by Merry Farmer
Maeve sent him another, sly look, over her other shoulder this time, like she was a cat playing with a mouse before she would devour it. “I have a great many skills that you have yet to discover.” She turned back to the kitchen, and immediately her playful, siren-like demeanor dropped. “But no, I am not much of a cook. At least, not when the stove isn’t hot enough to so much as boil water.”
Avery found the way she gave up her flirtations in favor of practicality as endearing as any effort at seduction she could have made. “Let’s see what we can find,” he said, pushing away from the sofa and into the kitchen.
The cottage was definitely lived in. The cupboard that served as a pantry was stocked with several sorts of canned goods and fruits and vegetables preserved in glass jars. There was plenty of flour, butter, and lard for baking, as well as dried beans, and even some fresh vegetables that must have come out of a garden only days before. There was even half a loaf of bread that was only a tiny bit stale, milk that had not yet gone bad, and enough tea to brew a pot as soon as the stove was warm enough to boil a kettle.
Neither of them were proficient cooks, but after an hour or so, as the storm continued in its intensity outside, they had managed to construct a small, unusual feast of tea, toast, roasted vegetables, and cold ham for their supper.
“I am quite proud of our efforts,” Maeve said as they sat across the cottage’s small table from each other. She buttered a piece of toast and placed it on his plate. “Neither of us will go to bed hungry tonight.”
Her words could have been completely innocent, but the way she delivered them with a smile had Avery hoping and praying that they would go to bed together, and that they wouldn’t sleep. It was outrageous of him to think so. Maeve was a respectable woman, not one of the courtesans he used to visit in London when the idea of free love was new to him. He shouldn’t let his thoughts wander straight to seduction.
But when she bit into her toast and a bit of melted butter dribbled across her lips and chin, he nearly unmanned himself. He was grateful that the table hid the intensity of his erection.
“So tell me, Lord Carnlough,” she said with teasing formality. “I have shared with you, so you must share with me. Why are you unmarried at the ripe age of…?” She arched one eyebrow.
“Thirty-two,” he filled in for her with a cheeky look to answer hers. “I am unmarried because I have been far too busy debauching myself in London brothels and bringing disgrace on the O’Shea family name.”
He waited to see if she would blanche, but instead, Maeve merely shrugged one shoulder and said, “I would think that it would be difficult to besmirch the O’Shea family name when said family already has more scandals than the Queen has tiaras.”
Avery laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. He knew she wasn’t disparaging the family. In fact, he had the impression from the sparkle in her eyes that she admired the O’Shea’s propensity for trouble. Every thing Maeve did and everything she said convinced him more and more that she was the woman for him.
“No, in truth,” he said, slicing through his ham, “the reason I haven’t married yet is because my life hasn’t allowed me two seconds to settle in for the search. I am not certain how much you are aware of, but my father was ill for quite some time. I went straight from university to helping my sister, Angeline, care for him in his final days. I had a great deal to learn about managing an estate, and about the business of Parliament. Particularly as the Irish Question is far from solved, depending on who you ask.”
“I see,” Maeve said, nodding as if she did, indeed, understand. “You’ve had quite a lot of responsibility piled on your shoulders, and at an earlier age than most.”
Avery’s back and shoulders relaxed, and joy filled him at her thoughtfulness and patience. “It has been something of a point of conflict between me and some of my London friends,” he went on, in the mood to confess everything to her.
“Oh?” She paused with her teacup halfway to her lips, genuine interest in her eyes.
Avery finished cutting his ham, took a bite, chewed it, and thought about his answer. “I am no different from any other young man with a title and a bit of wealth,” he confessed. “I enjoy a good bit of naughty fun now and then. My friends enjoy it as well, so they did not react entirely kindly when I passed over their invitations for nights on the town or weekends of debauchery to study land management or to visit my father.”
“You chose being a good son and a responsible nobleman over excess and pleasure,” she said, her eyes glowing with admiration.
That glow was more intoxicating than any wine and more alluring than the sultriest face paint or lowest-cut bodice. “In a way, I felt as though I had no choice,” he said. “But in another way, I chose my father and my responsibility over empty fun. Even though I resented it at times.”
“And why shouldn’t you have fun now and then?” Maeve asked. “You are young. Life cannot be all stodginess and duty.”
He stared at her, amazed. “So it doesn’t bother you that I have a somewhat checkered past?”
She grinned at him. “I will be forever jealous of the other women who have heard your unfettered laughter or tasted your lips.”
Her mention of lips drew Avery’s gaze directly to her own. They were pink and full, and still glistening slightly from the butter on her toast. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss her. It pushed all other thoughts from his mind.
“You’ve nothing at all to be jealous about,” he said, his voice dropping to a rich baritone. “I can’t remember a single one of them. I thought I was destined to be a hapless rake and that any marriage I might enter into would be a tedious chore that I would be forced to endure for the continuation of the family name, but since meeting you, I have reconsidered that notion.”
“Have you?” There was just enough uncertainty and hope in Maeve’s voice to drive Avery to the height of arousal. Once again, she had surprised him, this time by letting something pure and artless flash into her eyes. She had such a good soul encased in an attractive body and accented by a quick and clever mind.
“Yes,” he said, setting down his knife and fork and lifting slightly out of his chair. “I most certainly have.”
He stood just enough to lean over the small table, surging close to her. Even better, his movements took her completely by surprise. She gasped, which parted her perfect lips, and before she could tease him again by pulling away, he slanted his mouth over hers.
Chapter 5
Maeve was utterly surprised by Avery’s kiss. It was beautiful and intoxicating, and it was far and away the most magical kiss she’d ever received. But what sort of man kissed a woman while leaning over a supper table? Maeve had the last of her toast in one hand and a fork with a bit of ham in the other. In spite of all that, it was somehow the most romantic kiss she’d ever received. Not that there had been many.
“Oh, my,” she gasped when Avery pulled back and stood. He appeared to have a difficult time steadying himself for a moment as he gazed languidly into Maeve’s eyes. Maeve set down her toast and fork and pressed her fingertips to her lips.
“Delicious,” Avery said, his lips moving into a hungry smile. “I’ve never kissed a woman who tastes of butter and salt before.
Maeve burst into a snorting giggle. It was the most undignified sound she could have made, and she clapped her hand even harder over her mouth. She couldn’t stop giggling once she’d started.
For some reason, that seemed to delight Avery. “I do believe I need more,” he said, stepping around the table.
He moved to the side of her chair, then held out a hand to her. Maeve’s heart ran riot in her chest. She simply could not believe the situation she found herself in. Outside the cottage, a storm was raging. Rain still beat against the roof and the windows, making a sound that brought to mind gothic adventures and perilous situations. Inside, the cottage was cozy, now that the fires in the fireplace and the stove were burning away, and her belly was just full enough of s
imple fare without being overly full.
And there was Avery—strong, handsome, mischievous, and as naughty as all the rumors she’d ever heard about him. His green eyes sparkled with seduction and seemed to call to her to join in the debauchery. She should have been terrified, or at least offended that he would importune her the way he clearly wanted to. She should behave as a young woman of breeding and class would and turn down the offer that seemed to permeate every part of Avery and fill the space between them.
Instead, she took his warm hand and allowed him to help her to stand.
“This evening continues to be highly irregular,” she said in a quiet, breathless voice.
She felt silly for saying something so banal, but that embarrassment was banished completely when Avery drew her into his arms and slanted his mouth over hers again.
She melted into him, letting out a sound of surprise and excitement. His arms were firm around her, supporting and cherishing her. She rested her hands on the broad expanse of his chest for a moment, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her right hand. He was so warm and inviting, and he, too, tasted of butter and tea and salt and all the things she loved. And his kiss was magnificent. He knew precisely how to mold his lips to hers, how to brush his tongue against her lower lip, then invade her just enough to leave her wanting more without overwhelming her. Maeve had never kissed anyone like that before. It felt like a prelude to the blending two souls together, like Alice had told her intercourse felt like.
Maeve sucked in a sudden breath, shuddering in Avery’s arms as he switched up the way he kissed her and stroked a hand along the side of her face. It was exactly like Alice had described. Seductive, irresistible, and everything she had ever dreamed of and wanted. In a flash, she understood. As she slid her hands across Avery’s chest and around to his sides, gripping handfuls of his jacket as their mouths continued to meld with bruising kisses, she understood how her friend could have ended up in the unfortunate situation she was in. She understood why every woman who had ever ruined her reputation for a man could end up falling. It would be so blissfully easy to fall—and to enjoy every second of that fall—if it meant she could have this burning, hungry feeling within her, and if she could have the satisfaction she knew Avery could give her.
“You are the most delicious thing I have ever tasted,” Avery growled deep in his throat. He moved his hands to brush across her sides, cupping her breast with one hand through the fabric of her bodice and corset. “You are the most exciting woman I’ve ever met and the cleverest. I’ve wanted you almost from the moment we met.”
Maeve answered with a vocal sigh, but she couldn’t form her thoughts into words. So much ruin rested in her arms, and she had never wanted anything more in her life. She leaned into Avery when he kissed her again, reaching up to thread her fingers through his soft, flame-red hair. Everything about him was bold and dangerous and manly. He was everything she had ever dreamed of.
“I think it’s safe to say that our supper is over,” Avery murmured between kisses, lavishing her cheeks and even her nose with kisses before capturing her lips again. His statement was underscored by a crash of thunder from close by, but Maeve wasn’t certain she would have noticed if the cottage itself had been struck by lightning. In that moment, she felt as though she were the one who had been struck. “I believe our pudding awaits us in the bedroom,” Avery went on, dropping his voice to a leonine purr.
Maeve trembled, her body and heart crying out for everything Avery had just promised her. The sensations in her most delicate places were wildly enjoyable, and if everything Alice had ever told her was true, those sensations could expand and fill her and change her world. Right or wrong, proper or scandalous, she wanted to give herself to Avery O’Shea like she’d never wanted anything before.
She glanced up into Avery’s fiery eyes, reveling in the invitation they held. She had the most important choice of her lifetime right there in her arms, as Alice had once had with Michael Feeney. She had the choice to back away and follow the rules that society had laid out for her and for every young woman, or to throw caution—and possibly her reputation—to the wind to become the sort of woman that mothers warned their daughters about and that old biddies whispered about behind their fans with disapproving stares. She had a choice of whether to soar in the arms of pleasure or to plod along like a good girl.
It wasn’t really much of a choice for her, even though it should have been.
“I’m yours,” she said gazing up at Avery as she placed her palms on his chest again. “God help me, I should resist a naughty earl like you, but I find that I have no wish to turn away from you whatsoever. Ruin me, my lord. Ruin me thoroughly. But make it worth my while,” she added with a cheeky wink.
“Absolutely,” Avery said, breathless and radiating excitement himself.
He swept Maeve into his arms, earning a short yelp that turned into a laugh from her, then strode across the main room of the cottage to the bedroom in a few, quick strides. The bedroom was clean and quaint, but that was all Maeve cared about as Avery lay her on the narrow bed. She almost protested when he pulled away from her, until she realized he’d only done it so that he could unlace and remove her boots, then kick off his own shoes and wriggle out of his jacket and waistcoat.
One of the things that she and Alice had giggled about late into the nights that they’d stayed up talking about Michael and what had happened, and how neither she nor Alice were opposed to those sorts of things happening again, was how terribly inconvenient the act of removing clothing was when the eagerness to proceed to pleasure was in play. Maeve nearly laughed aloud at how accurate Alice’s description of undressing in a hurry was.
“There needs to be an easier way to accomplish this,” she told Avery breathlessly, working through the buttons of her riding jacket and blouse as he reached under her skirt to pull down her stocking. That act alone had her wriggling and eager to get the whole thing over with.
“It makes the habits of Naturalists or the loose clothing of the Pre-Raphaelites seem like a wise idea, doesn’t it?” he laughed along with her.
“I don’t want the deliciousness of the moment to disappear into practicality,” she confessed as she squirmed to remove her jacket, then her bodice.
“Do you mean this deliciousness?” Avery asked.
He’d straightened so that he could remove his shirt and unbutton his trousers, but he leaned forward, half covering Maeve with his body, and sought out her mouth for another kiss. Maeve gasped, then hummed in appreciation as their lips and tongues tangled again, and as her hands rested on his bare chest. Swirls of pleasure pulsed through her at the feel of his warm skin and the wiry hair that covered him in just the right amount. Her senses rocketed to their fullest heights all over again, and the ache in her core throbbed wildly for attention.
“Yes,” she sighed, roughly flopping back against the pillows as their kiss ended. “Yes, that’s the deliciousness I am after. Dear God, please get these wretched clothes off of me as quickly as possible.”
Avery laughed, then set about fulfilling her request. As she reached around to the fastenings of her skirt, he made quick work of the hooks of her corset. Between the two of them, they managed to free her from her layers of restrictive clothing. Maeve considered that she should have been embarrassed to be naked in front of an earl with a wicked reputation, but when he lowered himself to rain kisses across the mounds of her breasts, then took one of her nipples into his mouth to suckle and lick it, all rational thought left her head.
She gasped in shock, then moaned like an utter wanton as he treated her to some of the most delicious feelings she’d ever felt in her life. Her breasts felt more sensitive than she’d ever known them to be as he explored one nipple with his mouth while caressing her other breast. When he very carefully pinched her free nipple, she cried out and nearly arched off the bed.
“Too much?” he asked with a suddenly concerned look.
“Not nearly enough,” she panted.
She hoped that he could see in her eyes how much she’d enjoyed that mischievous little pinch. He certainly had to know how much she was enjoying their wicked experience when she grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him to her for another deep kiss.
She didn’t even mind when Avery laughed at that kiss. “If I had known how eager you’d be, I would have seduced you much sooner,” he said, drawing back with an impish wink.
“This is wonderful,” she panted. “I want more of it. I want more of you.”
“Whatever could you mean by that?” he teased her.
As if to answer his own question, he rocked back and stood so that he could shuck his trousers. Maeve sucked in a breath, then couldn’t seem to breath at all as his stiff penis leapt up in all its masculine glory. She’d seen pictures and Alice had described what she knew before, but nothing compared to the sight of the real thing. Maeve couldn’t decide if it was beautiful or hilarious.
Avery had no qualms at all about showing her his pride and joy. He climbed back onto the bed, straddling her hips so that she had a very close and incredibly detailed look at him.
“You are more than welcome to touch,” he said, wickedness glinting in his eyes. “In fact, I will admit to being an utter devil by saying I wish you would. No, I’ll go further,” he said, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his prick. Maeve gasped at the feel of it—hard and hot, but also silken in a way, with moisture beaded on the end—and closed her hand around the shaft. “I hope to teach you how to stroke and suck me, how to bring me to climax with your hands and with your lovely mouth.”
Maeve’s mouth dropped open at the bold statement as the glanced up with him. She could hardly breath with excitement.
Avery growled as his eyes focused on her mouth. “You tempt me, my dear,” he said in a rough voice, “but tonight is not about my wicked desires. Tonight is about introducing you to all of the naughty things that are yours and yours alone to enjoy.”
