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for O’Connell too! Probably half the servants in his house were feeding O’Connell information. Little wonder the man not only knew what night Wilson lay with a serving wench but his angle of preference.
    The four Irishmen filed out of the room, disappearing down the darkened gallery of the lower hall. O’Connell came last. "O’Connell," Seanessy demanded. Suppose Earl wants me to blow up this Frenchman's stockpile of opium. Why do they imagine I will do this favor for them?"
    "I haven't a single notion lad." O’Connell laughed. "I only know 'tis about time you made the bloody sods pay for what they want. Payment in the form of a parliamentary seat for a good Catholic Irishman." He patted Sean's cheek. "And for-God's sake, keep yer naggin' toothache from the poor lass upstairs"-— toothache being an Irish euphemism for another kind of pain, one very familiar to Seanessy. O'Connell laughed again. "From what I hear, she's in pretty bad shape as she is."
    For one brief moment Seanessy did not know whom O’Connell referred to. Then the image of dark gold hair and a comely face rose in his mind's eye, and with surprising clarity. Blast the girl to hell and back! The way things were going, she was going to be not just trouble, but bad luck as well. Somehow he knew it was only the beginning.
     
    *****
     
    Chapter 2
     
    A gray sky melted into a grayer sea. A light breeze blew over the crescent bay of a white sand beach, lifting her long, loosened hair and swirling it around her face. She raised her dressing gown and climbed down the cliff on to the water's edge.
    The sand felt cool on her bare feet as she walked along, watching the ceaseless waves crash upon the shore. She loved the ocean. The ocean, with its power and rhythm, infinite and eternal, confronted one with the profound smallness of the personal world, and offered transcendence upon its shore. Transcendence she desperately needed.
    An occasional wave washed warm water over her feet, tickling, and she remembered a time when she would have kicked a spray of salt water high overhead and laughed as she felt its cool drops fall upon her. Not now. There was no laughter in her world now.
    Something stuck out of the sand ahead. Her heart started pounding. She looked closer. A round object rose from the wet sand. She held her breath as she cautiously approached it. Then suddenly it turned toward her and she screamed. A human skull ...
    "Help me ... Please, help me ..."
    Dozing in a nearby chair, Tilly jerked awake. Her sleep-filled eyes searched the candlelit room but saw nothing amiss. Grabbing a taper by its brass holder, she rose from the chair and approached the bed where the young lady slept fitfully.
    The poor, poor thing. She looked a comely sight in the candlelight, sleeping so soundly! Thank the Good Maker, the doctor could not foresee any permanent damage. A small mercy, that.
    Who was she? A princess separated from her kingdom by a band of black pirates? A lost and helpless orphan changeling? "No matter." Tilly smiled. "I'll see ye get back on yer feet in no time."
    Tilly looked to the door. Perhaps she'd just catch a few minutes' slumber in the comfort of a bed. Surely she'd hear if the young lady awoke.
    With candle in hand, Tilly swept from the room.
    Someone was trying to kill her ...
    As the dark phantoms chased her again and again, her breathing changed, coming deeper and quicker. Small beads of perspiration lined her brow. She ran for her life—
    The girl woke with a start, bolting up in an enormous bed. Bright amber eyes took in her unfamiliar surroundings: the stormy seascape on the wall, rich mahogany furnishings on the smooth white marble squares of the floor, this covered with an elaborately woven carpet. An old marble hearth occupied nearly one whole wall directly in front of her. Dark green brocade and white gossamer drapes hung from the enormous canopy bed, drapes that perfectly matched the window curtains, and accented the paler green of the