The Game (14 page)

Liam held the letters authorizing him to prey upon all Spanish ships, in effect thwarting any official Spanish claims against him. In England he could no longer be prosecuted for plundering Spanish ships, and at sea he could become more ruthless and more daring than he was in his dealings with the French. He had no letters of marque against them, just a careful understanding with Elizabeth, who hated Catherine de Medici, hated and feared her, yet was unwilling to aid the French Huguenots openly as she had once done.

“Are you not pleased? Come, Liam, I cannot believe you want one particular girl so badly. She is hardly
that
special.”

Liam did. He had thought about little else other than the beautiful, fiery, intelligent Katherine FitzGerald since he had captured her. He had wanted her the moment he had first seen her. He was still livid about having won a prize, only to have it taken from him. He had been outmaneuvered. It was a rare event. Truly rare. But if he kept his head, and waited, then surely he could emerge the victor as he usually did. Tonight, clearly, was not the night to press the queen for the other woman.

But how could he emerge triumphant?

He could not abduct Katherine again. Already Elizabeth suspected him of conspiring with FitzGerald, and he dared not arouse her suspicions any further. No, he must be more careful than that, more clever. Elizabeth must be maneuvered to his side in this cause. But how?

One fact was clear. He could not allow Katherine to wed Barry.

He bowed his head, contrite. “I am pleased to gain the letters, Bess. Pleased and grateful. You will not be sorry. I shall keep the Spaniards under heel, as you wish me to do.”

Elizabeth nodded, but her gaze was sharp.

Liam looked her in the eye. “And you must forgive me. I am a lusty man.” He paused significantly. “’Tis not easy to be a man, to have lust aroused…and then denied.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened. “You are an intriguing man, Liam. A rogue to the very bone—and you know just how enticing it is.”

He smiled into her eyes. “And you are an intriguing queen, madam.”

She smiled, too. “I have a favor to ask of you. I had intended to make it your punishment, but now…’twould be a boon for me. And—a sign of how I trust you.”

He bowed. Inside, he tensed, expectant. “I am at your command.”

“You brought her here. I ask you to escort her now to Barry.”

Liam quickly hid his surprise—and his pleasure. Inwardly he was triumphant—for now he knew he would win this battle after all. “As you wish, Bess.”

Elizabeth smiled, and Liam realized she was just as pleased as he was.

K
atherine took her dinner just before noon the following day with some hundred other courtiers in the Banquet Hall. The room was huge, supported by thirty great “masts,” each forty feet high. The canvas walls were painted to look like stone and were festooned with holly, ivy, and flowers garnished with spangles of gold. The ceiling was painted to look like the sky, complete with the sun, stars, and clouds, and from it hung pendants of wicker flounced with exotic fruits. There were ten tiers of seats for spectators, and most of the seats were occupied. The hall also boasted 290 windows.

Dinner was a deafening and wondrous affair. Katherine could barely believe her eyes. She found it difficult to eat, and not because she sat on a bench crammed between two large gentlemen who eagerly introduced themselves as Sir John Campton and Lord Edward Hurry, of Campton Heath and Hurry Manor, respectively. There was just so much to see.

But Katherine soon found herself trying to dissuade the gentlemen from their obvious overtures, which became lecherous when she had, reluctantly, given her name. “Such a fine and beauteous Irish lass,” Hurry crooned. “So far from home, my dear?”

Katherine managed a nod, tearing a hunk of warm bread dripping with butter into two pieces, careful not to encourage him. Elbows jammed her from either side. Hurry made another comment but she ignored him. She chewed the
bread, unable to enjoy the sweet, raisiny taste. Her gaze kept wandering, first to the other courtiers, a resplendent sight, then to the painted heavens above, and finally to the animated crowd of spectators seated along the walls, who kept calling out to the diners below.

She gave up trying to eat. She had no appetite. After dinner her escort was to arrive, and her journey home would begin. As interesting as court was, how excited, how thrilled, she was to be leaving. Soon she would be at Askeaton, and she could imagine the proud castle with its round towers and square medieval keep set upon its island looming above the thick forests surrounding Lough Shannon. She could hardly wait.

Soon she would be reunited with Hugh. She tried to envision his surprise. Perhaps he had thought her lost to God after all these years. She almost laughed aloud at the thought of herself becoming a nun. Marriage and babies was what she wanted.

Undoubtedly she was off to a sunny and bright future as Hugh’s wife. Hugh Barry would have turned into a brave and strong man. His father and cousins had all been well formed; none had been ugly. And she loved Hugh. Once she was in his arms, she would forget all about the golden pirate so aptly called the Master of the Seas.

But Katherine could not imagine lying in Hugh’s bed, in his arms. But surely that was because she had not seen him in such a long time, and had thought him dead.

Too, once wed, she would try to find a way to free her father. It was intolerable that he remain an impoverished prisoner at St. Leger House. The queen was proving herself a kind friend. Katherine decided that she would return to court to plead her father’s cause before the queen, to convince her of the injustice of his confinement. While Katherine knew there was no hope of his title or land being restored to him, at the very least he might be able to return to Ireland—to Askeaton, where he had been born.

Katherine glanced around the incredible hall once again, and knew that she would not mind returning, not at all.

Finally Katherine pushed her pewter plate aside, unable to avoid her misgivings. She had to face the real reason
for her lack of appetite. Although she was thrilled that Hugh was alive, and that she was to marry him, she was frightened, too. She had not seen him in years. What would their reunion be like? What if he no longer wanted her? Why had
he
not sent for her in all these years?

And why did Liam O’Neill’s image keep crowding her mind?

“Why do you brood, mistress?” A rich and familiar voice asked.

Katherine stiffened.

Behind her, he bent low, and when next he spoke, his breath licked her ears. “Are you not filled to overflowing with joy now that you can go home?” Liam teased.

Katherine twisted to stare up at him. It was as if she had conjured him out of thin air with her thoughts. “B-but—what do you here!”

He laughed, and suddenly shoved himself between her and Lord Hurry, who scurried to make room for him. Immediately ’twas Liam’s rock-hard thigh pressing against hers and then he picked up her hand.

“Good morn, sweetheart,” he murmured as if they were alone in a bedchamber, nay, alone in bed.

She snatched her hand away. “You are not in the Tower!”

“No, I am not.”

“I do not understand.” Her heart was beating quickly. His warm thigh was jammed against hers. She did not dare to move.

“The good queen has seen fit to pardon me for my sinful ways,” he laughed. Suddenly his hand was on her leg, squeezing her once.

Katherine swatted it off. “You mean, rogue, that you have used that golden charm of yours to get yourself freed!”

“Mayhap.” His gray eyes gleamed.

She huffed. “I am not surprised that even the queen cannot refuse you.” She tried to turn her back to him, but twisting that way was so uncomfortable, that she faced her plate instead.

“A compliment from your pretty lips, Katherine? I had never thought to see the day. I shall cherish it.”

She was so angry. She stabbed her meat with the knife. “You may cherish whatever you choose, O’Neill.”

He smiled. “Ah, then I choose to cherish you.”

And before Katherine could respond, he leaned even closer to her, and again his hand crept up her thigh. He whispered, “Why are you angry, dearest? I had thought you would be pleased to see me spared the hangman’s noose.”

“I am hardly pleased to see you alive and…well!” She jammed her elbow into his shoulder and succeeded in dislodging his hand. “I am trying to eat, O’Neill, and even did I wish to converse, I would not choose you as a partner.”

“Come, Katherine, confess. You heart is not stone. Not where I am concerned. You were worried about me.” He still leaned close, and she could feel his breath against her cheek and throat.

Katherine had had enough. She would never, ever, confess what he wished to hear—even if it were somewhat, and very slightly, true. “You are the very last person I would ever worry about. Now go away!”

Liam laughed. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, darling.”

She faced him, her green eyes on fire. “Do you not have affairs of murder and mayhem to attend to, pirate? Or did you stop here to torture me?”

“There is no pressing murder I must commit this day, no,” he said easily. “But tomorrow—ah—that is another tale.”

“Perhaps I will leave then, if you insist upon staying.” Katherine had no chance to move, though, for his hand quickly gripped hers.

He eyed her bosom. “But I can add torture to my agenda this day, Katherine. Sweet, soft, sucking torture.”

She flamed. “I know not what inanities you speak.”

“I think you lie,” he murmured.

She struggled to pull her hand from his so she could leave the table—so she would not have to put up with his
mockery anymore, his suggestions and innuendos, or the proximity of his big body.

But he was relaxed and he released her hand—although his fingers managed to stroke hers as he did so. “Katherine, I suggest you finish your dinner. There will be little chance for more refreshment once we leave Whitehall.”

Katherine jerked. “What?”

“I do not intend to stop once we leave Whitehall,” Liam said. “I wish to be at sea and en route as soon as possible—by nightfall.”

Katherine stared, speechless.

He smiled, lazy and predatory, at once. “Did not the queen explain? I am to escort you home.”

She could not believe her ears.

“Come, darling, do not look so distraught. I might become insulted.”

“Whatever could she be thinking!” Katherine cried. “Surely you jest—or you lie!”

His glance raked her. “I neither jest nor lie, dearheart. The queen wishes for me to atone for my sins, and as ’twas I who interfered with your voyage home, ’tis only just that I should assist you in completing your voyage.” He grinned.

“I shall not go with you,” Katherine gasped. “You have no intention of escorting me home! You will abduct me….” she faltered, her cheeks red.

He laughed. “And what else is it you think I shall do?”

She gripped the table, about to leap to her feet. The urge to flee was instinctive.

He clamped his large hand upon one of hers, more forcefully this time, so that she could not move. “Katherine, I will take you to Hugh. I am no fool to arouse the queen’s ire—and suspicions—again by repeating abduction. But…” His eyes turned to smoke. And he shrugged.

Katherine’s heart beat wildly. Dare she believe him? That he would take her home—that he did not intend to defy the queen by abducting her a second time? She was stunned; she could hardly think. She supposed she must believe him. Liam would be an utter fool to anger Elizabeth after obtaining a pardon. Katherine felt a touch of
bitter jealousy. Surely the queen had been prettily seduced to have agreed to such madness—to have pardoned a damnable pirate and charged him with escorting her home. Katherine looked into his gaze. She did not doubt that he would continue to attempt to seduce her.

She promised herself that he would not succeed.

Katherine cleared her throat. “The queen approves of my marriage to Hugh.”

Liam did not respond.

“If you trespass upon what belongs to Hugh, you will also arouse her ire.”

Still he made no comment, watching her steadily with silver eyes.

“So you are thwarted, O’Neill.”

Finally he began to smile. Katherine grew uneasy. He did not look like a man who had been denied his prize. “Am I truly thwarted, Katherine?” he asked.

She was wary, refusing to reply. Their gazes clashed, held.

Instinct warned her the time had come to leave the table. She almost jumped to her feet. Too late. His hand gripped her chin, anchoring it in place. Her knees buckled and she sat again. And then he pulled her face forward and his mouth claimed hers.

Katherine’s hands came up and she pressed his shoulders, to push him away. It was futile. Worse, with thumb and forefinger he exerted a subtle pressure and her jaws opened. Instantly his tongue swept deep into her mouth. And with that invasion came another kind. Molten heat pooled in Katherine’s body, condensing between her thighs.

She gasped into his mouth. His tongue moved more disturbingly. Katherine’s body shook. As his kiss continued, she grew dazed. She fought the languor stealing over her body and managed to punch his shoulder. He growled his response and continued kissing her, this time forcing his tongue around hers.

Katherine managed to make a sound, but it was raw and only partly a protest. Somehow her fists had uncurled, and she held his shoulders.

He tore his mouth from hers, unsmiling, eyes ablaze. Wide-eyed, Katherine stared at him, absolutely breathless.

Lusty male cheers and hoots sounded amidst female giggles and whispers. Then the hall was filled with thunderous applause, and the spectators began to cheer them. Katherine started, came to her senses, glanced wildly around. It seemed that a hundred men leered at her, that a hundred women cast covetous glances at Liam. She jumped to her feet. This time he let her go, rising as well, one hand under her elbow. “If I am thwarted, then what, pray tell, was that?”

Katherine met his potent gaze, and feared her virtue would soon be lost.

Somehow, the stakes had changed. Yet she knew not what game they played. She knew only that she was still the prize—and that he was bent upon claiming her.

A few hours later, Katherine was aboard the
Sea Dagger
, which was racing toward the sea. She had hardly spared Juliet a thought in the preceding days, but now she was glad to see her friend, and the two girls embraced warmly. Juliet’s stay upon the pirate ship had been uneventful, but Katherine had plenty to impart, and she told Juliet all that had occurred since Liam had taken her to see her father. Juliet listened, wide-eyed.

“What happens now?” Juliet finally asked.

“We are on the way to Cornwall, so that you may be returned home,” Katherine responded. “And then O’Neill shall escort me to Hugh Barry.”

Juliet took Katherine’s hand. “Why are you so grim?”

Her face pale, Katherine looked straight into her friend’s eyes. “Because I am afraid of what the pirate intends for me this night.”

Guy held open the door to his master’s cabin and Liam entered, carrying a heavy tray. It was well past twilight. Lanterns had been lit, and the cabin was warmly aglow. He set the tray down on the dining table, looking for the girls. His eyes widened, then narrowed, when he saw that Juliet lay on the bed, with Katherine attending her, sitting
by her side. What game was this? Was this how Katherine thought to thwart him? He was too annoyed to be very amused.

“Anything else you be needing, sir?” Guy asked.

Liam turned, looking fondly at the orphan he’d found wandering about the harbor at Cherbourg two years ago. “No,” Liam said. “Get some rest, lad. You deserve it for a day well done.”

Guy suddenly smiled, unable to hide his pleasure at those simple words of praise, and it lit up his entire face. He turned to go.

“No dicing and no tables,” Liam called after him.

Guy threw Liam a glance, flushing. “No, sir, Captain.”

As Guy closed the cabin door, Liam faced the two girls. Juliet moaned.

He sighed. He should have known. That fate would intervene—or that Katherine would take it upon herself to forestall him.

Liam strolled over to the bed. He was aware of Katherine’s avoiding his eyes, of how she sat very still and very erect. He himself was somewhat erect as well. He had been cherishing his thoughts of the night to come. A night he had intended to spend in his bed with Katherine, seducing her, pleasuring her.

“I see Juliet is ill,” he remarked.

Katherine finally looked up. “’Tis her stomach. She has terrible pains. I am afraid to leave her.”