Skye now sat, careful not to wrinkle her skirts, before her precious
mirror while Molly brushed her dark hair until it shone with bluish
lights. She was not allowed to bind it up until after her marriage.
This had been a source of great frustration to Skye, especially at
sea, but her father had been very firm about it. She might braid it,
but the braids must hang long.

“No O’Malley maiden puts her hair up until she weds,” he stated,
and there was no point in arguing.

Looking at herself in the mirror, however, she had to admit that
her long, wavy hair was beautiful. Especially now, as Molly placed
a little gold lace cap with a tiny veil on her head. Skye clasped the
ruby necklace about her throat and studied the effect. The great
stones glittered almost savagely against the creamy softness of her
bare chest, and when she caught her breath she noted with surprise
mat her breasts swelled provocatively beneath the glittering rubies.
The jeweled hair ornament was to be put aside until she wore her
hair up, but she slipped on the earrings, bracelet, and ring. Sliding
her feet into red velvet shoes, she stood.

“Lor’, mistress,” breathed Molly reverently. “I never seen you
look so beautiful! What a pity Master Dom’s not here now to see
you. You could drive a man to madness!”

Skye laughed, pleased. “Do you really think so, Molly?” Secretly
she was wondering whether Lord Burke could be driven to madness.

Her insides fluttered with fearful, delicious anticipation. She almost
flew out the door, bumping into her pretty stepmother as she did so.

“Gracious, Skye,” laughed Anne O’Malley. “If you would impress the hall, then you must not rush so. Make a grand
entrance… slowly gliding… thusly, my love.” She demonstrated
prettily.

“Your pardon, Anne. I did not hurt you, did I?

“No, love, but stop so I may look at you. Dear heaven; how
lovely you are, and not yet grown. If young Dom could but see you
now…”