The Game (32 page)

L
iam tossed the priceless necklace to the seaman. “Keep it, Jacko. Well done.”

Katherine’s hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide, incredulous—fearful. Jacko grinned, pocketed the jewels, saluted Liam smartly, and turned away. Katherine’s gaze lifted to Liam’s. His regard chilled her to the bone.

He was very angry, and she should be afraid of him. But her pulse was beginning to subside now, not accelerate. In fact, Katherine was vaguely aware of feeling relieved.

He gripped her arm, jerking her up close. “I did not realize you were so unhappy, Katherine.”

She stared up at his handsome face. Oh, God. She
was
relieved. She had not really wanted to leave him, she had not.

He shook her briefly, to get her attention, his mouth tight. “I did not realize you were so unhappy,” he repeated angrily.

She hesitated, her eyes growing moist. “I…I was not
that
unhappy, Liam.”

His laughter was harsh, unamused. “Then why?” he demanded. “Why this?”

She had the reckless urge to fling herself into his arms, yet she stood very still instead. “’Twas my duty—to myself.”

He stared at her.

“I could not passively accept this circumstance,” she said softly.

He eyed her. “You have never demonstrated the slightest tendency to passive behavior in my presence.”

She knew what he was referring to and she blushed. “That is not fair.”

“Life is hardly fair. And I am tired of your hypocrisy.” He began to propel her back in the direction she had come.

Katherine hurried to keep up with him, trying to dislodge his hurtful grip. She gave up, for it was clear he wished to drag her about, and she was very aware that passing villagers were watching them with avid curiosity—with more than a few smiles amongst the men. She stumbled alongside him as he quickened his already long, brisk strides. His iron hold kept her upright. “What are you going to do?” She could not keep the anxiety out of her tone.

His eyes were chips of silvery ice. “We shall settle this issue once and for all.”

“What do you mean?”

His answer was a dangerous smile. Katherine grew frightened. He was very angry, he did not understand that she had not really wanted to leave him, and she was not ready to bare her heart to him, not yet. She could not begin to imagine what he intended for her, now. Suddenly he veered right, turning onto a street going into the center of the village, instead of continuing on toward the castle on the hill above the town.

“I want to know where you’re taking me,” Katherine panted as his pace increased.

This time he did not look at her. “The church.”

And suddenly, through a cluster of silver birch trees swaying in a summer-soft breeze, Katherine saw the freshly whitewashed church on the corner ahead of them, its tall gray steeple and golden cross piercing the air. Suddenly she began to fathom what he was doing—but surely she was wrong! “Liam, stop, this makes no sense,” she cried, trying to pull her arm free of his iron grip.

His response was to propel her forward along the stone path bordered with blue pansies and up the chapel’s three front steps.

“What can you be thinking?” she gasped as he crashed
his shoulder into the front door. It flew open, banging loudly on the inside wall.

“’Tis time we are wed,” he said.

Inside, the church was cool, the light dim. It was startlingly quiet. Stained glass windows graced each side of the nave where they stood, the altar in front of them. All the symbols of the mass were present, including a huge gold crucifix, and Katherine knew immediately that the church was Catholic, but that gave her no comfort at all. It only added to her confusion.

“Liam,” she managed desperately. “I am already married. You know that.”

His icy regard held hers. “And I also know that your marriage to Hawke was never consummated. I wonder if he has not already divorced you? In any case, surely you know that the Pope does not recognize marriages between Catholics and heretics. In the eyes of your own church, Katherine, you and Hawke are not wed.”

“But you are Protestant,” she said weakly, beginning to realize that he was deadly earnest. And of course, she knew that he spoke the truth.

“My beliefs are my own,” he said flatly, “but Father Michael will not refuse me, for I built this church, brought him here, and I pay his stipend. He can convert me now, and marry us, too.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but only managed a strangled sound. It quickly dawned upon her that a Catholic marriage was what she had always wanted—but not, of course, to a godless pirate.

“Liam,” a male voice said from the other end of the nave.

Katherine half turned and watched the priest drifting up the aisle toward them, his dark robes flowing gracefully about his slim form. He was a young, dark-haired man, and he smiled at Liam as if he were pleased to see him. Katherine’s pulse raced so fiercely now that she felt faint.

Would it be so terribly bad to marry Liam O’Neill?

“Father Michael,” Liam said quietly. “I wish you to meet Katherine FitzGerald.”

Father Michael turned to her, also smiling. “I have been
hoping to make your acquaintance, my lady,” he said, his gaze holding hers. His blue eyes were both kind and serene. “To welcome you to our island, and to offer you my services should you have need of them.”

Katherine could not speak.

“I want you to marry us,” Liam said, “I, of course, will take the necessary vows.”

The priest regarded him, not appearing at all surprised. “Am I to understand that you wish the ceremony performed now?”

“Aye,” Liam said, his voice ringing out harshly in the empty church. “I wish you to wed us immediately.”

Katherine’s knees gave out. But Liam caught her instantly and moved her forward, down the aisle, to the altar, holding her upright. His gaze captured hers. Katherine saw the stark determination there, and knew that nothing, neither man nor beast, neither devil nor God, would sway him from his path now.

Liam opened the door to their bedchamber. Katherine was careful not to look at him or touch him as she preceded him into their room. They were married; incredibly, they were man and wife. She walked to the room’s far side and stood staring out of the narrow window at the courtyard below, not seeing a single thing.

She must accept her fate. And her fate, apparently, was Liam O’Neill.

In truth, was there any other choice for her? In all likelihood, Hawke had already divorced her. Was it not better, then, to be the pirate’s wife instead of his whore? Had Liam not married her, had he set her free, no other man would have her, not after her sojourn upon his island, her father could not support her, and she would be homeless, a vagrant upon the streets.

And, truthfully, secretly, was it so bad to be his wife? When she yearned for him so? When she was, perhaps, on the brink of falling in love with him? Or even past it?

Tears blurred Katherine’s vision. She was exhausted, so very exhausted, and so unsure of everything. Of him, of
herself. She did not dare think about the past or the future, not now, not today. She hugged herself.

Katherine became aware of the utter silence filling the bedchamber. But she knew she was not alone. She looked behind her. Liam still stood in front of the door. His expression was very strained. He watched her intently.

Her pulse skipped wildly. She stared back.

His jaw clenched. He turned his face away, staring, apparently, at the floor. How beautiful his profile was. But should he not be elated? He had wanted this marriage; he had won. Why then did he appear so subdued? Why was he suddenly so restrained? Could he feel as uncertain, even as shy, as she did?

Katherine could not tear her eyes from him, wondering what he would say, what he might do, now that they were wed. Finally he lifted his head, his silver gaze searching. Then, uncharacteristically, he raked a hand through his hair. Katherine thought that it trembled ever so slightly.

She wet her lips. “Now what do we do?”

His gaze held hers. “What is it you wish to do, Katherine?”

“I do not know.” But she was assailed by her old dreams, and in them she was so gay, so innocent, and so happy—a laughing bride. She wanted to be that bride now.

“I do not want to fight you,” he said, his tone thick.

She jerked, her gaze flying to his. “Then perhaps you should change your forceful ways, Liam.”

“Perhaps.”

A silence thickened between them. Katherine became aware of the tension inside her own body, in her thighs and in her hips and in her mind. They were married now. It was their wedding night. He had every right to take her to his bed, when before he’d had none. Surely this night would end with seduction and lovemaking. Yet why did he stand there staring at her so gravely? What halted him from coming to her, as he had done so many times before?

He had folded his arms across his chest as well. “I wonder if a peace is possible, between us.”

Something soared inside her breast. “I…don’t know.”

His jaw flexed.

Katherine wet her lips. “We could…try.”

His eyes widened, his arms dropped to his sides.

She realized then how much she wanted a truce, how tired she was of constant warfare, and how eager she was for the sanctuary of his powerful embrace. How eager she was for his body, for both the comfort it would provide her, and the pleasure. She flushed. “We are married now. ’Tis insane…to war.”

He moved forward, his strides eating up the space between them, halting abruptly in front of her. But he did not touch her. “I think that I am insane, Kate, to have done all that I have done, to have risked so much—for you.”

A wild, heated, joyous emotion unfurled inside of her. Katherine tried to control it, to subdue it. “Perhaps this will work,” she said. “We can make it work.”

He inhaled, the sound loud and sharp.

Katherine felt tears rise swiftly and her vision blurred as she reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. Liam’s eyes closed. A moment later he turned his face, opened her palm, and pressed a lingering kiss there.

Katherine smiled and moved into his arms. This time, when their mouths mated, it was the prelude to far more than a carnal union.

Katherine awoke as covers were placed over her naked body. She heard strange sounds in the room, which became less strange, and then familiar—servants filling a tub with bathwater.

Her weary mind began to function. She was in bed, in their bedchamber—a chamber they had shared for many days now. She recalled all of it. Liam had refused to allow her to leave, and passion had bred more passion. The first time had been amazingly gentle, amazingly tender, the second time wildly savage. She could not remember the rest. His hands, his mouth, his huge heated entry, his whispered words, sometimes endearments, sometimes lewd provocations, ’twas all a blur. Except for one thing, one thing which stood out in her mind, remaining crystal clear.

Not once had Liam given her his seed.

Sudden despair washed over Katherine, chasing away her sated contentment. She had always wanted children. She still did. And she was his wife now. Why would he still be resolved to deny her his children? What dark demons drove him in such an unnatural manner? All men wanted children. All men wanted heirs: immortality. All men except, apparently, this one. The man who was now her husband.

And suddenly his words came back to her, so loud and so clear it was as if he spoke in the room now. “
I am not so cruel, to bring my bastards into the world. I do not want children. I will not have children. I will not bequeath them this life
.”

Katherine opened her eyes abruptly. Sunlight poured into the chamber, telling her that it was midday, and a fine afternoon, too. Dismay filled her, dismay and an aching sadness.

Was he so set against children that she would never have any? What caused him to have such a strange, dark determination?

Katherine had no answer, not yet. She turned and watched a servant adding sweet herbs to a tub of steaming bathwater, and the scent of rosemary wafted over her. Katherine tried to summon up some interest, but failed. She was fully awake, though, and she sat up, holding the sheets up over her chest. Then she gasped.

Liam stood by the doorway, regarding her intently. He was not smiling, but when their gazes collided, the slightest, most tentative smile formed on his face.

Katherine summoned up a smile that felt utterly shy and every bit as uncertain as his.

“Good morning, Kate.” He moved to her, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. He kissed her palm, holding her eyes. The servant pretended not to see, quickly leaving. Katherine’s senses rioted, her cheeks flamed. His eyes were so warm as they looked at her that Katherine could not help but believe that he cared for her far more than he had ever let on.

And she was jolted by the notion. Jolted and undone.

He sat down beside her on the bed. “What dark
thoughts do you entertain, that you wake up so serious and so gloomy?”

She studied him, but he seemed to want to know, so she blurted out the truth. “Liam, surely, now that we are wed, you want children?”

His smiled disappeared. Liam rose to his full height, staring down at her, his eyes stormy with emotion. “No, Katherine. I thought you understood. I will not bring
my
children into this world.”

Katherine gripped the bedcovers to her neck. “I do not understand.”

His jaw flexed. “I am sure that you do not.”

Dismay, and anger, filled her. “I am your wife. God knows, I did not ask to be such, but it is done now, and surely I have some rights.”

His gaze traveled over her features, returned to her eyes. “I do not want my sons to sail the seas, with no other world open to them. And God forbid we should have a daughter, for she would have even less choice than that. No. I will not have children.”

Katherine shook her head. “Please, Liam, this is very important to me. We must discuss this. We must—”

“No!”

Katherine flinched at the note of raw fury in his voice.