Never Kiss a Laird

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Never Kiss a Laird Page 15

by Byrnes, Tess


  “I am very much afraid that you are going to be late for your assignment,” Hugh informed her firmly, rolling her over onto her back and trapping her arms over her head.

  “My lord,” Sally demurred. “Mrs. Cameron will be wanting me.”

  “Not half as much as I do,” Hugh murmured, and then he kissed her. Sally surrendered to his touch, reveling in the feeling of his body against hers. She opened to his kiss, pressing her tongue against his as he explored her mouth. Hugh gently held her wrists over her head with one hand, and with the other, he traced a line from her jaw, down to her sensitive breast. The tantalizing sensation of his trailing fingers pulled a cry from Sally. She arched her back, pressing her breast into Hugh’s hand, turning into his hand as his thumb teased the taut tip.

  Her breath came more quickly, and as he released her lips and began a trail of kisses down her throat, Sally bit her lip. His lips reached her breast, and he licked the sensitive tip, then took it into his mouth, tugging gently with his teeth. Sally squirmed beneath him, aching for closer contact with him. She wanted to touch him, and she tried to pull her hands free, but Hugh held her in place.

  “Not yet,” he whispered, moving to her other breast. He sucked the rosy tip, and as he did so, he moved his weight over her body. Sally shivered with anticipation, the heady, insistent throbbing between her legs urging her along. She ran her bare foot up and down Hugh’s calf, feeling the soft hair on his leg. Hugh raised his head, sliding his hand up her arm to twine both is hands in hers, their fingers interlocked. Their eyes met, molten brown and hot blue, and then he captured her mouth again.

  Sally released his hands, and ran her fingers down to rake his shoulders, gripping him tightly against her. She skimmed his back, and ran her hands over the firm round of his buttocks, pulling him against herself. She could feel his response, his rigidity against her, and she wanted to be filled with him. Her throbbing center was aching for him, and she didn’t want to wait.

  Hugh rolled onto his back, pulling Sally with him. He tugged one of her legs over him, rolling onto his back, and Sally found herself atop him, straddling him. She leaned down over him, her red gold curls falling over her face, kissing him deeply, and rocking against him, finally achieving the contact she craved.

  Hugh slipped his hand between them, finding her soft wet center. His magical fingers teased her, thrilling her throbbing core. Sally cried out, arching her back and pressing into his searching fingers. Hugh released her, and slipped his hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her up. She took her weight on her knees, and Hugh took her hand and placed it over his throbbing shaft. Sally rocked forward, and centered herself over him, and as he pushed up into her, she lowered herself and engulfed him.

  A cry escaped her, as she moved up and down, pushing against him, controlling their intimate contact herself. She threw her head back, and couldn’t repress a laugh of pure joy. Hugh’s hands skimmed over the soft white flesh of her stomach and came up to cup her heavy breasts, his thumbs rasping her tightly pebbled nipples, and she lowered her head to capture his mouth.

  She pressed him back onto the pillows, and slipped her arms beneath his shoulders, pulling herself into him again and again, as the incredible tension continued to build. She moved faster, needing more contact, deeper contact. Her breath came raggedly, and Hugh groaned aloud, moving with her. Sally felt as if she would scream if the sweet torment didn’t find an outlet, and she raised herself up, arching her back, her palms flat against Hugh’s firm stomach as she moved above him. Just when she thought she could no longer contain the overpowering sensations that were building between them, the incredible tension exploded into wave after wave of shuddering release. Sally rode out the tide of passion, until she subsided, exhausted and spent, against Hugh’s chest.

  They lay that way for a long while, their frantic breathing slowing. Sally finally raised herself up and rolled over to lay beside him. Hugh took her hand, and clasped it between both of his, resting on his chest. He raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her pink palm, and Sally turned her head to smile at him.

  “This must be the best kept secret in the polite world,” Sally marveled. “Is it always like this?”

  Hugh laughed, but immediately sobered. It was definitely not always like this. The thought made him look closely at Sally. A warm blush tinged her delicate cheekbones, and her red-gold curls were a riotous tumble on the pillow. A very contented smile curved her lips, and her blue eyes glowed. He was drawn to this girl in a way that was new to him. Hugh felt the stirrings of desire again, and reached for her, but she pulled out of reach.

  “I have to go,” she demurred. “The servants will be starting to work, and I definitely should not be here when James comes in.” She slipped out of the bed, and padded over to the chair where the Earl had thrown her dress and chemise. As she slipped into her clothing, the Earl stood and wrapped himself in a sumptuous dressing gown.

  “Before you go, you have to tell me why you are doing this,” he insisted. “What possessed you to come here disguised as a housemaid?”

  Sally hesitated a moment, and then spoke. “Do you remember a maid who used to work here named Bridget?”

  “Bridget? Of course I do.”

  “Did you know that Mrs. Cameron turned her out simply because she fell in love with the carrier’s lad?” Sally accused with a penetrating look.

  “I know that Mrs. Cameron turned her off. I didn’t know the reason.”

  Sally bit her lip. “She is staying at Whitethorne cottage. I found her on the day of the thunderstorm, wet and cold, hiding in a hedgerow. Her family had turned her away, and she was penniless and had nowhere to go. So I took her in, and have been trying to locate the lad she’s in love with.”

  Hugh sat down on the edge of the bed. “I should have questioned Mrs. Cameron more closely,” he said. “I don’t understand, though, why Mrs. Cameron would do so. What difference does it make if Bridget fell in love?”

  “She’s going to have a baby, that’s why.” She sat and pulled her stockings on and started to push her feet into her serviceable boots.

  “Oh. I see. Do you know who the father is?”

  “Robbie Fraser, the carrier’s lad. She is a good girl, Hugh. Bridget told me that they intend to marry and she is going to live with his family in London. The only problem is that she does not know where he lives, or the name of his employer, or where his family lives. I have been trying to find the name of the carrier, and when they might be coming back to the Castle, so that I can reunite Bridget with Robbie.”

  “Well that’s easily done. I will ask my agent.” Hugh took her hand and pulled her down beside him. “But that still does not explain why you are now a maid in my home.”

  “It was not my first plan,’ Sally assured him. “Rupert was supposed to find a way to ask one of the maids to get a message to Robbie. Unfortunately neither Robbie nor Bridget can write, and Bridget had not anticipated being sent away, so she didn’t find out anything about his whereabouts. Rupert came up here to get that information, but he was never very good at subterfuge, even when we were children.”

  “No, I can see that subtlety might not be Rupert’s strong suit,” Hugh smiled.

  “He meant well,” Sally defended her brother. “He was supposed to meet me yesterday morning, but instead he went for a ride with your beautiful houseguest. So I had to find a way to get the information myself, and this was it.” She looked at Hugh with determination. “I will not allow Bridget to just be tossed aside. I am going to reunite her with her Robbie.”

  “I think I now understand why you had such animosity towards the Earl of Kane when first we met,” Hugh said. “You believed that I had treated Bridget much as your father treated you.”

  Sally nodded.

  “I didn’t. But I might as well have. I did know that Bridget was being let go, and I didn’t question Mrs. Cameron about it. We turned her away, and so did her family. I’m glad you found her. Is she all right?”

  Sall
y slipped her arms around him and reached over to place a kiss on his mouth. “Thank you.”

  Hugh held on to her when she would have released him. “For what?”

  “For asking how Bridget is doing.” She pushed his arms away, and started tying her apron around her slim waist. “I must get down to the kitchen. I need to find out when the carrier is due next, and arrange to get a message to Robbie from Bridget.”

  “Very well,” Hugh agreed grudgingly. “But I must see you again very soon.”

  Sally gave him a mischievous smile. “Yes, my lord.” She bobbed a curtsey, and left the room.

  Sally hurried down to the kitchen, and was not surprised to find Mrs. White at the stove with several steaming pots before her, despite the early hour.

  “I’m very pleased to see you so nice and early, Aileen. Did you sleep well?”

  Sally found herself blushing, and turned to pour herself a cup of tea. “Very well, thank you, Mrs. White.”

  “As long as you’re here, you can start setting up in the breakfast parlour. We won’t be sending the trays up for another hour. But first, sit down, and drink your tea, and I’ll cook you a nice egg.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lady Waverly sat at her dining table, sipping an excellent burgundy, and delicately picking at the superb tournedos of beef in a mustard and red wine sauce that her cook had created to tempt her appetite. Ever since her wretched granddaughter had gone missing, her cook had been insulted again and again by the barely-touched plates that had been returned to the kitchen. Lady Waverly’s lack of appetite was not, as her staff assumed, over worry about her granddaughter. It was rooted in irritation and annoyance at having her plans thwarted, and in the fact that the shameful hussy had been successful in giving her family the slip. Lady Waverly was not used to having her will crossed, and she was furious.

  Her butler, Marsters, appeared soundlessly at her elbow and cleared his throat discretely.

  “Well?” she demanded irritably. “Don’t stand there sounding like you’re about to succumb to catarrh, Marsters.”

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am. The Viscount and Viscountess Denham have arrived. Shall I show them in?”

  “Fools,” the old lady spat. “I thought my daughter had more sense than to chase all over the country after that silly chit of hers. Yes, Marsters, show them in, and have two more covers laid.”

  Marsters bowed, thinking that this news might cause the cook to commit suicide, that genius having prepared his meal for a single diner. A few minutes later the Denhams entered the dining parlor. The Viscount Denham appeared to have aged ten years in the last few weeks, His face was heavily lined, his eyes bleary and his clothing nowhere near his usual state of point de vice. Lady Denham looked regal in a silver-blue gown, and she greeted her mother calmly.

  “Mama,” Lady Denham intoned, allowing the footman to pull out a chair for her. “I apologize for our unexpected arrival, but Denham would not be stayed.”

  The Viscount bowed over Lady Waverly’s claw-like hand before taking a seat opposite his wife. “I must thank you for your hospitality, Lady Waverly. As you can imagine, we are beside ourselves with worry over Sally’s continued disappearance. We had no time to send advance notice of our arrival, since we made a hasty decision to leave Denham Park yesterday. I just could not bear to be there, when Sally might be in trouble.”

  Lady Denham, who was managing to hide any worry she might be experiencing without any difficulty at all, looked pointedly at her mother. “Denham thought we might trace her steps, and discover where she is hiding herself. I was not, and am not, in favor of that. I am convinced the girl will come back as soon as she is out of funds.”

  Lady Waverly nodded approvingly at her daughter. “Exactly so, Regina. To be chasing all over looking for her gives the girl more consequence than she deserves. It was bad enough to have her brother haring off to look for her. I have no faith in your son’s discretion, Denham, and he is more likely to start new rumors than scotch the existing ones.”

  “Have you heard anything from Rupert?” Lord Denham asked anxiously.

  “Not a word. And if you take my advice you’ll get back to London and put a good face on it. Nothing could be more damaging to the family than this ill-conceived action, Denham. You must be seen to be serenely unconcerned.”

  “Serenely unconcerned?” the Viscount repeated in stunned tones. “When my only daughter has fled from her home, and may be in dire straits? Ma’am, I must believe that you have not considered fully the ills that might befall Sally.”

  “I am not a fool, Denham,” Lady Waverly replied scornfully. “But the wretched chit has taken a bad situation and made it worse. Bad enough to have a disgraced girl in the family, but no one would have censured the rest of you if she had just accepted her situation. This hoity-toity flight of hers, acting as if she was being maltreated in some way, reflects very badly on the entire family. She has behaved most inconsiderately, and if she suffers for it, it is on her own head.”

  Lord Denham shook his head as she spoke. “You are wrong, ma’am,” he said, speaking words that had never before been addressed to Lady Waverly. “It is we who have behaved most inconsiderately. We knew Sally to be innocent of the charges laid at her feet, and we should have stood by her. Instead, in order to protect our own status, we banished her. That action confirmed to the world that she was, in fact, guilty.” He ran a hand over his brow. “I will stop at nothing to find her. And when we do, Regina, we will humbly beg her pardon.”

  “We have journeyed all day, and you are feeling tired and dispirited,” Lady Denham stated tranquilly. “George, you have always been besotted with the girl, and you can not see clearly. We will not discuss this any further until you have eaten and had a good night’s sleep.”

  The Viscount sighed. “Perhaps you are right, my dear. But I cannot just pretend that she never existed and go about my life as usual.”

  A couple of footmen entered the room, one carrying a tray containing the necessary plates and silver, and the other a tureen. They laid covers and ladled an aromatic soup into bowls before the two guests. Lady Waverly’s cook was below stairs re-heating some roast fowls and turning the kitchen upside down trying to come up with acceptable side dishes, but no hint of this turmoil appeared in Lady Waverly’s well-trained footmen.

  After they had left the room, Lady Denham continued. “No one is suggesting anything of the sort, George. I am merely recommending that rather than careen all over Scotland on a wild goose chase, we wait Sarah out. Believe me, she will either come to her senses or run out of money soon enough.”

  Lady Waverly interjected, “Here, here. I could not agree more. You will stay here for a week, to give your visit the appearance of normalcy, and then you must return to London.”

  The Viscount sighed heavily. “Very well. If I cannot discover Sally’s whereabouts in a week’s time, I will do as you say.”

  “Whatever you do, George, you must be discrete.” Lady Denham warned. “It will not do for word to get out that Sarah has run away. If you institute enquiries all over Scotland, the repercussions will be greater if, I mean, when, Sarah does return. Simon Atherly remains interested in a match with Sarah, and if her reputation is further damaged, we might lose even that connection.”

  “You are right, my dear.”

  Lady Denham smiled complacently, and took a spoonful of soup. “This is delicious, Mama. You have always been most fortunate in your cook.”

  Lady Waverly nodded graciously.

  Silence fell, and after consuming the excellent repast presented by Lady Waverly’s harassed cook, Lady Denham and her husband retired to their separate chambers, the one to an untroubled sleep, and the other to toss restlessly all night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sally tapped at the door of Clarissa Riding’s chamber before pushing the door open and entering. She balanced a tray before her which held a pot of chocolate, a cup, and a plate of bread-and-butter. The room was dark, the heavy curtains
still pulled across the windows, the small figure in the big four-poster bed sleeping soundly. Sally set the tray on a table by the bed and stood looking at the girl. Her flaxen hair was spread out on the silk pillow-case, and as she observed her, Sally begrudgingly admitted that the girl was annoyingly beautiful.

  Sally padded across the thick carpet to the windows and threw open the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, and the sleeping girl awoke with a start.

  “What time is it?” she asked, sitting up in her bed, yawning and stretching her willowy arms up over her head luxuriously.

  “It’s after nine, ma’am,” Sally responded in her best imitation of a polite housemaid.

  “What is your name?” Clarissa asked, as Sally positioned the breakfast tray across her lap.

  “Aileen, miss,”

  “Bring up some hot water, then, Aileen. I want to get up at once.”

  Sally frowned. She had no time, and less inclination, to cater to Miss Riding’s needs. But until she could get the information she needed, she must maintain her ruse. So she replied, “Yes, miss.”

  The door opened, and Mrs. Riding peeked in, and seeing her daughter sitting up in bed, crossed the room to sit on the edge of her daughter’s bed. Ignoring Sally’s presence, she said, “The Earl has gone out riding, my dear, so you have time to dress. You must wear the yellow lustring today, which highlights your hair so beautifully. I will somehow contrive to leave you two alone together, so you must be on your mettle, my dear. This may be our best opportunity to induce him to offer for you.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Clarissa moaned. “But I am not sure that I want to marry the Earl.”

  “What are you saying?” Mrs. Riding shrieked. “You silly girl! You will never make a better match than the Earl of Kane. He is a very, very rich man. I have told you many times that you owe it to your father and me to make a good marriage. We have spent everything we have to dress you, and get you into the best homes in London. And now that you are on the verge of making the match of my dreams, you say you are not sure?’

 

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