Page 190 of The Pirate Queen

“Assist?”

“You don’t hide in alcoves kissing your brother. So I gather you are fonder of my son than the term friendship would imply?”

Blushing feels silly. Not the kind of thing a young woman who has spent the last three years learning to fight with a knife would do. And yet she cannot keep her cheeks from burning.

“We are friends. And perhaps more,” she admits.

“Are ye lovers as well? Has my son taken you to bed?”

“Of course not!”

“Pity.” Finola leans back and taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. “This would be easier if you were with child. Or could at least claim to be.”

“I don’t understand. I…you aren’t angry?”

And then Finola Bourke laughs. “Goodness no.”

“Even though I don’t want your brother?”

Finola narrows her eyes. “Barring unforeseen circumstances, my son will never be chieftain. And your father will settle for nothing less. If you wanted Richard, you should have gone about seducing him sooner.”

This blunt talk flusters Grace and she takes a bigger swallow of the rich, smooth port. “I hadn’t intended on seducing him. Or anyone.”

Finola clucks her tongue. “You were sent here to be prepared for marriage. What did you think was involved? If Richard is the one you want, you should have used your powers on him.”

“I have no power!” The words come out louder than Grace intends. “None!”

“Stupid girl. Of course you do. You have all the power. Right between your legs.”

“Are you suggesting that I…” Grace’s mouth hangs open on that last word.

Finola waves the idea away. “ ’Tis a bit late for that, I’m afraid. Your fosterage ends tonight when your parents arrive to collect you. Your best chance at claiming Richard was to be visibly pregnant with his child when The O’Malley arrived. It would have been complicated. But it might have worked.”

This conversation has gone too fast and taken more turns than Grace could have expected. “Are you going to tell The MacWilliam about the kiss?” she asks.

“No,” Finola laughs. “ ’Tis inconsequential. But here is something to remember for the future. I will be quite blunt so that you do not misunderstand me: Sex is little more than a game of chess. And the queen is the most powerful piece on the board. She can bend a king to her will. Men will call you a cunt for that. Take it as a compliment, for they are acknowledging your power. Throughout history, the cunt remains undefeated, Gráinne. And when you finally learn to use that power, I believe you will be quite dangerous indeed.”

The young O’Flaherty finds Richard Bourke listening at the privy chamber door. Oh, he’s acting casual about it, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall.

“My turn,” O’Flaherty tells him, clenching his fists.

Richard makes a lazy assessment, eyes rolling over him in disdain. He steps away with a flourish. “G’wan. I’ve heard enough anyway,” he says, then moves off down the hallway at a leisurely stroll. It’s a wonder he doesn’t start whistling.

O’Flaherty is raising his fist to knock when Gráinne pulls the door open. She stops short, then glares at him. Her cheeks are red and her lips are pinched and he thinks that Finola must have given her a piece of her mind. Good. Best Gráinne learn now not to trifle with the men around her. She pushes past him and rushes off in the same direction as Richard.

“You called for me?” he asks, striding toward the empty chair in front of his sister.

“Close the door,” Finola tells him.

It shuts with a click and he goes to the empty chair.

“Don’t bother sitting,” she says.

He stops. Grinds his teeth. Yes, she is older and married to The MacWilliam, but she ought to remember her place. And his.

“I have an idea,” Finola says. “I think you’ll approve.”

“Does it involve me beating Richard bloody?”