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Authors: Jillian Stone

Tags: #Historical romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Fiction

An Affair with Mr. Kennedy (26 page)

BOOK: An Affair with Mr. Kennedy
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“Rob, you must take Zak out and teach him how to drive the roadster.” Brushing off a bit of grease and dirt, both men emerged from under the vehicle. “It’s wonderful fun.”

Zeno blinked. “You’ve operated this?”

His incredulous expression caused a chuckle. “Several times.”

“All right then, let’s start her up.” Rob grabbed a hand crank. “I can teach you the steerage in minutes.”

After two failed attempts, the engine roared into service with a couple of heart-stopping backfires. Zeno jumped into the seat beside Rob and off they went.

She returned Zeno’s wave as they turned out of the stable yard and through the gates. The roadster easily took the hill grade and disappeared down the lane behind McMurphy’s barn.

“Cassie, are you down there?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Olivia leaned out the window above. “Come up here and help me pick out a dress for supper. Perhaps you can curl my hair.
I feel like a bit of primping and tittle-tattle.”

From over the hillside, the roadster backfired. “Coming, Mama.”

Chapter Twenty
 

“M
umm-ber!” With a number of hairpins pressed between her lips, Cassie rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s hard not to notice the air positively crackles between the two of you.” With a gleam in her eye, Olivia sat at the vanity and admired her reflection.

Standing behind her mother, Cassie dipped lower to catch a front view of Olivia’s hair in the mirror. Satisfied with the pouf in the topknot, she swept the last lock of hair up and around the high bun and pinned it in place.

Condoms, of all things! And Mother had deposited them in the top dresser drawer of her bedchamber as well as the guestroom of a certain gentleman staying the weekend at Muirfield. “For whichever room you two end up in,” Olivia added with a sparkle in her eye.

She removed the remaining pins from her mouth and set them on the vanity. “Dear lord, Mother, have you also discussed this with Father? Please tell me not Rob. Do you plan to have the entire household winking to each other this evening?”

“Oh hush, Cassie. Everyone in the family is thrilled with your Detective Kennedy. In fact, they are most curious as to your feelings for the man.” Her mother’s eager expression caused a bit of warmth in her cheeks.

Cassie scooted her mother over on the vanity bench. “Well.” She brushed a few stray hairs back into her own chignon. “I must admit he is rather dashing to look at, and much more companionable than I once thought.”

Toying with the fringe on the dresser scarf, she set an elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her palm. “And even though his work is quite dangerous, I am of the opinion he is a thoughtful and rational man—not reckless or inconstant in the least.”

“Yes, I don’t see much of Thom in him.” Mother powdered her nose and passed the puff.

“And he is quite romantic.” She caught her own reflection in the looking glass. Dreamy-eyed. On a deeper level, her feelings for this new man were … well, she wasn’t sure she could admit them to herself as yet.

Olivia’s grin was downright mischievous. “And is he talented—you know, intimately?”

“Do you really care to know, Mother?” Cassie pulled on the puffs of her sleeves. “Oh, never mind. Of course you do.” She tilted her head in mock contemplation. “A bit like a ride in an air balloon. Up you go, higher and higher. And then a great sigh as you descend back to earth.”

Mother pressed her lips together to hold back a chortle. “I so want you to be happy.”

Cassie’s chest swelled with love as she took her mother’s hands in hers. “I am over the brim with happiness, Mother.”

“Yes, I can see you are.”

CASSIE SLOWED THEIR trek through a narrow patch of reeds by the water’s edge. “A walk by the pond in the moonlight,” Zeno had called their exit from the parlor, which effectively ended the after-dinner game of charades. Unable to wipe the smile off her face, it was better she walked ahead of him. For several hours after supper, she and Rob had wickedly trounced her parents and their esteemed guest.

“And how is it Rob was able to get Lewis Carroll when you drew a finger across your throat?”

A breathy chuckle escaped her mouth. “What a suspicious creature you are. Could his guess not be extrapolated, sir, from the most famous line of the Red Queen?” Cassie glanced backward with a smile. “You believe we have developed secret codes? I would think the clue obvious enough. Tell me, Zeno, what came first to mind when I offed my head?”

He reached around her waist and drew her up against his chest. “I should think, Anne Boleyn?” He kissed her earlobe.
“Or perhaps, off with the girl’s britches?”

Goose bumps crawled up her arms, from the cool night air or from this man? She shivered and he wrapped his coat around her. She had come to very much like standing inside the warmth of his jacket, pressed against his body. The smell of his lime cologne mixed with the light musk of his familiar scent.

“Rob seems happy enough in his workshop.” Zeno settled his arms around her waist. “And I certainly heard plenty this evening about the two brothers off adventuring in the Americas.”

Cassie nodded. “Cole and Jamie.”

“And what kind of a little girl were you, Cassie?”

Her eyes grew dreamy. “I was the baby and the only girl—spoiled, willful. My brothers made sure I could ride like a hellion by the age of six or seven.”

“So, they could not help but adore you.”

Cassie studied him. She appeared to be conducting a silent evaluation of some kind. “There was a dark period, after Hank died. He was the eldest son and, of course, my favorite. I looked up to him as both father and brother. At the time of his death, mother had already returned to her work in town. We saw our parents on weekends.”

“Might I ask how your eldest brother died?”

She sighed deeply. “Hunting accident—he stumbled and his gun went off. Bled to death before they reached the house.” Her gaze moved through him and far away.

He pulled her close. “I am very sorry, Cassie.”

“I was twelve at the time. I began having morbid thoughts.”

Zeno swallowed. “Morbid thoughts?”

“Suicidal urges.” Cassie grinned a bit sheepishly. “It’s rather hard to describe, but let me try.” He experienced the most inexplicable pleasure in her crinkled-up nose and furrowed brow.

“Have you ever been lured by the silver current of a fast running river and thought what it might be like to cast yourself off the bridge into the oblivion of cold, deep water?”

Mouth open and brow furrowed, Zeno appeared flummoxed.

Cassie added a lopsided grin to the flush on her cheeks. “Not even a little trip and fall onto the railroad tracks just before the train arrives?”

His eyes sparked to life. “I remember … fleeting urges. A windblown cliff on a patch of coast near my home on Skye. A momentary desire to let go of life—to dive like a seabird off the embankment. I was just a boy …”

She nodded. “Yes, exactly like that. Only mine lasted longer, and were worrisome enough that my mother took me to every notable doctor in England. Some of them wanted to throw me into large tubs of ice water—shock the system.”

Cassie brushed a few tendrils of hair off her face. “Mother wouldn’t allow it, called them quacksalvers. In the end, Father thought it a jolly good idea to keep me so busy I wouldn’t have time for morbid thoughts.”

He brushed his lips over the small fine hairs of her temple. “So, the art lessons.”

“And voice, and dance, piled upon a mountain of difficult schoolwork. They hoped I would take to something, find some sort of spiritually healing avocation.”

He stroked her face with the backside of a knuckle. “When I was captured by the
Clan na Gael
, I thought I would never hold you again—never do this again.” He kissed her lips softly, tenderly.

Arching away, she took him by the hand. “Come hither, sir.”

They made their way back to the house, detouring through the kitchen larder, where they snagged a plate of biscuits and poured a glass of ale.

“Shh.” She led the way up the darkened stairs, detouring around several treads. “Very loud, creaky ones,” she hissed. When they reached the upper floor, a beam of moonlight served to guide them the rest of the way.

Safely ensconced in his room, Zeno lit a bedside lamp, but kept the wick low. He blew out the match and replaced the chimney.

“There are condoms in the dresser,” she blurted out.

Sliding out the top drawer, he removed a tin of rubber goods. “You do encourage the most lascivious behavior in me.” Zeno tilted his head. “Do you find my lovemaking in any way disturbing, Cassie? Because if you do—”

“I don’t.” She bit her lip. “I suppose that makes me a terrible wanton, doesn’t it?”

“It makes you the most desirable young lady I have ever encountered.”

She stepped into his arms and gave him a kiss. “Since my naked bottom was exposed this afternoon, it is your turn, Zak, to remove every stitch of clothing.” She leaned against a bedpost. “And I shall watch.”

He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. It was a look that could easily strike terror into the stoutest of hearts. But tonight, it was accompanied by a slight upturn at the edges of his mouth. “My pleasure, Cassandra.”

He disrobed without much self-consciousness and her attention never left him. When he turned around to place his trousers over a chair rail she thought she might swoon. His broad back narrowed into waist and chiseled derriere. Those long, sinewy thighs she often admired under his breeches were … perfect.

He turned and stood before her, proudly erect.

Her gaze traveled over—well, after his penis, his curved groin muscle, nicely defined arms, and a broad strong chest, dusted with hair. Even the bandages wound round his torso made him the very picture of a gallant, wounded warrior.

“The Greeks could not have chosen a more perfect subject.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I should like to paint you one day.”

Zeno scratched his chin. “I wouldna’ mind, lass, as long as ye promise not to display Willy in the Grosvenor Gallery.”

Cassie clamped her mouth shut to avoid a burst of laughter that would surely wake the household. Her regard returned to his groin. “He does appear ready for me.” She reached out to admire the size and thickness of his erection, which caused his breath to catch.

“For you? Always.” Those beautiful sapphire eyes gleamed in the darkness. Starved, was he? For he looked as though he could eat her alive. She hoped so.

She unbuttoned her skirt and let it puddle at her feet. He further helped to pull cords and untie ribbons until bustle, slips, and pantaloons hit the floor. Only a thin camisole remained, and his prick jerked in appreciation.

He pressed her back against the heavy carved bedpost, and raised her arms above her head. Once her camisole was off, his gaze followed the movement of his hands over her body. Like a cool breeze, he caressed nipples, gliding past ribs and torso. Her stomach muscles trembled as his fingers slipped between her legs. Her stark nudity felt perversely mysterious.

He slipped his hand between her legs. His fingers moved through soft curls and slick flesh to lightly stroke and circle. A rush of wetness eased from her as he massaged her most sensitive spot, teasing until the small nub swelled with hot-blooded sensation.

“Have you any idea how difficult it has been this last week? The lurid thoughts and dreams of you.” He kissed her temple, brushing his lips down to her ear.

“Mm-mm,” she moaned.

His fingers circled gently, increasing speed and pressure until her knees buckled, unable to support her. Zeno caught her in his arms and set her down on the edge of the bed. As she reclined, his hands slipped under her, lifting her buttocks until her triangle met his lips. Her belly quivered as he slipped over the curls of her mound and traced a string of soft kisses to her breasts.

She reached down and took the impressive, rock-hard member into her hands, marveling at the taut velvet skin and the bounce of his enthusiastic arousal. She smiled. “My turn.”

Her fingers slid past the bandages of his bound rib cage. She kissed tentatively, then used her tongue, exploring the silken flesh until she took all of him into her mouth. His hands stroked her hair and each breath grew harsh.

She released the broad phallus and made a soft, loving demand, but a demand nonetheless. “I will have all of you, sir.” Obediently, he thrust in again—but gently. His groin muscles tightened as she took even more of him.

“Slow, love,” he begged. She licked instead.

Only after he growled like a beast and his breathing grew harsh did he pull away and press her onto the bed. He nudged her legs open and slid his fingers inside her body. Two digits gently stroked, causing more slippery wetness to flow.

His lips covered a nipple. He tongued, then nipped. A deluge of pleasure. He suckled one then the other, teasing, caressing as he pressed the tip of his erection along her slippery path—until she arched and held her breath. She marveled at his intuition, for he seemed to know her desire might peak at any moment.

Abruptly, he stopped all his lovely ministrations and rolled onto his back. Blindly, he reached for the condom tin. Squinting in the dark, he read, “Three Knights with Reservoir Ends.”

BOOK: An Affair with Mr. Kennedy
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