Rory (20 page)

And not just as a plaything. He had never been so intrigued, never so possessive, and this knowledge both frightened him and excited him.

Wishing Victor were awake and here to help, Rory piled his plate high with eggs, ham, and a scone, and made his way to his
mother’s side. Her gaze flicked over him; then she returned her attention to the newspaper.

She was not fooling him. She hated reading the newspaper, and had often mentioned how very depressing the news was. The only section that held any interest at all were the engagement and wedding announcements.

“A lovely soiree,” Rory said to no one in particular.

His mother grunted and reached for her tea.

Lady Kinkade smiled tightly. “Indeed. Though I do wish you would have stayed up later, my lord.”

“Yes, I was shocked you retired so early,” his mother said. “It is unlike you to be among the first to leave the festivities.”

“I am getting older, Mother.”

“You were abed before one.”

He didn’t realize she had taken note of the precise hour.

“Perhaps you can make up for your absence by taking Lady Kinkade to Hyde Park today,” his mother suggested.

The last thing he wanted was to leave the manor and Shannon, especially when so many questions remained unanswered. She had said she would tell him about her past, and he was ready to listen, but how could he do that if he wasn’t around?

Lady Kinkade cleared her throat.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, hoping he could talk Victor and Lillith into joining them.

The spark returned to Georgiana’s eyes, and she smiled at him. Beneath the table, he felt her foot brush against his, her toes sliding up along his ankle and his shin.

God help him, it was going to be an extremely long day.

Shannon stood in Zachary’s living quarters that set directly off the stables. The smell of leather, horses, hay, and manure was so strong it nearly took her breath away. “I wanted to
make sure you were all right,” she said, disturbed after last evening’s vivid nightmare.

“I watched for Clinton last night, but I didn’t see him.” He tied a boot lace and then made busy retying the other. “We need to leave, Shannon. The risk is just too great if we stay.”

She knew he spoke the truth, and yet she could not bring herself to make plans to leave. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she had fallen desperately in love with Rory, and she had put her brother and herself in grave danger because of that love. “Where would we go?”

“What about Paris?”

“We don’t speak fluent French.” Actually, there had been a time she had thought living in France would be an appealing alternative, but now Paris seemed too far away.

“We know enough.”

“No, not France.”

He raked his hands through his hair. “You just don’t want to leave your lover.”

She flinched as though he’d struck her, and yet she didn’t deny it.

“Did you tell him about Clinton?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Has he asked?”

“Yes, he saw Clinton staring at me last night. He knows something is amiss.” She kept the part about the nightmare to herself, as well as her promise to tell Rory about their past.

She hated how torn she felt between Rory and her brother. Hated how guilt ate at her insides.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “I don’t want to leave. I’m happy here.”

“We have no choice, Shannon.”

“I am tired of running.”

He took a step closer to her. “Clinton has found us, Shannon. The man who killed our parents is closing in and he
will
kill us. It’s only a matter of time.”

Her heart pounded hard against her breastbone. “What if we go to Claymoore Hall with the family? From there we can go north, to Scotland.”

His hold on her loosened and she saw his eyes light up. “We could not stay at Claymoore Hall long. Clinton will follow us.”

“Maybe he won’t.”

“Shannon, he found his way into his lordship’s dinner party. What is keeping him from having himself invited to their country manor?”

He made an excellent point.

The barn door opened and closed. “Zachary, are you here?”

Shannon’s breath caught in her throat. It was Rory.

“Stay here,” Zachary whispered. “Yes, I’m here, my lord.”

She nodded and sat down on his cot, fiddling with the rugged edge of the blanket. Last night she had heard Lady Kinkade knock at Rory’s door. Shannon was not foolish enough to think the widow would give up. Rory was a prize worth fighting for.

Zachary had left the door slightly cracked, so she could still hear every word.

“What can I do for you, Lord Ambrose?”

“Could you prepare the phaeton for me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Shannon heard movement in the stable as her brother brought around the horses.

“Do you like London, Zachary?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shannon glanced out the small window and could see Rory’s strong back turned to her. Zachary was busy putting harnesses on the horses.

“I want you to know that if you and your sister need my assistance in any way, I am here to help you,” Rory said, and Zachary glanced over at him.

“Thank you, my lord.”

The two of them fell silent, and Shannon understood why when Georgiana appeared, dressed in a yellow muslin day dress with matching parasol. She was all smiles as she approached the two men.

“How lovely. A phaeton!”

She would enjoy being in an open carriage where everyone could see her with her beau.

Jealousy ate at Shannon’s insides. Just last night she had made love to Rory with fevered abandon. It felt like they could never keep their hands off each other, and still, even with him courting another woman, she wanted him.

“Do not forget my offer,” Rory said to Zachary as he helped Georgiana into the phaeton.

The other woman looked from one man to the other, but managed a smile. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said prettily to Zach, who nodded and stepped back.

The phaeton pulled away, and only when they turned the corner out of the drive did he walk back to the stable.

Shannon met him at the door. “Perhaps we should tell him the truth. Maybe he can protect us.”

Zach shook his head. “No, we won’t involve anyone else in this. We will go to Claymoore Hall, and from there, we go to Scotland.”

Anna stared out the window of her rented hotel suite at the wet streets below. Three hours had passed since the time Marilyn was supposed to meet her, and two hours ago a courier had arrived with a letter saying she would not make it, signed affectionately, M.

She had crumpled up the letter in her fist, tossed it into the fireplace, and then drank half a bottle of brandy before she sent word to Thomas.

She had seen Marilyn’s face last night when they were out on the verandah. Could see how she trembled when they were close, the pulse in her throat beating wildly, their lips nearly touching. And yet she would deny her, and all for the overly fawning fiancé of hers. So what if he was a baron? He would keep Marilyn on a short leash, and that would not do at all.

Marilyn was too used to her freedom. Having a man like Stanley would be akin to having a controlling mother.

Below, in the street, she saw Thomas exit his newly purchased carriage and her heart picked up its pace. She opened the door and he swept off his hat. He was at her door minutes later. “I received your urgent summons. What is wrong?”

She felt slightly guilty that she had brought him here under the pretense of needing his assistance. “I was lonely.”

Removing his gloves, he laid them on a nearby table and took a seat in a chair. “You, lonely? Now that is rich.”

“I have also asked for a mutual friend to meet us here.”

His lips curved. “Do tell me you speak of Lord Ambrose?”

Anna smiled. “That would be lovely, would it not? No, I fear Rory is occupied, but I do not think you will be disappointed.”

“A pity. I did so enjoy our last encounter.”

“Yes, well …”

He brushed a thumb over her chin. “Come, do not leave me guessing.”

“The man I speak of is Clinton O’Connor, your fellow countryman.”

His lips quirked. “Ah, yes, our recent companion with the mess of red hair and lovely lips.”

“He likes you, I think,” Anna said. “He’s … curious.”

“And I’m curious about him.”

“There is a reason I am bringing him here, aside from the obvious, and you are going to help me.”

He crossed his feet at the ankle and slouched in the chair. “What do you wish to know?”

“What he is after. Or rather,
who
he is after.”

He frowned. “What gives you the impression he is after someone?”

“Call it a hunch.”

“Your hunches usually prove to be correct.”

In the weeks since the party at Claymoore Hall, they had formed a strong bond. True, that bond was based mostly on sex, but they were also friends, and Anna was growing to trust Thomas. They had gravitated toward each other, perhaps because they were so much alike.

“Well, what do you say?”

He removed his jacket and loosened his cravat. “I am only too happy to oblige. But what,” he said, unbuttoning his trousers, “will you do for me?”

Clinton was greeted with quite a sight when he entered Lady Anna’s hotel suite. Anna was on her knees between Thomas Lehman’s spread thighs, and she was sucking his cock.

She was naked, save for sheer black stockings held up by silk garters, and with her blond hair falling down her back in thick waves, he could not help but think of his pretty little cousin.

He’d already smoked opium before coming over, the drug making him slightly light-headed and already he yearned for more.

“Would you like a drink?” Thomas asked, and Clinton nodded, helping himself from the side cupboard.

Thomas had a hand on Anna’s shoulder, a gentle shove telling her that he’d had enough for now.

Understanding, Anna stood and walked toward Clinton, hips swaying. She was confident with her body, her waist small, her hips slightly curved, her mons completely bald. His fiancée would be horrified that a woman would do something so bold, but Clinton liked it, and found Anna and her sensual ways exciting.

Anna kissed him, sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips, seeking entry.

His gaze flicked from her to Thomas, and both watched him closely. “Drink up,” she said, and he knocked back the entire glass in one swallow. Sex in the carriage had been exciting, but he had a feeling tonight would trump that experience.

She took him by the hand and motioned for Thomas to follow as she led them toward the large bed. She sat on the edge and spread her thighs wide.

Her hands moved up her belly to her breasts, where she started to play with her nipples, pulling on them. She made a tiny moan and bit her bottom lip with her top teeth.

Clinton could feel Thomas’s gaze on him. “Make love to her,” Thomas said, and it sounded like an order.

Clinton trembled with excitement as he removed his coat, waistcoat, and shirt.

He kissed Anna, then her breasts, working his way down her stomach to her sex. She was so hot, so wet, and when he licked her hot core, she groaned with delight just as she had last night.

She came quickly and instantly pulled him onto the bed and yanked off his trousers in record time.

She straddled his hips and slid herself onto his length a second later. “Lovely,” she said with a soft smile. He cupped her small breasts. She glanced over at Thomas, and the other man climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind her, and between Clinton’s spread thighs.

Clinton felt Thomas slide his cock into her back passage, could feel the man’s length against his own, separated only by the thinnest of tissue. With the other man seated fully inside her, she was impossibly tight. Anna leaned over Clinton, and Thomas over her.

Never in his life had he experienced anything so incredibly satisfying, and he was terrified he would finish before the other two.

He bit his lip, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him as they moved together as one.

T
he weather was horrible. Rain fell sideways, and the already heavily rutted roads became slick and impassable, making travel grueling, if not close to impossible.

It was with much relief when the party arrived at Claymoore Hall. Ironically, the moment the caravan rounded the final corner up the long drive, the rain stopped and a rainbow signaled that all would be right with the world.

However, Shannon felt anything but well as she followed Lady Graston to her quarters. The room was enormous and drafty. Though a fire had been lit, Shannon had a difficult time staying warm.

Any day now she would be leaving Claymoore Hall and Rory, and she would never see him again. She and Zachary had talked about it last night when the party had stopped overnight at an inn. He’d been adamant they not stay on at Claymoore Hall for long, and Shannon knew that he was right. Clinton would follow them. It was just a matter of time.

She could not risk her brother’s life just because she was in love.

The thought of leaving Rory was excruciating. She had been avoiding him like crazy since the day he had taken Lady Kinkade into London. It hadn’t helped that the widow had been showing off her lovely gold charm bracelet, a gift from Rory. Worse still, the single charm was in the shape of a heart.