“What will I tell them?” quavered Claire.

“That Dom has had an accident. I will handle the rest. Go, now!”

Claire fled, shrieking loudly enough to rouse the entire household,
and quickly the room was filled with babbling servants. Skye calmly
directed the removal of her injured husband to his own rooms. The
family’s surgeon was sent for and arrived as the dawn was breaking.

Dom lived, but it would have been better if he had died. His
spine was broken in two places. He was paralyzed from the waist
down. He would not walk, or function as a man, ever again.

Skye thanked the surgeon, paid his fee, and sent him away. Then
she took on the O’Flahertys. Gilly blustered at her. “Claire says
you’re responsible for my son’s condition.”

“Your son is responsible for his own condition,” replied Skye
coldly. “Last night after the meal was finished and I had seen to my
household duties, I went to your daughter’s rooms to speak to her
about arranging a marriage. I found her and your precious son fuck-
ing merrily! And it was not the first time they had engaged in
mis… incest! When I tried to flee from them they ripped my clothes
from me, and used me vilely! Both of them! I tried to escape again
and Dom lunged at me. When I stepped aside he fell through the
open door and down the stairs. I’m only sorry he didn’t break his
damned neck! It would have saved me the trouble of caring for him.

If you still believe that I have wronged your son, Gilly, then we
will take our case and place it before the MacWilliam.”

“Yes!” sobbed Claire. “For once in your life, Father, take the
initiative! Dom will spend the rest of his life half a man because of
her! She deserves to be punished!”

Skye drew herself up proudly and looked down upon the vengeful
Claire. “Yes, Claire,” she purred. “Take your case to the Mac-
William. Do! And then be prepared either to prove your virginity
before the midwives’ panel or name your lover! Who will you say
it is, Claire? One of the serfs? I think not. You’re far too proud a
bitch to admit to fucking with a serf. Who then? There is no one
else! No one ever comes to visit you. No one! Perhaps you could
claim the Devil for your lover. In a sense, you’d be speaking the
truth.”

Skye’s father-in-law looked suddenly old, and defeated. Claire
wept helplessly. Skye’s next words held a finality. “I am going home
to Innisfana,” she announced. “And I am taking my sons with me.
I will not be back. Since Claire loves her brother so deeply she will
remain here to care for him for the rest of his life. I will see that
Da withdraws her dowry. She has no chance of a decent marriage
without it, and I would not, knowing what I do now, see her wed
with some poor unsuspecting lad. She will be fed and clothed at my
expense, or she may go with what she has. The choice is hers.

“Frang the bailiff will run the estate for me, and answer to me
alone. This is, after all, to be Ewan’s inheritance someday and I
want it turned over to him in good condition.

“Gilly, you will be taken care of, but my father’s lawyers will
shortly have a paper for you to sign that will prevent you from
gambling away any part of the estate. Mark me well, Gilly. I will
not pay for your wines, your women, or your gambling debts!”

“Father! Are you going to let her do this to us!?”

Gilly stared straight ahead and Skye smiled triumphantly. “Yes,
Claire, he is! He knows the alternative. I will bring my case before
the MacWilliam-and before the Church! If I do I will accuse you
not only of incest with your brother, but of witchcraft as well! You
deserve to bum for what you’ve been doing!”

“I love him!” Claire screamed.

“You were his sister!”

“I loved him,” Claire repeated, “From the time we first bedded
when I was but a maid of eleven. I was the only woman who ever
really satisfied Dom.”

Skye looked pityingly at Claire. “In the years that Dom has left
we will see how much you really love him.”

In the morning Skye bid her husband an unemotional farewell.

“I hope you enjoyed what you and your sister did the other night,
for the memory of it will have to last you a lifetime!”

“Bitch!” he snarled at her. “What kind of a woman are you to
leave me?”

“A better woman than you ever knew or appreciated, Dom. Your
conduct with your sister has wiped free any obligation on my part
toward you. Farewell.”

He struggled to rise. “Bitch! Come back! I command you, Skye!
Come back!”

She never turned back. His voice, alternating between curses,
threats, and pleas, followed her until the sound became quite un-
intelligible and finally faded altogether.

Skye rode away from the O’Flaherty house, Ewan before her on
her saddle. Behind her were the carts carrying her younger son, the
two nurses, and her household goods.

But when Skye reached lnnisfana several days later there was no
peaceful haven there. Dubhdara O’Malley lay dying, having been
badly injured by a falling mast in a storm as he was bringing his
ship home. A stubborn man, he had refused to die until he reached
his home, and until he had seen his youngest daughter. The mes-
senger he sent to Skye had found her as she took ship for lnnisfana
Island.

She was barely in time to bid her father a final farewell. Tearful,
she kissed his cold and sweating brow. “I’m back for good, Da.”

He nodded. Explanations were unimportant now. “Your brothers
are too young for the ships yet,” he gasped weakly. “You’ve got to
take charge for me.”

It never crossed her mind that he was thrusting a huge respon-
sibility upon her. She answered simply, “I will.”

“You’re the best of them, lassie. Even the boys.”

“Oh, Da,” she whispered. “Oh, Da, I do love you!”

“Skye, lass, this time follow your heart,” were Dubhdara
O’Malley’s last words to his favorite child. He died a few minutes
later, holding her hand.

Her beautiful blue eyes overflowing, she looked wordlessly to
her uncle Seamus. “I heard him,” he said, “and I’ll uphold your
rights, Skye. You’re the new O’Malley, and may God be with you
for you’ll be needing all the help you can get.”

Skye looked to her stepmother. “I heard him, and I trust you,”
said Anne. “You’ll do right by us all. Besides, it’s your full brother
Michael who is the next male in line, not my lads.”

“In this family,” answered Skye, “it’s not necessarily the eldest,
but the most competent. At least two of your boys show more promise than Michael. He’s most like my mother, lord help him.
He’s more likely to follow Our Lord Christ than the sea. Am I not
right, Uncle?”

Seamus O’Malley nodded. “He’d asked me to talk with Dubh.
He wants to enter St. Padraic’s and become a priest.”

Skye turned to Anne. “You see. It rests with Brian and Shane
now.”

As quickly as the family of the O’Malley chief could be assem-
bled, they determined the length of the wake and the date of the
funeral. With Seamus O’Malley and Anne to back her, Skye was
reluctantly recognized as the new O’Malley by her brothers-in-law
and her very shocked sisters. Her clansmen and vassals came quickly,
almost joyfully, to pay their homage to Skye, the new O’Malley.

The next step was a journey to the MacWilliam’s stronghold to
pledge him her fealty. Only Anne, Eibhlin, and her uncle knew the
truth behind her leaving her husband. All three were horrified, but
swore to keep the secret. Seamus O’Malley added to his niece’s
mystique by claiming that she had returned home because of a dream
in which her father called her from over the waves. The men who
had sailed with her father and with her when she was a child cir-
culated once again the old tales of her bravery and skill. The
MacWilliam would have been hard pressed indeed to deny Skye her
inheritance.

She rode into his stronghold with all her captains escorting her.
Niall Burke watched her arrival from one of the towers of the castle,
and wondered what would happen between them now. She rode
astride, as she had in the old days, and upon the black stallion, Finn.
She was dressed in Lincoln green hose, over which she wore high
brown cordoba leather boots, and a mid-thigh-length doeskin jerkin
with silver buttons. Beneath the jerkin was a cream-colored silk shirt
with small pearl buttons. Her glorious blue-black hair was parted
in the center and twisted into a smooth coil at the nape of her neck.
Her gardenia skin was a little flushed. Upon her left hand he could
see a blue flash, and knew she wore the great sapphire ring that had
been her father’s seal of office.

He descended from the tower, and strode swiftly to his own
quarters. To his surprise Darragh was waiting for him. The three
years of their marriage had been a bad joke, and he rarely saw her,
let alone cohabited with her. It was obvious that she would never
conceive him a child. She had never come to him willingly, and
each time he had taken her it had been a battle in which she yielded
to the flesh and then did penance for her weakness. She had had
coarse brown robes made up for herself, robes that resembled those worn by her old religious order. She rarely bathed, believing it a
concession to the flesh. For over a year now she had spent her days
and nights in constant prayer. He no longer went near her. Her
personal habits disgusted him, and attempting to claim his rights
seemed now like raping a nun, a thing for which Niall Burke had
no taste.

He greeted her courteously, and she replied, “Lady O’Flaherty
is here to see your father, Niall. Why has she come?”

“Her father has died, Darragh, and it was his deathbed wish that
she take over his duties until her brothers are grown. She is now the
O’Malley, and she has come to pledge her fealty to her overlord.”

“And what of her husband? I have been given to understand that 
she tried to murder him and then left him, taking his sons with her.
He lies paralyzed for life with only his loyal sister to care for him.”

“Where did you obtain this information, Darragh?” He kept his
voice quiet and level.

“I have a letter from the unfortunate Lady Claire O’Flaherty
begging me to intercede with the MacWilliam on her poor brother’s
behalf.”

“I do not believe the tale, Darragh. I have never known Skye to
be anything but generous and thoughtful.”

“Those are not the qualities that made the O’Malley leave her in
charge of his small empire,” noted Darragh shrewdly. It was an
unusually sensible observation for Darragh.

“Skye would never harm anyone. I refuse to believe it!”

“Of course you do not believe it. You lust after her, but for the
sake of your immortal soul you must not yield to her wiles, Niall!”,

He laughed bitterly. “Whose wiles would you have me yield to
then, wife? Yours? Let me tell you something about Skye O’Malley,
my dear. The last time I saw her she told me she never wanted to
set eyes on me again because, through an awful quirk of fate, we
were wed to other people. I then said I would kill her husband. She
chided me, asking what I would do with my own wife, kill her also?
She said you had been as wronged as the rest of us were, and we
must all make the best of our situations. She would tempt neither 
herself nor me by seeing me again.”

“Ah! The most wicked ones are always the most clever, Niall!
She has skillfully misled you into believing her virtuous. Beware
of her! Beware!” And with a strange look in her weak blue eyes,
Darragh turned and left him.

Niall went about the business of changing his clothes. His father
had told him he wanted him there when the O’Malley swore her
fealty, for she must swear it not only to the MacWilliam, but also to his heir. He debated whether to be elegant or simple, finally
settling on black velvet because it was both.

Entering the main hall of the castle, he was surprised to find that
Skye had not changed from her riding clothes. Her captains at her
back, she knelt. Placing her hands in the old and gnarled ones of
the MacWilliam, and then into Niall’s warm firm grasp, she twice
swore her loyalty to the Burkes, then rose gracefully to accept their
kiss of peace. Lord Burke noted the pride and love flowing from the
eyes of the rough-looking O’Malley captains. That they adored her
was obvious, and he was reassured to know that she would sail with
such devoted men.

Then suddenly, to everyone’s shock and embarrassment, Darragh
appeared in their midst, her nun’s robes swirling about her, and cried
out, “My lord the MacWilliam, on behalf of the O’Flahertys of
Ballyhennessey I cry for judgment against this evil woman! Oh,
wicked whore of Babylon, your days of evil are numbered! The Lord
God will strike thee down with fire and the sword!”

Skye looked swiftly to Niall, her eyes filled with pity.

“Clear the hall, dammit!” shouted the MacWilliam, red-faced and
very angry. When all but the four of them had gone, the old man
turned on Darragh. “I hope, madam, that you have a bloody fine
explanation for this intrusion, and for your unwanted charges!”