At fifteen Skye O’Malley was well on the way to fulfilling the
promise of unequaled beauty that she had shown at birth. She stood
every bit as tall as her betrothed. Like him, she was beautifully proportioned, with a slim waist that moved into softly rounded hips.
Her breasts were small but full. She had a heart-shaped face. Her
eyes were still the color of the seas off the Kerry coast, sometimes
pure blue, sometimes dark, sometimes azure with a faint hint of
green. They were fringed in thick ebony lashes that brushed tender
pink cheeks. Her nose was slim, turning up just slightly at the tip.
And if you looked carefully you could see a few soft, golden freckles
across the bridge of her nose. The red mouth was surprisingly se-
ductive with a full lower lip, and when she laughed she revealed
small, perfect white teeth. Her skin was the color of cream and
seemed even fairer by the contrasting mass of blue-black hair that
tumbled about her shoulders.

She excited Dom very much, although he, it seemed, did not
interest her. She far preferred galloping that great black stallion of
hers at breakneck speed about the countryside, or sailing off with
her father on some piratical adventure. The realization was quite a
shock to his pride.

Dom O’Flaherty was not used to indifference from the fair sex.
Women ordinarily made fools of themselves over him, and he was
very proud of his sexual prowess.

Dom tried to console himself with the thought that once he bedded
her she would soon be tamed. Hot-tempered virgins usually turned
out to be passionate lovers. He licked his thin lips in anticipation,
and quaffed his. goblet of wine. He was not aware that his betrothed
was eying him with disgust. Dom O’Flaherty would run to fat in his
middle years, Skye decided.

Again from the entry below came the noises of arrival. Anne
O’Malley rose to her feet with a smile. “Your father is back,” she
said, “and it sounds like he brings guests.”

Two large wolfhounds, several setters, and a large terrier all
bounded into the hall. One of the wolfhounds trotted up to Anne
and dropped two small velvet bags at her feet. Bending, Lady
O’Malley picked up the bags and, loosening the strings, poured the
contents of one bag into her cupped hand. She stared at the sapphire-
and-diamond necklace that nestled in her palm. “Holy Mary!” she
gasped.