over five years.

"What the devil are you doing?"

Danny tapped the barrel of gunpowder sitting on the map table. "I'm here to blow up the Half Moon, an' a b.l.o.o.d.y easy task it would have bin. Yer security is nonexistent. Ye have enemies out therea"I know, I work for 'um."

"My father told me he had FitzGeralds aboard every Montague vessel."

He nodded. "I'm bosun on the Heron. I go by the name of Daniels. I report regularly to the Murphy brothers."

"My thanks, Danny, for your loyalty to the O'Tooles."

Danny shrugged. "Shamus pays me well."

"My captain and crew will feel the rough edge of my tongue over this business."

"What can ye expect from b.l.o.o.d.y FitzGeralds?" he asked with a straight face.

Emerald was trying to piece together what had happened. "Did my father pay you to blow up Sean's ship?"

"Yer husband."

"Jack? Oh, my G.o.d! Sean, he wants to kill you." She began trembling.

He winked at her. "I wonder why?"

"It's because of me," she whispered, not sharing his amus.e.m.e.nt. Her eyes flooded with tears.

"Well, it will take a better man than Jack Raymond, my beauty." He sat her down and poured her a stiff drink. "Sip slowly on this. I'll be back shortly."

They heard the anchor chain being raised through the hawsehole. "Tide's turning," Danny said, heading for the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Emerald cried.

"Sorry," Danny said, hauling the barrel of gunpowder to his shoulder. As he and Sean headed up the companionway he said, "I had to take his money before somebody else did. Most Montague crewmen would take a bribe."

"They certainly took my money," Sean said with irony.

"If the Montagues tried once, they may try again, closer to home."

"Forewarned is forearmed, Danny," Sean said, lifting the gunpowder from his shoulder. "Mr. FitzGerald!" he roared, striding down the deck toward his captain.

David FitzGerald's hands froze on the ship's wheel.

22.

As often happens, the night fog was a harbinger of heat. The next day, as the Half Moon pa.s.sed the Isle of Wight, the sun shone brilliantly and the English Channel experienced only a light westerly breeze.

Sean rigged a canopy so Emerald could spend the days up on deck watching the crew unfurl the sails and untangle the lines. She stared spellbound as the men, Sean included, climbed the rigging with the agility of monkeys.

The Half Moon took on fresh supplies and water when it reached Cornwall, where Sean took Emerald ash.o.r.e to explore Land's End. As they stood on the cliffs he slipped his arm about her and pointed across the glistening water.

"This is said to be the entrance to a fertile land, which was swallowed by the sea in the eleventh century. It reached all the way to the Scilly Isles, twenty-eight miles in yonder direction. From where we are standing, some people claim to have had visions of a lost city."

"Oh, yes, the legendary land of Lyonesse! My mother told me all about it when I was little. The domes and towers and battlements of the drowned land sometimes appear far out to sea."

"Do you believe in myths and legends, Emerald?"

"Yes, yes!" she said pa.s.sionately. "Don't you?"

He gazed out to sea, his eyes reflecting silver in the clear light. He shook his head. "I used to, once upon a time. Hang on to your childhood beliefs and memories, Emerald. Don't let them slip away as mine did."

His reflective, melancholy mood lasted all through the next day as he pointed out landmarks along the coast of Wales, recounting their haunting legends. Then he showed her how to predict the weather by observing the brooding mountains. "If their heads are shrouded in mist, run for cover; but if you can see clear to the highest peaks, it will be sultry, as it has been the last couple of days."

Sean pointed out the different seabirds and taught her their names. Soon she could tell razorbills and petrels from gulls and gan-nets. On the third day she joined him at the wheel while he relieved David FitzGerald by navigating the Half Moon from St. George's Channel into the Irish Sea.

At his urging she took the wheel, feeling most daring, yet knowing his powerful arms were ready to correct any mistakes she might make. "Guess where we are heading," he murmured into her ear as his hands covered hers.

She looked up at him over her shoulder and saw the teasing light in his eyes.

Realizing his introspective mood had vanished, her heart quickened with excitement.

"Give me a hint."

He smiled down at her. "I'd better take the wheel now; the Menai Strait is a bit narrow."

"Anglesey!" she breathed joyously.

"Your memories of the island are happy ones. I want to make more memories today. Unforgettable ones. Memories to cherish. I want you and me to be able to look back on the next few hours as the happiest of our lives."

They left the crew swimming in the warm turquoise waters and, hand in hand, sought out their crystal cave. They undressed in silence, each knowing that the most sacred rituals should be performed naked. All their senses and thoughts were attuned to each other.

In wonder they explored the glittering labyrinth whose walls were encrusted with diamondlike crystals. To them this high-vaulted cavern would always be a place of enchantment; its pool made magic by a myriad of dancing rainbows. In awe they touched its jeweled walls, then dipped their toes into the gin-clear water.

Sean watched Emerald flaunt her beauty before him in the iridescent light and shadow. His silver eyes told her just how lovely he found her.

Emerald, watching Sean's dark, powerful beauty, allowed herself to become intoxicated by his nearness. He had taught her how to feel, how to appreciate the beauty of colors and sounds and to live to the full in the present moment, separating it from past and future.

When he took her hand and they slipped into the pool together, they were transported to a magic realm. Emerald felt her skin tighten, her blood tingle with excitement, her body stir with arousal, and her heart overflow with love. Being here together was perfectly sublime . . . sublimely perfect.

Their mood became playful as they swam and splashed. She climbed upon his back, her arms clinging to his neck, as he dived deep, playing dolphin to her undine.

Underwater, as they played and kissed, they felt the world recede, leaving them alone in their intimate paradise. Since neither had any fear of water, their play was both intemperate and incautious, plumbing the depths of joy and freedom until at last she threw herself with quivering abandon into his arms.

Sean lifted her onto the ledge and levered himself up beside her. As he enfolded her in his arms she felt such a heady bond of trust and love, she whispered, "Only you can hold me close and make me feel free."

By mutual consent, but without the need for words, they left their clothes where they lay and emerged from the crystal cave into the hot sun. The coral sand beckoned and neither wanted to resist its pagan temptation. Emerald lay down and stretched her limbs blissfully, letting the heat from the sand beneath her seep into her body.

She closed her eyes and knew it would be impossible to feel happier than she did at this moment. Sean FitzGerald O'Toole was her entire world. She could not imagine not knowing him, not watching the lithe way he moved, not hearing his deep voice murmur her name. Without him she had been lost; with him she felt complete.

Surely a love this strong would last throughout eternity.

As Emerald lay on the sugary sand in the sunlight, a delicious sense of antic.i.p.ation spiraled about her, dancing on the soft sea breeze that ruffled her dark curls. She felt a sense of joy that went beyond happiness, for she knew that soon, soon he would love her.

She kept her eyes closed until she felt a flutter, like a b.u.t.terfly wing, touch the corner of her mouth. She smiled a secret smile and slowly lifted her lashes. He knelt before her, watching her intently, his dark pewter eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with laughter.

Holding his gaze, she came to her knees slowly and knelt before him.

They needed no words, yet the longing to touch was like a hunger in the blood. At the same moment each reached out to the other to trace with their fingertips ... a cheek, a throat, a shoulder. Emerald's hand brushed his heart and felt it thud beneath her fingers. He was the perfect male. He was her Irish Prince.

He bent to capture her lips with his, and when he was a heartbeat away, Emerald began to whisper his name with heart-scalding hunger. "Sean, Sean."

He set his mouth against her throat so that she would not stop saying his name. "Your skin feels like hot silk. I love to touch you and taste you when you are heated by the sun." He ran his fingertips along the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down to her navel, then dipped them between her legs to touch her woman's center. He lifted his fingertips to her mouth. "Taste," he insisted.

She licked once, tasting herself, then watched with slumberous eyes as he sucked her honeyed essence from his fingertips. The things he did to her never failed to make her feel wild and wicked.

Sean laid her back on the sun-drenched sand and spread her hair about her heart-shaped face in a dark halo. His eyes were stained black with pa.s.sion. He felt so possessive of her, it bordered on obsession. He told himself that it was because their time together would be fleeting. It compelled him to enjoy her to the full while he had her.

If onlya"he clenched his fists and stopped the thought before he could complete it. He forced himself to stop thinking. He could see and hear and smell and taste and touch. It would have to be enough. He must not complicate matters with his dark thoughts. She might not conceive for months, a year mayhap; he did not have to give her up yet.

He had taught her to live in the moment, to savor the here and now. They were together this minute. That was all that mattered. He would make them experience a thousand days and nights in one shin-ing, unforgettable hour. Desire was running rampant through his Mood, but he banked the fires so he could concentrate on Emerald's pleasure.

He had not counted on her scalding pa.s.sion. Her legs slithered high about his back, then she arched so high, she impaled herself upon his thick, pulsing shaft. He had taught her to take what she wanted without pause and it gave him deep satisfaction that she demanded everything he was capable of giving her.

He knew what she loved best so he plunged and withdrew, over and over, deeper each time, until she gasped and writhed and clung. Each time he withdrew, her body mourned the loss as the high peak of sensation receded. But immediately he rebuilt it, so that each time she peaked higher.

Never had either of them been so hot as they made love upon the burning sand with the blistering sun beating down on their bare flesh. Both were burning on the outside, afire on the inside, their blood like a river of flame, running from one to the other until both were completely out of control in their raging need.

The brilliant gold behind Emerald's eyelids flashed into flaming orange, turned to bloodred, then deepened to purple. She hung on the precipice of the volcano for long, exquisite minutes, then, when she could bear the intense pleasure no longer, they erupted together, both shuddering uncontrollably as he flooded into her.

They lay in each other's arms for a full hour, kissing and whispering love words as if they were in a world apart. When Emerald closed her eyes to drowse, he studied her face intently, so he could remember forever what she looked like on this special day. They wanted it to last forever and stayed until the sun began to sink into the sea.

When they finally meandered back to the ship, the crew surprised them with a mouthwatering feast supplied by the ocean. They had built a fire of driftwood on the beach to cook the fish, shrimp, and lobster they had found in such abundance among the rocks. The sun, the sand, and the sea, combined with the broiled sh.e.l.lfish, ensured that their day ended on a perfect note.

The Half Moon didn't reach Greystones until full dark that night. Sean and Emerald climbed the path that took them up to the big house slowly, their arms about each other's waists, her head leaning on him, not quite reaching his shoulder.

Neither or them wanted the day to end, but the sun and the sea air, their play and their pa.s.sion, had exhausted the last ounce of Emerald's energy.

Sean carried her upstairs and undressed her, while Emerald could do no more than yawn her head off. He slipped into bed beside her and curved his long body against her back with one possessive arm firmly about her. As she drifted into sleep a smile curved her mouth; without a doubt Emerald knew she had never felt better.

Emerald couldn't recall feeling worse in her entire life! She hung over the edge of the big bed, vomiting into the chamber pot. Kate Kennedy, hearing Emerald's distress, hurried into the master bedchamber. The scene before her gave her pause.

"Yer breeding," she announced in her direct way.

Emerald lifted a pale, woebegone face. "That's what I've been thinking." No sooner had she uttered the sentence than she was swept with another great wave of nausea. She groaned, lowered her head once again, and voided what remained of her stomach contents into the china pot.

When her sickness subsided, Kate changed the sheets and helped Emerald bathe. Though Kate's tongue was sometimes sharp, her actions were usually kindness itself. In truth, she enjoyed having Emerald at Greystones. When Kathleen died, the heart and soul of Greystones seemed to have perished with her. Emerald had brought the big stone house back to life.

As Emerald nibbled on some dry toast and sipped a little watered wine, her heart soared. She was secretly elated at the thought of a child. The only reason she had allowed her father to coerce her into marriage, was so that she could have children. Knowing that it was Sean O'Toole who had planted the seed of a child made her heart dizzy with happiness.

The only thing that worried her was Sean's reaction. He was an unpredictable man and a domineering one, who was only happy when he could control people and events. If a baby was not in his scheme of things, perhaps he would be angered at the news.

The dry toast and watered wine made her symptoms miraculously vanish.

Emerald chose- one of her prettiest gowns, took great pains with her hair, then went down to Greystones's library to sort through the hooks that had been brought over from Maynooth. The leather-bound volumes gave her a great deal of pleasure. She found that opening a book was like opening a window on the world. Perhaps in the afternoon when she visited Shamus she would take a book and read to him.

"So this is where you're hiding."

She looked up in surprise as Sean came into the library; she hadn't even heard him approach. "You look very beautiful in yellow. The sun has turned your skin to gold and I believe those are authentic Irish freckles across the bridge of your nose."

Emerald was dying to share her news with him, but didn't quite know how to broach the delicate subject. "You were up early this morning."

"You were sound asleep; I couldn't bear the thought of disturbing you."

"When I awoke, I was quite ill. Kate thinks I'm breeding," she blurted.

"Utter nonsense!" Sean declared. "Too much lobster would be my guess." He drew close with a worried frown and cupped her cheek. "Perhaps you have a touch of sunstroke."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm feeling much better now."

"Good. I want you to take it easy today. Our strenuous exertions yesterday were enough to undo both of us." He winked. "I'm delighted to see that you also enjoy less physical activities such as reading."

He wanted to see her blush and she obliged him. "I could stay in this library a year and still be entertained. There's simply everything here: mythology, fairy tales, legends, adventures, history, geography. Do you think your father would enjoy some of these?"

"I'm sure he would, especially if you accompanied the books. I believe he has developed quite an infatuation. Looking at a beautiful woman is much more interesting than looking through a spygla.s.s all day."

After Sean left, she pondered on his words and reaction. He was so totally convinced there was another explanation for her sickness, that she, too, was persuaded. When her nausea returned the next morning, however, and persisted with regularity every other morning for a week, Emerald began to reconsider.