Constanza tore her head away, gasping for air. Frantically she sought his hands. But it wasn’t Niall she feared, it was herself. Niall
Burke was a gentleman, and one word from her would halt him, yet
she could not bring herself to say the word. No man had ever before
kissed or touched her as he was doing. Her heart was pounding and
she feared it might burst. Yet she did not stop him. His mouth was
again on hers, tenderly searing her soul with a passion she had never
even suspected she could feel. His fingers were undoing the laces
of her bodice, gently pulling down her chemise.

Niall was amazed by the girl’s easy acquiescence. He was positive
she was innocent, yet she seemed to welcome his advances. He felt
a momentary guilt but pushed it away. Skye was dead, he was alive,
and Constanza Cuidadela was fresh and sweet. His eyes feasted on
her young breasts, beautiful golden orbs, their proud dark-coral
nipples tight like unopened rosebuds. Almost reverently, he caressed
and kissed them, delighting in her soft cry. Constanza felt an unfamiliar tightness building within her. It
frightened her a little. She did not want him to stop, but suddenly
he did.

“You are a virgin, aren’t you, nina?” Her blush gave him his
answer. “I will not dishonor you, Constanza,” he told her gravely.
”It would not be right if I spoiled you for your future husband,
especially after your kindness to me. I had no right to do what I
have just done. For that I ask your forgiveness and your understand-
ing.”

Constanza sat very still, making no attempt to cover herself. In
the meadow the roan stallion screamed defiantly and brutally
mounted the white mare, biting her silken neck and thrusting his
great organ into her. Constanza rose and deftly shed the rest of her
clothes. They lay in a colorful heap about her trim ankles. She
looked at Niall proudly.

“I want you to do to me what your stallion does to my mare,”
she said softly.

Niall Burke felt the aching hardness in his groin. It would take
a saint to refuse such an invitation, and he was no saint. Still, he
was no rake, either. Then the idea was bom in him. Why not? he
thought. I will have to sooner or later. And so he said, “Will you
be my wife, Constanzita?” “Yes,” she answered. He stood up, towering over her, and slowly
pulled off his own clothes. She watched him, curious. Having no
brothers, she had no certain knowledge of male anatomy. Before her
amazed eyes his masculinity rose proudly like a battle flag. He took
her hand, saying tenderly, ‘Touch it, nina. I promise it won’t bite
you… though it will love you well.”

Her small hand closed about him, gently, virginally curious. He held his breath, afraid of frightening her. Her warm little hand
cradled him, fondling him with innocent expertise, and he could not
restrain an intense groan. Startled, she let go.

“I have hurt you!”

“Nay, lovey, you pleasure me beyond all,” and he drew her into
his arms and kissed her again. Her round breasts, hard now with her
mounting passion, rubbed against his dark furred chest until the little
nipples were raw with desire. Her torso pressed tightly against him
like burning silk, trembling weakly as her legs began to give way.
But her voice was low and strong.

“Take me, my Niall. Take me like the stallion took my mare!”

He lowered her to the ground, then knelt beside her. Her violet
eyes were wide with wonder as he bent his head to catch a little
nipple in his mouth. Slowly he sucked on it, watching with narrowed
silver eyes as her breath came in short little gasps and her hips began
to twitch. A caressing hand moved down her fevered body, and she
jumped as he touched that most secret of places. His finger pushed
through the soft defensive folds, rubbing insistently, and Constanza
thought she was going to faint.

Her heart was leaping about wildly, and she was being buffeted
by a great storm of new feelings, the like of which she’d never
known. Her belly ached, and between her legs where his hand teased
she ached in a different way. When he gently put his long finger
into her she was relieved, but when he withdrew, the ache was worse
and she whimpered.

“All right, lovey,” he said softly, “I will make it better now,”
and he mounted her, parting her trembling thighs, and slowly entered
her. She opened herself to him like a flower. Her eyes never left his
face even when he reached her tight, little virgin shield and pierced
it, swiftly, so as to give her less hurt.

Constanza felt the slow, burning pain spread quickly up her, and
she cried out. His lips covered her protest, his tongue probing her
mouth, matching the rhythm of his throbbing spear. Something won-
derful was happening to her, and she eagerly thrust her hips upward
to meet his fierce downward thrusts. The pain was gone, and she
was soaring like a bird in flight. Her little hands grasped his tight
buttocks to bring him closer, and at the moment of her climax she
tore her head away from him, shrieking her joy. Then she fainted.

Niall Burke lay panting in astounded exhaustion. Never had he
experienced such passion in a virgin, and she had certainly been a
virgin, as the blood on her thighs attested. Now she lay drained and
unconscious. He studied her for a moment, this girl who would be
his wife. She was certainly lovely, and although he wasn’t entirely
sure he liked her excessive passion she would certainly be a better bedsport than poor Darragh had been. The MacWilliam might be
angered momentarily by a surprise bride, but if Niall was lucky he
would bring her home to Ireland with a babe in her belly or at her
breast. In that case, all would be forgiven.

She was barely breathing, and he pulled her into his arms to warm
her, to awaken her. Her eyelids fluttered as she began her slow
return to consciousness. He held her close, murmuring soft little
words of endearment, and as her eyes opened to focus on his face,
she blushed furiously.

“Oh, Niall, what must you think of me? But, oh, it was won-
derful!”

He laughed. “What I think, nina, is that I am a very lucky man.
You were quite magnificent. How do you feel, lovey?”

“I flew, Niall! I really flew! I feel so happy now, and I want to
do it again!”

He chuckled. “We shall fly together again, lovey, but I think
perhaps it would be best now if we returned to Palma. I must ask
your father’s permission to marry you.” He stood up and began to
pull his clothes on, but it was not easy to concentrate when Constanza
lay naked at his feet on her bed of meadow flowers and soft green
grass. He finally managed to return some measure of order to his
garb and, holding out his hand, he said, “Come, madam, and I will
maid you.”

She stood, and he was again enchanted by the perfection of her
slim body. Slowly she pulled on her undergarments, then the dress
skirt, and lastly the dress top which he laced for her, first cupping
the sweet round breasts and fondling them. Leaning back against
him, she murmured contently.

He spanked her bottom fondly. “Pack the luncheon basket, nina,
while I catch the horses and saddle them up.”

They returned to Palma in the late afternoon. One look at Con-
stanza’s face brought a cry of joy from Ana. As Niall dismounted
his horse the older woman grasped his hands and kissed them.
”Gracias, Senor Niall! My Constanza will make you a good wife,
I swear it!”

“Then you think the Conde will give his consent, Ana?”

A crafty look came into the woman’s eyes. “He will at first refuse
you, for he has never forgiven my nina’s birth. If, however, you
tell him that you have dishonored his daughter then he will quickly
consent, for he fears scandal more than anything else.”

“In that case, Ana, I shall speak to him at once,” smiled Niall.

“He is in his library now, my lord.”

Niall bent down and brushed Constanza’s lips. “For luck, Constanzita,” he said, and was gone.

“Aiiieee, my nina! You have at last found a man, and what a
man! He will keep your belly filled for years to come. It is what I
have prayed for, nina. Someone to take you from the Conde, and
his bitterness. Now you will have a good life, a normal life.” She
hugged the girl hard. Then, catching herself, she gasped, “In my
happiness I have forgotten you, my Constanza. You are all right?
He was gentle?”

“He was gentle, nurse, but I am sore and could use a bath.”

“At once, nina! At once!”

And while Constanza bathed herself in a warm, scented tub, Niall
Burke sprawled his long frame in a rather uncomfortable chair in
the Conde’s library. In his big hand he twirled the stem of a small
wine glass. The Conde stared coldly at his guest.

“You are vastly improved in health, Lord Burke.” It was more
a statement than a question. “I expect you will soon, leave jus.”

Niall nodded. “Soon, my lord, and when I go there is something
I would take with me from Mallorca.”

“A souvenir of sorts, Lord Burke?”

Niall could not resist a chuckle. “Of sorts,” he said. “I wish to
marry Constanza. I am formally applying to you for her hand.”

The Conde’s facial expression never wavered. “It is impossible,
Lord Burke.”

“She is previously contracted?”

“No.”

“She is ill with some fatal sickness?”

“No.”

“Then why do you refuse me? I am the only son and heir of a
wealthy and noble man. In my country, my lineage is equal to your
own. You would have grandchildren. And, as my wife, your daugh-
ter would lack for nothing.”

“I do not have to explain myself to you, Lord Burke. I am Con-
stanza’s father, and I have refused your suit. My word is all that
counts.”

Niall drew a deep breath. “Is the reason for your refusal the fact
that you doubt your daughter’s paternity?”

Francisco Cuidadela grew white. “You are impertinent, Lord
Burke. Leave me! I do not choose to discuss it.”

Niall’s silvery eyes narrowed. “Let me tell you how I spent my
afternoon, Conde. I spent it enjoying your daughter’s favors. She
gave herself to me quite willingly, and I am pleased to say that she
was a virgin. At this very moment my seed could be rooting in her
fertile womb. You deliberately destroyed her chances of marriage
here on Mallorca. Now not even a convent will have her. How will
you face your friends when she grows big with my child? You are the last of your line, Conde, and your late wife’s family is also long
gone. There is no place you can send Constanza to hide her shame.
Already I hear the laughter of your friends. And if King Philip should
hear of this scandal you might find yourself rapidly replaced as
governor here.

“On the other hand, if you accept my suit you will be envied your
cleverness for catching such a fine prize as myself. But, of course,
the decision is yours.”

Francisco Cuidadela had gone from white to red and back to white
again as Niall talked. Now the Conde made a strangled sound.

“Does that mean you accept, my lord?” asked Niall politely.

The older man nodded weakly, and Niall smiled, satisfied. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we shall see the bishop and arrange for the first
of the banns to be posted. Have your secretary bring me a copy of
the marriage contract in the morning. I trust that Constanza’s dowry
will be quite ample, as she is your only child. Not that I care,” he
said, “but my father will expect it.”

The Conde sent him a black look. Chuckling softly, Niall left the
library. It was done. Once again he was betrothed, and he hoped
mat, this time, the union would produce children.

Constanza was not Skye, nor would she ever take Skye’s place
in his heart. He laughed ruefully. He had never loved anyone but
Skye. Why had fate been so cruel as to separate them just when they
were so near to marriage? “Skye,” he whispered her name softly.
”Skye O’Malley, my love.” He tasted the words on his tongue. No,
she couldn’t be dead! Would not her spirit have come to him, and
wouldn’t he have felt it if she were? Must he accept that she was
dead when he truly could not believe it was so?

No, he would never love Constanza as he had loved Skye, but
Constanza was sweet and good and deserved, his full attention. She
would have it too, he vowed; but when he closed his eyes to conjure
up her oval face with its violet eyes and halo of golden curls he
instead saw a cloud of black hair framing a heart-shaped face with
laughing blue eyes and a soft red mouth.

“Dammit, Skye O’Malley,” he swore. “I cannot help it that I am
alive, and you are… are… Leave me in peace, my darling, to find
some kind of happiness!”

He found Constanza and announced, “Your father has consented
to our marriage, lovey. Tomorrow we shall have the bishop read the
first banns at mass, and the contracts shall be signed.”

“I cannot believe it,” she breathed, her eyes shining. “How did
you convince him?”