by Josie Dennis
Lords of Hawksfell Manor 13
Liam’s Luck
Liam Hawk has the luck of the Irish, according to his mother—except for the Hawk curse that forces him to satisfy his lusts anywhere he can. When he’s invited to Hawksfell Manor, his mother insists he take her ward, Charlotte Crane, with him. Charlotte is a temptation he avoids. He wants her, but she’s better off without his Hawk beast’s desires.
Charlotte loves Liam, but he always seems angry at her. At Hawksfell, Liam learns he’s the Earl’s half brother and finds family he’s never known. He can’t deny he wants Charlotte and Jackson Hartley, his valet at Hawksfell.
Jackson’s role at Hawksfell is a solitary one. Liam and Jackson have much in common there. Jackson and Charlotte share kisses and more, and they both speak of Liam. The three embark on a liaison, their hearts and passions mingling until none can imagine life without the other two.
Can Liam be lucky in love? Or will he deny his good fortune?
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 21,845 words
LIAM'S LUCK
Lords of Hawksfell Manor 13
Josie Dennis

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
LIAM'S LUCK
Copyright © 2017 by Josie Dennis
ISBN: 978-1-64010-383-2
First Publication: June 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
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www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Josie Dennis writes erotic romances for the discerning reader. Her characters find love in the most amazing places, and the happily ever after is a guarantee. Readers who like their romances hot and their heroes and heroines open to ideas they’ve only explored in their fantasies will find her erotic romances quite satisfying.
For all titles by Josie Dennis, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/josie-dennis
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Landmarks
Cover
LIAM'S LUCK
Lords of Hawksfell Manor 13
JOSIE DENNIS
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Yorkshire, England, 1913
Liam Hawk, Baron Sheffield, poured himself a generous serving of his family’s finest whiskey. This afternoon his man-of-affairs declared his and his mother’s estates flourishing, bringing in even more income than last year. At twenty-eight years of age, Liam was the luckiest Hawk bastard of his acquaintance. Of course, he knew no other Hawks. That was immaterial, however. He had the luck of the Irish, according to his sainted mother. And, as Colleen Sheffield often said herself, she was never wrong.
The July evening was warm, though in his satin dressing gown he was quite comfortable. The maid sitting back on her heels in front of him had been quite skilled with her mouth, and the throbbing ache in his shaft was at last eased.
“Thank you.” He helped her to her feet. “That will be all.”
The maid stared up at him. Her eyes were big, her cheeks rosy, and he knew she was aroused. It was his damned Hawk magnetism. He had no real control over it, not when in the throes of the beast’s needs, but he was in no frame of mind to please her at this moment. She curtseyed and left him, both of them aware that her next pay packet would be more generous to reward her service.
The flip side of his astounding financial luck was the dreaded Hawk curse. Sexual urges that came upon him, demanding release without caring where it was found. Mouth, pussy, ass…it was all the same. He couldn’t use his own hand, however. When the curse first came for him, he’d tried. Not only was he unable to satisfy himself as the other boys at school often described in ribald detail, but he’d been rewarded for his efforts with an unabating erection and excruciating stomach pains that lasted for hours.
That was well over fifteen years ago, however. Since then he’d made his own fragile peace with his fate. His mother, though she was never wrong, had no notion as to why the Hawk men were cursed. She’d told him a story once. About a banshee who was seduced by one of his long-ago Hawk relatives. It was as good a story as any, so Liam hadn’t pressed for more. As for his own father, that man’s identity was as much a mystery to him as to the origin of the curse.
It was beyond vexing that she never told him the man’s name, as his mother was rarely silent on just about every other matter. He often wondered about his father, a man who seduced a young heiress and left her pregnant. He’d come back to legitimatize his son, as Liam had since discovered most Hawks did, but that seemed to be the extent of his involvement with their little family. As for Liam’s title, he’d inherited that from one of his mother’s cousins, a baron who died with no other male heir. He’d had no connection with this relative, either. Liam had long since given up hope of having any sort of connection with any family outside of his mother.
Draining his glass, he stood and shed his robe. He might be half Irish, but his blood ran hot. Sleeping in the buff was his custom, and tonight would be no exception. He trusted that slumber would come quickly, due to his sexual satisfaction. It would be days, perhaps even weeks, before the compulsion struck again.
When he went downstairs the next morning to join his mother for breakfast, he felt fit and whole and nearly normal.
“Good morning, Mother.”
Colleen Sheffield smiled at her son. “Well, don’t you look happy-go-lucky this morning, Liam.”
It was a kind of joke between them, alluding to luck and fortune in nearly every exchange. He chuckled and sat, sipping at the coffee poured immediately for him by a servant.
“What are you about this day?” he asked her, diving into the ample breakfast of eggs and ham set before him. “It’s gloriously sunny outside.”
“I’ve just been going through the correspondence, son.” She indicated a pile of letters at her elbow.
“Here?” He arched a brow. “At the table?”
She waved a hand. “It was too warm in my parlor. Plus I wished to see you, and you never brave my parlor.”
“Not if I can avoid it,” he agreed.
“This letter was delivered to me by mistake.” She handed him a missive, its contents clearly opened. “I admit I read a bit of it.”
Smirking in her direction, he took the sheets and read through them. Twice.
“This is astounding,” he murmured.
“Isn’t it?”
He shook his head at her. “The Earl of Hawksfell has requested my presence at the manor.”
>
“I saw that. Will you go?”
There was something in her voice, a hesitancy he’d rarely heard. When he looked over at her he found her brow furrowed and worry in her green eyes. She’d always said his were dark as the stormy sea, like his father’s. He shook his head. Where had that errant thought come from?
“I think it would be difficult to refuse the earl. He professes a desire to get to know his Hawk relatives.” He put the letter on the table. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t go?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “No, son. No. It’s just that…well, I suppose the young earl is nothing like his father.” Her cheeks turned pale, and she gave him a small smile. “Forgive my woolgathering. Yes, you should go. Take Charlotte with you.”
Now it was Liam’s turn to balk. “I am not taking your ward with me to Hawksfell, Mother.”
“Why not? She’s a good girl, Liam. She deserves more varied company than just this one old lady. Don’t you think so?”
He swallowed a curse. His mother’s ward, the daughter of his mother’s friends who passed away years earlier, was vexation personified. Opinionated. Outspoken. Cheeky. And the most tempting bit of muslin he’d ever encountered.
“I don’t know these Hawks, Mother,” he began. “How can you expect Charlotte to navigate these social waters?”
“Oh, pooh. Don’t you use my words on me, Liam Hawk.”
His lips thinned. “I will go by myself.”
“No, you will not. Charlotte will be safe there with you. You may act as chaperone.”
Liam refrained from rolling his eyes. A chaperone? The girl needed a keeper, but a man who continually thought of her in the basest of terms at the most inopportune moments would not suit in that role. His beast began to stir, and his stomach clenched. Suddenly he could smell her scent. Roses and summer rain.
“Charlotte,” he growled.
Turning his head, he saw her standing in the doorway to the breakfast room. A pretty pink dress hugged her curves, making her appear sweet and alluring at the same time. Her hair, that golden mass of curls, was somewhat tamed in a mass at the back of her head. And those eyes, so wide and blue. So damned innocent. Her full rosy lips were parted, and he swallowed a groan of desire.
“Did you say my name, Liam?” Her voice, sweet and tinkling and a shade husky, scraped over him. “Did you want something?”
Ah, he did. But he wouldn’t tell this untried woman just what it was he wanted. It was as if last night’s release had never occurred.
“No.” He came to his feet. “If you are set on this course, you’ll have no more argument from me, Mother.”
His mother beamed. “Thank you, son!”
He brushed past Charlotte, who put a hand on his arm to still him. He scowled down at her slender fingers, so white on his dark sleeve, and she recoiled.
“What is this about, Liam?” she asked.
“Talk to my mother.” He looked at his mother’s happy expression and grumbled. “I will tell my valet to pack my things.”
He held his breath as he passed her, loath to breathe her in again. “Be ready first thing in the morning, Charlotte.”
Taking himself upstairs, he cursed low and long. He had to take the chit along with him? What a horrid turn to an otherwise lovely summer day.
* * * *
Charlotte blinked as she studied Liam’s retreating back. She turned to face her benefactor.
“What is this about, Aunt Colleen?”
“Oh, don’t mind Liam’s moods.”
“Moods? I don’t recall him possessing any moods.” Other than irritation at her, that was. “What is this about being ready on the morrow?”
“You’re going on a trip over the moors, my girl.” Lady Sheffield beamed a smile. “To Hawksfell Manor.”
Liam didn’t favor his mother much, aside from the cleft in her chin. Her eyes were green where Liam’s were dark and compelling. Her hair was auburn, where her son’s was as black as night. Her build was different, of course. The lady was slight and curvy, like Charlotte herself. Liam was broad and tall. Muscular and strong looking. And the way he moved…
Charlotte shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking of Liam that way. She was his mother’s ward and therefore nothing to him but a mild annoyance.
“Why am I going there?”
“To keep Liam company.”
Charlotte held up her hands. “Oh, no. I’m certain he won’t want me there.”
“Nonsense. I told him you need an outing. Varied society, as well.” She winked. “He can never say no to his mother.”
“That’s true.” Charlotte worried her bottom lip. “Am I taking a maid with me?”
“No, dear. I’ve been assured by the earl’s letter that all will be provided.”
“For me?”
Lady Sheffield’s cheeks turned pink. “Well, you weren’t mentioned in the letter, per se.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “Then how can I go? I’m not invited.”
“The earl instructed Liam that he may bring a companion.”
“Is that so?” She narrowed her eyes on Liam’s mother. “Just how much of Liam’s letter did you read?”
To Charlotte’s bemusement, the woman laughed lightly. “Never mind. If Liam doesn’t mind, why should you?”
“It is of no consequence to me.” Charlotte blew out a breath. “I’m to go to Hawksfell Manor with Liam.”
“That’s correct.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Right again. It’s not so far away from here, actually. What is a journey of a few miles over the moors in a fine motorcar?”
Charlotte’s mind worked. How was she going to survive the drive to the manor, no matter the distance? Enclosed in one of Liam’s prize motorcars on the so softly cushioned seats? His spicy hot scent tickling her nose and making her feel all sorts of naughty things? Her own cheeks must be red because they were certainly flaming at the moment.
“I’ll go tell my maid to ready my things, Aunt Colleen.”
“There’s a good girl. This might be a difficult visit for Liam, Charlotte. I’m counting on you to smooth his way.”
Difficult? She idly nodded. Since when did Liam need anyone to smooth his way anywhere? He was jovial and welcomed wherever he went. Still, he was surly on occasion. Usually when Charlotte was nearby, actually. But that shouldn’t be the case with his Hawk relatives.
Heading back upstairs to her lovely suite of rooms, she resigned herself to a long visit with unknown Hawks. She could use the varied society, as Lady Sheffield suggested. In truth, she was looking forward to meeting these Hawks. She’d heard that several of them were married, and happily. In her secret heart, she longed to find that kind of happiness.
There was only one Hawk that drew her affections and her confusion in equal measures, though. That was Liam, and he only thought of her as a bother. Never did he look at her with anything other than vexation in his gaze.
Her own feelings were in such a muddle, who was she to try to ascertain Liam’s? Perhaps this visit to Hawksfell Manor would change the course of her life. She was a woman now at twenty-one years of age. No longer was she the orphaned girl sent to live with her late parents’ acquaintances at Sheffield House.
A fragile strength built in her core, tightening her belly. She would show Liam that she wasn’t just a little gnat he could bat away with his indifference. Keeping her feelings to herself would not serve her any longer. She would take one of Lady Sheffield’s sayings to heart. You will never plow a field by turning it over in your mind.
Emboldened, she rang for her maid and prepared for a trip that would change her life in one way or another.
Chapter Two
“Thank you, Hartley. That will be all.”
Jackson Hartley nodded to the Earl of Hawksfell, leaving his lordship alone with his lady. She was expecting their first child in just a few more months, and the pull between them was a palpable thing. The pull among all three of them, Michael Crowley
included.
Jackson’s face flamed as he thought of the extraordinary relationship among the three of them. They all clearly loved each other, and that shouldn’t be a surprise. As much as Jackson avoided any gossip in his work, it was difficult to ignore the evidence of several relationships among the Hawk men and their paramours. As astounding as it should be, they all seemed blissfully happy.
In the six months Jackson had worked in his current position, he’d grown accustomed to his rapid change in circumstances. He’d been first footman for what seemed like the flash of a moment. Soon after the earl’s previous valet, Grayson, left with Trevor Hawk, he’d been promoted to take his place. Now he shared his room in the attics with no one. He kept to himself and was removed from the other servants in the common rooms downstairs, as well. It was his lot, as a top-ranking servant. Mr. Carstairs, the butler, and Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, were both sticklers for protocol, and Jackson was only too happy to keep to his place. To serve, as his late father had before him.
As for his mother, he had no notion. She’d died in service actually, while giving birth to him in the attics of another great house in London. His father had been valet to a viscount there, and he’d put his only child into service when he’d been but a lad. Jackson had served in that house, moving up the ranks with every birthday until he’d landed at Hawksfell upon his father’s death. He’d had to leave the city, for he couldn’t bear to be in surroundings so shrouded with his father’s memory. He’d been overdue for a change, he supposed. He was twenty-seven years old.
Coming to the wilds of York had been such a welcome change, and it was like a gift in and of itself. Mr. Carstairs and Mrs. Hughes had both been thorough yet kind in his interview, with the butler adding that he’d known Jackson’s father in London long ago. Jackson knew there might be talk of preferential treatment, so he’d been strict with his own behavior since taking up his position.
