Never Deny Your Heart (Kellington Book Five)

by Maureen Driscoll

  The wedding breakfast was a feast, despite the short notice. It was also a relaxed and happy affair, since only family and close friends had been invited. Rosalind’s glass was kept full of champagne and it helped make her less nervous for what she was determined to do.

  She might have no choice when it came to marrying Fallmoor. But she would get one kiss from the man she loved to hold with her until the day she died.

  She wasn’t sure how she would do it, since Liam was a man of honor. He would never make a move on another man’s betrothed. So if this was going to happen – and it was – she would have to arrange for it herself.

  After the breakfast, the Kellingtons all retired to the sitting room. Rosalind felt a touch on her shoulder. Without turning, she knew who it was. There was no mistaking the charge to her system.

  “I wonder, Rosalind,” said Liam softly as he brought his mouth so close to her ear it made her shiver, “if I might have a word with you in the library.”

  She nodded, then quietly left the room with him following closely behind.

  She entered the library and thought back to the naughty book she and Lizzie had once read. It had been the memoirs of a courtesan and they’d found it tucked away in Lynwood’s library, in a place he no doubt felt was safe from virginal eyes. Apparently, he hadn’t realized just how determined virginal eyes could be. One of the odd bits of advice had been to lightly stroke your fingers down a common object, such as a table or work of art. She and Lizzie had laughed about that one.

  But Rosalind needed every trick at her disposal. So, as Liam closed the door and snicked the lock, she ran her fingers along the spines of the priceless volumes on the shelves. She was almost afraid to turn around to see his reaction. He might even be irritated with her for touching his books as he used to be when he thought Lizzie and she hadn’t treated them with the reverence they deserved. Which was odd, since they were always gentle with books. But it had almost been as if he’d been checking up on them, then lingering to hear whatever nonsense they’d been discussing.

  Funny, that.

  She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to her running her fingers over his books, but it seemed to be working on her. She was growing more heated, her breathing more labored. Just being in the same room with him alone was doing all sorts of things to her and giving her wicked ideas.

  She turned to look at him and then stopped breathing altogether. The look on his face was one she’d never seen before. His blue eyes were naught but dark pupil. And the way he advanced on her put her in mind of a great prowling cat.

  And she loved cats.

  He took her into his arms and his lips came down on hers hard. Crushing them. Devouring her. Pulling her closer to him as if he wanted to bind her to him.

  It was everything she’d ever dreamt of and more. It was a kiss so powerful it wiped out every other thought in her mind. All she could think about was holding him. Slipping away with him to where passion would take them. Losing herself in him.

  She hadn’t the slightest idea how to kiss, so she simply let him lead. She knew he’d never steer her wrong. She was shy at first, but quickly mimicked what he was doing, then gave up trying to kiss and simply kissed. It came from her heart.

  That’s when things escalated.

  She was vaguely aware of his hands on her gown. Unlacing her, pulling it off her shoulders. She couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped. She looked at him embarrassed, but if anything it seemed to excite him even more. He smiled and kissed her again, even as he reached one hand slowly down her neck to her shoulder, to the swell off her breasts. She would never have believed such a small movement could make her feel so much. So alive.

  He stroked her breasts with the fingers of one hand. Lightly, back and forth. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, exposing her neck to his lips.

  As a hand eased beneath her chemise to touch her breast, she bit her lip to keep from moaning once more. But it was almost like he wanted her to moan again. Wanted to hear her reaction to what he was doing to her.

  He ruched up her skirts, then lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and he pressed himself against her mound. She knew he was still wearing his breeches, but the pleasure was so intense she opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Without thought, she began to move against him, which only intensified her feeling.

  He pressed against her while holding her. She rode him, powerless to stop. He encouraged her with whispers and kisses as she continued to rock against him. She never knew it was possible to feel this way. All she knew was she never wanted to let him go.

  Suddenly, she was overtaken by a wave of pleasure she’d never known before. And he’d been the one to take her there. Her quest for a kiss had certainly gone to a place she never could have imagined. As she slowly regained her senses, she wanted nothing more than to see him experience the same rapture. She knew he was still fully dressed. Unfortunately, she’d been so overwhelmed she hadn’t even touched him other than clinging to his shoulders. But, oh, how she wanted to explore him now.

  Suddenly, she realized he was no longer moving. His breathing was ragged, but he was easing her to the floor. Moving away from her inch by inch. The shock of it – and the shakiness of her legs – almost made her fall, but he reached out to steady her, then pulled back his hands as if burned.

  Something was wrong. He couldn’t pull away now. She wanted him to take her away from her travesty of a betrothal. There would be a scandal, yes, but he was the Duke of Lynwood. He was not someone others crossed lightly. And he must feel something for her to have kissed her and caressed her the way he’d just done. He did care for her. He did.

  But as she looked at his face, her heart lurched. He wasn’t looking at her as a lover would. He had a look of horror, as if revolted by her wantoness.

  No, this was all wrong. He would not reject her like that. He could not.

  But as he calmly set about adjusting himself and putting his clothing back to rights, she realized nothing had truly changed between them, other than he had probably lost a great deal of respect for her. How would she face him? How would she face any of the Kellingtons if they guessed what had transpired in the library?

  Finally, he spoke. “Pray forgive me, Rosalind,” he said at last. “I fear I forgot myself.”

  A nobleman to the very end, she thought wryly. Taking the blame for her wanton actions.

  She looked at him once more, praying her hurt and humiliation would not show. Unable to look at his dear face one moment longer without bursting into tears, she turned away to check her appearance in the mirror. “There is no need to apologize, your grace. I was just as much at fault as you.” Indeed, much more.

  He closed the distance between them in an instant. “Do not ‘your grace’ me. I cannot abide that from you. Especially after what we just shared.”

  She blushed at the reminder. For a moment it looked like he might take her in his arms again. She hoped with all her heart he would. But, instead, he ushered her out of the room and back to where his family was talking.

  Shortly thereafter it was time to return to London with her maid under the escort of Liam’s friend, Inspector Joseph Stapleton of Bow Street. She was both anxious to leave and wretched at the very thought of it. She would never see Lynwood Manor again as an unmarried woman. She might never see it again under any circumstances. Even if her husband did allow it, she could not bear to come here and see Liam with his duchess when he eventually married. It would break her heart.

  No. Her heart was already broken.

  After she said her farewells to Lizzie and the others, Rosalind was handed into the carriage by Liam. It was just a light touch of his fingers, but she could feel it even now. She kissed those fingers, then lay them close to her heart.

  She turned on her side and tried again to find peace in sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It had been quite some time since Liam had entered Madame Thurmond’s establishment. It was one of the most exclusive
brothels in London, said to be harder to gain membership into than White’s. He’d never bothered joining, although he knew he could always gain entrance. One of the benefits of being a duke was that there were very few places he wasn’t welcomed. He also knew he could get in because of his family connection. Until recently, his youngest brother Hal had been one of Madame Thurmond’s most loyal clients.

  But Liam hadn’t wanted to join.

  When he received the mysterious summons from Madame, he’d at first feared that Hal had fallen into his bad habits again. But Liam had quickly discounted that notion, knowing as he did just how besotted his brother was with his new wife Melanie.

  Perhaps Madame Thurmond was asking for his help. She and Hal had been blackmailed by the same man, a peer who’d once been Hal’s friend, Charles Francis. That man was now on an extended tour of the continent and the Orient, not expected to return for a few years. It would be longer than that, if Liam had anything to do with it.

  And he would.

  He was curious about the summons and reported as requested, shortly after midnight on a Saturday. The madame had invited him to slip into her establishment through the private entrance in back. But Liam wasn’t one to skulk about in back alleyways. If he had business at a brothel, he damned well didn’t care who knew it. Especially since the one woman whose approval he craved was already betrothed to someone else.

  Bloody hell.

  The footman at the door granted him immediate entrance, despite the throng of lords waiting to get in. Liam walked past the servant and entered the large hall. One of the well-dressed bully boys bowed, then escorted him through the downstairs sitting room where barely dressed women flirted with the clients, each girl hoping to secure the most lucrative arrangement. Spirits flowed freely and there was a sex show on stage, designed to get the men to spend liberally. Two naked women on stage were exploring each other to the obvious approval of the crowd. It was only a matter of time before one of the men in the room pulled them apart and inserted himself between the two.

  “Would you care to have a look, yer grace?” asked the servant who was escorting him.

  “Thank you, no. I believe Madame Thurmond is expecting me.”

  And she was. As Liam was escorted into her private parlor, Madame was giving instructions to her manager. She dismissed him then turned to her guest. Madame Aurelia Thurmond was an attractive woman in her mid-50s. She had dark hair pulled back in a chignon with a touch of grey at her temples. Her gown was a luxurious turquoise blue and modest enough that it would not have looked out of place at a ton ball. If one didn’t know better, it was possible to mistake Madame Thurmond for a society matron.

  “Good evening, Madame,” said Liam with a slight bow, as he entered.

  “Your grace,” she said, as she dropped into a deep curtsey. “Thank you for coming here tonight. I am sure the invitation surprised you.”

  “Nothing much surprises me, Madame Thurmond, though it was unusual. I hope you have not heard further from our acquaintance on the continent.”

  “Fortunately not,” she replied. “In fact, I would be most surprised if I ever hear from him again. Travel can be quite dangerous.”

  Liam raised a brow. There were many rumors about Madame Thurmond. She was a savvy businesswoman who had fended off several attempts from the local crime lords to take over her business. Liam had a feeling she controlled her own syndicate of criminals, capable of doing away with someone like Charles Francis.

  “Let me be frank, your grace. I do not like being beholden to anyone. I so much prefer to have the power myself. You and your family did me a great service. I would like to return the favor now to even the score.”

  “Forgive me, Madame, but I am not sure how you could do that. While membership in your establishment is a prize most sought after, I am afraid I would have to turn it down. If that is, indeed, what you are offering.”

  She smiled and it almost reached her eyes. “You are, of course, welcome to patronize my establishment at any time you wish, your grace.” Here, she paused, as if considering her words. “I can even arrange for the type of entertainment you might enjoy.”

  Both of Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “I said earlier that little surprised me. I find I must take back those words.”

  “Do not worry,” she said. “I shan’t spread tales about you. And, for what it is worth, it took me a long time to learn your secret. When Francis was blackmailing me, I did not know if I would need any extra incentive to gain your assistance. I wanted to be prepared, just in case.”

  Liam studied the woman. “And now that you no longer need my help?”

  “I have no desire to tell others what I have learned. And, really, your grace, it isn’t all that shocking. I doubt that even if word got out it would make for much of a scandal.”

  Liam wasn’t so sure about that. He cleared his throat. “If you have not asked me here to offer the services of your establishment, what was the purpose?”

  She smiled. “I like a man who gets to the heart of the matter. Follow me, please.”

  With that, she led him up a flight of stairs and through several halls, before pulling him into an alcove. She removed a picture from the wall at eye level. “This is the gold room,” she whispered. “It offers the chance to look in on the proceedings.”

  Liam stiffened. The Gold Room had played a part in the blackmail attempt on Hal.

  “Try to set aside your honor for just a moment, your grace. There is something in there I think you might be interested in seeing.”

  “I will not spy on anyone, Madame Thurmond.”

  “Indulge me, Lynwood. You won’t regret it.”

  Liam hesitated a moment more, then leaned down to place his eye to the hole. And what he saw was infuriating.

  It was the Duke of Fallmoor, Rosalind’s betrothed, cavorting with three naked prostitutes. Perhaps “cavorting” wasn’t the correct word. He was sprawled out in a chair, one girl sucking his cock as he held her head to him. The two other women were on the bed pleasuring each other. One was straddled atop the other, with a dildo strapped to her. The one on the bottom was sucking the other’s tits. Fallmoor was yelling commands at the two, all the while telling the girl attending to him to suck harder.

  Liam thought he would be sick. He stepped back from the wall. He wanted to kick down the door and beat the man to a bloody pulp.

  Perhaps sensing his mood only too well, Madame Thurmond moved down the hall. “Pray follow me, your grace. I have a better direction for your anger.”

  Liam reluctantly followed, filled with indignation for poor Rosalind. It was only when they were back in Madame Thurmond’s sitting room that she spoke again.

  “The Duke of Fallmoor has been a regular client of mine for many years. As you know, it is far from unusual for a man in your lot to be unfaithful to his wife, and Fallmoor has told me in no uncertain terms that he will not be true to your Miss Carson.”

  That seemed to awaken Liam from his stupor. “She is not my Miss Carson.”

  “Is she not? What a pity, as it seems then your visit has been a waste.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are an honorable man, Lynwood. And I do not use that term in the perfunctory sense. Many noblemen have little honor. But you and your brothers and sister seem to have more than your share. I know you would never come between two parties in a betrothal, but do you really believe your Miss Carson would be well served by a marriage to Fallmoor? Perhaps, in this case, honor is better served with her rescue.”

  For a moment, Liam could say nothing. He could barely breathe. Could it be that simple? Could he rescue Rosalind from that marriage and still be an honorable man? Could he live with himself if he didn’t?

  Suddenly the way forward was made perfectly clear. “Madame Thurmond, the score is not even. I am in your debt, as you likely intended. Should you need anything, simply send word. But now I must be off,” he said, wanting to bolt from the establishment.

  “Godspeed, you
r grace. Go rescue your Miss Carson.” This time Madame Thurmond’s smile was genuine, perhaps surprising even herself.

  It seemed like every carriage in London was on the streets as Liam’s coach travelled back to Mayfair as quickly as possible, which wasn’t nearly fast enough. Despite the hour, he’d told his coachman to take him directly to Rosalind’s house. He wasn’t going to waste another moment. Breaking the betrothal would still create a scandal, but he didn’t give a damn. There was no way he’d let Rosalind marry that reprobate Fallmoor, exposing her to the diseases of the brothel. While he couldn’t publicly expose Fallmoor, he would not hesitate to press his case to the duke personally. And, if the older man insisted, he’d meet him at dawn in a duel.

  Rosalind’s mother and brother would be easy enough to deal with. He would simply buy them off. And it would be money well spent, especially if he could persuade them to stay away from Lynwood House, as well as his country estate. Perhaps he could buy them a nice house in Venice. Or South America.

  The lady herself might be a bit more difficult to win over. He’d seen her only at a distance since their interlude after Lizzie’s wedding and she hadn’t been pleased with him when they parted. The only reason he’d been able to let her go was he’d needed to do the honorable thing. But now that he’d seen evidence of Fallmoor’s perfidy, he would do everything in his power to convince her to marry him.

  The sooner the better.

  No lights were on in the house as his carriage pulled to a halt in front of Viscount Worthington’s residence. He was likely out at a gaming hell, so Liam would only have to deal with Rosalind’s harridan of a mother. No matter. He would deal with Lucifer himself if it meant finally being able to make Rosalind his.

  His. He liked the sound of that.

  Liam ran up the steps and banged on the knocker. When the door was not answered in good time, he banged on it again. He was likely waking the entire neighborhood, but he cared not. He was putting his needs first. His wants and desires. Everyone else could go hang.