Good Earls Don't Lie

by Michelle Willingham

  She didn’t know what to think of this. It seemed he was powerless to resist the attraction between them. And from the unfettered desire in his eyes, she could not deny him either.

  Rose leaned down and touched his face. His expression tightened with need, and when she touched her lips to his, he moved his hand between her thighs. The linen was damp, and when he found the slit within the fabric, she was startled by her response.

  He dared to stroke her, and sensations rolled over her with such exquisite pleasure, her knees buckled. Iain stood again, grasping her waist to lend support. “Let me touch you, Rose.”

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. He rubbed his fingers against her slick entrance, and the raw sensations made her convulse against him. She had no choice but to hold on to him, her arms around his neck. Her body’s needs overrode all common sense. She knew this was wrong.

  He wasn’t going to marry her—for he saw her as too weak to survive Ireland. But when he brought her to the edge of a precipice with his caresses, she didn’t want to pull away. There was a sense of power in this, and she wanted him to continue.

  She kissed him hard, knowing that she was forcing him past the brink of control. And though it was a wicked thing to do, she pressed herself close to him, glorying in the groan that erupted from his mouth.

  His eyes were hooded with desire when he slid a finger inside her. She shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation, her nails digging into his back.

  “You’re mine, Rose. No matter what happens to us in the future, you’ll know that at this moment, you belong to me.”

  He kept his finger inside her while he nudged her hooded flesh with his thumb. She bit back a gasp as he began to work her. “You’re the only woman I want.”

  He was merciless in the torment, keeping up a rhythm while her body writhed against him. It had become a game of control, each trying to command the other. She was losing this battle and hardly cared. Her breath erupted in a shattering cry as he thrust against her. As he kept up the rhythm, she arched her back and the sensation transformed.

  God above, she was mindless to the rest of the world. Never had she known that it could be like this between a man and a woman.

  Iain plunged his tongue within her mouth and then added a second finger. She tightened around him, half-sobbing his name. There were no words for this, only savage feelings.

  With every stroke, he mastered her, and she surrendered to him, craving fulfillment.

  “I could touch you like this for hours,” he murmured against her lips. “A ghrá, do you know what you do to me?”

  She was breathing in short gasps, and it suddenly felt as if they were joined together. In her imagination, she thought of his strong shaft plunging inside her.

  “You’re driving me into madness.” Dimly, she was still aware that someone could try to unlock the door, and the very thought of discovery deepened the intensity.

  He slowed his fingers, forcing her to hover on the brink of ecstasy, prolonging the pleasure.

  “Iain, please. I can’t, I—” Her words broke off when he kept his thumb pressed against her center while his fingers invaded and withdrew. She was straining against him, and he tormented her, slowing his pace and then driving harder.

  “I want to be inside you,” he whispered against her ear. “I want your legs wrapped around me while I thrust and take you. Until you can’t bear it any longer.”

  With that, she shattered in his arms, kissing him hard while her wetness coated his fingers. She was squeezing him, and he continued the stroking until she came apart a second time. Her violent response was more than she’d ever imagined, and she was unable to stand any longer.

  Iain supported her weight as she trembled, her body sated as he withdrew his hand and lowered her skirts. Her lips were swollen and bruised, her eyes holding back tears.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. A thousand questions rolled over her, but she didn’t want the answers. She didn’t want him to look her in the eyes and leave her again. Not after this.

  Gently, he lifted her to sit upon the chaise longue, and she fumbled for a pin to straighten her wayward hair.

  For a moment, he watched her, and his expression held tension and frustration. “I won’t apologize for this.”

  She felt the physical and emotional exhaustion wash over her. “I was the one who started it.” It had begun as a means of proving to him that he was wrong about her. And in the end, he’d torn down her defenses, leaving her vulnerable.

  He touched her chin and leaned down to kiss her. His gentleness stole away another piece of her heart.

  And yet, she still didn’t know if there was any hope for them.

  It took hours and half a bottle of brandy to regain control over his sanity. God, he didn’t know what had possessed him to barge in on Rose and claim her. But when he’d seen her face, so broken and lost, he no longer cared about anything else. He needed her to know that he didn’t have a choice in this, that she was the woman he wanted, despite all else.

  His original plan of wedding an heiress had been a sound idea—but he no longer knew if it was the right choice anymore.

  Iain poured another glass of brandy, wishing he could pickle his insides enough that he wouldn’t feel the dull aching. A soft knock interrupted, and he saw his valet, Niall, standing at the door. “You asked to see me, Lord Ashton?”

  Iain nodded, thinking about how to begin. If he directly accused the man of stealing the rents, Niall would only deny it. Instead, he said, “What do you know of Lady Penford?”

  The question gave his valet pause. “Her mind has gone soft,” he said at last.

  “It has,” Iain agreed. “But she has good days and bad days.” He waited a moment, wondering if Niall could have been the one to steal from her. When the man said nothing further, Iain added, “Some of the rents from Penford have gone missing.”

  Niall’s face darkened. “And you think I took them, somehow?”

  “She said it was an Irishman.” Iain shrugged. “And I know it wasn’t me.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  Niall straightened and eyed him. “Do you honestly believe I would still be working for you if I’d stolen the rents? I’d be back in Ireland with my family.”

  That much was true. If Niall had hundreds of pounds, he wouldn’t be here now. Iain asked, “Who do you think stole the rents, if it wasn’t you?”

  Niall shook his head. “I can’t be knowing that, but I wish I’d thought of it. Maybe it was Terence or Pádraig.”

  Iain pondered the man’s revelation and decided that it was best to question Lady Penford. She might remember more about the Irishman who had taken the rents. “Thank you, Niall, that will be all.”

  But his valet paused a moment. “And why is it you’re so interested in the rents? Is it because you’re going to wed one of the Penford daughters?”

  “Why would you ask this?” He still suspected the man was hiding something, and no answer at all might bring about more information.

  “Because if their rents have gone missing, then the ladies are no better off than us.” Niall sent him a sidelong look. “And what will the tenants say if you return with a penniless bride? How will you help them when you’ve brought nothing?” He shook his head. “They’ll say you’re not the rightful heir.”

  “The law says I am.”

  “Tell that to those who are starving. When you see their children dying in their arms, will you tell them that you’re going to save them?” Niall’s tone turned frosty. “I held my daughter when she took her last breath. I gave her what food I could, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t strong enough to survive.”

  His valet sent him a hard look. “You might be thinking of your own happiness, my lord. But it’s your people you should be thinking of now.”

  With that, Niall left, closing the door behind him.

  Rose had no interest in atten
ding another ball, but her grandmother insisted. Lady Wolcroft had the demeanor of a battlefield commander, and she informed Rose, “You have two choices, Rose. You will attend Lady Arnsbury’s supper party . . . or you will attend Lady Arnsbury’s supper party.”

  And so it was that she found herself wearing a gown the rich color of garnets, while her hair was bound up with sprigs of wild roses. “Grandmother, there is no need for this. Really, I would much rather spend time at home.” Staring at the wall was preferable to seeing Iain. Even the memory of that afternoon made her blush.

  Despite the stolen moment between them, she knew he needed an heiress for a wife—it was why he had come to London. But how could she sit in a chair and watch him court another lady? The very idea filled her with fury, making her want to tear the imaginary woman’s hair out. She lacked the serenity to stand aside, when she had fallen in love with Iain Donovan.

  No matter what happens to us in the future, you’ll know that at this moment, you belong to me.

  His words haunted her, for in her heart, he belonged with her and no one else. But it might never be possible.

  “There is someone I want you to meet,” Lady Wolcroft insisted.

  Not another suitor, she pleaded inside her head. But she forced herself to ask, “Is it one of your friends?”

  “One of your mother’s dearest friends,” Lady Wolcroft said. “She has been traveling for several weeks, but she decided to bring her daughters for the Season.”

  “Are you wanting me to befriend them?”

  Her grandmother’s expression remained neutral. “I am certain you will want to. Especially since you have become close to their brother, Lord Ashton.”

  Her nerves tightened when she realized what Lady Wolcroft was saying. “Do you mean that Iain’s mother and sisters have traveled from New York?”

  “I do, yes. I wrote letters to Moira, inviting her here. She arrived just this morning.”

  Rose managed a smile, though it felt as if her insides had turned to ice. “Then I should be glad to greet all of them. Especially Iain’s mother.”

  Because I want to meet the woman who dared to hide him away all these years. And she rather hoped for an opportunity to speak her mind about it.

  Her grandmother abruptly shook her head. “Do not mention Iain to Moira. I have my own reasons for meddling, but there is a strong rift between them. If you do mention Iain, she’ll cut you off. Let her get to know you first.”

  Rose didn’t argue, but she couldn’t help but feel offended at this woman’s behavior. How could she treat her youngest son like an outsider? It took all her years of training to paste a calm expression on her face.

  When the women arrived at last, Rose was startled by the striking resemblance Iain bore to his mother. They both had the same dark hair with a hint of curl to it and the same firm chin. His sisters attracted immediate attention because of their beauty. The older sister wore a butter-yellow gown, trimmed with creamy lace, while the younger sister wore a white gown with violet embroidery along the hem.

  “Come, I will introduce you to them,” Lady Wolcroft said.

  Rose followed her grandmother, and Lady Wolcroft presented them to her. “Moira, I am so glad you could come this evening. I would like you to meet my granddaughter, Rose.”

  She offered the older woman a warm smile and said, “I am happy to meet you, Lady Ashton.” Iain’s mother returned the smile, but there was a distant look in her eyes, as if years of sadness lingered upon her shoulders.

  Her daughters, Sybil and Colleen, both greeted her with more enthusiasm. The younger girl, Colleen, was nearly bursting with excitement. “I am ever so glad to be here tonight.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I cannot tell you how awful it was to spend nearly a fortnight traveling here from New York. I was ready to throw myself off the ship out of boredom.”

  Sybil sent her sister a dry look. “I was ready to help you overboard. She would not stop talking. You’d think her tongue had a hinge in the middle.”

  With that, her grandmother waved them on. “Rose, go introduce the girls to your sister. Moira and I would like a moment to speak in private.”

  She nodded, but the distance toward Lily seemed impossibly far. Though she tried to keep pace with the girls, it only heightened her limp.

  “Are you all right?” Sybil asked her, slowing down so that Rose could catch up to them.

  “I need to walk more slowly,” she admitted. “I’ve only just recently begun to walk again.” On a whim, she added, “Thanks to your brother.”

  Colleen’s face broke into a smile. “You’ve met Iain? Is he here tonight? I’ve been wanting to see him, but Mother—”

  “Shh—” Sybil cut her off with a dark look of warning. “We will keep our walking slower, then.” But she glanced around the room as if to determine if Iain was there.

  There was something strange happening, Rose realized. Surely they would have seen Iain already. To Colleen, she asked, “You did arrive at Lord Ashton’s townhouse, I presume? Were you able to settle into your rooms this morning?”

  The young woman exchanged a look with her older sister and then nodded. “Yes, of course.” But she offered nothing else. Whatever she’d been about to say, Sybil had pressed her into silence.

  “I do not know if Lord Ashton is intending to come tonight,” Rose said. And given all that had happened, she rather hoped he wouldn’t.

  Sybil was watching her, and her gaze turned curious. “You said my brother helped you learn to walk again. How did that come about?”

  Rose was about to explain, when suddenly, Lord Burkham emerged from the crowd of people. “May I have a word with you, Lady Rose?” He nodded to Sybil and Colleen. “Ladies, please excuse us.”

  Rose’s mood dimmed, for she wasn’t at all certain she wanted to speak with Thomas. However, neither did she want to cause a scene. To the young ladies, she said, “Forgive me, but I will only be a moment.”

  Lord Burkham offered his arm, and this time, he kept his pace much slower. In fact, it was a bit too slow, but she understood that he was trying to apologize for his earlier mistakes.

  “I thought about you at length last night.” He touched her fingertips, which were resting upon his arm. “Your recovery has been simply miraculous, and I am so glad for you. Nothing would make me happier than to make you my bride.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. Did he truly believe she would say yes? “Lord Burkham, while I am flattered by your offer, my answer stands. I am not going to marry you.”

  “But . . . I thought you would be pleased.” His voice held a trace of disquiet, as if he’d never expected her to refuse.

  His bewildered demeanor was almost comical. Rose didn’t want to insult him, but instead offered a sympathetic smile and tucked her arm into his. “You are a kind man, but you and I are not suited at all to marriage. I would suggest that you speak with Miss Everett again. She does think you are wonderful.”

  “And you don’t.” There was a hopeful note in his voice, but she only laughed.

  “No, I’m afraid not. But you should not marry a woman who does not love you. And you ought to consider loving her in return.”

  He appeared to consider it. “You’re certain you won’t change your mind?”

  She patted his hand in farewell and took a step away. “I am definitely certain. But I will offer you a suggestion.” He met her gaze and waited. “Go and ask Miss Everett to dance. And if she loses her balance, whatever happens, do not let her fall.” She didn’t wait for his reply, but instead began the arduous walk back to her sister.

  Before she reached Lily’s side, Mrs. Everett intruded. The matron looked like she’d smelled something rotten before she put on a simpering smile. “Well, Lady Rose. I am surprised that you and Lord Burkham appeared so fond of one another. I overheard him telling his mother that he intended to ask for your hand. I, however, think that would be unwise.”

  Rose rather agreed with the woman, but before she could speak, Mrs. Eve
rett plunged forward. “If I were you, I would let the viscount go. After all, everyone is gossiping about you and Lord Ashton. You were seen together in the park, and he was carrying you. Have you no thought for decency?”

  The woman’s audacity angered her. “I’ve only just learned to walk again, Mrs. Everett. Lord Ashton was helping me return to my carriage, because it was difficult to manage.”

  The matron sniffed. “Humph. I should think a footman would be a less scandalous choice. As it is, I thought I should warn you away from the viscount. He belongs to my daughter. Stay away from Lord Burkham, or you will regret it.”

  “Are you threatening me?” She was aghast at the woman’s vitriol. Perhaps she ought to warn Thomas, for this woman’s manipulation was even worse than she’d imagined.

  “Indeed. If I catch you speaking to Lord Burkham again, or worse, dancing with him, rest assured, I will not hesitate to besmirch your name.”

  Oh, will you? She was so irritated by Mrs. Everett’s meddling, she decided no response was best. Instead, she walked away, leaving the matron to fume and scheme on her own. Good riddance.

  A few minutes later, she spied Lord Ashton arriving. The moment he saw her, his eyes locked upon hers. He crossed the room like a barbarian bent upon claiming his woman. The very idea sent a flare of heat through her, followed by frustration. She didn’t doubt for a moment that if she had Evangeline’s money or if she were stronger, he would have offered for her.

  A surge of anger rose up within her. Why did he insist on pursuing her, when he’d claimed he could not wed her? Was she not good enough?

  She straightened her spine, awaiting the confrontation. But before he reached her, Lord Burkham intervened. “He looks rather menacing, Lady Rose. Shall I guard you from the Irishman?”

  “I’ll be fine, Lord Burkham. But thank you.”

  As Iain pushed his way past the other guests, he didn’t seem aware that his family had arrived. He never saw the shocked expression that came over Lady Ashton’s face or the delight upon the faces of his sisters.