Trevor's Truth [Lords of Hawskfell Manor 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Josie Dennis

  She’d been incredible in his heated mind. Sweetly insistent and very talented. He knew nothing about her background before coming to Hawksfell, but he couldn’t imagine she was as sexually experienced as he’d just imagined.

  A soft scratching came at his door and he sucked in a breath. Maybe the earl called for him or Mr. Carstairs needed to see him. Well, the last thing he needed was to be found with his hand on his cock and his seed on his drawers. He stuffed his cock back into his drawers and hastily pulled on his trousers.

  Crossing to the door, he took a breath and assumed his usual air of calm. He pulled it open and was shocked to find Ivy standing there.

  “Ivy?”

  Her glorious hair was down in one thick braid and hung over her shoulders, which brought his gaze to the full breasts outlined in her nightgown. Bringing his eyes back to her face, he saw her eyes were opened wide.

  “I thought I heard a sound.” She bit her lip and he nearly groaned. “Did you call me, Grayson?”

  His stomach clenched. Shit, he had called her. He’d called her name as he came, damn his lustful dreams.

  “Whyever would I call you?”

  His words were more clipped than usual and he winced as she pulled back.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Before he could do anything but watch, she turned and hurried back to her room. He stared at her door like an idiot, then closed his own.

  Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. What the hell was he going to do about her now?

  Chapter 2

  Trevor went down to the breakfast room at Heatherton House, a bit earlier than his usual time. He’d taken another of the maids last night, so his beast was slumbering nicely this morning. He’d slept like the dead himself and awoken eager to put aside his mind’s recent odd wanderings.

  Last night he’d once again had that vague dissatisfaction he’d noticed lately. That loneliness he’d been trying to ignore for months now. He was a Hawk, damn it. He was Viscount bloody Heatherton as well, with wealth and prestige. Yes, he was cursed. He had to fuck when the urge hit, but that wasn’t really a hardship. What more could he want in life?

  When he entered the breakfast room, the three Heatherton ladies were already seated.

  “Good morning, Trevor!” they said in unison.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He smiled at his aunts, Penny and Patty, and bent down to kiss his mother’s cheek. He stood. “How lovely you all look this morning.”

  His mother waved a hand but his Aunt Penny tittered and patted her blond hair. “Oh, Trevor. You say the sweetest things.”

  Aunt Patty bristled, but he could see she was pleased with the compliment as well. “Really, Trevor. You shouldn’t waste your time on such frivolities.”

  His mother shook her head. “Sisters, don’t tease Trevor. It’s been too long since he’s been up early enough to join us for breakfast.”

  He shrugged and sat at his mother’s elbow across from his aunts. “I slept long and deep last night.”

  “After carousing in the attics, no doubt,” Aunt Penny said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Trevor kept his expression even. Penny was the more outrageous of the sisters, and seemed to delight in Trevor’s exploits ever since she first walked in on him with a maid in the butler’s pantry. Patty was the opposite, pursed and passionless despite the Heatherton beauty she shared with her sisters. And his mother? Well, his mother Polly’s spirits fell squarely in the middle between Penny’s and Patty’s.

  He dug into the heaping plate of eggs and kidneys a footman set before him. “What are you three ladies about this day?”

  “Not a thing, Trevor,” his mother said.

  “Just another day of privilege and boredom,” Penny said.

  “Really, Penny and Polly,” Patty sniffed. “Look at Trevor’s countenance! You’ve brought him down.”

  Trevor blinked, then flashed his winning Hawk grin. “Ah, Aunt Patty. Do not think the three of you need to school your words. Why don’t I take you all into the village?”

  His mother’s eyes went wide and her hands fluttered. “No! I don’t want to go into the village, Trevor.”

  He knew his mother kept to the manor house and had for as long as he could remember. Her sisters always kept her company, for the most part. Penny was the only one who went into the village with any regularity. What she did there, he didn’t want to know. As long as he never ran into her at the inn getting a bit of something. He didn’t want to think about his aunts or his mother in the sack with a man like himself.

  It was a wonder his mother had ever met his father, that bastard Hawk who’d fucked and abandoned her. Yes, he’d legitimatized Trevor after he was born. From what little his mother told him about the Hawks he knew this wasn’t unusual. But his sire hadn’t been seen nor heard from in all of Trevor’s twenty-six years.

  The Hawk men were cursed, which he’d heard again and again from his mother and aunts. He was personally acquainted with his own beast, though he had to wonder why now and again. Had a Hawk fucked and abandoned a witch some one hundred or more years ago? He wasn’t fanciful, but that made as much sense as anything else. Either way, Hawks littered Yorkshire with bastards who in turn rutted their way through the countryside.

  Simply nodding gently in his mother’s direction, he put aside the question of her leaving Heatherton House. He wouldn’t ask and she wouldn’t go.

  The three sisters began to talk about some gossip or other Penny had heard when she was last in the village, not that Trevor paid attention. He ate and bided his time when he himself could get out into the brisk January day and ride the property. Or get his shaft polished, truth be told. He was always up for whatever came his way.

  As he finished his breakfast, his mind pleasantly engaged on the day’s possibilities, the butler came to the door with a letter in his hand.

  “For you, Lord Heatherton,” he said.

  The ladies twittered in obvious surprise as Trevor took the letter.

  “Who is it from, Trevor?” Penny asked.

  “Not bad news, I hope,” Patty said.

  “Do open it, dear,” his mother said.

  He tore open the letter and read it. Twice.

  “The Earl of Hawksfell has invited me for a visit,” he said.

  “Oh, no!” his mother cried. “You mustn’t go there, Trevor. The earl is a wicked man.”

  “Far worse than your father,” Penny said.

  “Or any other Hawks, I’ve heard,” Patty said.

  Trevor blinked. “Do you know him, Mother?”

  “No, of course not.” Her cheeks went pale. “His reputation is legendary in Yorkshire, dear.”

  “But didn’t he die on the Titanic, Polly?” Penny asked.

  “Yes, that’s right!” Patty said. “Went down to his icy death with the other poor souls.”

  “That is true,” his mother said, her hand pressed to her chest. “He’s dead and gone, thank the good Lord.”

  Trevor had never seen his mother so bloodthirsty. “This is from Gabriel Hawk,” Trevor said. “I take it that’s his son?”

  “One of them,” Penny said. “A half brother turned up a few months ago.”

  “Not surprising, the way the old earl rut his way through the countryside,” Penny put in.

  Trevor shifted in his seat. The last thing he wished to discuss with the Heatherton ladies was rutting. “Nevertheless, the current earl has invited me for a visit.”

  The sisters exchanged a long look, then his mother nodded her head. “You will go, I take it?”

  “I admit I’m intrigued,” Trevor said.

  “You should go, Trevor,” she said. “Meet your Hawk relatives.”

  “Polly!” Patty said.

  “Quiet, Patty,” Penny said. “Polly’s right. Trevor should go.”

  Trevor stood and tucked the letter into his pants pocket. “I’ll have my valet ready my things, then.” He flashed them all his most charming grin. “Try not to miss me to
o much?”

  They all giggled and his mother beamed, making him feel a damn sight better than he had moments ago. He spoke to his valet and went into the library. A fire crackled behind the grate and he stood close to the heat. January was cold as a witch’s teat in Yorkshire and he was never one to suffer any discomfort. He briefly wondered about the chill of the moors surrounding Hawksfell Manor. A smile teased his lips. He wouldn’t venture outside once he set about bedding whoever and whatever he fancied.

  “You look very devilish, Trevor,” Aunt Penny said from the doorway.

  Trevor wiped off his grin and faced his aunt. “You wound me, Auntie.”

  Penny shook her head, a fond smile on her face. “You look much like your father with that particular expression.”

  Trevor’s stomach dipped. “My father?” He cleared his throat to ease the tightness suddenly grabbing at him. “I wasn’t aware you knew him. Well, in any event.”

  Her cheeks turned pink as her gaze slid away. “I did know him, Trevor.” She took in a shaky breath and blew it out. “Very well.”

  His breath left in a rush and he sank down in the comfortable chair near the hearth. “Never say you…God, I can’t say it.”

  She stepped closer to stand in front of him. “It was years before he met your mother. I used to go into the village now and again.” She shrugged. “I ran into his handsome self and couldn’t resist him. Oh, those dark Hawk eyes. You favor him, despite that pretty golden hair you inherited from your mother.”

  “God.” He hung his head, covering his damned dark Hawk eyes with the heels of his hands. “You were with my father?”

  There was a beat of silence. “Just once.”

  Like that made it any better. “Well, that is something.”

  “Trevor, I’m only telling you this because I think you need to realize what these Hawks are like.”

  He raised his head to find his aunt’s blue eyes cloudy with worry. “And what are they like, precisely?”

  “They take, Trevor. They take whatever they want.”

  He pulled back. “Do you think of me that way, Aunt?”

  Her eyes widened. “No! You are sweet and good, like your mother.”

  He snorted and stood. “You, of all people, know what I do.” He chose his words carefully. “How I ease myself. Is that sweet and good?”

  To his astonishment, she reached up and patted his cheek. “You are a Hawk, and cursed with that particular beast. But you are bright and kind and a pleasure to be around.” She winked. “Out of bed, I mean.”

  His cheeks grew hot. “This is an odd conversation.”

  “But necessary, I believe.” She shrugged again. “I want you to be on your guard at Hawksfell, Trevor. It’s only a matter of time before someone gives you their heart. You can’t tell me you want any such thing.”

  There was no question about it. “I don’t.”

  “Then do try to keep on your toes. Please don’t hurt anyone like your father hurt your mother.”

  He studied her face for a long moment. “And you?”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, no. Not me. I knew full well what I was doing when I fell into bed with that man.”

  By the expression on her face, he knew she was telling him the truth. “Very well. I thank you for the warning.”

  She straightened. “Do enjoy yourself at Hawksfell Manor. I remember your father going on about the place.”

  “My father knew of the manor?”

  “He…participated in several parties up there on the moors.”

  He could well imagine what sort of parties went on at the manor a generation ago. “With the late earl, I take it.”

  “I suppose so. The earl was a bastard from all accounts.” She flashed him a smile. “I mean no offense.”

  He finally found a small laugh. “I take none. I am a bastard, legitimatized or not.”

  She came up on her toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “We’ll miss you.”

  When she left him alone again, he sat back down in front of the fire. His aunt had been with his father, too? “Christ, what a mess.”

  He thought about what she’d said. About someone giving him their heart. God, he’d never want any such thing. The very prospect was the only thing that could cut through what had been an otherwise lovely winter’s day. Well, that and the thought of his aunt in bed with his father.

  He would avail himself on his Hawk cousin’s offer of hospitality. He would answer the current earl in the affirmative, telling him he would arrive this evening. Once there, he would fuck wherever he liked and keep any thought of hearts far from his consciousness.

  He’d done so all these years, hadn’t he? He couldn’t imagine there was anyone at Hawksfell Manor to make him any such offer he would be foolish enough to accept.

  * * * *

  Ivy paced the hall near the family bedrooms. After last night’s sojourn to Grayson’s room, she’d had trouble getting back to sleep. It felt too much like her brief liaison with Paul six months ago. True, the footman had been the one sneaking into her room time and again but hadn’t she welcomed what she believed was love along with his lust? To think that she ever would fall prey to such feelings again? Never.

  Now she had to present herself to her mistress and keep her hands steady as she saw to her needs. The countess had summoned her to help her ready for tea in anticipation of the newest Hawk’s arrival, and there was no escaping the duty. She could scarcely believe another Hawk was coming today.

  She sighed. “Isn’t it enough that one Hawk just left?”

  She wasn’t truly bothered that another Hawk was coming to the manor. No. It was the tradition that she would be required to uphold upon his arrival that irked her. Well, there was no escaping that duty, either. She would have to line up with the staff and greet him with deference, while keeping her expression serene and her posture ramrod straight. Standing beside Grayson, of all people!

  He’d said her name last night. She was as sure of it as she was of her very own name. His voice had sounded hushed and strained but she’d picked up the faint sound as if he’d shouted. Nothing could have kept her in her bed once she heard him call out. Oh, what a sight he’d made when he’d answered his door.

  His shirt had been hastily buttoned and his trousers all but draped open from his narrow waist. She’d seen a glimpse of dark silky hair on his well-defined chest and the hint of a ridged belly where the waistband of his pants hung. But his eyes. Oh, his gray eyes had looked stormy as he’d taken in her unconventional attire in his turn. Fool that she was, she hadn’t hesitated to storm the gates, as it were. To hurry to his door and call to him as he’d called to her. In only her nightgown.

  “And now we must go await the Hawk like polite and indifferent service staff,” she whispered.

  It was no matter. She was very fortunate to have this position and she wouldn’t allow her silly infatuation with Grayson to jeopardize it.

  Before long it was time to assemble on the drive despite the chill of the coming evening. White plumes puffed from each person on the drive as they waited, and their pressed uniforms were covered with thick woolen coats of black. Ivy toed the gravel beneath her boots as she tucked her chilled hands in her pockets.

  “Right cold this evening,” Hugh, the new first footman, observed at her side.

  She nodded in his direction. He was a pleasant enough man, recently risen through the ranks to take Cabot’s place. Handsome, too. Broad of shoulder and long of leg. He would serve the manor well for many years. She risked a glance out of the corner of her eye in Grayson’s direction. Heat suffused her as she studied his perfect profile and she wondered if she would be at Hawksfell long enough to see just how long Hugh would serve. Her foolishness over Grayson would be her undoing. She was sure of it.

  A fine motor made its way toward the manor, gliding over the gravel drive to stop in front of the line of servants. Ivy watched as the chauffeur stepped out and turned to open the passenger door. A glimpse of a long leg dr
ew her eye upward as she took in the newest Hawk to arrive at the manor. My, he was tall. His body unfolded and he looked to be as tall as the earl. His shoulders were broad in his fine long coat and as he stood to gaze up at the edifice of the manor, he brushed sun-streaked hair back from his face. Ivy’s breath caught.

  He was beautiful. Bright and shiny as a new coin yet still possessing those dark Hawk eyes. His features were chiseled and his smile was wide as he turned his attention to the line of servants before him.

  “Welcome to Hawksfell Manor, Viscount Heatherton,” Mr. Carstairs said with a bow. “I am Carstairs, butler here at Hawksfell.”

  The new Hawk sketched a handsome bow that made Ivy’s mouth drop open.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Carstairs,” the viscount returned.

  “And this is Mrs. Holmes, the manor’s housekeeper,” Mr. Carstairs went on. “Please do let her or myself know if there is anything you need.”

  The viscount threw a wink at Mrs. Holmes and, although the venerable housekeeper didn’t bat an eye at the man’s flirting, Ivy felt her own cheeks heat.

  “I allow that is a most generous offer indeed,” Lord Heatherton said.

  His eyes raked over the line of servants and Ivy made herself keep still. His gaze stopped as it met hers and it seemed like the gravel beneath her boots began to shift.

  “You and your staff will no doubt prove most attentive,” he said, staring into her eyes for a beat. He faced Mr. Carstairs again. “But it’s grown quite cold this evening, Carstairs. What say we huddle back inside for warmth and let your staff go about their business?”

  Mr. Carstairs actually smiled at the viscount’s words. This Hawk was most charming indeed. He had none of the haunted air of some of his predecessors, looking like the weight of the world was set upon their broad shoulders. No, this Hawk seemed as bright and lively as he appeared. Somehow he seemed more dangerous for that difference.

  The butler waved Lord Heatherton ahead of him and he and Mrs. Holmes followed behind. Ivy swallowed as the viscount stepped past her. She caught a bit of his scent on the chilled wind. Oh, he smelled like spice. She couldn’t keep from following him with her eyes and her nose seemed to follow. Leaning closer to Grayson, she caught scent of him as well. His fresh, clean smell mingled with the viscount’s spicy scent in a combination to make her corset feel quite tight.