Virginia Henley Read Online Free Page B

“Young John might benefit from the experience,” Montague allowed. His son was nowhere near as mature as O’Toole’s sons, nor even this young bastard his brother had sired. Time spent in their company might wake him up.

E merald lay on a stretch of sugary sand in the sunlight. A delicious sense of anticipation spiraled about her, dancing on the soft sea breeze that ruffled her dark curls. She felt a sense of joy that went beyond happiness, for she knew that soon, soon he would come to her.
    She kept her eyes closed until she felt a flutter, like a butterfly wing, touch the corner of her mouth. She smiled a secret smile and slowly lifted her lashes. He knelt before her, watching her intently, his dark pewter eyes brimming with laughter. Holding his gaze, she came to her knees slowly and knelt before him.
    They needed no words, yet the longing to touch was like a hunger in the blood. At the same moment each reached out to the other to trace with their fingertips … a cheek, a throat, a shoulder. Emerald’s hand brushed his heart and felt it thud beneath her fingers. He was the perfect male. He was her Irish Prince. He bent to capture her lips with his, but when he was a heartbeat away, Emerald awoke, whispering his name with heart-scalding hunger. “Sean, Sean.”
    Emerald FitzGerald Montague threw back the covers, ran her fingers through the cloud of glorious dark hair, and stretched her long legs to the rug beside the bed. Without dressing, she climbed the stairs that led to her mother’s chamber. As she did most mornings when her father wasnot in residence, Emerald slipped into her mother’s bed to talk over plans for the day.
    Amber, who adored her daughter, was acutely attuned to her every mood, every thought. “Darling, you seem different today.”
    Emerald blushed prettily. It was the first time her mother had seen her cheekbones tinted pink from some hidden thought. “I’ve been dreaming,” she explained.
    “Was your prince in the dream?”
    Emerald nodded, hugging herself with her arms, seemingly aware of her breasts for the first time.
    “How lovely for you. I think you’re growing up. What was your Prince Charming like?”
    A look of rapture came over her child’s face. “He was Irish.”
    “Then guard your heart well, my darling, for he is sure to be a wicked rogue.”
    Amber dropped a kiss on her daughter’s dark head and slipped from the big bed. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony that led to the lookout tower. As her eyes scanned the horizon she spotted the sails of a ship coming from the direction of Liverpool. The merchantman was no doubt coming to retrieve the shipment of Irish whisky that lay concealed in the caves beneath the house.
    A sudden premonition stole over her as she realized the vessel was too small for a merchantman. It was William aboard his favorite ship, the
Swallow!
She stared across the water with dismay, hoping her senses were mistaken, but cold fingers were already squeezing her heart. Amber quickly slipped back into the bedroom. “We’ll have to go explore the fairy glen another time, darling. Your father’s coming. Go and find Johnny. Tell him not to dare leave, then hurry back. We’ve only just time to dress appropriately.”
    Johnny’s bedchamber, in the same wing as her own, was empty when Emerald arrived. Without hesitation she randown two flights, straight through the kitchen, and out the back door, grabbing one of the maids’ cloaks to cover her nightgown.
    Emerald found Johnny in the stables saddling his Welsh pony. Her brother did not have her dark beauty. Unfortunately he’d inherited his father’s florid complexion and lank brown locks.
    “You mustn’t leave; father’s coming,” she announced breathlessly. Such a look of alarm crossed Johnny’s face, Emerald thought he would mount the pony and bolt. A moment’s reflection told her he wouldn’t dare do such a thing; rather the news rooted him to the spot.
    “What