Dream Lover Part 8

"But I just spoke with him this afternoon at the Murphys' house," Sean protested.

"That's where they say he was taken, in Thomas Street ... rumor says there was shooting!"

"Mother of G.o.d, if he's been arrested, they'll have him fast in the bowels of Dublin Castle. I must go to him," Kathleen insisted.

Paddy Burke tried to caution her. "I think ye should wait for Shamus."

"I should, but I won't," she said bluntly.

"We'll come with you," Joseph decided.

"That you won't, and no mistake!"

"I'll go with Kathleen," Paddy Burke said. "We have to keep you out of this it we possibly can."

Sean fixed Mr. Burke with a piercing dark look. "I'll take my mother to Dublin Castle. You prevent Joseph here from following us. I promised Grandfather I'd keep my brother out of this."

They took the carriage into the city. Small groups of Dubliners stood about on the streets with grim faces. At the castle Sean's mother insisted he let her do the talking. She announced herself regally. "I'm Kathleen FitzGerald, eldest daughter of the Earl of Kildare. I demand to see my father."

They had to wait ages while one official brought another. To each one she repeated her demands, which were met by excuses, delaying tactics, and outright refusals, but Kathleen would not take no for her answer. Sean's admiration for her was boundless; she epitomized the traditional Irish take-charge woman, and he watched the English officials back down, one by one.

Finally, they were escorted to a cell beneath Dublin Castle where Edward FitzGerald had been incarcerated. When Kathleen saw that her father had been wounded, her Irish temper flared. She berated the guard who accompanied them for not tending to him properly.

The Earl of Kildare, however, was furious with his daughter and grandson for coming to his prison and involving themselves.

Sean bribed the guard to step outside the cell and give them a few moments of privacy.

Kathleen's anger was now mixed with a liberal dose of fear. "If you die, I'll never speak to you again!"

"Ye might think ye have a duty to me, but your first duty is to your sons.

They should be out of Ireland by now!"

"You had no right to sacrifice yourself for Ireland, Father!"

Sean knew what his mother did not: His grandfather was in great pain and weakened from loss of blood. When their eyes met, Sean realized his grandfather knew he was dying.

"I've been struggling for our nation's soul. The English practice degradation, persecution, and exploitation on us. Sean, pledge to me that you'll take care of Joseph."

They clasped hands. "I will," Sean vowed.

With most of his strength gone, Edward allowed Kathleen to tend the wound in his belly. Bravely, she cleansed it and rebound him rightly with linen strips torn from her petticoat.

The guard opened the cell door. "Your time's up."

"Your b.l.o.o.d.y time in Ireland is up, you English pig!"

The guard raised the b.u.t.t of his rifle, but Sean stepped in front of his mother and fixed him with a malevolent stare from dangerous pewter eyes. The guard took an involuntary step backward.

"If aught happens to the earl, we'll be bringing charges of murder." Sean's low tone held such threat, the guard backed off completely.

By the time they arrived home, Shamus had returned. He listened in silence until Kathleen had exhausted her outrage, then he slipped his powerful arm about her to lend her his strength. Turning to his sons, he said, "You two young devils are on your way to London. Tonight!"

Sean and Joseph, with a crew of three FitzGeralds, boarded the Sulphur just after midnight. It was decided the crew would drop them off in London and return for them in a month's time, provided they were not wanted men.

The O'Toole brothers were almost torn in half, wanting to stay with their family in the face of grave trouble, yet knowing they must get away before they became embroiled in Ireland's Troubles. It was what their family wanted, it was the intelligent thing to do, but it wasn't easy. Both were covered with guilt and felt akin to rats deserting a sinking s.h.i.+p.

Safe on the Sulphur, headed for England, Sean took first turn at the s.h.i.+p's wheel while Joseph rested. He gazed up at the stars thinking they looked like diamonds scattered across black velvet. As the Sulphur cut cleanly through the sea, Sean's thought processes cut through the emotion, down to where suspicion had taken root.

Someone had betrayed Edward FitzGerald. Why did his mind come back again and again to William Montague? On the surface there was no logic to it.

Montague was deeply involved in the treasonous business. He was the one who had stolen the guns from his own country. The OTooles and the Montagues had been partners for eighteen years and neither had ever betrayed the other.

Sean probed deeper, searching for motive. How could Wily Willie profit from such treachery? And then it came to him. Why was he interested in betrothing his daughter? The answer came back: to make her Countess of Kildare!

Sean sighed and admitted the real reason he suspected Montague was because he was an Englishman. That was reason enough.

Later, in his bunk, when sleep finally claimed him, his dreams were vivid. A woman sat with her back to him. She was completely naked. Her back was beautiful, curved delicately, skin like pale velvet. Dark hair covered her shoulders like a cloud of smoke. He lifted the silken ma.s.s to expose the nape of her neck. He touched it with his lips, lost in the taste and smell of her. His mouth trailed a possessive path down her spine to the small of her back. That secret place was so sensual, he was in a frenzy of pa.s.sion to make love to her. He knew full well who she was, without glimpsing her face. But she was not his to take. Why was it forbidden fruit always tasted sweeter? She belonged to William Montague; she belonged to Joseph O'Toole; she did not belong to him; not yet.

His mouth moved lower. The tip of his tongue traced the cleft that separated her beautiful bottom cheeks. His need was so great, he began to quiver with longing. He gently turned her to face him, then drew back his hands in horror.

Blood poured from a belly wound; the eyes were those of Edward FitzGerald.

"Sean, pledge to me that you will take care of Joseph."

Sean awoke with a start and slowly became aware of where he was. d.a.m.n William Montague, d.a.m.n Amber Montague, d.a.m.n Emerald Montague!

And indeed, Emerald Montague thought she had been d.a.m.ned. The ugly redbrick house in Portman Square, filled with ornate antiques, was like a mausoleum without the laughter of her mother. Emerald was bereft, mourning her mother's loss as if she had died. She longed to be off to school as a blessed escape, but her father quashed that hope immediately. School would take her out of his control and that was unacceptable to Montague.

Instead, he employed Mrs. Irma Bludget as governess. Bludget was no such thing; she was disciplinarian, jailer, spy, and informer. She was a big-boned woman who dwarfed Emerald, or Emma, as she was after her mother's radiant beauty, it was difficult for Emma to even look at Mrs. Bludget. Her eyes bulged from her face in the most unattractive way, and they missed no detail; her mouth was virtually lipless, her teeth small and pointy.

Montague had not been reticent when he explained her duties. "I want you to obliterate any and all traces of Irish tendencies you find in my daughter. The Irish are abhorrent to me! She is no longer to be known as Emerald. From now on, she is only Emma. I want her appearance changed also, starting with her hair. I want everything changed: her clothes, her speech, her books, her music, her att.i.tude, and most of all her defiance. Her mother was a wanton, so you must see that she is never tainted. I want her obedient, I want her chaste, and I want her meek."

From the day Bludget arrived she made Emma's life a study in misery. All mirrors were removed, food was rationed, and Emma was chastised over every word, every action. Her hair was clipped off and she was forced to repeat droning prayers to keep her from sin and cleanse her of the devil.

Mrs. Bludget agreed wholeheartedly with William Montague that to spare the rod was to spoil the child. When Emma complained bitterly to her father that Mrs.

Bludget had beaten her, he informed her with grim determination that if she ever again gave that good woman cause to beat her, she could expect another beating when he arrived home.

In her silent misery Emma railed at her mother for having abandoned her to a life that was so joyless, it was no longer worth living. In her mind she divided her life into two periods, before the O'Toole celebration, and after it. That was the day her nightmare began.

Because her days were so bleak, Emma dreamed almost every night. She dreamed of her mother, but never with pleasure. The dreams were filled with accusations, recriminations, and tears. Her recurring dream of Sean came again and again, always starting the same, but now ending differently.

Emerald lay on a stretch of sugary sand in the sunlight. A deli-cious sense of antic.i.p.ation 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 b.u.t.terfly 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 br.i.m.m.i.n.g 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 Frince. He bent to capture her lips with his, but when he was a heartbeat away, Sean turned into Joseph O'Toole. "I've decided to take you. I have Amber, but I want you too!"

Emma awoke covered with guilt, for in the dream she had been willing to go with him so that she could join her mother. "I hate Ireland and I hate the Irish," she whispered. Emma had never hated before, but now she became intimately acquainted with that dark emotion. She hated Irma Bludget, she hated her father, she hated the O'Tooles, and secretly she even hated her mother.

When Amber regained consciousness, Montague and her children had been gone a day and a night. Though she did not know it, she had a dislocated shoulder, three broken ribs, and a bruised kidney. When she tried to move she found it so painful that she simply lay there hoping someone would come to her aid.

When night fell once more, she had such a raging thirst upon her that she crawled across the floor to the door. When she found it locked, she did not have the strength to break it open. Amber drifted in and out of consciousness until day dawned once more.

Using her left arm, she pulled herself across the room to a copper jug that held blue delphiniums; flowers she had placed there in longing antic.i.p.ation of Joseph's visit. Had that only been yesterday? It now seemed like a lifetime ago. She pulled out the dead flowers and tipped the jug to her mouth. It tasted so foul, she- spat out the first mouthful, but realizing she had no alternative she took three gulps and swallowed them in rapid succession. The brackish water not only stank, but it had a horrid metallic taste.

Then she remembered the brandy decanter Montague kept in the cupboard along with his riding crop. She got to her knees and reached up onto the shelf. Her pain almost made her drop the decanter. With a shaking hand she lifted it to her lips and swallowed some of the fiery liquid. A bloodred rose bloomed in her breast, and as she drank down more of the amber liquor, it seemed that her pain lessened.

Amber used the copper jug to smash the lock on the bedchamber door. It took a long time and all of her energy. When she regained her breath, she slowly donned the only clothes she hada"the clothes Joseph had removed when they unknowingly made love for the last time. With bravado she fastened the amber drops Joseph had given her onto her ears.

The two flights of stairs were such an ordeal that she literally snaked down them on her belly, an inch at a time. The boxes with all her belongings that had been stacked in the entrance hall were gone, and she realized all she had in the world were the clothes on her back. Using her left arm, she pulled herself up to look in the entrance-hall mirror. She recoiled with shock when she saw her reflection. Her face was bruised black from brow to chin. When she let go of the hall table, she fell back onto her right shoulder. The pain of the impact nearly made her faint, but she held on and when the pain subsided, she realized the fall had pushed her shoulder back into its socket and all she felt now was an aching soreness.

The larder was empty; the servants had done a thorough job of cleaning before they departed. In the herb garden she found chives and parsley growing and devoured all that was edible. Amber's fractured ribs prevented her from getting fresh water from the well, but the bucket had a couple of inches still in the bottom that she thirstily drank down.

She knew she must get to Ireland and Joseph; he was her only hope. When darkness fell she crawled almost two miles to the village and waited for one of the fis.h.i.+ng boats that departed at dawn. They stared at her as if she were a specter, then finally one of the Anglesey fishermen recognized her. They took her across, back to the homeland she hadn't set foot on for seventeen years. Amber took off her gold wedding ring and pressed it into the man's hand after he had helped her ash.o.r.e. "My thanks; I have no further use for this," she whispered.

9.

The Sulphur sailed into the Thames estuary in the late afternoon and navigated the wide river past Tower Wharf and the brooding Tower of London. At the old Customs House the s.h.i.+p was inspected and allowed to carry on to the Pool of London.

"I've been thinking we should get a place of our own, rather than accept Montague's hospitality," Joseph declared.

Although Sean had been antic.i.p.ating another encounter with Emerald, he agreed wholeheartedly that it was best not to put Joseph under the same roof with Amber Montague. "That's a good idea. Until we've had a chance to look about, we needn't let Wily Willie know we're even here for a couple of days."

Wily Willie, however, knew of their arrival within the hour. He received a note from the Customs House and another from the Navy Office near Tower Wharf that the O'Tooles had arrived aboard their schooner the Sulphur.

Sean and Joseph carried their trunks up on deck just in time to see the Admiralty vessel, the Defense, slide into the berth beside them. Aboard was William Montague, his son, John, and his nephew Jack.

"Well, that was good timing," William called heartily.

Too b.l.o.o.d.y good, thought Scan.

"I'd no idea you'd be in London this month, but you arc more than welcome.

Is all well at Greyslones?"

"Couldn't be better," Sean replied before Joseph could open his mouth. If the swine had had a hand in their trouble, he'd learn of it soon enough.

"Jack, John, bring their trunks aboard," Montague ordered, and immediately the two young men disembarked from the Defense to do his bidding.

Sean summoned the crew. "Meet us in one month, right here, lads. If we've had enough before then we'll swim home," he said with a wink.

"Bring the Brimstone when you return, I'm tired of Sean giving the orders,"

Joseph joked. Then the brothers turned serious for a moment. "Help Granddad if you can," Joseph urged.

"Go with G.o.d," Sean blessed, "may He hold you in the palm of His hand and not squeeze."

As they boarded the Defense, Sean could feel in his bones the only one genuinely glad to see them was young Johnny, who attached himself to Sean's side like a Siamese twin; the boy's admiration was manifest.

"This calls for a celebration," William Montague boomed with a hearty handshake to each, "and I have just the place in mind for red-blooded young rakeh.e.l.ls like yourselves. When my brother, Sandwich, returned from the fleshpots of the East, he founded the Divan Club. I guarantee you've never seen anything to compare."

Jack looked eager, while Johnny looked alarmed, Sean thought silently. He didn't imagine Joseph was in the mood for a brothel either; the only woman his brother l.u.s.ted after was Amber. Sean admitted a degree of curiosity. He hadn't been exposed to the customs of the East, and wasn't averse to broadening his mind even at the expense of his morals.

The five men went below to the captain's cabin, where Montague poured fine French brandy and proposed a toast. "Here's to the sins of the fles.h.!.+"

Scan saw Montague's glance flick to Joseph, and the seeds of suspicion again found a fertile place in his mind. He wondered if Joseph's thoughts mirrored his own, but if they did, he was doing a d.a.m.n fine job of disguising them. Scan decided to share his suspicions with his brother. He would warn him about Montague playing cat and mouse with him regarding Amber, he would suggest that Montague could have informed on their grandfather, and he would hint that the earl was dying.

Jack Raymond said something off-color and Sean watched Joseph throw back his head in laughter. Tomorrow would be soon enough, Sean decided. He'd let Joseph enjoy his first night in London.

On the carriage ride to the Divan Club, Montague entertained them with the story of the Earl of Sandwich's grand tour. "To be different my brother chartered a s.h.i.+p in Italy that took him to Greece, Cyprus, and Egypt. He became fascinated with the sultan of the Ottoman Empire, a despot who ruled with pomp, splendor, and cruelty, especially over his harem. My brother became influenced by the Moslem religion with its acceptance of polygamy and subjugation of women. It has much to recommend it. When women know their place, life is much more pleasurable."

Sean watched Joseph's mouth tighten and his eyes narrow and knew his brother couldn't stop thinking of Amber. It would be a miracle if they got through the evening without coming to blows!

Stepping through the portals of the Divan Club was like entering another world. The air smelled of incense; Eastern music made by flutes, sitars, cymbals, and other strange instruments floated through the rooms.

In the first chamber they were greeted by eunuchs who offered a colorful array of garments, turbans, and daggers. The choice was theirs, they could keep on their own clothes or change into Eastern garb. William Montague led the way, choosing a flowing robe belted with a sash and a gold turban and dagger to match.

His nephew Jack followed suit, choosing a peac.o.c.k robe and silver dagger.

The O'Toole brothers were bemused. Joseph declined the ridiculous attire when he saw how ludicrous Montague looked. Johnny, torn by the choice of following his father's example or risking the insecurity of removing his own clothes, asked Sean, "What about you?'1 Sean hid his amus.e.m.e.nt, not only at Johnny, but at the whole masquerade.

The fancy robes didn't challenge his masculinity, but he knew his sense of humor would get the better of him it he decked himself out in full regalia. Sean compromised by removing his shut jacket, then donned a cream djellaba over his own breeches. Johnny smiled with relief and did the same.

The five men were ushered into an inner room that was lavishly decorated to give the impression of splendor. The walls were mirrored, the floor covered by Oriental carpets strewn with brocaded ha.s.socks and cus.h.i.+ons. In the center was a fountain with a naked nymph spouting water from her nipples. Potted palms completed the suggestion of a desert oasis. Sean bit his lip. All it lacks is a b.l.o.o.d.y camel, he thought irreverently.

A door opened to admit five females carrying small trays. They wore diaphanous pantaloons, and though their faces were veiled, their b.r.e.a.s.t.s were completely bared. Each female knelt, abasing herself while offering up a demita.s.se of Turkish coffee. As Sean rolled it about his tongue, he knew it was laced with something he could not put a name to.

Laid across each tray was a flagellum. Montague and Jack Raymond picked up theirs immediately and brandished them with a flourish. Montague, seeing the O'Tooles' lack of response, explained, "These are slave girls to do your bidding and obey your commands. If they do not please their masters, they expect to be whipped."

"Do I not get to choose my wh.o.r.e?" Joseph asked with sarcasm.

Montague laughed. "These five are merely drink slaves to quench our thirst.

Beyond that door are myriads of maidens to choose from who will slake our other needs, no matter what they are. Do not think to choose just one, polygamy is encouraged here."

The wide doors were thrown open by two enormous black eunuchs to reveal a harem filled with scantily clad beauties lying upon divans. The room was warm and slaves stood around the chamber's perimeter, wafting huge ostrich-feathered fans.

Beaded curtains led to private alcoves, or the gentlemen were free to indulge in the midst of the harem in true orgy fas.h.i.+on.

Montague prodded a female with his flagellum. When she fell on her knees before him, he lay down upon the divan she had vacated and proceeded to point at the other women he wanted.

Joseph threw himself down on a cus.h.i.+on next to three houris smoking a hubble-bubble water pipe. He wasn't in the mood for whoring, hut he was willing to try an intoxicant or two. Johnny was glued to Sean's side, so O'Toole did his best to encourage the youth to lose his apprehension and relax a little. Sean's glance rested upon the youngest-looking girl in the room. He nudged Johnny's arm. "Why don't you talk with that one, she has a very sweet face." When Johnny took his suggestion, Sean selected the female with the cheekiest face.