Irish Linen

by Candace McCarthy

  “Oh, Meghan …” He touched his hands to her temples and threaded his fingers into her hair. “I couldn’t possibly forget you …”

  Dangerous, she thought. Although she knew she should be objecting to such attention from him, she allowed him to pull her closer, to tenderly kiss her closed eyelids … and slide his lips over her nose to fasten with sweetness on her quivering mouth.

  “Don’t stop.” Her words came unbidden as his head lifted, but she’d spoken her thoughts … her desires.

  With a groan of hunger, Lucas recaptured her mouth in a searing contact that made her tingle all over, that caused her blood to flow hotly and her toes to curl.

  He pulled away with a growl of frustration. “You’re killing me by slow degrees, Meghan McBride,” he whispered. “I want you. You want me. Why won’t you come to me?”

  Mortified, Meghan stared at the floor with flushed cheeks. “Please…” she choked out. “I can’t.”

  “Because of Rafferty.” The irritation in his tone sounded so unlike him that her gaze snapped upward to read his face.

  “Because of me, Lucas,” she said evenly. “I’m a good Catholic woman. It’s not me habit to leap into bed with any man!”

  He blanched. “And I’m any man?” he asked.

  “No, but—” She spun and put a distance of several feet between them. She stopped and faced him. “I believe in the sanctity of marriage.”

  “Love … marriage,” he said darkly. The mockery in his expression hurt her. “I’ve seen the consequences of a so-called happy marriage.”

  Sudden insight struck Meghan like a lightning bolt. “Your parents are not happy?” she guessed.

  He appeared taken aback, before his face became unreadable. “My father married my mother for love, ” he said with an underlying hint of disparagement in his tone. “God knows why she married him.”

  Impulse urged Meghan closer to him. She touched his arm. To her surprise, his muscles beneath his shirtsleeve felt tense and hot beneath her fingertips. “I think I understand.”

  “Do you?” He regarded her with a derision that stung.

  She released him and went to sit and gather her sewing. “I’m not unfeeling, Lucas,” she murmured after several silent moments had passed. She hoped she’d hidden her pain well.

  His silence continued. Meghan forced herself to work as tension filled the quiet. She felt her muscles contract with each throbbing pulse beat.

  “I know,” he said suddenly.

  His two simple words were uttered with such tenderness and feeling that Meghan had to swallow against a lump as she regarded him with bright eyes. His admission hadn’t come from him easily, for to admit that he believed in her was to admit that he might care.

  “Have you and Rafferty set a date to be married?” he asked in a low voice.

  She shook her head as she bent low over her work. Lucas felt a burst of pure joy. Why did he have the feeling, though, that there was something she wasn’t telling him? His joy faded, and his stomach knotted.

  “Ah, well, there’s plenty of time, I guess,” he said easily. Too easily, he realized.

  “Aye,” she murmured without looking up from her lap.

  He studied her while she continued to ply her needle. She created neat, even stitches as she tacked a length of lace on one of his aunt’s gowns.

  Suddenly, he realized that it was Sunday, and Meghan shouldn’t be here. “Why are you working today?” he asked. He recalled how tired she’d first appeared to him and wondered if his aunt had become too demanding of her.

  Meghan seemed to have difficulty forming an answer.

  “Is my aunt working you too hard?” he demanded sharply.

  She blinked up at him. “Oh, no! Mrs. Gibbons has been wonderful. ‘Tis just that …”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to finish. I fear that your aunt will run out of things for me to do. I need to start back at the mill,” she said as if reluctant to confess. “I don’t want to lose me position there.”

  “Didn’t I promise you that wouldn’t happen?” His growl of anger clearly startled her.

  “I know, but—” She bit her lip, and again he sensed something odd in her manner. “Promises can’t always be kept,” she said softly. He saw her throat work as she swallowed.

  “I see.” He was annoyed, for he didn’t see at all. Surely, his aunt needed to keep Meghan on as seamstress.

  He softened his tone when he saw that she was upset. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, and was pleased to see her blush.

  “ ‘Tis good to see ye, too.”

  “Is it?” he probed, wanting to know the truth. He didn’t wait for her reply. “Good, for you’ll be seeing a lot more of me now.”

  He was disappointed when his declaration brought no visible signs of reaction from her.

  His trip home to Windfield had disturbed him, not because of his sister’s injury—Beth was healing well-but because of a woman whom his parents had thrust at him … someone they’d approved for his wife. But the attractive Valerie Bain had held no interest for him. The only woman he wanted in his bed and his life, he realized, was sweet Meghan McBride.

  He’d always known he’d be expected to marry, but he’d hoped to put off the horror for some years yet. His parents wanted his wife to be of the same socialstanding as they … someone with breeding, money, and class.

  Meghan, born of Irish peasant stock, met none of his parents’ expectations.

  He’d vowed not to marry for any reason other than business. Valerie Bain certainly fit the bill nicely, only Lucas was loath to settle down. The woman his parents had chosen for him was, by all appearances, smart, attractive, and intelligent. All traits he admired in a woman.

  But Valerie Bain wasn’t Meghan, and therefore, he didn’t want her. He’d been polite to Valerie, but he’d made it clear that there was no future for them. His mother had been not only disappointed, but furious with him. His father … well, because of his own experiences, James Ridgely was more inclined to side with his son.

  I’m obsessed with Meghan, he thought as he continued to study her. And until he’d had her in his bed and his life for a while, he’d didn’t want to even think of another woman.

  So, he would find a way to bed Meghan McBride before she wed her Rafferty O’Connor. He owed it to himself … and to Meghan to show her what she’d be missing if she married a man who didn’t physically move her.

  “Alicia.”

  “What, Rafferty?” Alicia Somerton regarded the man she’d found the most sexually stimulating to date … besides Michael, who no longer seemed to be interested in her. It wouldn’t do for Rafferty to know it, however; for although he made her scream and shudder with ecstasy, she didn’t trust the man not to use her weakness for him against her. “What do you want from me now?”

  He gritted his teeth as he grabbed her from the chair. His grip on her upper arms was cruel, but there was about him a look that titillated and teased her. “Ye’re denying me your bed?” he growled.

  She arched an eyebrow with disdain. “Perhaps you just don’t interest me today, Rafferty.”

  “No?” His green eyes gleamed with intent, and she struggled to be free, loving it when he used his strength to subdue her. “You don’t like it when I do this …?” He bent his head. “And this?”

  He kissed and bit her neck, and then released her when she moaned, before he took her to the bed and proceeded to show her who was the master of sexual games.

  “Say it, Alicia,” he demanded after he’d taunted and teased her with his kisses and intimate caresses. He hovered between her legs, ready to make her shatter into a thousand bright lights.

  “Yes, Rafferty,” she cried, arching up, inviting the ultimate connection. “I want you.”

  “And?”

  “Take me, you bastard, before I rip your eyes out!”

  With a ragged laugh, he buried his shaft between her thighs. He thrust deep and hard only a few short times before Alicia cried
out. Then, he drove home one more time, before he shuddered and spilled his seed.

  “Thank you, Rafferty,” Alicia said politely after she’d regained her steady breaths.

  Rafferty lifted himself on his elbows, and his gaze caressed her love-swollen lips and whisker-burned breasts. He smiled with satisfaction. “Yer pleasure was mine, lass.”

  Twenty-three

  The next day Lucas went directly to George Simmons’s office. He hadn’t mentioned it to Meghan, but there was still the matter of Mathew Phelps.

  George rose from his desk to greet him. “Lucas,” he said, “you’re back.”

  After murmuring an appropriate response, Lucas took the seat before Simmons’s desk. “Mathew Phelps,” he said. “What did you learn?”

  The mill foreman leaned back in his chair. “The man’s innocent, it seems. No one would come forward to substantiate the woman’s story.”

  “So you think Meghan lied?” Lucas said, unconsciously using her familiar name.

  The man nodded. “It appears so. Under the circumstances, there was nothing for me to do, but leave Phelps with the weavers.”

  “Is it possible that the workers are afraid to come forward?”

  “Why would they be afraid? I haven’t threatened to dismiss them if they told the truth.”

  “But did you tell them that?”

  The man looked uncomfortable. “Well, no, but I’m not known as an unfair man, Lucas.”

  Lucas’s expression softened. “I know that, George, but I just can’t believe that all the workers would follow Meghan’s lead if there wasn’t something else here …”

  “Perhaps she’s a persuasive person,” George suggested.

  “And then again,” Lucas said, “perhaps Mathew Phelps is.”

  The foreman looked angry. “I’m tired of worrying about the incident. We can’t tolerate such nonsense from the workers. We pay decent wages for a good day’s production.”

  “I realize that, George.” Lucas rose to his feet. “But if Phelps did misuse his position to proposition our women workers, don’t you think it will affect the workers and their production? Who’d want to work for a man who threatens to fire them if they refuse to meet his personal needs? At the first opportunity of other employment, they’ll be gone.”

  “We are the best employers on the Brandywine,” the foreman insisted.

  “Not if we allow Phelps to remain in his position, if he’s guilty.” Lucas opened the office door. “By the way Meghan McBride wants to come back to the mill.”

  George Simmons scowled. “I’ll keep on the matter, but keep her away from here until I get a chance to question the women further.”

  Lucas’s smile held no humor. “If you’d like me to handle this, I will.”

  “I’ll handle it, Lucas,” the foreman insisted.

  “Hurry and get it over with,” Susan urged in a loud whisper. “I want to get back to Patty’s before it gets too dark.”

  Meghan nodded and climbed from the carriage. They’d arrived at the Somerville Company Store only moments ago. Her knees shook as she walked up the two store steps and pushed on the shop door.

  The sound of the bell made her jump, and sheblinked to adjust her eyes. Rafferty was nowhere to be found, and Meghan realized with a frown that he must be working in the back room.

  She hesitated for only a second. Oh, well, she thought, better to tell him where no one could overhear. Her gaze swept the shop’s interior as she crossed to the counter and circled it to reach the stockroom entrance. The door was slightly ajar, and she heard sounds that confirmed that someone—Rafferty—was indeed working in the back.

  She shoved on the door. “Rafferty—”

  Meghan gasped, and then shock held her immobile. Her fiancé was inside the storeroom all right, but he wasn’t alone. She stared for a moment at Rafferty with his pants about his ankles, his bare ass bobbing as he humped the naked woman sprawled across a large sack of grain. Horrified by what she’d seen, Meghan cried out and ran blindly from the room in a wild search for the exit.

  Rafferty cursed as he recognized Meghan’s voice, but he was too consumed by his lust to do anything but finish what he’d started. With a jerk of his hips, he gave a guttural groan and then fell gasping onto the woman beneath him.

  “I think she’s left,” Katie Jones commented, her tone thick with satisfaction.

  Fortunately, it was this particular woman he’d chosen to futter that day, Rafferty thought. No outraged virgin or unwilling wife. Katie was neither embarrassed nor concerned by what had just occurred. The woman had given as much as she’d gotten, and this was the third time this week he’d enjoyed her charms.

  Despite Katie’s protests, Rafferty scrambled off her nude body, hefted up his pants, and ran to the front door after Meghan.

  “Shit!” he muttered as he saw the carriage disappear over the crest in the road.

  Katie came up from behind him and pressed her naked form against his length. “It’s too late now to worry about her.” She rubbed her breasts against his bare back. “Come back inside, Raff.” She slipped away and went into the store.

  “Damn, she’ll not forgive this,” he said, cursing him-self for forgetting to lock the door.

  But then he followed Katie, locking the door behind him, before he continued toward the stockroom.

  “Meghan, what happened?” Susan asked.

  Meghan could hear the concern underlying her friend’s voice as their carriage sped down the coach road. Devastated by her discovery, she slapped the reins, urging the horse faster until the vehicle tilted dangerously as it barreled around a curve.

  Susan cried out with fear, and Meghan tugged on the reins to slow the animal to a safer pace.

  “Godalmighty, McBride!” her friend said angrily. “Will you tell me what happened, before you get us both killed!”

  Eyes blurring with tears, Meghan took a second to gather herself before answering. “Nothing,” she said, glancing briefly at her friend.

  Susan had raised her eyebrows. “Nothing?”

  The tears that she’d thus far managed to keep at bay fell as she heard the scorn in Susan’s answer. “Rafferty was busy,” she admitted, keeping her gaze fixed on the road. The conveyance moved at a leisurely rate of speed now, and Meghan was glad, for she could barely see for her tears.

  Why did she feel so terrible about what she’d seenwhen she had come to break off her betrothal to Rafferty?

  Because ye trusted him, she thought. And despite the change wrought in him by recent years she’d always believed him to be honorable and good.

  She shuddered as she recalled what she’d seen and heard. Dear God in heaven, Rafferty had been rutting like an animal!

  “I’m sorry,” Susan said, reminding Meghan of her friend’s presence. “He was so angry with you that he didn’t say a word after you told him,” she guessed.

  Meghan’s laughter was harsh. “I didn’t get the chance to tell him,” she said. “He was too busy fornicating with another woman to realize that I was there.”

  Susan’s horrified gasp brought a twisted smile to Meghan’s lips.

  “It wasn’t a pretty sight,” the Irishwoman said.

  “Oh, Meg …” Susan’s hand on Meghan’s shoulder offered the comfort of friendship.

  Meghan’s smile became genuine as she turned back to stare at the roadway. The sun had set fully within the last few minutes, and it was dusk … the time when eyes could be tricked in what they were seeing. The tree-lined lane was full of dark shadows. Meghan was careful as she steered the carriage to negotiate another curve in the winding road.

  “Ye should have seen them, Susan,” Meghan murmured. “They were lying across a brown sack. It probably contained flour or something.”

  “Ugh!” Susan exclaimed. “Remind me never to purchase anything from the Somerville store!”

  Meghan nodded, her lips twitching as she fought back a reluctant smile. “Rafferty’s pants were …”

  “Off?” S
usan encouraged.

  The Irishwoman shook her head. “They were down about his feet. I think he eventually realized that some-one—maybe even I—was there, but he couldn’t—” Meghan stopped as amusement suddenly seized her. “He couldn’t … stop!” She made a sound as she choked back a laugh. She exchanged looks with her friend, and the two burst out laughing.

  “Good God, he must have been startled to learn that you had come in,” Susan gasped, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes.

  Meghan’s laughter had softened to chuckling. “Aye. I think he wanted to say something, but he had to finish what he started!” Her laughter that followed quickly transformed from a sound that was genuine to something forced and overly loud.

  Susan stared at her friend, and an awkward silence descended inside the carriage when Meghan finally caught her breath.

  “I’m sorry,” Meghan whispered.

  Her friend grabbed hold of the reins, firmly taking control of the carriage. “Don’t be. Rafferty was your fiancé, even if he is a son of a sorry bitch.”

  A garbled sound escaped Meghan’s throat. “I should be glad it happened. Now, I don’t have to feel guilty for changing me mind about him.”

  “Yes,” Susan said softly. “Now you’re free to find someone you love, someone you deserve.”

  No, I’m not, Meghan thought. I love someone else, a man who doesn’t share me dreams for the future. And though it would be wonderful to belong to Lucas for a time, she needed forever, not a few short months.

  “Rafferty deceived me.” The pain of it still hurt, for they’d been friends before they were betrothed.

  Susan regarded her with sympathy. “I know,” she said, her attention moving back to the road. “But would you have rather married him, before you found out … for that’s surely what Rafferty must have intended.”

  “Damn him.”

  “Aye, ‘tis true,” Susan said, mimicking Meghan’s Irish brogue.

  The porch lantern was lit as they passed Patty’s on their way to the Gosiers. The two women thanked Susan’s floor overseer, Mr. Gosier, who was glad to see his carriage returned safely. Then, Meghan and Susan headed home.