Instead, he appeared ready to knock the viscount to the ground. He was angry, and that was quite clear when he reached her side.
“Lady Rose, would you care to dance?” Lord Burkham asked. She recognized his invitation as a means of avoiding Iain. But it was like tossing oil upon Iain’s fury.
“Thank you, but no.” She appreciated the viscount’s offer, but she was more curious about why Iain was here.
“May I speak with you, Lady Rose?” There was a slight tic in Iain’s clenched jaw, and his eyes narrowed upon her.
“Of course.” She waited for him to continue, but he sent a hard glare toward the viscount.
“I’ll just . . . go now, shall I?” Lord Burkham ventured, appearing discomfited by the earl’s hostility.
“Yes, do,” Iain answered. Once the viscount had left, he lowered his voice and said quietly, “Follow me. We need to talk in private.”
She rather agreed with that, though when she passed Mrs. Everett, she didn’t miss the matron’s visible annoyance. “Go toward the library,” she said in a low voice. “I will meet you there.”
But Iain wasn’t about to let go of her. His grip tightened upon her hand, and he cut a path through the crowd of people, leading her away from everyone.
“Wait,” she started to protest. He needed to know that his mother and sisters were here. She was about to tell him, when he suddenly spun back.
The look in his eyes was primal, like a man bent upon his needs. “I haven’t slept since the last moment we were together. I’m going to kiss you until you can’t stand up,” Iain said roughly. “I can do it here in front of everyone, or you can let me take you somewhere no one will see us.”
Dear God. His words burned through her, heightening her own desire. She didn’t care about anyone else or anything now. His fierce need echoed within her body, until she felt her heartbeat quicken.
He moved her through a doorway, leading her away until he located Lady Arnsbury’s library. It was unoccupied, and he took her inside, closing the door behind them. The moment they were alone, he kissed her like a starving man, devouring her lips. Rose clung to him, helpless to do anything but ride out the storm of his touch. His hands were everywhere, moving over her bodice. She could hardly breathe for wanting him, and reckless needs swept over her.
What was she doing? Why did he think he could simply storm through a ballroom and carry her off?
She broke free and shoved him back. “Stop behaving like a pirate. You cannot treat me like a tavern wench you can haul off to your ship and have your wicked way with.”
His mouth curved in a predatory smile. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
At that, his demeanor shifted instantly. He stepped back from her and raked a hand over his hair. “You’re right, a ghrá. You don’t.”
He kept his distance from her and rested his hands on a wingback chair. “I know what I am supposed to do to save Ashton. But when I see you, there’s no one else in that ballroom for me. I want to kill any man who so much as looks at you. And the thought of giving you up is tearing me apart. I can’t do it.”
She grew very still, her heart quickening. There was shadowed torment in his green eyes, but she felt the need for honesty. “But if you wed me and your people continue to suffer, you’ll grow to hate yourself.”
“I already hate myself,” he murmured. Slowly, he crossed the room and stood before her. “It’s not right for me to rely on someone else to save Ashton. I need to find a way, using my own means.” His green eyes held hers with sincerity. “I want to give you the life you’ve dreamed of. A house. Children, if you want them—though I wouldn’t make a good father. But more than that, I want to be with you each day. Even if we have no money at all.”
He took her hands in his. “I thought I could walk away, but it’s killing me, Rose.”
In his eyes, she saw an emotion that echoed her own heart’s desire. She had fallen hard for this man and couldn’t bear to hurt him. “What do you want to do?”
“First, I want to marry you. I’ll find another way to save Ashton. If I have to sell every last possession I own, I will do it.”
She reached up to touch his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. He kissed her palm and the gesture undid her.
But then, the unexpected sound of a key turning in the lock suddenly broke through the tension.
“What was that noise?” Rose turned toward the door, and Iain’s expression tightened. He crossed the library and turned the knob.
“Someone has locked us inside.”
She gaped at him. “But why?” The moment she spoke the words, she wanted to groan. “Oh no. I think I know who’s done this.” She told him about Mrs. Everett and her threat. “If we are caught together, I’ll be ruined.” This was the matron’s way of ensuring that she could not possibly wed Thomas. Not that she wanted to, but this would indeed force Iain and her together.
“We don’t have to be caught,” Iain started to say, but then he looked around. There was not a single window in the library, nor any other way to leave the room. There was no avoiding what would happen. If they pounded on the door and shouted to be let out, everyone would know that they’d been alone. If they waited until they were discovered, no one would care that they had done nothing at all. Everyone would believe the worst.
“Are you proposing to hide in the bookshelves?” she teased.
He shrugged. “You might fit, though I wouldn’t.” His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “I’ve already asked you to marry me, Rose. This may simply hasten our wedding.” But then Iain sat down and drew up a chair for her to sit across from him. “Have you an answer for me?”
She wanted to say yes, but was afraid of all the obstacles between them. “You still don’t think I’m strong enough to endure Ireland, do you?”
“No. You would not be happy at Ashton as it stands now. But I could marry you and let you stay here, in England. At least until it’s safer for you to join me, or until I’ve restored order to our lands.”
His offer was meant to protect her, she was certain. And yet, she didn’t feel it was right to live apart. “How long do you imagine that would be?”
He shook his head, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I cannot say, Rose. All I know is that the thought of watching you wed another man is something I can’t endure. And if I tried to wed an heiress for her money, I would regret every moment. It’s not fair to her. Or to you.”
Iain removed her glove, edging her palm with his thumb. The caress echoed through her body, and she warmed to his touch. His green eyes locked on hers, and he knelt down before her. “Marry me, Rose.”
“I do care about you Iain,” she murmured. “But there are many decisions we need to discuss. Like how you will get food for your tenants when you have no money. I don’t even know how much money our family has or if I have a dowry at all.” Every time she’d tried to speak with her mother, Lady Penford could give her no answers. Lily had written to their land steward but had no more information than before.
“Cain Sinclair has offered to donate some food and supplies. We also spoke of other ways to restore Ashton.”
Though his response should have reassured her, she hadn’t missed the uncertainty in his tone. And though she did want to be with Iain, she worried about their future.
He rose from his knees and sat down across from her. “If you are asking all these questions, I can only assume you are considering it.”
She was, but she couldn’t quite dispel her fears. “I might.” With a daring smile, she added, “Perhaps you should convince me.”
He pulled his chair closer so that their knees touched. Then he cupped her face and kissed her softly. Yearning awakened within her, and she responded, kissing him back with all her unspoken feelings. She did love this man and wanted to be with him. But never did she want him to look upon her with regret.
Her heartbeat pounded, and when his mouth moved to her throat, sh
ivers broke over her skin. She tried to hold on to her senses, fearing she might lose control of herself. Quickly, she grasped for a means of diverting his attention.
“Iain, there’s something else you should know. Your mother is here tonight. I met her and your sisters.”
The expression on his face transformed instantly. But it was not joy or gladness at their arrival. It looked, instead, like he had turned into stone.
“A ghrá, are you certain it was my sisters and Lady Ashton?”
She nodded. “My grandmother introduced me to them before you arrived. You were so busy dragging me away, I don’t suppose you saw them.”
His mood didn’t improve. “And what did she say about me?” He spoke of his mother with bitterness in his voice.
“Nothing at all.” She hesitated and admitted, “My grandmother warned me not to mention you.”
Iain gave a nod. “She was wise, then. She knows how much Moira hates me.”
“But it’s not right. You’re still her son.” Regardless of Lady Ashton’s feelings on the matter, she ought to be grateful to Iain for taking care of them.
“My mother would have been glad if I had died instead of Michael. Happy, even.”
A cold chill encircled her heart at that. “I hope you’re wrong.”
His mouth twisted. “I don’t suppose she’d be glad of a marriage between us. She would do anything to stop it.”
Rose stood from her chair and moved in front of him, resting her hands upon his shoulders. There was no denying her need to bring him comfort and reassurance. Iain pulled her down to his lap, and she rested her head against him. “It’s our decision. Not hers.”
The feeling of his arms around her was welcoming, and she nestled close.
“I need you, Rose,” Iain murmured, kissing her forehead. “I cannot imagine marrying any other woman but you.” His hands moved over the back of her gown, pausing over the buttons.
She was aching for him, needing his skin against hers. “Touch me now,” she pleaded, turning to give him easier access to the buttons. Though Rose knew how scandalous this was, she hardly cared anymore. If they were going to accuse her of wantonness, it might as well be true.
Iain took his time with the buttons, releasing them one by one. When he lowered the bodice of her gown, she felt the chill of air over her skin. Then he worked at the laces of her corset, loosening the tight binding until it slackened. He bent his mouth to the bare skin revealed above her chemise, his hand moving beneath the layers until he cupped her bare breast. Desire roared through her, and she was aching, needing him with a desperation she couldn’t understand.
He stroked her nipple, and she let out a shuddering cry. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she felt herself growing damp between her legs. She couldn’t forget the last time he’d touched her intimately, and already her body was eager for him.
But when his lips covered her erect nipple, drawing it into the heat of his mouth, she lost control. A bolt of heat rushed between her legs, and she writhed against his lap. “Iain,” she gasped. She craved him inside her, and the forbidden danger of discovery only heightened the passion. Although the door was still locked, dozens of people would be aware of their disappearance. There would be vicious gossip, and Mrs. Everett would not hesitate to humiliate her.
Iain’s eyes were hooded with raw desire, and in spite of her innocence, she wanted to touch him, too. She moved her hand to his chest, and he caught it with his hand.
“Let me touch you,” she pleaded. “I need to, even if just for a moment.”
He let out a curse in Irish, but let go of her fingers. “Only if I can do the same.”
There was a chaise longue in one corner of the study, and he brought her there, seating her upon it. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t help but look back at the door.
“They’re going to find us.”
Iain rested both hands on either side of her. “The devil himself could set the door on fire, and I wouldn’t care, Rose.” He bent and kissed her neck. “I want you beneath me. I need to see your face and watch you while I pleasure you.”
The words stole her breath, and she understood, then, that there was no stopping him.
Boldly, she brought her hand back to his chest. “Iain, look at me.” She touched her lips to his in the softest kiss. “I don’t know when they will find us, or what will happen next. But I do know that I want you. More than anything I’ve ever imagined.”
He closed his eyes and took her in a deep, sensual kiss. It was a kiss of relief and thankfulness, and she felt the tension easing from him.
With that, he moved his hand up her stockings, beneath her petticoats, until he touched her bare thigh. He fumbled with her undergarments until he found the slit between them. The moment he touched her intimately, she shuddered as he caressed her wet opening.
“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed. “I could die right now if I were buried inside you like this.”
The thickness of his fingers was a caress that bloomed deep within, and she trembled at the onslaught of his hand stroking her. She could only imagine what it would be like if he made love to her.
Rose pulled at his clothing until she loosened his shirt from his trousers, searching for his bare skin. His body was warm, his muscles well formed, as she traced his abdomen. Iain loosened the buttons of his trousers with his free hand, pressing her hand downward.
“Touch me,” he commanded. “The way I’m touching you.”
His words broke the spell between them, making her worry about the others outside the room. She grew nervous and admitted, “I’ve never . . . done this before, Iain. I’m afraid of what we’ve begun.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she suspected that this would end up in marriage, no matter what doubts she might have.
And perhaps that was why she wanted him so badly. Because, in her heart, she wanted to be with this man, no matter the obstacles.
Iain never took his gaze from hers as he removed his hand from her body. He guided her palm to his velvet erection. The moment she touched him, Rose felt a sense of power. She was fascinated by the soft heat, and when he closed her fingers around his stiff column, she understood what he wanted . . . to be pleasured in the same way he was touching her. The thought was overwhelming, and she moved her hand upon him, caressing his length.
A low hiss escaped him, and he sent her a wicked smile. “That’s it, a ghrá. Just like that.”
She let out a moan when he moved his hand back between her legs, sliding two fingers inside. As she drew her fist upward, he began to thrust his hand until they found a similar rhythm. He nudged his thumb against her secret flesh, and the spiraling caress intensified her arousal. She did the same to him, circling her thumb upon the head of his manhood. Beneath her fingers, she felt a bead of moisture, and her own body ached to receive him.
“I want to be in you, a ghrá. I want to thrust within, over and over.” He underscored his words by suckling at her nipple while he worked his hand between her thighs. She was so wet, craving more from him until she arched her back. She couldn’t stop herself from squeezing at his length, fisting him with her palm until it, too, was wet.
“More,” he demanded, and she obeyed, quickening the tempo. He rewarded her by flicking his thumb faster, pushing her closer to the edge in a rhythm that drowned her in the tidal sensations of sexual need. She felt herself rising, coming apart as he thrust and withdrew his fingers. When she reached the brink of ecstasy, she squeezed her hand around his erection, crying out while his tongue swirled across her nipple. Her body clenched the fingers he had buried within, and a rush of shimmering release unfolded, making her buck against him. Her body quaked with a violent shudder, and she felt his own answer while her hand grew wet with his seed.
“You belong to me,” Iain murmured against her mouth. “Just as I belong to you.”
She was utterly sated and didn’t believe it was even possible to move. Iain gave her a handkerchief, and she cleaned her palm while h
e helped her repair her clothing. She didn’t doubt that, to anyone else, she would appear as if she’d allowed Iain the most intimate of liberties.
“I don’t think I can return to that ballroom,” she admitted. “I don’t think I can walk anymore.” She sent him a languid smile, but his expression had turned serious. For a while, they sat in silence, and she contemplated her answer to his proposal. Was it right to accept, when she was not the heiress he needed?
Moments later, the intrusion she’d been expecting took place. Someone unlocked the door, and it swung open. Lady Wolcroft was waiting for them, along with Lady Arnsbury and Lady Ashton. All three women entered the room, and Rose felt her cheeks flame.
Lady Ashton stared at Iain, and the frost in her eyes held quiet hatred. Instinctively, Rose reached for Iain’s hand, but his face remained stoic. He behaved as if his mother was not here. But there was no doubting the tension in his posture and the invisible walls between them.
It was Lady Ashton who spoke first. “Whatever Iain might have said to you, Lady Rose, he spoke falsely.”
“He has asked me to marry him.” She tried to conjure up a smile, but the disapproval on the women’s faces made that impossible.
Her grandmother’s expression turned disappointed. “There was a time when I would have been glad to hear of this, Rose. But I am afraid that it cannot be.”
She gripped Iain’s hand, feeling as if a trap were closing in on her. “And why is that?”
Lady Ashton sent her a look of sympathy. “Because whatever Iain may have told you, he is not a legitimate heir. Nor is he the earl.”
Chapter Sixteen
His mother’s revelation was not a surprise, since Iain already knew about the night she’d been attacked by Seán O’Toole. But the look of hurt on Rose’s face bothered him far more. In his mind, he hardly cared about whether or not he was the earl. Did it matter so much to her?
“The villain who fathered you is dead,” Moira said. “And not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for it.”
Good Earls Don't Lie Page 28
