She began to feel the flames flickering throughout her body once more as he did this, and she ran her hand down his long back to fondle a taut buttock with teasing fingers. "Witch!" he growled at her, nipping playfully on her sentient flesh and beginning to feel his own hunger rising once more. She bit at his earlobe, and then ran her tongue about the shell of his ear, whispering shamelessly to him how he made her feel at this moment. "Oh, my darling, you're so very big! Why is it I cannot get enough of you, Adam? I love it when you fuck me. Oh darling, don't stop! Please don't stop, my love! Ahh! I could go on forever!"

She was his wife, and yet her bold words roused his lust to a furious pitch. He shuddered with passion and ached with the pleasure possessing her gave him. Once more he towered over her, his great manhood thrusting again and again and again into her excited flesh. He vaguely felt her nails raking down his back; heard her excited panting hot in his ear; felt her body writhing beneath him.

Beginning to slip from reality into the golden world of sensual rapture, Skye had a brief, startling thought. It was with Adam as it had been with Geoffrey! Each time it was better. Each time it was more passionate than the last time. If this was her reward for all she had borne then it had been worth it, for to be loved by such a man was worth anything! Then she was caught up in the whirlwind of passion and, flying high, was lost to everything except their love.

"Ah, sweet Skye, you've unmanned me!" she heard him cry, and collasped upon her breasts. Her arms tightened about him as he whimpered with his own pleasure, and she could not help but kiss his tousled dark head.

They lay together for some minutes, attempting to regain their composure. He finally managed to roll off her, and catching her hand in his, they lay silently side by side. Beneath them the thick sheepskin was soft, and the warm fire crackled merrily, the only witness to their passion. Outside they could hear the soft roar of the rising wind about the stone tower house. Everything else was silence.

He spoke first. "I wish we could stay like this all winter."

She laughed softly. "So do I, but I suspect that Anne will want her rooms back this night. I feel almost guilty thinking on how we have spent this afternoon while Anne has overseen the servants at their cleaning chores."

"If this sheepskin could talk…" he teased her.

"Poor Anne would be shocked. I imagine my father was not a particularly inventive lover. Stamina and vigor were his traits, I have been told. He was a simple man."

"Why didn't she remarry? She was yet a girl when your father died."

"Aye, she was twenty-two to his fifty-eight. She says she didn't remarry because she had the boys to raise, and no dowry. I would have given her a dowry, though; and a good man seeking sons would have been happy to have her to wife, for she was certainly a proven breeder. No, I think she chose not to remarry. She had borne my father four sons in four years, and I think she had no wish to place herself in another man's care. It was far more convenient to deify my father and his memory. Not all women like the marriage bed. I suspect Anne is one of those women. To my knowledge, she has had no lovers since Da died." Skye propped herself up on an elbow and, lowering her head, kissed her husband lingeringly. "I can't imagine not loving you," she said.

He smiled back at her. "I don't ever intend you stop loving me, little girl. It would break my heart if you did," and then his arm came up to draw her down against him.

When they finally heard the knocking on the door both felt silly and foolish. They were behaving like young lovers instead of the adults that they were.

"Skye dear, the hall is cleaned and sweetened, and if you and Adam would care to come forth the servants are waiting for your approval," Anne O'Malley called.

“We'll be there in a moment, Anne," Skye said, her voice quavering with amusement. "Help me to dress, you buffoon!" she hissed at Adam who lay on his back waggling his black, bushy eyebrows at her while she attempted to maintain her composure. They both heard Anne's retreating footsteps.

"Gracious, m'lady, yer gown is all rumbled, and bless me, is this a tear in yer bodice?!" Standing up to his full six feet six inches, Adam successfully mimicked Daisy.


Skye burst out laughing. "You devil!" she scolded him. "Stop teasing me."

His warm laughter rumbled about the room. "Very well, little girl, I'll behave if you'll tell me where we're going to sleep tonight in this ancient pile of stones you call your ancestral home." He picked up her undergarments from the floor, and began handing them to her.

"My old room is at the top of the tower," Skye told him. "I imagine Anne will have it prepared. This is actually the only decent-sized apartment in the whole place, and it was my father's. I am pleased to see Anne did not give it to Brian and his wife."

Adam and Skye redressed as quickly as they could and, leaving Anne O'Malley's rooms, returned to the hall. Skye was delighted, for the room once more looked like the one she remembered. A smile split her face, and seeing it, the servants visibly relaxed. "Anne, you've worked a miracle!"

"No miracle, only proper cleaning, and the return of the pretties with which I once decorated this hall."

Coming in for the evening meal, Skye's brothers were equally pleased, and even Maggie shyly admitted carpets upon the stone floors were nicer than rushes. The meal was a simple one, for Anne did not set an elaborate table. There were mussels boiled in white wine, baby lamb roasted with rosemary, and a bowl of cress. There was fresh bread and a tub of sweet butter, a hard cheese and a dish of apples. The men ate heartily, washing it all down with brown ale. Eibhlin O'Malley had come from her convent on Innishturk to see her sister, and after the meal the four women sat companiona-bly talking about the fire while the men remained at the table drinking and, from the sound of the ribald laughter, telling stories a lady should not hear. Skye could not help but notice how well her brothers got on with Adam, and it gave her great pleasure. The O'Malley brothers might not realize it, but they were taking their first step along the road to tolerance. They had accepted an Englishman into their midst without any trouble at all.

Skye was surprised when Brian came to her amid the chatter of the women, and drew her aside. "My brothers and I have been talking this afternoon about what you said. Do you really think the English Queen would give us letters of marque?"

"Yes, but make no mistake, Brian, 'tis for her good as well as yours."

"Ye mean she'll be getting a share of the booty we capture?"

"Aye, but she'll also be getting the O'Malleys of Innisfana off of her royal neck. If there is one thing Elizabeth Tudor believes in, little brother, it is peace. She wants no wars, for she knows that wars destroy a country's economy.

“There is one other tiling about the Queen, Brian," Skye continued. "You'll have to come with me to England if you're to get your letters of marque."

"Never!" Brian shouted, and everyone in the hall turned to look at him. "I’ll not leave blessed Ireland to set foot in that accursed land!"

"Don't be an ignorant and superstitious fool, Brian!" Skye retorted as quickly. "You'll come with me to England, and present yourself before the Queen. You can't ask Elizabeth Tudor for a favor from afar."

"I’d rather not ask her for anything," Brian grumbled.

"You'll be a rich man in no time, Brian," Skye wheedled him. "You can then afford to build a whole new wing onto the house just for yourself and Maggie and the children. Wouldn't you like that, Maggie?" Skye appealed to her young sister-in-law.

"Aye, I would!" Maggie said bluntly.

"You'd all be rich," Skye promised her half-brothers, "and then you could each build a wing onto the house and marry the lass of your choice, for with gold in your pockets you'd have a choice and be a desirable match to any father's eye. Isn't that better than the cheap chances you take with Grace O'Malley?"

"I’ll not go to England," Brian said firmly.

The Queen won't give you the letters of marque sight unseen," Skye argued.

“I’ll go."

They all turned to look at Skye's youngest brother, Conn. "You'll go?" she said.

"Aye," Conn replied. “I’ve a mind to see England, and the red-haired virgin vixen who rules it. Will I do, Skye?" He grinned engagingly at his sister.

Skye looked him over critically. Conn was the youngest, but he was the biggest, standing almost as tall as Adam. Cleaned up, his beard barbered decently, elegant clothes upon his back, and a quick course in manners, he might very well do. Elizabeth did like clever and attractive young men, and Skye had to admit that Conn was both. "Aye," she said. "You'll do quite well." She looked at Brian and the others. "Do you have any objections to Conn going?"

"Nay," they replied with one voice, all obviously relieved not to have to go themselves.

"It's settled then," Skye said.

"When will you leave?" Brian asked.

"Not for several days," Skye answered him. "I want to see Ewan and Gwyneth and our uncle, the bishop. I'll send a message off tomorrow, however, to tell Bess Tudor that we're corning to pay her a call."


The next morning Skye arose early to write to the Queen.

Madame, My brothers beg your indulgence for the overabundance of high spirits that caused them to foolishly join with our distant cousin, Grace O'Malley. I have suggested that a proper channel for my brothers’ exuberance would be to carry letters of marque from Your Gracious Majesty that would allow them to exercise their energies in foreign waters to both their own and Your Majesty's great advantage. I will shortly be arriving in England with my youngest brother, Conn O'Malley, who will tender a request for Your Majesty's favor on behalf of his brothers and himself I remain as always Your Majesty's friend. Skye, Lady de Marisco

Skye watched dispassionately as the thick green sealing wax dripped onto the folded letter, and she pressed the O'Malley ring of office into the hot puddle before it hardened. The letter was dispatched immediately aboard one of her ships, captained by Bran Kelly. She was relieved to have the letter off, and the matter settled. She walked back into the bedchamber, crawled back beneath the down coverlet, and sighed.

Adam reached out and pulled her into his embrace, his arm cradling her, settling her head against his shoulder. "What is it, little girl?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

"I find I'm losing my taste for adventure," she said.

He understood her completely. "You've borne a heavy burden all alone, and for a very long time, Skye. 'Tis no wonder you're weary, sweetheart, but will you not rely on me now? Let me shoulder some of the load, or at least help you with it."

"Oh, Adam, how can I involve you in this? You're English."

"English, Irish," he replied. "It matters not, Skye. You are a woman; I, a man. We love each other, and because we do one's problems become the other's. It's really that simple. Your brothers' nationality has nothing to do with their being pigheaded. I’ve known Frenchmen, and Devonmen, and other Englishmen just as stubborn. It's simply their nature, and together you and I will overcome that nature. I am encouraged that Conn desires to see the Tudor court."

"Let's take him back to Lynmouth first," she said. "We'll have to clean him up, and get him outfitted, and teach him how to behave, for I’ll not have the court laughing at him. Like as not, Conn would kill half a dozen men should he feel insulted. I’m not introducing him into Elizabeth Tudor's world to cause havoc and be sneered at as a typical Irisher. I want those letters of marque for the O'Malleys."

"You'll get them, Skye."

"I wish I was as sure as you are, Adam."

Adam chuckled. "If Conn is half the charmer I suspect he is, the Queen will melt. Besides, being a practical woman, she will be relieved to have the O'Malleys of Innisfana off harrying the Spanish instead of the English."

Skye smiled to herself, realizing the simple truth of Adam's words, and she snuggled harder against him. "Then I'll not worry, my husband, and instead I shall concentrate on indulging my baser appetites," she murmured, sliding her hand beneath his nightshirt. With teasing hands she fondled him, caressing and cupping him, and feeling him grow hard beneath her touch.

Adam lay very still, only the sudden quickening of his breath indication at first of her success. He loved the way she touched him with her hot and gentle little hands. In his lifetime he could not remember any woman rousing him as completely and as quickly as Skye could. When she moved herself down to take him in her mouth he groaned with unashamed pleasure at her actions, and fought to maintain his control, for now he desperately desired to possess and be possessed. "Ahh, my Celtic witch, ride me!" he finally begged her, and Skye willingly obeyed her husband's request, lifting her head from his manhood, kissing its throbbing scarlet head, and then mounting him to plunge downward so that he was enclosed by her eager sheath. Reaching up, Adam played gently with her beautiful breasts, tormenting the little nipples so that they thrust and quivered with his touch. Watching her through half-closed eyes, he was amused to find her own eyes closed.