The Game (16 page)

His shirt was damp with sweat and completely unlaced, revealing his muscular chest, and much of his flat belly. She knew she should not look any lower, but her glance slipped just once—and once was enough.

He was a stunning man, as powerful of body as he was of mind and will, and he was still heavily aroused.

He had been watching her, following her gaze. “That’s right. I still want you, Katherine. I still need you.”

She wanted to plug her ears. Even his words had power—even his words were seductive. “But I don’t want
you.” His glance skewered her and Katherine had the grace to blush. Before he could point out the obvious fact that she had just wanted him very much, she said, “My body may want you, but I want Hugh.”

His jaw tightened. Unpleasantly, he said, “You thought him dead for six years. Do you try to tell me that you have remained faithful in your heart and mind for all that time to a man you supposed dead?”

She had hardly even thought of him in all those years, not after the first few months of mourning, but she nodded. “I love him. He is my betrothed; soon we will be wed.”

Liam smiled. It was a very dangerous smile. “Really?”

Katherine tensed. “Yes.”

Suddenly he moved closer, towering over her. “I don’t think so,” he said.

He couldn’t possibly know her most secret fears—that Hugh had long since forgotten about her and had no intention of marrying her. “You think wrongly,” she whispered. It was hard to get the words out.

“Do I?” His lips curled. Their gazes locked. A silent moment crackled and sizzled between them. “We will find out soon enough, Katherine, won’t we—whether your lover truly wants you?”

“Yes,” Katherine managed, gripping the coverlet.

Liam stood very still. “And when he casts you aside—will you come to me freely, then?”

She inhaled. The sound was loud and sharp, cutting the air like a whip.

“Will you?” he demanded, his eyes blazing. “Then will you come to me freely?”

“No.”

He stared for the space of a single heartbeat, then wheeled and strode away. As he slammed the door hard behind him, Katherine collapsed on the bed in a heap. And it was a very long time before she even thought of sleep.

L
iam prowled the night-dark deck of his ship. The wind was strong and steady now, a fine sailing wind, and it whipped his face, his body. He paused at the bow, in a circle of mellow moonlight, allowing sharp slivers of icy water to spray his face.

His jaw was tight. He was rigid, tension delineated in every line of his body. He felt as tightly strung as an archer’s well-prepared crossbow.

Her weeping, her curses, her accusations, echoed in his ears.

He was not like Shane O’Neill. Goddammit, he was no murderer, no rapist. He plundered for the queen, never without her implicit approval. His targets were always political. Few men died in those battles, far less than in most wars. It was his standard practice to free the crews of the ships he seized, while he took the booty, keeping it or disposing of it as he saw fit. And he had never raped any woman—and he never would.

Liam shook. He had been with many women. Many. Some had been, like Katherine, innocent victims, captured by him at sea in consequence of his piracy. But he had never attempted to seduce any woman who was without some experience, or who had not given him a sign that she was interested.

Until Katherine.

Liam had decided to seduce Katherine in spite of her lack of experience, in spite of her obvious unwillingness.
He knew that he should stay away from her, because of her unwillingness, because of her inexperience. But he could not.

She was an unusual woman—an extraordinary woman, a woman much like her infamous mother, Joan Butler FitzGerald. Her pride, her defiance, her independence, it did not repel him. To the contrary. Knowing her somewhat now, he wanted her more than ever. Other women paled in comparison to Katherine.

But Liam did not want to be like his father. Taking where he was not wanted, as he willed. And Katherine was determined to resist him. Liam knew he could seduce her and bring her to the point where she begged for him to go inside her. But now he suspected she would hate him even more if he did such a thing.

It occurred to him that a forced seduction might be close enough to rape to make him very much Shane O’Neill’s son.

Liam gripped the wet, wooden railing of his ship. What in hell should he do?

A moral man would release her to Hugh Barry. Liam knew he was not moral enough to be that kind of man.

He was furious. He was furious with himself, for wanting her so obsessively. He was furious with her, for pushing him past his limits, for showing him just how much like his father he really was. And he was ashamed.

For acting like a beast, becoming a savage beast, in front of Lady Katherine FitzGerald—an animal no different than his father.

Katherine stood at the porthole in Liam’s cabin. Her eyes widened. She saw land. She saw, quite distinctly, the wild Irish coast.

A day had passed, during which time she had sewn her poor abused gown together. Already washed and dressed, now she hurried from the cabin, flying up the narrow stairs. Out of breath and mindless of it, she crossed the deck to the rail. She smiled, staring at her homeland, which she had not seen in six long years. Her smile widened as she watched the pale strip of beach at the base of
cliffs growing broader as they approached. She threw back her head and laughed exultantly.

“Good morning, Katherine.”

Her laughter died and she turned to face Liam. She had not seen him since the night before last, when he had almost succeeded in seducing her completely. He was unsmiling, but so was she. His gaze moved swiftly over her face, pausing on her mouth, then it slipped briefly to her breasts. There was no doubt about what he was thinking. Katherine felt her color rising. Her own gaze had inspected him as thoroughly; she had been helpless to prevent it. If only that horrible, intimate night had not happened. “Good morning,” she managed, turning away from him to face the coast, trying to ignore his proximity.

She had been hoping that he would no longer have any effect upon her.

“You are so pleased to see me,” he murmured. “I had hoped that a brief separation might make you somewhat fonder of me?”

Katherine stared straight ahead. “I am fond of one man—and he is not you.”

“Ah, yes, your long-lost lover. Or should I refer to him as long dead?”

She turned, her gaze fierce. “I would prefer that you do not speak of him at all.”

“But that is impossible.” His gray gaze held hers. “As I am consumed with jealousy at the mere thought of you with Hugh.”

Katherine could not move.

His tone lowered. “But surely you know that, Katherine.” It was a husky caress.

Her pulse had quickened. “I know only that you are a conscienceless rogue, one as adept at seduction as you are at mayhem and murder.”

He smiled lazily. “I spill my heart to you and you toss it back in my face. You are cruel, Katherine.”

“You spill naught but nonsense,” she cried. She wanted to leave the railing now, to leave him, but sensed that he would stop her if she tried.

“I have passed two miserable nights.”

Her pulse thundered. She could imagine why he had not slept well. She could imagine him tossing and turning, burning with forbidden heat until dawn—just as she had done. “I…I do not care,” she finally said.

His only answer was another lazy smile, one both superior and knowing.

He guessed. He guessed that she had slept as badly as he—and for exactly the same reasons. Her cheeks hot, Katherine gazed at the shore. “I am surprised that I do not see any landmarks which I recognize.” In fact, she did not recollect such sheer cliffs at all near the mouth of the Shannon estuary.

“You are familiar with Cork?” He crossed his arms and leaned on the railing beside her.

“Cork!” she cried, spinning toward him. “We approach Cork? We do not go to Askeaton?”

“We shall put in at Cork and ride for Barrymore. ’Tis the seat of the Barrys, is it not?”

She gaped at him. “B-but, I thought we would go home first!”

“Why?” he studied her face. “You love Hugh, do you not? Surely your first thought is to rush into his arms. Askeaton is fifty miles from here.”

Dismay crushed her. “But by sea we could be there by nightfall, could we not?”

“I was instructed to escort you to Hugh Barry,” he said firmly, his jaw flexing. “By the queen herself.”

Katherine choked and faced the coastline again. Now she saw that they sped toward the bay. There was an English garrison at Cork. It was an English town. “You will be fired upon the moment they sight you,” she said, somewhat fearfully.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, glancing upward.

She turned and saw that he was flying the queen’s flag. “Will they not think it a trap?”

“Mayhap.” He shrugged. “I have sealed letters from Her Majesty for Lord President Perrot. Instructing him of my mission.” His cool gray eyes found and held hers.

Katherine forced her disappointment aside. It did not matter. Surely she would be able to visit Askeaton soon.
It was better that they go directly to Hugh. And as Barrymore was not far from Cork, soon she would be with Hugh—who was the answer to all of her dreams.

Sir John Perrot arrived shortly after they had docked and he boarded the ship with a large escort of armed men. He was a very fat man, with flaming red hair and a long beard of an equally brilliant color. He wore his scarlet doublet open, as he could not close it over his huge girth. Yet he was no comical figure. He had been appointed lord president of Munster last December by the queen. His orders were to crush the rebels, who sought to drive the English settlers out, and who were thus far succeeding. His orders were to catch the leader of the traitors, James FitzMaurice. He was a determined man, a renowned soldier, but well past his prime. ’Twas widely held that he was the bastard son of King Henry VIII.

Liam awaited him and his troops at the head of the gangplank, standing casually, but wearing his rapier. The two men came face-to-face and a few words were exchanged. Liam handed the lord president a letter bearing the royal seal. Perrot tore it open abruptly, then proceeded to read it for many long minutes. Finally he looked up at Liam and frowned. They spoke again. Liam turned and beckoned Katherine forward.

Katherine had been standing beside one of the masts with Macgregor, watching the interchange. Her heart had been thundering. Now she was relieved. She had been unable to prevent herself from thinking that Liam would be arrested almost on sight, not just for being a pirate, but for being an Irish pirate, a far graver offense.

Perrot glanced at Katherine somewhat rudely. He noticed the seam running down the front of her gown. He did not bow or kiss her hand. He said, “So you’re FitzGerald’s girl. I hear he pines away for Desmond, eh?”

Katherine tensed. “My father misses
his
land, yes.”

Perrot smiled. “Desmond land belongs to FitzGerald no more, girl, and we both know it. So you are to marry Barry’s heir? I have heard it said that he is secretly supporting that papist lunatic, FitzMaurice.”

Katherine said stiffly, “I would not know.” Then she felt Liam take her elbow, quite firmly—warningly.

“You can give him a message from me. I will capture FitzMaurice and present his head to the queen. The day he stood outside the walls of Cork and pronounced Her Majesty a bastard and a heretic was the day his fate was sealed. To think he seeks to overthrow the Crown! He is mad—and he will rue his ways. You tell Barry that his head will join the papist’s on a pike if he dares to ride against me. I will crush these rebels. Every last one. Mark my words.”

Katherine ignored the pressure of Liam’s hand, which was so tight now that pain shot up her arm. “No Englishman can crush all of Ireland,” she said fiercely. “’Twould be an impossible feat.”

Perrot’s face turned red.

Liam jerked her against his side. “Do not heed her, Lord Perrot. She is overwrought with bridal nerves, and other womanly ailments,” he said smoothly. “She knows not of what she speaks.”

Katherine felt like kicking him in the shin. She glared at him, but he ignored her.

“When might we get our traveling papers?” he asked.

Perrot faced Katherine. “If you think to entice your betrothed farther into treason, think again. I have no qualms about placing your head alongside those of all other traitors, Mistress FitzGerald.”

Liam’s fingers dug into her arm. “She is but convent-breed, Sir John. She knows nothing of the world, of men, or of men’s ways.” He smiled slyly. “She will do naught but entice her husband into bed, I assure you of that.”

Perrot’s gaze flickered over the front of her dress. “And a good romp it will be, I warrant. But you already know that, eh, O’Neill?” He laughed a little.

Liam smiled, too.

Katherine seethed.

Perrot shot Katherine another glance and turned, calling over his shoulder, “You will have your papers within the hour, Captain. But know this. If the queen did not command my aid, I would deny you this mission.” He strode down
the gangplank, his huge weight making the wood groan. At the other end he snapped to his soldiers, “No one is to leave this ship unless they carry orders from me!”

Liam and Katherine watched as he was assisted onto his horse and thundered away with his cavalcade. When he was gone, she jerked away from Liam, rubbing her arm. “Spineless worm!”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Do you slander him—or me?”

“You!” she cried. “You are no red-blooded Irishman, but a blue-blooded Brit—aye, you have proved yourself this day!”

“I have heard that before,” Liam said, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing. “And you, dear Katherine, are a total fool to bait the most powerful man in Ireland.”

“Powerful, bah!” she spit. “My father was powerful—he is but a fat, long-tongued toad! I suppose you enjoyed your comradely male exchange?”

Liam towered over her. “Without traveling papers, we go nowhere, mistress, nowhere.”

“Traveling papers? Why do we need such papers?” she shot.

“Lord Perrot has enacted many new laws since his appointment—all designed to make life miserable for the Irish. One disallows travel. That is, no one is allowed to travel anywhere without papers sealed by him. And that includes us.”

Katherine stared. “Why—that is intolerable!”

“No more intolerable than the outlawing of bards and poets, of native dress and glibs,” Liam said.

Katherine was aghast. “He has outlawed rhyme and harp?”

“Among many other things.”

“He is a pig!” Katherine cried.

“Actually, he is a distinguished and capable soldier. And he is lord president now, appointed by the queen. Although we enjoy the queen’s blessings now, he could decide to detain us anyway. Especially after the treasonous way you spoke. He has the power of life and death over both of us, Katherine, and I suggest you do not forget it.” Liam strode away.

Katherine watched him go, pale, no longer fuming.

Cork was an important trading town, and had been so since medieval times. Narrow cobbled streets ran this way and that. Single- and double-storied homes, stuccoed and timbered and partially made of stone, crowded against one another. Ofttimes shops were below, where craftsmen and artisans plied their trade, where bakers formed their fresh-made loaves and pies. A crumbling old Norman church lay in the shadow of a soaring cathedral that had been completed during the reign of Henry VIII. The walled castle and the garrison within it were adjacent to the harbor, and the entire town was walled as well.

It was but two summers earlier that Cork had been besieged by FitzMaurice and the rebels. The seige had not lasted long, for the rebels had retreated when news of Sir Henry Sidney’s arrival had reached them. Sir Henry had relieved Cork with both victual and troops, but FitzMaurice had already been declared a traitor to the Crown, not for laying waste to the countryside, not for killing whatever English settlers he could find, but for denouncing the queen as a heretic publicly before the city walls.

As Katherine, Liam, and Macgregor now rode through the town’s northern gate, she was appalled. Once upon a time the countryside surrounding Cork had been lush meadows, dotted with sheep and cows, and fertile farmland, planted with rye and oats. Thick forests had fringed the farms and crept over the hillsides. Now all was changed.