Never had she dreamed of this. Certainly nothing in that old medical book had prepared her for this. For these utterly blissful sensations and the passionate desire that coursed through her. For the sense of fulfillment and wonder. For the timeless beauty of being so intimate with a man and feeling so thoroughly female.
As Declan continued to caress her, the touch of his hand combined with the movement of his body caused ripples of pleasure to sweep over her and she yearned for even more. She thought she would go mad with the longing as she arched against his hand and he continued to move within her. At last great waves of ecstasy surged through her, and she cried out his name into the darkness. He rose over her then, bracing both hands on either side of her and thrusting into her with an intensity that she craved and matched. As she shattered into what felt like a million tiny sparkling stars, he took his own pleasure, every muscle in his body flexing with an urgent need.
Quite dizzy and feeling faint, she lay beneath him, her arms around his neck.
“Dear God, Paulette,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. Declan rolled to the side of her and flung his arm over his head, breathing heavy and slick with sweat.
In spite of the sweltering heat she could have stayed there forever, so content was she beside him, her legs intertwined with his. The room had grown quite dark, and only the dim glow from the streetlamps outside gave them any light.
It occurred to her then that her sisters had greatly understated how special intimacies between a man and woman truly were.
“I didn’t know it would be like that,” she said softly after a few moments.
“I didn’t either, my love.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek again, still a little out of breath. “I didn’t either.”
Her heart thrilled at the term of endearment he used. In complete and utter contentment, she rested her head upon his chest and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, his fingers idly stroking her hair. Feeling indescribably safe and happy, she sighed.
“It wasn’t like that with your wife?” she asked.
“Paulette!” He almost choked in astonishment at her question.
She lifted her head to look at him in the dark. “I was simply curious. Am I not supposed to ask such things?”
“No, you’re not supposed to ask such things, lass.” He chuckled a little. “But in answer to your question, no, it wasn’t like that with my wife at all.”
“Oh,” she responded for lack of anything better to say, placing her head back on his chest. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit victorious at his answer. He thought that what they had done was just as special and magical as she did.
“Am I not supposed to ask you what I’m thinking?” she whispered.
“My sweet Paulette, you can ask me anything you like.” He continued to run his fingers through her hair, the motion soothing and comforting to her.
Somehow, after being so intimate with him, Paulette needed to know more about the mysterious woman who had claimed his heart and married him. And had a child with him. “Would you tell me about her then?”
His hand stopped in mid-motion, tangled in her tresses. “About my wife?” He could not disguise the surprise in his voice.
“Yes. What was she like, Mara’s mother? What was her name?”
He was silent for a moment. “I guess there is no dissuading you from this topic, is there?”
“No,” she said, smiling.
A resigned sigh escaped him and he resumed stroking her hair absently. “Margaret Ryan was sweet and not unlike you in appearance. Blond and pretty. I believed I was in love with her and she with me, but now I see that she was rather immature for her age. Looking back, I know she married me only to spite her controlling family and then regretted it afterward.”
“She wasn’t really in love with you?” Surprised by this, Paulette sensed the hurt in him. She had just assumed his marriage had been a love match and she felt a sense of feminine triumph at this bit of information. She pressed a small kiss against his chest.
“Margaret might have thought she was in love with me at one point, but I don’t think she ever knew what love meant. She used me to thwart her family and escape the marriage that was being arranged for her. It seemed I was younger and infinitely more preferable to the older duke they wanted to wed her to. So we ran off together and got married against her family’s wishes. Very soon after that she reached the conclusion that she didn’t wish to be married to me either, but by then it was too late. She was pregnant with Mara.”
“I’m sorry. That sounds terribly sad,” Paulette whispered in disbelief. She could not imagine being in such an unhappy marriage. Her parents had not had the happiest of unions, she knew, but since then she had only witnessed the love and joy of her sisters’ marriages. She had never heard of anything so dreadful as Declan’s marriage.
“It was more complicated than sad, to tell you the truth,” he explained calmly. “I tried to make Margaret happy. I tried everything I could to make our marriage work, but she was just as determined to end it.”
“End it?” Paulette could not keep the bewilderment out of her voice. “You mean she wanted a divorce?”
“Yes. And I was almost inclined to give her one.”
Stunned by this revelation, she could only ask, “What happened then?”
“Then there was the fire.”
Paulette paused for a minute, thinking about this woman, Margaret Ryan, who married him and then didn’t want him and ended up dying tragically in a fire. “Will you tell me about the fire, Declan? What happened that night?”
Chapter 14
Past
Declan stared at the beautiful girl lying naked beside him in the darkness, her long hair spilling around them. Paulette had just given herself to him with an earnestness and honesty that touched his heart, so how could he deny her?
Yet he had never told anyone the intimate details of that terrible last night with Margaret.
It was uncomfortably warm in the little bedroom above the bookshop and Declan knew he should take Paulette home, but he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to leave her. It had been so long since he had a woman in his bed.
And he didn’t even want to think about Margaret Ryan while he was in bed with Paulette Hamilton. Let alone talk about her.
It was hard not to compare Paulette to Margaret, especially when she had asked about his deceased wife. In essence there was no comparison, even though the two women were similar physically. They were worlds apart in personality. Where Margaret had been petulant and overindulged, used to getting her own way, Paulette was mature for her age and completely unspoiled. Margaret was petty and prone to jealous fits, where Paulette was reasonable and calm. In bed, Margaret had been timid and unresponsive. And Paulette . . . Paulette had been astonishingly passionate and eager to learn.
There was no comparing the two women. In fact he didn’t like to think of them in the same breath. Paulette was with him now and that was all that mattered.
“Please, Declan.” Paulette’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
Her words tugged at him. He supposed Paulette deserved to know what happened. Deserved the truth from him. It was the least he could do for her. Oddly enough, at the sound of her soft plea, he suddenly found himself wanting to share with her the events of that fateful night. Wanting her to understand what had happened.
There in the darkness with Paulette in his arms, the words came from him much easier than he would have imagined.
“My marriage had deteriorated to a terrible state of affairs, so last October Margaret and I had gone to my mother’s home in Galway, to try to reconcile with each other for Mara’s sake,” he began slowly. “I loved Kenmare House and we had spent a happy week there once, so I thought it would be good for us. But it was a disaster from the moment we arrived there. She locked me from her bedroom and sulked about, refusing to discuss anything with me. For weeks I suspected she had a lover, but I could never prove it until I found a letter she wa
s sending to him.”
“She was unfaithful to you?” Paulette asked incredulously. The shock and scorn in her voice touched him.
He nodded. “I didn’t believe it at first. But I then I found her note, saying how much she loved him and couldn’t wait to return to him. I shouldn’t have read it, but I did and then I confronted her about him.”
“Who was he?”
“A young lord from the estate that bordered Cashelmore. He was apparently smitten with her, head over heels, completely unaware of her true nature. I actually felt sorry for him, because he was as captivated by her as I had been once.”
“Oh, Declan.”
The sincerity in her voice calmed him as he continued to thread his fingers through Paulette’s silky hair. She smelled so sweet. He took a deep breath before resuming his tale.
“As you can imagine, I was furious when I found the note. Later that night, I put Mara to bed and then went to speak to Margaret. I was going to tell her she could finally have her divorce. She had finally won. I would be well rid of her, as long as I kept my daughter. I went to Margaret’s room, but she had locked herself in again and wouldn’t talk to me. I pounded on the door and yelled to her . . .” He paused. “Now I’m ashamed to admit I screamed vile names at her.”
The memory of what he said to his wife chilled him to this day. He’d been furious with her and called her a lying whore, among other choice expletives he didn’t wish to share with Paulette. He added in a low tone, “I also threatened to kill her. I said I would shoot her.”
Paulette said without hesitation, “I don’t blame you.”
Feeling a momentous relief at finally telling someone about the worst moments of his life, he kissed the top of Paulette’s head, which rested so comfortably on his chest, grateful that she seemed to understand him. “I was livid enough to kill her that night. Instead I went back to my rooms and drank. I drank until I got so drunk I eventually passed out. I don’t know how long I slept or what woke me exactly, but something did. Shouts perhaps. And an odd, glowing light outside my window. When I looked out, I could see that the entire north side of the house was in flames. I knew Margaret’s bedroom was there, for she had chosen a room as far from mine as possible. My first thought was for Mara and I raced to her room, which was down the hall from mine. But her bed was empty. The servants were yelling and calling to each other to get out of the house, but no one had seen Mara. I knew I had to get out, but I couldn’t leave without my daughter and I didn’t know where she was.”
He realized that Paulette was holding her breath. He gave her a little shake until she exhaled.
“Then what?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Then I ran through the rambling, burning house, looking for my wife and daughter. Just as I neared the hallway where Margaret’s room was, I heard the screams. The torturous cries from Margaret and the shrill screams from Mara. I couldn’t say which was louder, but they were both horrifying to hear. When I looked . . . The end of the hallway was engulfed in a wall of fire and Margaret was covered in flames, her hair, her nightgown . . . the smell of smoke and burning flesh was unbearable. While Mara . . . God, Mara stood transfixed not far from Margaret . . . watching her mother burn to death—”
Declan’s voice caught and he couldn’t continue. Just the thought of what Mara witnessed that night ripped him apart inside. He should have protected her better. That was his job as her father and he had failed to keep her from the nightmare she lived.
Paulette squeezed him and he held her tightly to him, needing to feel her closer to his body.
He took a deep breath and began again. “I wanted to save Margaret, I did. But a beam fell from the ceiling, barely missing Mara, and blocking the way to Margaret. I had to get my daughter out of there. I screamed for Margaret to run but she couldn’t even move. The flames were everywhere and the smoke became blinding. There was no way I could possibly save her by that point. She was beyond anyone’s help. So I did the only thing I could do . . . I grabbed Mara in my arms and I ran from the burning house.” He paused in silence. “And Margaret died.”
“Oh, God, Declan,” Paulette breathed, choking back a sob. “I’m sorry I brought this up and made you relive it. I’m so very sorry. It must be too painful for you to talk about. I had no idea what you and Mara went through . . . I didn’t know . . .”
“I know you didn’t, my love.” Deeply touched by Paulette’s concern and worry for him, Declan was unable to recall the last time anyone worried about his welfare. He kissed her soft cheek, loving the feel of her in his arms.
She hugged him tighter. “It’s so dreadful. Now I’m not at all surprised that Mara won’t speak.”
“Oh, God but she screamed for what seemed like hours afterward. Only saying ‘Papa’ over and over again, until she fell asleep in my arms out of sheer exhaustion. She’s never said another word since then.”
“The poor little thing, losing her mother that way.”
“My heart breaks for her,” Declan added.
Paulette asked, “So then what happened?”
“I told the authorities everything that night, leaving out only the part about Margaret’s lover, Lord Williams.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want the scandal. I didn’t ever want Mara to grow up and hear such terrible things about her mother. What she saw that night was hellish enough. She can at least cherish what good memories she has of her mother.”
“Why are they blaming you for the fire then?” she questioned.
“One of Margaret’s maids overheard me threaten to kill her earlier that evening and she told everyone. Margaret’s family has always hated me for running off with her and it’s easy to blame me. It was no secret to anyone that our marriage was in trouble. But I honestly don’t know how the fire started or what Mara was doing in that part of the house so late at night. I was drinking in my room all evening and regret every minute that I was. Because of that I haven’t had a single drop of liquor since. I could have easily lost Mara, too, if I had not woken up when I did.... I can’t bear to think about what might have happened to her if I hadn’t.”
“Oh, Declan.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “I’m so sorry, but I’m glad you shared this with me.”
“Thank you for listening to me, lass.” Surpsingly, it was good to talk about his past with her, as if some frozen part of him was slowly melting away.
“What are you going to do now?” Paulette asked softly.
“I haven’t decided yet. The Ryans are mounting some sort of case against me and I suppose I shall have to return to Ireland to defend myself sooner rather than later. I just wish I knew how the fire started that night.”
“Are there any clues?”
“It started in Margaret’s room. That’s all they know for certain. Was it a stray ember from the fireplace? Or something deliberate? No one can say for sure. But when they combine our failing marriage, the fact that Margaret was seeking a divorce, and my angry threats to kill her that night . . . all fingers point to me.” He sighed heavily.
“But you didn’t do it!” Paulette cried.
Her unwavering belief in his innocence made the wall he had built around his heart begin to crumble. “Thank you for that, Paulette, but there are others who don’t see it that way.”
“They have no proof,” she pointed out, then hesitated. “Do they?”
“No, which is why I haven’t been arrested. But Margaret’s sisters are determined to see me punished for her death. They started their accusations during the funeral and of course the whole countryside heard the rumors within days, but I was so consumed with worry over Mara that I ignored it all at first. I just thought it was their bitterness and that nothing would come of it, since I am innocent.”
“Why did you leave Ireland?”
“I had to get Mara away from Margaret’s sisters, Deirdre and Ellen. They wanted to turn my daughter against me and I couldn’t allow that. I thought she could recover better away fr
om any memories associated with that night last October and anything to do with Margaret.”
When he left, Declan had no idea if his plan would work. Now he knew that leaving Ireland was the best thing he could have done for Mara. And looking at Paulette in his arms, for himself, too.
“But the rumors followed you here,” Paulette said softly.
“Yes, they did.”
“It must be dreadful having people give you strange looks and whisper about you when they know nothing about what really happened.”
“I’m getting used to it,” he said with a slight shrug. “And it doesn’t matter much with strangers. I can’t help what people who don’t know me think. But it bothers me that your family might think that you were in danger because of me.”
“I’d love for you to get to know my sisters and brothers-in-law,” Paulette began, “because I know they would love you if they met you. They would know, just as I do, that you had nothing to do with your wife’s death. They would know what a good person you are.”
His heart constricted at her words. In such a short amount of time, this woman believed in him more than his own in-laws had. “How can you be so sure about me, Paulette?”
“I’m an excellent judge of character,” she responded matter-of-factly, kissing him on the lips to emphasize her point.
“You knew about my past before I knew you did, and you gave me that book, The Law and the Lady, for a reason, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“You gave it to me the day I first kissed you.”
“Have you finished reading it yet?”
“Yes.” He’d read it almost immediately, intrigued by the type of book she would select for him and he was astounded. The story involved a woman married to a man who was accused of murdering his first wife. The woman, bright and independent, not unlike Paulette, so believed in her new husband’s innocence that she set out to prove it.
“Well, what did you think of the book?” she asked.
“I found it fascinating,” he said. “I liked how Valeria put together the clues to solve the case. It’s unusual to have a strong female as a central character in a detective story.”
To Tempt an Irish Rogue Page 13
