Rory (16 page)

Her gaze fell to his chest again, and she saw the corners of his mouth lift. “Your necklace is lovely,” she said, embarrassed to have been caught staring. She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.

“I keep my mother’s ring on it.” He lifted the slender ring.

“She died?”

“Aye, she used to work for Lady Nordland.” He shook his head, his hand falling back to his side. “I mean, Lady Graston. She died this past winter.”

“I am sorry, Johnny. I know what it is to lose a parent.”

“Aye, Zachary told me your parents died in a carriage accident last year.”

Shannon swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Little wonder he doesn’t want to drive the carriage any longer.”

She nodded, hating the lies they were forced to tell. “The ring is beautiful, Johnny. I am sure your mother is glad you wear it so close to your heart.”

“I like to believe she can see me. Do you think your parents see you?”

Shannon bit her bottom lip and nodded, “Aye, Johnny. I believe they do.”

Looking over at Rory, she noticed he watched the exchange between herself and Johnny with interest, and she could clearly see the jealousy in his eyes.

Rory didn’t know who he wanted to choke first, Shannon or Johnny. The two looked as thick as thieves, and it irritated him to no end. When the young man had lifted the lock of hair from her shoulder he had very nearly come out of his skin.

It hadn’t helped that Georgiana had giggled under her breath, far too aware of his frustration.

Three glasses of whiskey later and his irritation was not improving. His brother walked along the edge of the water with his wife, and his mother sat in her chair, reading a novel, and watching the happy couple with a smile. Is this how it was going to be for the unforeseeable future, forced into keeping Lady Kinkade busy? His mother’s trap would push him to an early grave.

He was almost relieved when dark clouds rolled in overhead. His mother, who could never tolerate the cold, stood and slipped the book in the pocket of her gown. Victor and Lillith also started toward the house.

A crack of thunder sounded on the horizon, and Georgiana stood. “It is time for us to return to the manor. Perhaps I can interest you in a game of chess, my lord?”

“I think I shall be taking a nap,” he replied, covering a forced yawn for full effect.

She frowned and looked skeptical.

“Perhaps we can play before dinner.”

She instantly brightened. “I accept.” She slid her hand around his elbow and they walked toward the manor.

They parted company inside, and Rory walked up the steps to his room, closing the chamber door behind him and rushing toward the window.

He could see the servants working feverishly to bring back the tables and chairs. Shannon had taken the linens and bunched them in a ball that she carried in her arms. Fat rain
drops fell on her, but she did not seem to mind. In fact, the servants went about their business, oblivious of the weather.

Shannon’s gown clung to her body, and he could see the outline of her slender legs, remembering well those creamy thighs spread wide as she took him into her body.

Not wanting to be seen, he took a step back.

Johnny said something to Shannon that made her laugh, and Rory felt overcome with jealousy.

What the hell was the matter with him? It was not like him to feel envy toward any man, but he felt a possessiveness toward Shannon that bordered on obsession.

She was his. He didn’t want anyone else touching her, or even making her laugh.

The group disappeared into the house, and he waited, undecided on what to do. Would she come to him? Maybe it would have served him better had he not recovered so quickly, because then she would still be his caregiver. But aside from growing tired, his shoulder had mended well, and there was no need to keep the bandage on, as it was healing nicely.

He paced the room, watching the clock on the mantel tick away the minutes. “Bloody hell,” he said under his breath after ten minutes came and went. He left his chamber, heading down the servants’ stairwell, having no desire to see his brother, Lillith, Marilyn, his mother, or God forbid, Georgiana.

Passing by one servant who gasped and stopped like a scared rabbit until he passed, Rory wondered if he hadn’t lost his mind just a little. Perhaps he was getting feverish?

Slipping onto the floor of the servant’s quarters, he went to Shannon’s room and, instead of knocking, walked in.

She turned, her eyes wide.

Wearing nothing but a soaking wet chemise, she stared at him. He closed the door and leaned against it.

Pink nipples strained against the sheer fabric, and he could see that shadow outlined the juncture of her thighs.

She licked her lips. “Rory, what are you doing?”

“I had to see you.”

“But I must change and get downstairs. Cook has asked for my assistance in the kitchen.”

“Perhaps I should ask Lillith to promote you to lady’s maid.”

“I do not seek your assistance.” Her tone was clipped, and he realized she was angry with him.

“Come here,” he said, but she didn’t budge.

He frowned. “Then I shall come to you.”

He approached her and she actually took a step back. “My brother tells me that the servants are talking.”

“Is that why you flirt with Johnny?”

Her brow furrowed. “Flirt with Johnny? I was not flirting with him. We were talking.”

“You were doing more than talking. He was showing you something.” When she remained quiet, he said, “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t think I could ever make you jealous.”

“You are wrong.” He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing over her cheek, before his fingers raked through her hair. His lips were inches from hers, and he looked deep into her beautiful eyes. “I ache to possess you completely. I want you. I do not care what others say. Let them talk. Let them say what they will.”

She closed her eyes, and he kissed each lid. She had not responded to him at all. In fact, her arms remained at her sides.

“Do you want me to leave, Shannon?”

She opened her eyes. He could see the inner war playing out behind those blue depths. She shook her head slowly. “No. No, I don’t.”

Her arms encircled his neck, and she went up on her toes to kiss him. He slid the chemise off her shoulders until it fell to her ankles in a puddle.

“You’re so cold. Let me warm you,” he said, holding her tight to his body, savoring the feel of her limbs flush against him.

“Your shoulder,” she said, easing back.

“It only pains me a little.”

Shannon could see the need in his eyes. Feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her thigh.

“In the chair,” he whispered against her lips.

She sat down, and he nudged her thighs apart. Going down on his knees between them, his hot breath fanned her sex, and her stomach tightened as he leaned in and gently licked her.

Her breath left her in a rush and she gripped his shoulders as his tongue worked its magic, sliding over her sensitive folds, lifting the tight bundle of nerves, toying it relentlessly until she was arching against his mouth, craving more.

Rory eased her legs over his shoulders, giving him better access. He licked her over and over again, sliding his tongue into her snug passage.

She gripped his head, her nails grazing his scalp.

He sucked hard on her clit and she cried out, her quim throbbing and pulsing against his mouth.

She looked down at him, and his breath lodged in his throat. The heated look had him easing her up onto her feet.

Gripping the back of the chair for support, she groaned as his cock nudged her soaking entrance. He slid inside her slowly, his hands cupping her breasts, rolling taut nipples between thumbs and forefingers.

He pinched lightly, pulling the peaks into tight little buds.
One hand slid down her firm belly, through the downy hair that covered her sex, sliding over her clit.

Her breath lodged in her throat as the exquisite pressure began to build deep inside her. With each stroke she came closer and closer to the pinnacle that would push her over the edge.

Rory felt her coming closer to orgasm and held on until her inner muscles clamped down around him. He gripped her hips and pumped against her, until his own release came.

G
eorgiana had been walking toward Rory’s chamber when she saw him exit his room.

She had nearly called out to him, but curious, especially since he’d said he was so tired, she had followed him.

All the excitement she’d been feeling these past hours faded when she saw him enter the servants’ staircase. Her stomach fell to her toes. She should have known. He had not been able to keep his eyes off the little servant all afternoon. Indeed, when Shannon had flirted with the handsome footman, the nerve in his jaw had jumped and he had clenched his teeth tight together.

Waiting a few minutes, she followed him into the servants’ corridor, and hearing the door open and close, she went to the very next room, which was thankfully empty.

Placing an ear against the door, she heard movement in the next room. She heard voices, but they were hardly more than a murmur.

She could not afford to lose Rory as a possible suitor. The alternative was extremely sobering, and she was disappointed that the only suitors who had approached were much older men.

Plus, she wanted a husband who excited her. A handsome man who made her yearn for the bedchamber. And Rory fit the criteria in more ways than one.

She wanted to be the envy of all her friends. Wanted the room to go silent when they walked in. Everyone would know who she was then.

But she would not get a ring on her finger by playing the demure widow. Lord how she had tried to get his attention, but it was nearly impossible under this roof with a certain angelic-looking servant with startlingly beautiful eyes.

The adjoining room went silent; then she heard a feminine moan and the slight screeching of a chair. An image came to mind and she pushed it away, but when she heard a steady rocking follow, she knew what was happening. She was tempted to pound on the wall. Yet how would she possibly explain herself when Rory walked in, and he would certainly come over, irritated beyond reason that he had been interrupted fucking his little servant.

Her body burned as she continued to listen to the lovers have sex.

It had been only weeks since the house party where she’d played a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Lord Hendley, a long-married man and figurehead in Parliament, and husband to her best friend. She knew he’d be discreet, and he had been, coming to her room at three in the morning. The sex had been underwhelming, but it had scratched an itch for the time being and helped heal the wound her lover had left when he’d walked out the door.

Lord Hendley had never asked to see her again, and it had been a blow to her ego. She had left his household wiser. Since then Lady Hendley had asked her to visit again, and she had readily refused.

A mingling of cries sounded in the other room. Long minutes passed, then finally she heard the door open and close. She
cracked the door open, looked out, and saw Rory walking down the hallway.

Her stomach tightened.

She had her work cut out for her. The man was truly besotted with the little slut.

The servants’ hall was lit with candles, and as Floyd played the fiddle and one of the footman a flute, the servants joined into a line and danced.

Shannon clapped along with the others as Candice, with her crown of daisies, held hands with Frank and rushed down the line of dancers who had made an archway with their bodies.

“Come on, Shannon,” Johnny said, taking hold of Shannon’s hand.

“I haven’t danced in ages,” she said, but he didn’t care. He laughed as they joined the others. The last time she had attended a dance had been in Dublin a good nine months before. She’d been tutored in dance since the age of five, so she was not a stranger to the steps. Johnny was light on his feet as well, and she found herself having a wonderful time, laughing with the others, clapping in time to the music.

All night Johnny had been attentive to her every need, making sure she had punch, not leaving her side. He was a sweet boy, and she felt guilty knowing she could not return his affection. It was impossible because Rory held her heart.

God help her, but she had truly gotten herself into a mess of her own making. Guilt ate her every time she saw Zachary, who at the moment danced with the scullery maid. Like her, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, laughing and clapping in time to the music.

The dance ended abruptly and they all clapped their hands. “Would ye like to get some fresh air?” Johnny asked.

She was warm, and the room had grown stuffy. “Sure,” she replied, following him outside.

Because of the recent rain, the air was clean and brisk and felt wonderful against her flushed skin. “Ye are a wonderful dancer, Shannon,” Johnny said, white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

“Thank you, Johnny. And you are as well.”

He took a step closer and Shannon straightened. Perhaps she ought not to have come outside with him. “I like ye, Shannon. Ye know that, don’t ye?”