Bertrice Small - Skye O’Malley

“No longer ‘madam,’ sir, but Sister Mary Penitent. That was to
have been my name before you stole me from my convent, and
forced me into carnal bondage with your son. It will soon be my
name again, for I will no longer remain here, but return to St.
Mary’s. Before I go, however, I will right a great wrong done by
this wicked woman. First, she deliberately crippled her husband.
Then she willfully deserted him, stealing both his sons and his
money. She must be punished! God demands it!”

“What the hell nonsense is this?” roared the MacWilliam.

“She claims to have a letter from Claire O’Flaherty,” said Niall
quietly to his father.

“The lying, deceitful bitch!” said Skye furiously, and the
MacWilliam and his son grinned at each other.

“All right, O’Malley, what’s your explanation?” demanded the
old man.

Skye glanced scornfully at Darragh. “Is she strong enough to hear
the truth of this? It’s not very pretty.”

“Speak, O’Malley,” commanded the MacWilliam.

“Claire O’Flaherty lies, my lord. I caught her and her brother,
my husband, in incest.” Skye outlined the story, concluding; “When
I dodged him, he fell down a flight of stairs.”

Darragh Burke, who had turned white at the mention of the word
”incest,” gave a moan of horror and fell to the floor in a faint. The
MacWilliam and his son glanced briefly at her, then returned their
attentions to Skye.

“The surgeon said Dom will never walk again. Under the cir-
cumstances, I feel no obligation to him. The estate was in a ruinous
condition when I married Dom. Your annual tributes had not been
paid in three years, but it is all paid up now, thanks to me. The
O’Flaherty lands are again prosperous because of my skillful man-
agement. This, despite Dom’s having gambled and whored away
my dowry. Claire O’Flaherty owes me for every mouthful of food
she consumes, every drop she drinks, the very clothes on her back..
She might have been safely wed, but for her own crimes. It was her
choice to remain at Ballyhennessey and commit incest with her
brother rather than wed her own man. When Dom was injured I told
her she could stay and nurse him or go, as she pleased.” Skye looked
hard at the MacWilliam. “If you feel her charges have merit, my
lord, I will abide by your decision.”

The old man reached out and gently stroked Skye’s beautiful hair.
”There is no merit in her charges, O’Malley,” he said gruffly. “If
she will not accept my decision in this matter, then I shall turn her
over to the Church. They will deal with the wench far more harshly
than you or I would.” He smiled at Skye. “Now, lass, will you
accept my hospitality for a few days’ time? You’ve come through
a hard time and you’ve great responsibility ahead of you.”

She smiled back at him, and he thought again how extraordinarily
beautiful she was. For the briefest moment he regretted his age and
his infirmities. He envied his son this beautiful woman who would
undoubtedly become his mistress.

“I will accept your kindness, my lord, but only for a day. You’re
right in that I am now laden with responsibilities. My father’s entire
fleet stands awaiting my orders, and they must remain idle until I
have studied his books. My eldest brother prefers the Church to the
sea, and though I will train him in my father’s ways, for boys are
known to be fickle creatures with changeable minds, I doubt that
Michael will change. Therefore it will be my half-brother, Brian,
who’s most likely to become the next O’Malley. He is but six now.
It will be at least ten years before he can take over his duties. Then,
too, there are my own two sons to raise.”

“Stop, lassie!” said the MacWilliam. “You’re exhausting me. It’s
too much for a woman to take on, and I wonder at your father, God
assoil him.”

Skye looked at the old man proudly. “My father knew I would
not fail him. He might have chosen any of my sister’s husbands, or even my uncle Seamus, but he chose me. I am the O’Malley!” Then
her look softened, and her eyes, which had been a deep purple-blue,
lightened to a clear blue-green. ‘Tonight, however, I shall be just
Skye O’Malley, and your most grateful guest.” She turned without
another word and walked from the room.

The Mac William bellowed for a servant, who quickly removed
the still unconscious Darragh. “If you mean to have the O’Malley
lass,” he said to Niall, “you had best tame her quickly, my son. This
is no milk-and-water wench, but a full-blown woman. Once she gets
the bit of power into her teeth, you’ll not easily get a bridle on her.
I’ll see if I can start annulment proceedings on your marriage, for
the O’Neill girl belongs back in her convent. As to O’Flaherty, the
health of a cripple is precarious at best. I trust you’re not too noble
to object if we assist him now to a better life… discreetly, of
course.”

Niall shook his head without hesitation. “May I speak to Skye
of marriage?”

The old man grinned wickedly. “If ‘twill aid you in your wooing,
yes, and I imagine you’ll need all the help you can get. She’s a
strong-minded woman.”

Niall grinned back as he strode from the hall and headed for
Skye’s chambers. His heart was singing. She was his! They would
finally be together, and they would make marvelous love, and she
would bear him strong sons and beautiful daughters, and they would
be happy. He burst into her room, startling Mag, and a half-clothed
Skye.

“My father’s starting the annulment proceedings, my love. We
can soon be wed!”

He reached out for her, but she eluded him. “Mag! Get out! I’ll
call you.” Then, “Don’t touch me, Niall! I cannot bear to be touched.
I told you what they did to me. I never want to be touched again!
I am happy you’re to be free of Darragh O’Neill; but find yourself
another wife, my lord. My husband lives, and even if he did not,
I would not remarry. I will never again put myself at a man’s mercy.”
She shuddered deeply.

He was stunned. This was not the girl he had known. “Skye, my
love,” he began gently, “I know they have hurt you; but / never hurt
you. Remember how it was with us? It was sweetness beyond mea-
sure. Come, love,” and he held out his hand to her, “come let me
love you, and wipe away the unhappy memories.”

“Niall!” Her eyes filled with tears. “Please understand. I cannot
even bear for Mag to touch me. My own good Mag. I bore Dom’s
brutal lovemaking for three years. Even then I remembered how it
had been with us, and I prayed that someday we could be together.

There was no obscenity that Dom forced upon me that spoiled you
for me, not ever. Not until the night he and his vile sister…” She
could not go on.

He finished it quietly for her. “Until the night they both raped
you.”

“Aye,” she said, and was silent once more.

“I do understand,” he said as his deep voice, soothing and tenderly
warm, sought to reassure and comfort her. “The wounds are still too
new and I, in my happiness, have foolishly assumed you would
share my joy at the prospect of our being together again. Forgive
me, my love. You have suffered two wicked shocks, and now you’re
burdened with an awesome responsibility. You’ll need time to adjust,
and you shall have it, sweetheart!”

Her lashes were silken smudges against her pale skin. A great
wave of pity washed over him as two crystalline tears slipped from
beneath her closed eyelids and down her cheeks. He wanted to reach
out, enfold her in his arms, comfort her, wipe away completely all
the terrible hurt. But he stood with clenched fists and fought to
maintain a rigid control on himself lest he frighten her, and risk
losing her forever.

Finally she spoke. “I love you, Niall. I have never loved anyone
else.”

“I know Skye,” he answered quietly, “and that is why I will
wait.”

“What?!” Her wet jewel eyes flew open.

“Yes, my precious love. Wait. In time the terror will fade, and
when it does I will be here, Skye. Be it a month from now, or a
year. Or ten years.”

“You need an heir, Niall. Your father wants one so very much.”

“You’ll give me one someday, my love.”

“You’re mad.” But a small smile played at the corners of her
mouth.

“Not mad, my darling, simply in love with a wild and sweet
vixen who will eventually come home to me again.”

Suddenly she held out her hand to him. He grasped it, and felt
her tremble, but she did not pull away. “Give me time, Niall. I will
come back to you! I know now that I will! Just give me time.”

A wonderful warm smile lit his face, turning his mouth up at the
edges, crinkling his silvery eyes at the corners. “Madam, I offer you
whatever time you need, for I have surely never known anything
better worth waiting for than you.” He bowed low over her slim
hand, his cool lips gently brushing her skin, sending a small shiver-
was it revulsion, or was it desire?-rippling through her. Then,
straightening, he turned and left her chambers.

Skye stood frozen, barely breathing. He loved her! Despite it all,
he still loved her! He was willing to wait! And now, as she felt the
blood begin to course through her veins, wanning her as she had
not been warmed since that terrible night, she knew it would be all
right. The horrible memories were fresh, but she would heal even-
tually. And when she did, Niall would be waiting!

On the following day the O’Malley thanked her overlord for his
hospitality and, after a short ride to the coast, sailed home to Innisfana Island.

Within the month word came to the MacWilliam that
the transition from the old to the new O’Malley had been made
smoothly, and that the fleet was sailing once again.

So Niall Burke waited. The healing process had begun for Skye,
and when it was complete they would be together forever. He would
not go to her before then. There was plenty of time.

A year passed, and Dom died. His death, though sudden, was
not unexpected. With the loss of his legs he had lost the will
to live. Claire O’Flaherty disappeared shortly after the visit
of an English cousin, and only Gilly remained at Ballyhennessey, a sad shadow of his former self, content to spend his days
and nights in a drunken haze. The estate was well managed by Frang,
the bailiff.

The small, prosperous trading empire of the O’Malleys grew more
prosperous through Skye’s skillful handling, and the MacWilliam
was forced to admit that Dubhdara O’Malley had known exactly
what he was doing when he had placed his daughter in charge. How
she would behave in wartime was another matter, and he had yet
to call upon her for that.

At nine, Michael O’Malley was more a priest than child, his
calling so obvious that Skye finally sent him to school at the mon-
astery of St. Brendan’s, preparatory to his entering the priesthood
at sixteen. He would not take his final vows until he was twenty,
by which time his two oldest half-brothers would have wed and
probably produced heirs.

Brian and Shane, at seven and a half and six and a half, had
begun the process of learning about the sea, about ships, and about
their late father’s half-legal, half-illegal methods of doing business.

Brian was assigned to a ship named Western Wind, and Shane went
aboard the North Star. Neither ship would ever be out when the
other was also out, and occasionally the boys were at home at the
same time, which gave Skye a chance to see her half-brothers work-
ing together, and to evaluate them as they grew. Each was a true
O’Malley, taking to the sea as to an old and respected friend. Skye
wished her father could have seen them, for he would have been
proud.

With the aid of Bishop O’Malley, and the donation of a fine
manor to the Church, Niall Burke was finally given an annulment
from his wife Darragh O’Neill, and she happily returned to her
convent, where she quickly took final vows. On his son’s behalf,
the MacWilliam sent to Seamus O’Malley and formally requested
his niece’s hand in marriage. With her permission, the negotiations
would begin at once.

“I don’t know now,” said Skye mischievously.

“Christ’s bones!” roared the bishop, for a moment so like his late
brother that his niece burst into laughter. Looking very aggrieved,
the bishop demanded, “What do you mean, you don’t know now?
From the moment Niall Burke looked at you nothing would do but
that you have him! Now you can, and you don’t know if you will? 
God Almighty woman! Make up your mind!” His plump face was
red, and his blue eyes almost black with anger.

Skye’s laughter died in her throat. Kneeling, she leaned her silky
head against the prelate’s knee. “It isn’t because I don’t love Niall,
Uncle. I do. He is the only man for me, and he always will be. But
I am no longer a girl whose only interest is her man and their babes.
Perhaps I never really was.”

“Beware, lassie,” warned Seamus O’Malley. ‘This is the
MacWilliam and his heir that we deal with. They are your overlords.”