To Tempt an Irish Rogue

by Kaitlin O'Riley

  They stayed at Kenmare House, his mother’s ancestral home. A large and rambling old house, it was constructed mainly of wood and stone and set on a hill overlooking the sea. He had loved the house as a child because there were so many secret passages and stairways.

  And then came that fateful, horrifying night. He tried to block out the dreadful memories of the wild flames and the scorching heat. The black smoke and Margaret’s agonizing screams of pain. But worse than that had been Mara’s petrified expression and hysterical sobs. The girl was shaking and calling for him. “Papa! Papa!” Even hours after he pulled her into his arms and held her, she still trembled and sobbed his name in fear. He heard her terrified cries even now echoing in his mind. How Mara came to be in that part of the house that late at night confounded him to this day, for he had put her to bed earlier that evening himself.

  But everything that happened after that was a mystery and he had recounted all that he knew to the authorities.

  Now Declan took the threatening note that had appeared under his front door that morning and tossed it in the fire. He’d had enough of the accusations. At first he had not paid them any mind, for he knew he was innocent and he was too mired in grief to care much what others were saying about him. His focus was on Mara, who was suffering more than he could imagine. The child saw her mother burn to death in front of her eyes. Good God, he got sick every time he thought of what his sweet daughter had gone through that wretched night in Galway.

  But as the months wore on, he finally pulled himself out of the dark cloud of mourning and shock for his young wife and the life they might have shared together, and worry over his poor daughter, still frightened out of her wits. It was then he took note of what was being said about him. While he had buried himself at Cashelmore, Margaret’s sisters had ostensibly come to help with Mara, but Declan soon realized they had gone to work with their whispering lies, spreading doubts to the authorities about what happened the night of the fire and Declan’s part in it and, worst of all, trying to poison Mara against him.

  When he had overheard Deirdre one afternoon in the nursery with Mara, saying that is was his fault that Margaret had died, he almost lost his mind. He ordered the woman from his house and made plans to leave Ireland then and there. Mara had been traumatized enough and the last thing she needed was being told her father was responsible for the nightmare that had altered her young life.

  He had no doubt that Deirdre or Ellen had sent the note today.

  All he wanted to do now was see Paulette Hamilton, for only she could erase the ugly thoughts and memories that the awful letter had elicited. Something about Paulette’s nature soothed his soul and he wanted to be near her, hear her voice, and look into her eyes. He just needed to be with her.

  Mara was already asleep in bed for the night, coming down with a cold and not feeling well, so she would not miss him if he left for a little while.

  So Declan found himself going to Hamilton’s Book Shoppe to see Paulette.

  Chapter 13

  Upstairs

  It had been another bustling day at the shop and Paulette was helping the last of the customers with their purchase of some books of Shakespeare’s plays. Lizzie had left a few minutes early to attend a special dinner for her mother’s birthday, so Paulette was alone in the shop once again.

  “I’m sure you’ll enjoy these,” she assured the woman, as she wrapped the books in brown paper and tied them with Hamilton’s signature green ribbon.

  “Thank you very much,” the woman called, heading toward the door just as it opened.

  The bells rang and Declan Reeves entered the shop. He tipped his hat to the woman as she passed by and then turned his attention to Paulette.

  Her heart fluttered wildly at the sight of him. Declan had not come to the shop today and she had tried not to wonder why and to ignore how incredibly disappointed she was by not seeing him. Standing there now, he looked so tall and handsome it almost took her breath away. His brown hair was combed back from his clean-shaven face. His emerald eyes, framed by dark lashes, gazed at her. His mouth, with lips that had kissed her so passionately, broke into a devastating grin.

  “Good evening, Paulette,” he said.

  “Hello, Declan.” She could barely contain her joy at being with him again. “It’s so nice to see you.”

  “Mara wasn’t feeling well today, so we weren’t able to come by this afternoon.”

  “Oh, I hope she’s all right.” Relief flooded her at his explanation.

  “It’s just a slight cold. She’ll be fine. But I missed seeing you today and thought I might escort you home this evening.”

  A thrill of excitement raced through her at his words. He’d missed her! And he had come to see her! Filled with a giddy happiness, she grinned at him. “Oh, that would be lovely, Declan. I just have to close up. It won’t take me long, I promise.”

  Not if she didn’t finish the day’s accounts, but she could do that tomorrow. There was no rush for her to be home either. Colette and Lucien had escorted Yvette to a musicale and would not return for hours. If Paulette were a bit late, she would not be missed because it wouldn’t be the first time she had stayed late at the bookshop.

  As she hurriedly locked the door, drew the blind, and turned the sign to “Closed,” she could feel Declan’s eyes upon her.

  “Have I told you how impressed I am with your bookshop?” he asked.

  Surprised by his words, she turned to look at him. “No, but I can assume from your frequent visits that you like it here well enough,” she said rather flirtatiously.

  His laughter, rich and musical, wrapped around her. Paulette’s heart skipped a beat.

  Then he said, “I honestly think you and your sisters have done amazing work here.”

  “Thank you.” She beamed with pleasure at his compliment. The shop was her pride and joy and it thrilled her that he recognized how hard they worked to make it a special place.

  “And you spent your whole life here?” he asked.

  She began to close the account ledgers and straighten up the main counter while she spoke to him. “Yes. I suppose it was a bit unusual, living above a bookshop, but my father loved his books and I’ve helped in the shop ever since I can remember. We were happy here. Although not to say that I’m not happy now, but sometimes I miss those days, when it was just us five girls and Papa and Maman.”

  “It sounds like you had a happy childhood.”

  “I did.” Paulette couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t always have much, but we had each other. We were happy upstairs.”

  “Does anyone live up there now?”

  “Not any longer. We had a little family there for the past two years acting as caretakers and helping out in the shop. It was nice having them here. But they moved to a lovely house and now we’re looking for a replacement.” Recalling this moment later, Paulette would never understand what possessed her to utter the next words. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Your former home upstairs?” His dark brows raised in surprise.

  “Yes.” Her eyes met his, and as hard as she tried Paulette could not read his thoughts, but his expression grew serious. A nest of butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  Without a word, Declan nodded his head in assent and the butterflies inside of her took flight.

  She whispered, “Follow me then.”

  Paulette walked on shaky legs to the back of the shop toward the door that led to the living quarters above, with Declan behind her. It was silent as they ascended the stairs and entered the warm rooms over the shop. That afternoon had been very hot and the heat seemed to settle, as it usually did, in the quiet, unused space upstairs. Outside the sun was setting and the rooms were cast in still shadows.

  She faced him, chattering a mile a minute, suddenly feeling ridiculous for bringing him up here. “Well, this is it. This is where I grew up. It’s changed a lot in the last few years. This room has been repainted and given new rugs and furniture. It’s much bri
ghter and airier in here than when my mother decorated the place. She preferred darker colors and heavier fabrics. The bedrooms are over here. The largest was my parents’ room, the middle one was Colette and Juliette’s, and the third one belonged to Lisette, Yvette, and me.”

  He looked around with interest. “When I was a boy I always had a room to myself and wished I had someone to share it with, someone to talk to and play with. I think it’s nice that you shared a room with your sisters.”

  Paulette gave him a rueful smile. “It was nice in some ways, not so nice in others.”

  He smiled back at her and her gaze locked with his.

  Silently they stood there in the waning daylight, the shadows growing deeper around them. The heat seemed to increase by the second and Paulette found it difficult to draw a breath. She was afraid to move for she didn’t know what consequences her movements might incur.

  “It’s so hot,” she murmured, feeling her summer gown sticking to her body. Her head was spinning and she could barely think. She had never felt such oppressive heat.

  He nodded in agreement, his gaze growing darker. He took a step toward her.

  Her heart pounding in her chest, she inched closer to him. She felt that she was on the edge of doing something irrevocable and yet could not stop herself from doing so. She wanted to be with him.

  “Paulette . . .” Her name was the softest whisper of a question on his lips. He rested his hands on her shoulders and the contact thrilled her.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, tilting her face up toward him, inviting him to kiss her, reveling in the feel of his strong hands on her.

  And kiss her he certainly did.

  Declan drew her into his arms, covering her mouth with his, and she was lost, completely and utterly lost. His lips, warm and firm, moved over hers with an increasing urgency. She opened her mouth and he slipped his tongue inside. She was more prepared for the sensation than she had been a week ago and now she kissed him back in eagerness, her tongue delving in his mouth. Her hands found their way around his neck, his skin hot to the touch. His masculine scent enveloped her.

  They kissed for what seemed like forever, barely pausing for air. It felt as though Declan was going to devour her and she honestly didn’t care if he did, the kissing was so heavenly. Heedless of the heat, Paulette pressed her body against his and the low groan that escaped his lips excited her and scared her at the same time.

  His hands, fingers splayed, slid into her hair, releasing the pins that held it in place. One by one he dropped them to the floor. Her long hair fell in heavy golden waves around her. Still she kissed him with a ravenous hunger.

  And he kissed her, just as lost as she was.

  She never knew that kisses could be so all-consuming, so shattering to one’s senses. His hands moved lower, running down her back, sliding over her bottom and pressing her against the hardness of him. She gasped into his mouth as a shiver of sheer, unadulterated pleasure surged through her body.

  It was then she realized he was slowly unfastening the clasps on the back of her pink gown. A flutter of panic stole her breath for the briefest of moments, and then she wished he would hurry and remove her dress completely. The heat consumed her and she wanted nothing more than to be free of the clothing that restricted her from feeling Declan’s skin against hers.

  He began kissing her cheek, her chin, and down her throat to her chest. Paulette’s breath came in shallow gasps as he dipped his head lower, between her breasts, as her loosened gown fell away from her chest. Trembling, she held his head, her fingers running through his thick, brown hair, wondering if he could feel the frantic pounding of her heart in her chest. It felt as if it would explode.

  Lifting his head, Declan gave her a look of infinite longing before he gently spun her around to better undo the myriad of ties that held her complex wardrobe together. With her assistance, they removed her gown and layers of underclothing, freeing her from the stifling heat. In nothing but her thin chemise and stockings, she did not care that she was half naked in front of him. In fact she helped him remove his jacket and shirt, marveling at the bare expanse of his male chest. She caressed the smooth skin, warm and hard beneath her fingers. Unable to stop herself she pressed her lips against his chest, placing soft kisses upon him. But she grew shy at removing his trousers, which he did himself.

  Almost ready to flee, she flung her arms around him to keep herself from running away and he resumed kissing her mouth. With their many layers of clothing no longer separating them, she was amazed that the heat between them only increased. His hands roamed her body, over the curve of her hips, and along to her thighs. Slowly he began sliding down the stocking of one leg. She stilled. The touch of his fingers on her inner thigh caused her to ache with desire. His hands glided the silky material down over thigh, her knee, her calf, her ankle, and, trembling, she lifted her foot as he slid the stocking over her toes. Ever so gently he removed the stocking from her other leg, caressing her bare skin with his fingers as he slipped the silk from her.

  He drew her back into the circle of his arms, with only her lawn chemise between them now. They kissed and the warmth of his mouth on hers filled her with a sweet longing. Again, his hands moved over her body, down her back, along her waist, and over her hips until he found the edge of her chemise, her last vestige of modesty. Slowly he pushed the garment up the length of her. He stopped kissing her mouth long enough to lift the thin material over her head, tossing it to the floor. Completely revealed to each other, she was breathless. Now skin to skin, the contact was heady enough to make her grow faint as she stood with her naked body pressed against his.

  The intimacy of it left her weak with a need she had no name for. She placed her hands against his bare chest, the position reminiscent of the first time they had kissed in the bookshop. The difference of touching his chest covered by a shirt and jacket that day and touching him bare-chested now was almost more than she could take. Light-headed with desire and wondrous sensations, she trembled. But she had made a promise to herself and to Declan that afternoon in his parlor when they had last kissed that she would not stop him the next time. And she meant it. She did not wish to end this.

  Although now that she was completely naked in his arms, her resolve faltered somewhat.

  He drew back from kissing her. Lifting her chin to make her look at him, he said in a low voice, “Good God, lass, you’re more beautiful than I imagined. Have you any idea how much I want you?”

  “I want you, too,” she murmured, surprised that any intelligible words came out of her mouth.

  Placing his hands on either side of her face, he drew her to him and kissed her so thoroughly she thought she would die from the pleasure of it. In one sure motion, he lifted her in his arms and walked toward one of the bedrooms, carrying her. Paulette wrapped her arms around his neck, grateful for his strength. Her own legs were too weak to take the steps forward. The deliberateness of his gesture filled her with a giddy joy. This was going to happen.

  Everything she had read about and wondered about was finally going to happen to her. All she wanted was Declan. She was immersed in him. In the exquisite feel of his warm skin, the intimate touch of his hands, the male scent of his body, the heavenly taste of his mouth. The look of passion in his eyes.

  They were in the small bedroom, the one that used to be Colette and Juliette’s. The heat and the hushed stillness of the room wrapped around them like a heavy blanket. Declan gently set her down on the bed, then climbed in beside her, covering her body with the muscled length of his own. Feeling unnerved, she closed her eyes. He rained sweet, gentle kisses on her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and the tip of her nose.

  “My sweet, sweet Paulette,” he whispered.

  She lost any remnants of fear or uneasiness at that point, becoming unbelievably calm. The feel of Declan’s body over hers had done that to her. It felt perfectly right and she hadn’t expected that. Growing bolder with her hands, she explored his male form, caressing
his back, the muscles pulled taut as he held himself above her. The strength in him comforted her, settled her. And filled her with a yearning need for him. Her hands slid lower over his the curve of his buttocks, pressing him close against her and he stilled instantly at the contact. She gasped in surprise at the feel of him naked and hard between her thighs.

  Her eyes flew open then.

  In the growing darkness, she could feel his eyes on her wanting to know if she was still willing. In response she kissed him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him.

  “Declan.” She breathed his name.

  A low groan escaped him as he rose up. Then he entered her, causing Paulette to draw in her breath sharply at the fullness of him inside her, closing her eyes tightly once more. She held her breath, gripping his shoulders, waiting, not sure what was to come next. He kissed her and she could feel him trembling. Slowly . . . slowly he began to move within her, gentle thrusts at first, then becoming more forceful. Overwhelmed by sensations and emotions she didn’t know existed before, she held on to him until she realized her hips were rising to meet his and a languorous, liquid heat began to spread through every muscle in her body.

  Declan reached his hand between them just where their bodies were joined and touched her, almost causing her to jump out of her skin with the exquisite pleasure of it. As he stroked her, he still moved within her and if Paulette thought she couldn’t breathe the last time he kissed her she surely couldn’t breathe now. She thought she might die right then and there. Sensations overwhelmed her. Her breath came in short gasps and pants as he continued to pleasure her with his hand and body.

  “Oh, Declan . . .” She had no words, no coherent thoughts, no sense of time or place.