Never Kiss a Laird

by Byrnes, Tess

  She stood in the dingy hallway, and she could hear Millie and Bridget in the kitchen, talking and laughing as they prepared the evening meal. Through the window she saw Miles carrying firewood. An inviting fire crackled in the grate in the sitting room. A feeling of contentment settled over Sally, surprising her considerably. The door to the kitchen pushed open, and Bridget emerged, carrying a tea tray. Sally followed her into the sitting room, but decided she would not tell her about Rupert’s progress until she could report success.

  Chapter Ten

  Hugh, atop his stallion, cantered along his well-manicured drive at an unusually early hour the next morning. Rufus was in need of a good gallop, and the Earl was in need of time to consider all the information he had gleaned from his very talkative house guest the night before. Rupert had fully intended to follow Sally’s instructions to the letter; find out what he could about the carrier’s schedule, and make no mention of his sister.

  The Earl, however, had an entirely different agenda. He had greeted his young guest in the library before dinner, handing Rupert a glass of wine and indicating a seat before the fire.

  “That’s a very fine sherry,” Rupert had said, lifting the amber liquid to the light.

  “Thank you,” Hugh replied. “My father was something of an expert, and I am merely the lucky recipient of his cellar. You shall try a burgundy at dinner that I hope you will find very acceptable.”

  “I’m sure I shall,” Rupert assured him, flattered at the Earl’s assumption that he had such an educated palate. He had found the handsome nobleman very easy to talk to, not high in the instep in the least. The two men fell easily into conversation, finding that they had several friends in common. They shared an interest in prize fighting, and it turned out that they had both attended the same amateur match a few months back, Rupert having lost quite a sum betting on the wrong fighter. Dinner was announced, and the two men went in to the stately dining room, where the covers had been laid at one corner of a table that would easily seat thirty persons. A pair of candelabras, several decanters, and an assortment of succulent dishes were the only decorations; a rather austere, masculine décor that Rupert heartily approved. Even when the family dined alone at Denham Park, the service was always formal. This casual and easy way of dining suited Rupert, and he dropped his guard, and accepted a second and then a third glass of wine.

  “So tell me,” Hugh asked after the covers had been removed, and he and Rupert sat at the table with a decanter of port between them, cigars in their hands. “What is this I hear from Lady Waverly about your sister being missing? I should tell you that I had a letter from my godmother this afternoon, asking if I had any knowledge of her whereabouts.”

  Rupert choked on his port, his cigar falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. “Dash it!’ he exclaimed, brushing sparks from his waistcoat, and hastily picking up the cigar before it could burn the carpet. ‘My apologies, Hugh,” he uttered, attempting to assume a nonchalant position in his chair. “My sister, did you say?”

  Hugh smiled urbanely, a glint in his eyes. Not unlike his beautiful sister, Rupert’s thoughts were mirrored on his open countenance. Just now he looked a little like a rabbit trapped in a burrow, but Hugh pressed on relentlessly. “Yes, Miss Sarah Denham. You mentioned that she was unfairly accused of some behavior that had caused her to fall into disfavor with your family?”

  Rupert swallowed a gulp of port. His head was swimming a little from the many glasses of wine he had consumed, but he was aware of a feeling of outrage that his sister’s reputation continued to be sullied.

  “Very unfair!” he assured his host. “Sally did nothing wrong at all, and what’s more, our parents know it too. I’ll admit it looked for all the world as if she’d spent a night in the company of Simon Atherly, but it was no such thing. I was surprised when she wouldn’t marry him, but she was adamant, and once Sally makes up her mind, there’s no changing it. But it was the scandal, you know. All our neighbors gave Sally the cut, and that was it. Our mother canceled her come-out, and my father was determined to send her to our grandmother. But Sally gave them the slip. Always had a deal of courage, even when she was tiny, did Sally.” Rupert smiled reminiscently, then gave a hiccough. “’Scuse me,” he slurred.

  Hugh leaned back in his chair. “So it would appear,” he murmured thoughtfully. ‘And you are here to visit her?”

  “She’s rented a cottage nearby. Has enough funds to last until she comes of age next year, then she comes into her fortune. Says she’s going to France after that.”

  Hugh grinned. “That seems like a fitting destination for a fallen woman.”

  Rupert sat up and looked at Hugh with astonishment. “That’s exactly what Sally said. You should meet Sally. You two would get along famously.”

  A deep smile stole into Hugh’s brown eyes and he thought back over his interactions with the courageous Miss Denlington. “Yes, we do,” he agreed.

  He had assisted Rupert up to the Blue Room shortly thereafter, divested him of his coat and boots, and tucked him in to bed. His guest had still been sound asleep when Hugh had asked for Rufus to be saddled after an early breakfast the next morning.

  So the fiery Sally Denlington was in fact Miss Sarah Denham, Lady Waverly’s poor compromised granddaughter, and at present a tenant in one of his cottages. Hugh recalled that he had been advised by his agent that Whitethorne cottage had been rented, with a year’s rent paid in advance. His agent was a good north countryman, with a good north countryman’s old-fashioned ways, and it was very unlikely he would have thought a single woman a fitting tenant. Hugh threw his head back and laughed. That would not have stopped his red-haired beauty.

  Urging Rufus into a gallop, Hugh quickly covered the ground between the Castle and Whitethorne cottage. As he neared a rise overlooking the cottage he pulled his horse up. The older man whom Hugh recognized as Sally’s groom was helping two women into a gig. Hugh thought the older woman looked like the maid he had encountered earlier. He didn’t recognize Sally in the other woman, who wore a hooded cloak, but it must be she. Miles climbed onto the bench, and flicked the reigns, and the little gig moved down the lane and eventually out of sight. Hugh allowed Rufus to pick his way down toward the cottage.

  He was disappointed that he would not have the opportunity to match wits with Sally again, but a little relieved that he didn’t have to decide whether or not to inform her that he was aware of her true identity. He brought Rufus to a stop in front of the stone cottage, and dismounted.

  Whitethorne cottage had been occupied by an old school friend of his mother’s for as long as Hugh could remember. This friend had fallen on hard times, and his mother had insisted that she take up residence here on the estate. When Hugh was a boy he would occasionally accompany his mother to the cottage to take tea with her friend. The woman had passed away two years ago, and the cottage had stood empty during that time. Hugh had been pleased to see it rented again.

  His memories of this place had all been happy ones. When his mother came to visit her friend, she seemed like a different person. She would laugh and reminisce and even make jokes. His stern father did not encourage any of those behaviors at the Castle. Hugh, resembling his light-hearted mother far too closely for his father’s liking, had been the recipient of many lectures about how serious the business of living should be. After Hugh’s mother had died, there was no more laughter at Castle Kane.

  Hugh looked at the cottage, his mother’s memory almost a tangible presence. His reverie was brought to a quick end, however, as the cottage door flew open and Sally emerged out onto the stone steps.

  “Mr. McLeod?” she exclaimed, surprised. Then her brow lowered, and blue sparks seemed to shoot from her eyes. “Or should I say, my lord?” she asked from between tightened lips.

  Hugh executed a graceful bow. “At your service, Miss Denlington. Or should I say Miss Sarah Denham?” he lifted one eyebrow as he spoke, and watched the color rush into Sally’s high cheekbones.

 
“Rupert!” she pronounced wrathfully.

  “Don’t be too hard on your brother,” Hugh laughed. “He tried valiantly. But I was pretty determined to find out your identity.” A few hard raindrops began to pelt Hugh, and he looked up at a gathering grey cloud.

  “Well, you may as well come inside,” Sally offered grudgingly, as the rain began to come down in earnest. “This is probably your cottage, after all.”

  Hugh followed her into the sitting room, where a small fire was sputtering. He knelt down and threw a piece of wood onto the embers, and a flame immediately sprang up. Turning on one knee, he looked up at Sally. “The resemblance between you and your brother is really very pronounced, you know. I should have figured it out even if he had not mentioned his sister Sally.”

  Sally shook her head angrily. “Rupert could never keep a secret. Even when we were children, my mother had only to question Rupert to find out anything we were trying to hide from her.”

  “And did you have much to hide?” Hugh smiled.

  Sally laughed, her temper dying out. “Childish things only,” she replied. “However this secret is much more important to me.” She walked over to the window, and stood looking out. “How much did my brother tell you?’ she asked painfully.

  “Only that you were accused of something unfairly. That you had been disgraced, and were to be sent away, but that you, how did he put it? Gave them the slip! Your brother loves you very much indeed, you know.”

  Sally turned around and met his gaze. “I do know. You have no idea how glad I was to see him. I am so grateful to Miles and Millie for coming with me, but I have been missing Rupert amazingly.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Do you have brothers?” Sally asked.

  “No, I do not. My parents were both only children, and I do not even have cousins, I’m afraid. My heir is so far removed from me that I have never even met him.”

  Sally’s ready sympathy sprang up. “I’m sorry. But then, you would understand how important it is to have someone on your side.”

  “I do. And I would like you to know that there is another on your side as well.” Hugh approached Sally as he spoke, taking her hand and pulling her over to the fire. As she sank down onto the settle, Hugh bent and kissed her hand.

  Sally’s breath seemed to stop in her chest at the touch of his lips on her hand. Her fingers tightened on his hand, and she heard his intake of breath. She looked up and met his eyes, her breast moving up and down as her breath quickened. The Earl met her gaze. A quick flush had sprung into Sally’s high cheekbones, and as he watched, her mouth opened and her tongue touched her suddenly dry lips. Her countenance was so easy to read, Hugh marveled to himself, and her tantalizing response to his touch engulfed him, encouraging his baser instincts. Hugh was consumed by a strong desire to sweep her up into his arms, and taste her sweetness again.

  “Miss Denham,” Hugh said in a husky voice. “I should not be here. My apologies. I will go now, while I am still in command of my actions.”

  Sally could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, could feel his response to her touch, just as her own body was responding. She retained her grasp on his hand, and as he stood, she was pulled to her feet as well. She knew that Hugh was right. She had come to the brink of crossing a line that could not be repaired the last time they had been alone together, but Hugh had stopped them. As she stood holding Hugh McLeod’s hand, as her body responded in a way that was as intoxicating as it was novel, Sally knew that she would not walk away this time. Even if she spent the rest of her life in disgraced banishment, she would have this moment.

  “I think you should call me Sally,” she informed him, the smile in her eyes replaced with a compelling light. She took hold of his lapels and gently drew him closer.

  “Sally,” he whispered imploringly, feeling his ability to hold back falling away. “This is wrong.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” she murmured as their lips touched. Hugh’s resistance dissolved as he pressed his lips to Sally’s eager mouth. He wanted her, but it was more than that. More than her beauty, her alluring smile and tumbled red-gold curls, more than her soft, yielding body, Hugh was captivated by her courage, and her indomitable spirit. As she twined her arms around him, one hand caressing the back of his neck, he gave in to his desire.

  Sally met his kiss with an almost frantic need. She opened her mouth impatiently, meeting Hugh’s teasing tongue with her own, her arms pulling him as close as she could get him. Hugh’s hand slipped down her back, and cupped her rounded buttocks with a pressure that caused a groan to come from between Sally’s reddened lips. She was aware of her breasts, feeling heavy and full, and a desperate need to feel Hugh’s touch on their sensitive tips. Hugh’s lips moved to her neck, and as his hot lips pressed down her neck, Sally slipped her hands inside his tight-fitting jacket, and eased the fabric back and over his shoulders. Hugh obediently dropped his arms, his lips still busy, and allowed his jacket to fall away. Her hands moved from his shoulders, over the hard muscles of his back, easily felt through the thin lawn of his shirt. Keen to feel the touch of his skin, Sally pulled his shirttails from his breeches, and slipped her hands underneath, her soft palms teasing the flesh of his flat stomach.

  She felt his muscles, taut beneath her hands, and as her hands moved up and over the soft hair that covered his chest, Sally’s very core began thrumming. She was aware of an insistent need beginning between her legs, a throbbing that seemed to emanate from her center all the way to her chest, causing her heart rate to speed up. Her nipples felt as tight as pebbles, and she brushed her breasts against Hugh’s hard chest. She reached up, starting to unbutton her shirtwaist, as Hugh straightened and captured her mouth once more.

  “Sally,” he murmured against her lips, as she took his hand, and raised it to her soft breast. He cupped the full, soft mound, rasping his thumb back and forth over the taut tip. Sally dropped her head back, arching her back and pressing into his hand.

  “Come with me,” she pleaded, taking his hand and tugging him out of the room, and towards the little stairway that led to the upper floor.

  “Sally,” the Earl temporized, holding back. “Are you sure?”

  “Please,” Sally met his gaze, her own eyes darkened with desire. “Or I think I may go mad.”

  Hugh, unable to resist, followed her up the stair, into a small bed chamber. Sally turned to him and pushed the door closed.

  She reached behind herself, and unbuttoned her skirt, allowing it to fall to her feet. Hugh strode forward, and took her face in his hands, kissing her at first softly, then more urgently. He peeled her shirtwaist back over her shoulders, sending the last two buttons flying. Sally laughed at his eagerness, but as he hooked his fingers into the top of her pantaloons, sliding them over her hips, her laughter stopped as her need intensified. As her pantaloons fell to the floor, she stood before him, clad only in the white stockings that ended above her knees, and she took his breath away. Hugh scooped her up in his arms, and settled her onto the bed. He straightened, and pulled his cravat roughly from his neck, slipped his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the floor. Sally saw his broad shoulders and the dark hair that swirled over his chest. She held her breath as he unbuttoned his trousers. He pulled off his boots, and then quickly stripped off his breeches. He stood for a moment, allowing her to look at him. His broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips. Sally took her under lip between her teeth, holding her breath as she looked at his muscled form, his firm manhood, his muscular thighs, and she knew that she wanted him.

  Hugh slipped into the bed with her, and Sally reveled in the feeling of the full length of his warm body against hers, and the heady masculine scent of him. He captured her mouth again, and his hand slid over her, to cup her breast. He moved slowly down her body, his lips moving to the soft white skin of her throat, and then down to capture her breast in his mouth, sucking and teasing the rosy nipple.

  His hand slid further, down over her stomach, and Sally kn
ew that his goal was the sweet throbbing center that seemed to control her. She opened her legs to his searching hand, and as he reached that spot, she cried out. His skillful fingers made slow circles, and she moved with him, her body on fire with need, a sweet torture that seemed to control her senses. Her own hand moved to cover his, and she pressed into the fingers that were causing such magical sensations to shoot through her. But she wanted more.

  Hugh shifted his weight, moving between her soft white thighs, pushing her knees further apart. He took most of his own weight on his elbows, and Sally moved back and forth beneath him, arching her back to get the closest contact she could get with him. She felt a sensation that she had never imagined, a need to be filled with him, an emptiness that was not there before. Hugh groaned, and with one hand he brushed the damp curls from her forehead, meeting her eyes. He took her hand and guided it down between them, and she encountered the rigidity that she craved. She leaned forward, and captured his mouth, and as he pressed her back against the pillow, he entered her. Sally felt a pressure that almost felt like pain, but it was immediately overshadowed by the wonder of Hugh moving inside her, pushing into her. She rose to meet him, and the sensations as he pressed against her sensitive core again and again caused a rising tension that pushed her to the brink almost of madness. She wrapped her legs around Hugh’s body, pulling him in to her as he moved above her, her breath coming more and more quickly. She wanted him to move faster, and as if he could sense her need, he did so. Sally moved her head back and forth on the pillow, trying not to scream her need aloud, and when she thought she would go mad, the delicious agony suddenly gave way in wave upon wave of shuddering release. Sally’s body bucked against Hugh’s tension as their passion exploded in climax and then slowly quieted. Hugh relaxed against her shoulder, his breath coming in gasps, his weight heavy upon her. He rolled to his side, and subsided onto the mattress beside her, and they lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath.