The Hawk and the Dove Read Online Free PDF

fear he’ll get ye hanged, all in the bloody name of freeing Ireland!” He labored for breath. “When I was in London I thought Walsingham had a file on you and I had a hell of a job confirming it. To the best of my knowledge he hasn’t … yet. But I suspect he has a thick file on O’Neill.”
    Hawk hastened to reassure his father. “They have spies all over the world—the Netherlands, Italy, France, Spain—who can tell them when the king farts, but Ireland is another matter entirely. They grope about in a heavy fog and their spies can tell them nothing.”
    Sebastian’s face jerked with a spasm, and alarmed, Hawk said, “Leave it, Father, leave it.”
    Sebastian shook his head and had his say. “A wife would wean ye from him.”
    “And what if I married an Irish girl?” he jested, winking. Actually he did not feel lighthearted in the least. His conscience was like a lead weight in his chest. How much part had worry for him played in Sebastian’s grave illness? He had always congratulated himself on his ability to conceal his dealings with Ireland, yet if his father knew of these things, who else might know? He could see no advantage in sharing their conversation with his mother, for at the moment her own conscience was probably plaguing hell out of her, but it was vital that he tell the baron everything that had been said today. There was many a time that his safety and even his life rested in the hands of the baron and there were no secrets between them, ever.
    The promised marriage did not weigh him down overmuch. Marriage was a technicality that could be gotten around somehow. He temporarily dismissed it with the contempt he thought it deserved. “Young Matt should be here tomorrow to cheer you up,” he said, but he saw that his father had exhausted himself and fallen into a heavy sleep. He looked down upon him and thanked God that he did not know that he had already secretly met with O’Neill in a hidden bay tucked beneath the Mountains of Mourne and given him half the silver that the Spanish prize had carried.
    *   *   *
    While Shane was with his father Georgiana’s conscience was indeed plaguing hell out of her. She thought she had exorcised all her guilt years ago, but now it was as painful as a fresh wound in her breast. What made it worse was that it had all begun while she was on her honeymoon. Sebastian had taken her with him to London, where he was to receive the title of Lord Devonport from the queen. They stayed at Hawkhurst Manor, which had been in his family for near a hundred years. On the days her new husband was busy in London or at the seaports along the Straits of Dover from Hastings to Hythe, she had ridden every day into the Weald and Ashdown Forest. She rode wildly, as she had when she was a child in Ireland before her parents moved to Devon. On that fateful day she had collided with a man who rode faster than she had dreamed possible. At first glance she had been terrified of the giant with the wild red hair and rugged features. He cursed her vilely in Gaelic and she blushed to the roots of her hair.
    “You are Irish!” she said.
    “Not just Irish,” he shouted arrogantly, “I am a prince of Ireland!”
    “You may be a prince, but you are no gentleman!” she cried angrily.
    “If you understood me, you are no lady!” he threw back at her.
    They both dismounted, blood up, ready to do battle, and then it happened. He raped her. Nay, thought Georgiana, not rape, for she had wanted him with the same all-consuming passion he felt for her. The truth was they had ravished each other, there on the ground where they had met barely moments before.
    *   *   *
    Hugh O’Neill had a bloody history behind him. His father should have been the O’Neill but he was murdered by his own brother Sean, who would share power with no man. Sean then went off to England to charm the queen and claim the vast O’Neill holdings in Ulster. He swore loyalty to her and agreed to make war on