This Heart of Mine (59 page)

“What are you going to call the lad?” she asked Pansy, who was beginning to nod upon her pillows.

“Dugald, after his pa,” came her friend’s sleepy reply. “Maybe someday he’ll be able to go home even if we cannot.” Pansy’s eyes closed.

Velvet bent down and kissed the girl’s forehead and that of the baby’s. With his fuzzy crown of carroty hair and very pronounced little nose, he did look very much like his father, she thought as she quietly left the room.

“It is a fine boy,” Adali noted. “She is a good strong girl, your Pansy.”

“Yes,” Velvet said. “She is very strong.”

“What did you talk about?” he asked her. “You both looked as if you would cry at one point.”

“We just thought it sad that Pansy’s husband could not know that he had such a beautiful son. She did not realize she was with child until we were several weeks into our voyage. Dugald did not even know he was to become a father.”

“Then he will feel no loss,” replied Adali wisely.

“No,” said Velvet sadly. “He will feel no loss.”

“Then all will be well with you.” Adali beamed with his approval.

Velvet could not resist a small smile, for she could not stay unhappy long. “Yes, Adali, all will be well with us from now on!”

M
urrough O’Flaherty made the passage from India back to England in record time. Thus it was that he anchored his ship in the London pool on a snowy day in late January, 1590, slightly less than a year after he had left. Putting ashore at the O’Malley warehouses, he learned that his mother and stepfather were in residence at Greenwood, having arrived back in England some three months earlier. A horse was immediately put at his disposal, and Murrough rode as quickly as he could to his mother’s house. The blustery weather gave him one small advantage in that the streets were fairly empty as late-afternoon darkness began to claim London town. The bitter cold had sent even the hardiest beggar seeking shelter. He galloped through the gates of the mansion’s grounds and up the sweeping driveway. Immediately the door was opened, and a groom ran to take his horse as he leaped from it.

“Welcome home, Captain O’Flaherty!” said the elderly majordomo as Murrough strode into the main entry.

“Where is my mother?” Murrough demanded.

“At this time of day she would be in her apartments resting with Lord de Marisco,” came the servant’s reply.

Murrough took the stairs two at a time, moving from the main level of Greenwood to the third floor where the family’s private apartments were located. His knock brought Daisy to the door of Skye’s chambers.

“Captain O’Flaherty!”
Daisy fell back, and then she flung herself forward to hug him mightily. “Come in, Captain! Oh, I just knew that you’d get home safe. Where is Mistress Velvet and my Pansy? Have you come on ahead?”

“So many questions, Daisy,” he chided her gently. “Tell my mother that I am here, please.”

“There is no need, Murrough,” said Skye O’Malley de Marisco as she came through the door of her bedchamber into the dayroom. Taking him in her arms, she kissed him. “My dearest son, I am so thankful to have you back. Where is Velvet? Will she be coming along shortly? We’ve been so worried. It
has been all I could do to prevent Adam from taking one of my ships and sailing back out to sea to find her.” She held him away from her, looking at him closely, and then her marvelous Kerry-blue eyes clouded. “What has happened, Murrough?”

“How could you escape, Mother, and not leave us some word, some sign? I arrived back in Bombay in less than six months!”

“What has happened, Murrough? Tell me this instant!”

“Tell us both,” came Adam de Marisco’s terse words as he came out of the bedchamber. “Where is my daughter, Murrough? Where is Velvet?”

Murrough took a deep breath. ’Twas best, he knew, to get the worst over with first. There would be time later for the full explanation. “Velvet is at the court of the Grand Mughal, Akbar. In his harem, to be precise.”

Daisy gave a little shriek of dismay even as her mistress cried out, “Dear God!” Skye’s eyes closed, and she swayed where she stood as a thousand memories came flooding back to her. She was too strong a woman, however, to faint, and Adam’s arms about her steadied her enough to open her eyes. She could feel him trembling against her, and immediately her total concern was for her husband. Turning, she took his face in her hands. “I’m sure ’tis not as bad as Murrough has made it sound, my darling, but nonetheless I think I need to sit down. Sit by me, Adam.
Please.”
She looked at her son as she settled herself next to her husband. “What happened?” was all she could say.

“We reached Bombay in good time, Mother. I had not delayed a moment in gathering the ransom and returning with it. The Jesuit was awaiting us. He attempted to elicit the gold from me, but I reminded him that our bargain had been that you and Adam would be waiting for us on the dock so that we might be certain that you were both safe. He was finally forced to admit that you had escaped. He demanded the gold, nevertheless, and I told him that I had nothing to pay for. Naturally Father Ourique was not particularly pleased. He had come well prepared, Mother, with a goodly troop of soldiers who lay hidden on the docks. The Jesuit took Velvet and Pansy from the ship to the residence of the Portuguese governor, agreeing to return them when we delivered your ransom. I had no reason to believe that he would not keep his promise, and I could not endanger my sister by haggling. We put back to sea immediately, and the following day I returned with our fleet and the Jesuit saw to the unloading of the gold.

“When it was off our ships, Father Ourique and I rode to the governor’s palace to get Velvet and Pansy. When we got there, the bastard who is their governor told us that he had sent Velvet and her servant to the Mughal as a gift. I thought the Jesuit was going to have a fit where he stood, for he is an honorable man; and had it not been for the governor’s bodyguards, Mother, I would have killed Don Marinha-Grande then and there! I will give Father Ourique credit. He threatened the governor with excommunication, but the Portuguese bastard just laughed at him. It was no sin, he claimed, to send a heretic Englishwoman to Akbar’s harem. When the Jesuit reminded him of Velvet’s faith, that she was not a heretic but a loyal daughter of the church, the governor laughed and said that the Spanish king would not punish him for ridding the world of an English bitch.

“We left the palace then, and I spoke with the padre about retrieving my sister. He told me quite frankly that it was impossible. We could not remove Velvet from a caravan meant for the Mughal without an army, and once she arrived in his capital of Lahore it would be impossible to see her ever again. The Muslims are jealous of their women, and although the Mughal is more civilized than most, he is still a man of India. Father Ourique said we must face the fact that Velvet is lost to us.”

“The Jesuit is a fool then if he thinks I will allow my daughter to spend the rest of her life in some Muslim’s harem!” snapped Adam de Marisco. He turned to his wife. “How soon before we can set sail, my love?”

“Not soon enough,” said Skye. “Velvet is already a part of this ruler’s life. We have dealt with this sort of thing before, Adam. We must plan carefully, for we will get only one chance to retrieve our child. We have an advantage in that they will not suspect we are coming.”

“Their capital is hundreds of miles from the coast, Mother,” said Murrough. “We might get there, but could we get back? It will not be as simple as your escape from Fez once was.”

She nodded. “I know. This will have to be different, and I will need time to consider it.”

“Every minute we waste brings Velvet closer to that devil’s bed!” exploded Adam.

“My darling,” Skye said matter-of-factly, “if Velvet was sent as a gift to the Mughal, he has already most certainly bedded her. It is not the worst fate that can befall a woman.”

“You were older, stronger, more worldly,” Adam replied.

“My precious little Velvet is barely a child.”

“Your precious Velvet is an impossible minx who led me a merry chase at court before finally being brought to the altar,” said Alexander Gordon, who had only heard the end of Adam’s sentence as he entered the room. “Murrough! What the hell possessed ye to take my wife off to India, and where is the wench? I’ve a score to settle with her, leaving me wounded and half-dead to be nursed by strangers!”

Murrough O’Flaherty’s jaw dropped open in his complete and utter shock.
“You’re dead!”
he said.

“If I am there’s none who’s yet dared to tell me so,” came back Alex’s amused reply.

“Murrough,” said his mother, realizing that there was very definitely something amiss, “I want you to tell me why you took Velvet with you when you left London. Alex, sit down.”

“First tell me where Padraic is,” demanded Murrough.

“What the hell has Padraic to do with this?” asked Adam.

“Where is he?”

“Why do you want Padriac?” asked Skye. “What can he possibly have done? He has been down at
Clearfields
for months now, and I was only able to get him to come to London for Twelfth Night because I told him you should be back from India before the end of the month.”

“Exactly how long has he been at
Clearfields
, Mother?”

For a moment Skye’s brow furrowed in thought, and then she said, “I don’t really know, Murrough. Is it important?”

“Get him!” said his elder brother grimly.

“Daisy,” said Skye. “Fetch Lord Burke. Murrough won’t continue his story until you return.”

Daisy hurried out the door, and an uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. Skye looked at her husband of over seventeen years. He would be sixty this year, and his dark hair was already well silvered, but it only had the effect of making him more handsome and distinguished, she thought. His dark blue eyes were still lively. If he had a weakness it was his only child, their daughter, Velvet. How often over the years had she deferred to him in the raising of their child and all because she could not bear that he have any less than a perfect relationship with Velvet. She realized now that she loved them both too much. She wondered if Velvet would be able to cope with what life had forced upon her, for despite her short-lived marriage Skye knew that her daughter was still innocent at heart. Skye reached out and took Adam’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

He managed a weak smile at her and squeezed back, but then his eyes fogged over as his thoughts returned to his only
child. In his mind she was still a little girl. Oh, granted she had been twelve and a half when they had left on their voyage, and many a girl was not much older when wedded and bedded; but he and Skye had arranged that she not have to marry until she was sixteen. They had intended to give her a little time at court under their careful supervision. He sighed. They had protected her and sheltered her so carefully, perhaps too carefully, he was now beginning to think. How would she survive the ordeal of being incarcerated within a harem? What did Velvet know of love except perhaps the little Alex Gordon had taught her in their short time together? He let his glance rest on the son of his old friend.

Alexander Gordon, the Earl of BrocCairn, sat stiffly and grimly in his chair. For close to a year he had been without his wife.
His wife!
That cunning, willful jade had deserted him in his hour of need to run off to find her parents. She had had him convinced that she was content to return to
Dun Broc
with him and behave like a proper wife. Instead she had taken the first opportunity she’d found to desert him. His hand itched to make contact with her delightful bottom. When he got his hands on her, she was going to learn what it meant to be
his wife
, the Countess of BrocCairn.

The door to the apartment opened and Lord Burke and Daisy hurried into the room. Murrough leaped forward, his face a mask of fury as he hit his brother a clout that sent the younger man sprawling to the floor. Everyone else in the room gaped in surprise as Murrough reached down to haul his brother up and hit him once again.

“You’re certain?
I asked you! Do you remember, Padraic? I asked you if you were sure that Lord Gordon had been killed. You assured both Velvet and me that he had been. As I remember it you even became insulted that I should dare to question your veracity! Do you know what you’ve done, Padraic? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“You’re back safe!” blubbered Padraic. “I made an error, Murrough. I’m sorry, but you’re back safe, and ’tis all right now, isn’t it?”

“Your sister is at this moment the prisoner of India’s Grand Mughal!” roared Murrough. “She’s locked away in his harem, and we’ve precious little chance of ever seeing her again! Would you call that all right?” He pushed his youngest brother from him disgustedly. “Jesu! You’re just like your father, Niall. You’re charming but totally heedless of your own selfish actions! You didn’t even stay long enough to tell Alex what really happened, did you? You ran back to
Clearfields
and
hid away. Why didn’t you own up to your error and save him the anxiety? I could kill you with my own two hands!”