Free Skye O'Malley by Bertrice Small

that served as an entry.
    On the opposite side of the fireplace a small floor-to-ceiling bookcase had been built into the wall, matching a larger one that shared the south wall with the paneled bedroom door. Before the lead paned western windows was a polished oak refectory table with armchairs at the head and foot. To one side of the fireplace was a settle and on the other a comfortable chair. There was a large carved chest, and in the space between the windows stood a little prie-dieu with an embroidered cushion. Skye’s trunk had been placed in the bedroom, beneath the window.
    The convent’s benefactors had been more than generous. Heavy claret-red velvet draperies hung from all the windows, and a large Turkey carpet in reds and blues was spread across the floor, matching a smaller one in the bedroom. Skye later learned that the O’Neills had furnished the West Tower’s guest quarters when their own Ethna became the head of St. Bride’s of the Cliffs.
    Skye’s days quickly took on a comfortable pattern. She rose early, and attended mass in the convent’s chapel. She was not particularly religious, but she prayed now that Niall would soon come for her. Afterward she obtained her own breakfast from the kitchen and went off by herself to walk across the convent grounds. A small sailboat belonging to the order was placed at her disposal, and Skye spent many hours sailing and fishing to pass the time. The convent soon enjoyed a number of fresh seafood dinners courtesy of their young guest.
    The main meal of the day was served at two in the afternoon, and Skye ate it alone in her dayroom. The evening meal was served after vespers, and sometimes Eibhlin joined her young sister. Otherwise Skye was again alone.
    The convent had a surprisingly fine library, and the bookshelves in Skye’s dayroom were also well filled. On very wet days, she read. Skye O’Malley was a well-educated woman for her day. She could speak her native Gaelic as well as English, French, and Latin. She could write, and though she might not sew as fine a seam as her sisters did, her needlework was passable and she could knit.
    She knew how to run a household, understanding provisioning, salting, conserving, preserving, soap-making, and perfume-making. She knew the rudiments of brewing and household medicine. She had been taught to keep accounts, for O’Malley firmly believed thatthe only way to avoid being cheated by one’s own steward was to do one’s own household accounts. And as if that were not enough, Skye was one of the finest navigators her father had ever sailed with. The O’Malley often joked that he thought his daughter could smell out her ship’s destination.
    Though she saw the nuns as she moved through the uneventful pattern of her days, Skye actually spent most of her time alone. The order of St. Bride’s was not a cloistered one, nor was it a begging order. The nuns were workers, devoted first to their God and second to the poor. Some of the nuns were teachers and others gave medical aid to the surrounding area. The rest farmed for the convent, cooked, knitted, sewed, and did the farm and household chores.
    Skye adapted instantly, and entered into the spirit of the convent, doing her share of fishing, snaring rabbits, and one day even bringing down a young buck. The venison was a rare treat for the nuns.
    Skye needed that constant physical activity. Had she not worked so hard she might never have slept. Why had Niall not communicated with her? Surely he understood the anguish she was feeling. He could not, she was sure, have made love to her with such exquisite delicacy while intending to leave her forever.
    It might have eased her mind to know that Niall Burke suffered no less than she did. He had clawed his way up through the swirling darkness to discover himself trussed like a damned Christmas goose on a cockle of a boat that was bouncing all over the ocean. The bearded captain of the little boat gave him a wicked but