Skye kept her mind on her bath. If she allowed herself to think
of what was coming she would go to pieces. She glanced about her
bedchamber. Aside from the flowering branches placed there in
keeping with the old pagan fertility ritual, it seemed the same. The
large black oak bedstead, hung with azure blue velvet, had been
freshly made with fine linen sheets redolent of lavender. The tall
matching armoire was now empty, of course, her clothing having
been packed for transport to her new home. She washed quickly,
stepping out of her tub into a warmed towel. Her lovely body was
rosy from the heat of the water. Molly quickly dried her and lavishly
applied scented powder with a lamb’s wool puff. The sisters sneezed.
as the excess filled the air.

“Open the window a bit,” commanded Moire. “And fetch the silk
robe, Molly.”

Skye flushed. “Oh, no, Moire!,Not that, for pity’s sake.”

“Skye!” Moire’s voice was sharp. “It’s an O’Malley family cus-
tom, and we have all followed it. Lord, sister, you’re the fairest of
us all. There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of, lass.”

“But for all those leering men to see me naked!”

“We O’Malleys are proud to show we come to our husbands
unblemished. You will follow the custom as we all have.” The silk
robe was loosely wrapped around the bride, and then Moire said,
”Peigi, unbolt the door. I hear the men coming.”

Peigi had no sooner stepped back from the door when it burst
open and the laughing guests poured into the little room. Dom
O’Flaherty had already been partially disrobed by his friends. Dubhdara

O’Malley stepped up to his youngest daughter. He was very
drunk, but he could yet play his part.

He held his hand up for silence, and the room quieted. “This is
the last of me daughters to be wed. As with all my girls. I am proud
to show that she comes unblemished, and free of pock marks, to her
bridegroom.” He nodded to Moire and Peigi, who drew the simple
robe from Skye and let it slip to the floor. The girl was now com-
pletely naked. As she turned, the sisters held up Skye’s long dark
tresses to show the assembled guests that nothing was hidden beneath
her hair. In the candlelight, her beautiful body glowed like mother-
of-pearl.

An audible sigh rippled through the room as the men and women
admired and envied the young virgin’s perfection. The bridegroom
was visibly affected. Skye was exquisite, with her small, pink-tipped
breasts, her slim, long legs ending in slender, high-arched feet.

Suddenly the guests were thrown into shock as Niall Burke pushed
forward, boldly allowed his silver eyes to slide over the bride, and announced, “O’Malley! As your overlord I claim the droit du seigneur of this woman.”

The master of Innisfana swallowed hard. “A poor jest, my lord,”
he replied, now very sober. He was hoping to God that Burke was
only drunk, but he knew Burke wasn’t. “My daughter’s no peasant
wench,” he stated firmly.

Lord Burke drew himself up to his full imposing height. His
proud glance swept the room. “I am your overlord, Dubhdara
O’Malley. You swore obedience to me on my tenth birthday. It was
by my most generous hand that you received this barony of Innisfana.
Our laws demand that you comply with my request.”

“No!” shouted Dom. “She’s mine! Mine! And I am not your
vassal.”

Lord Burke looked scornfully at the younger man. “I will remind
you, O’Flaherty, that your family owes obedience to my father-
whose deputy I am. I claim the droit du seigneur of your bride. Will
either of you gentlemen endanger your families and insult me over
a girl’s maidenhead? Besides, O’Flaherty, when I am finished
schooling her she’ll be much more to your taste. You are not, I
understand, very good with virgins.”

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room. Dubhdara
O’Malley shifted uncomfortably. Then suddenly it came to him that
the final decision rested with his new son-in-law. “I yield to you,
my lord,” he said quickly, nearly sighing with relief.

The complete silence in the hot little room was finally broken by
Dom’s voice. “I’ll pay a penalty, my lord,” said Dom. “You have
but to name it.”

Niall Burke eyed Dom arrogantly, then drawled, “Your life, or
the wench’s maidenhead.”

A gasp went up. This was high drama, the sort of thing that
would be spoken of for years to come in both the halls and hovels
of Ireland. Why was Lord Burke so intent on having the bride? To
be sure, she was a lovely creature, but it was very rare for an overlord
to claim the droit du seigneur of a vassal’s bride.

Dom O’Flaherty whitened, then reddened, with fear and helpless
rage. His eyes swept over Skye, then back to Lord Burke. He pictured
them locked in an embrace. Damn the bastard! thought Dom. He’s
got me trapped! At last he said savagely, “I yield. And damn you
to hell, my lord Burke!” Turning, he stamped from the chamber,
followed quickly by the O’Malley and the rest of the guests.

Niall Burke walked slowly to the door of the room and, shutting
it, slammed the bolt home. Turning back, he looked at Skye.
Throughout the whole exchange, she had remained as silent and still as a hiding rabbit. “I do mean to take you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes were enormous, blue-green against her white face. “I
know,” she answered softly. “You’ll have to tell me what to do. No
one has ever told me what is required, and I am very ignorant. Anne
didn’t have time to explain,” she finished helplessly.

A warm smile lit his features, and he was suddenly her Niall
again. “I think, sweetheart,” he said in a kindly voice, “that the first
thing would be to get you into bed. You look chilled.” With a
sweeping movement he pulled the covers back and, scooping her
up, gently tucked her beneath the down coverlet.

“Kiss me, Niall.” It was a simple request, and it was also the
first time she had called him by his name.

“I have every intention of doing just that, Skye. Give me but a
moment to divest myself of my clothes.”

“Please, now!”

Had she been anyone else he would have made a ribald jest. She
was so intense. So urgent. Instead he bent, kissed the lips she offered.
It was a sweet kiss, and they were both loath to stop, but finally she
drew away. “I had to be sure it would be as lovely with you this
time as it was the last. When Dom kissed me today I wanted to die
because he revolted me so.”

“And is it still as lovely, my darling?” His silvery eyes caressed
her warmly.

“Yes, Niall. It is still lovely.”

Thoughtfully, without haste, he removed his clothes and approached the bed. “Have you ever seen a man naked before, Skye?
The firelight from the small corner fireplace flickered across his bare
body.

“Only the top part. The sailors often strip their shirts off when
it gets too hot. I’ve seen bare feet, and part of the leg too.” Her
eyes slowly traveled the length of him, lingering a moment on his
sex, then blushingly moving upward.

He grinned mischievously at her. “I trust I meet with your com-
plete approval, sweetheart,” he teased, climbing into bed with her.

Her heart-shaped face was very serious. “I don’t understand how
it works.”

“Let me worry about that,” he answered. Taking her into his
arms, he rolled her beneath him. “Ah, Skye! Sweet Skye! I have
dared much for you, my darling.” His mouth found hers again, but
this time it was different. His lips teased, playing lightly across her
mouth, her fluttering eyelids, her forehead, cheeks, chin, and lastly 
the tip of her nose.

The shock of his sweet assault left her slightly breathless, and
she was certainly not ready for the warm hand that gently cupped her breast. “Oh!” Then, “Oh, Niall, I am sorry I am so small,” she
apologized shyly, unable to meet his warm gaze.

“You are perfection, Skye. See how sweetly your breast nestles
into my hand? It is like a little white dove.” He bent his dark head
and kissed the pink peak, pleased that it hardened almost immediately
beneath his lips.

Gently he pressed her back among the pillows, lightly straddling
her. His warm mouth now pressed kisses all across her trembling
breasts, taking pleasure in her rapid rise to passion. Her beautiful
hair billowed shining and dark across the white linen pillows. Head
thrown back to reveal the slender column of her throat, she tempted
the warm lips to leave a string of burning kisses down the quivering
flesh.

His big hands slipped over her torso, enjoying the silken skin.
Suddenly Skye was afire, and she moaned helplessly, frightened.
Her body felt liquid. She was languid, yet filled with a great strength
at the same time. His voice murmured soft and reassuring words of
love.

Still she gasped softly, surprised as his fingers gently explored
her, probing tenderly, forcing the tension from her body. Then she
became aware of a new touch, that of his manhood, hard against
her soft leg. Gently his knee nudged her thighs apart. The pulsing
root of him touched the tip of her womanhood, and in a sweet haze
of fear and desire she heard him say, “It will hurt you just once,
Skye. After that there will never be pain again, my love.”

“Yes! Yes! Oh, please, yes!” she panted, not even knowing what
it was that she sought, but desperately wanting it. A deep, burning
pain quickly receded, leaving her filled with a wonderful, throbbing
warmth. His silvery eyes met her blue ones, and passion mirrored
passion as he loved her. For a moment they hung suspended in time
and then she cried out her pleasure as his hardness broke, filling her
with his creamy juices.

After a few breathless minutes he rolled away and cradled her in
his arms. He stroked her hair, marveling at its soft density. When
he spoke again his velvety voice held the faintest hint of a tremor.
”Thank you, Skye, my little love. Thank you for the most precious
gift a man can receive from a maiden.”

She moved so that she could see his face, her new womanhood
making her brave. “I have waited all my life for you, Niall Burke.
Do not leave me now, for I should sooner be your leman than Dom
O’Flaherty’s wife. I would go where you go.”

He sighed. “I cannot let you go now, Skye. We will get your
marriage annulled based on your adultery with me. I have no inten-
tion of returning you to O’Flaherty. We will leave for my father’s castle in the morning. Your husband is a vain peacock. A fat financial
settlement and a new and noble bride should soothe his swollen
pride.”

“You will not leave me?” Her eyes were shining with happiness.
”Oh, Niall! I love you! I love you so much!”

“God, sweetheart, I adore you!” He kissed her hard. “I love you
too, my darling. I love you!”

Their bodies melted together once more. Skye was completely
overwhelmed by these new and delicious stormy sensations sweeping
over her. Her body responded to his every touch, eagerly seeking
each new thrill.

He lay on his back and, lifting her, lay her atop him. Her blushes
delighted him. Shyly she hid her face in his shoulder. He chuckled.
”Nay, sweetheart, now you must love me.”

“But Niall, I don’t know how,” she protested.

‘Touch me, Skye. It’s the best start.”

She sat up, her legs on either side of his torso. She couldn’t quite
meet his gaze yet. Shyly she touched his chest with a trembling
hand. The dark mat of hair was soft, his skin smooth and warm.
Her hand moved to his shoulder, then down his well-muscled sword
arm. In a sudden bold move she leaned forward and brushed his
cheek with her breast. Niall softly caught his breath and waited for
her next move. Slowly she rubbed his face and then a hard little
nipple was against his lips. It was now Skye’s turn to gasp as she
found the taut little peak in the warmness of his mouth. His tongue
teased it, sending darts of fire through her. She wriggled, eyes half
closed.

His arms came up around her, and she once more found herself
on her back. He caught her hand and drew it down to his manhood.
Unbidden she caressed him with devastating effect. He groaned into
the dark and tangled night of her hair. The clean, heathery smell of
her soap, the warm woman scent of her body maddened him. Again
he slid his great sword into her sweet sheath.

Sighing, she took as much of him to herself as she could. Her
arms held him as tightly as his held her.

“Put your legs about me, my darling. I cannot have enough of
you.” His voice was strange, fierce and husky. Obeying, she cried
out softly as she felt him drive deeper into her soft body. The world
about her exploded into a whirlpool of pleasure upon pleasure. It
could get no better, and yet it did-with each smooth thrust.

“Niall! Oh, Niall, I die!” she finally sobbed, seemingly unable
to bear any more. He was experienced enough to control their spiraling rise, but he could not stop loving her. “Just a little more,
Skye. Ah, God! You’re so sweet! I don’t want to stop!” he muttered thickly. “No! No! Don’t stop! Please, no!” she whispered back
frantically. She did not want to leave this marvelous world. Deeper!
Deeper! Faster! Faster! They were lost in each other. As they climaxed together she gave a long wail, half in joy, half in sorrow.