Small Town Duke: A Modern Aristocracy Billionaire Romance (Billionaires of Ballytirrel Book 1)

by Sara Forbes

  “I already tried that.” She shakes her head resignedly. “He just got ahold of the new number by pretending to be a client, and then it was all that work for nothing.”

  “There is no way that you should have your peace of mind compromised by some asshole.”

  “But what can I do?” She searches my face. “Maybe he enjoys terrorizing me, I don’t know. I was hoping he’d give up by now, but he seems to be ramping it up yesterday and today for some reason sending me more texts.”

  “Is that all he’s doing?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I’m just going to ignore him and hope he goes away.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “He will. He’ll get bored, find someone new.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Even if he doesn’t, if I had my own place, I could secure it like Fort Knox with an intercom and cameras—there are security apps for this stuff. And at least he wouldn’t bother Mom.”

  I don’t think much of her plan, but say nothing. She snuggles into me. “Sorry for loading all this on you,” she says.

  “Don’t apologize,” I say quickly. “I need to know this stuff.” I lie back down and pull her tightly into me. She relaxes in my arms, her eyes flutter, then close. Within minutes, she’s sleeping.

  But I don’t sleep. I sit there thinking over what she’s said. I’m tempted to fly over to Texas and take care of this Brett guy for once and for all. But that can’t be the right solution. That kind of thinking is what made my life a mess, and so many other people’s too. She needs to figure out her own way. And I have every confidence that she will.

  19

  SHANNON

  “Shannon?” Someone’s shaking me. I heave in a breath and bolt up to sitting.

  Brett? Oh no, how?

  Then my eyes focus and see it’s Danny.

  Relief courses through me. “Oh—it’s you.”

  “It’s me,” he says, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

  I rub my neck. “What time is it?”

  “Six. I gotta get back and be ready to bring Lorcan to football. I’m sorry I can’t stay for breakfast.”

  I push his shoulder. “Yeah, sure you are.” I chuckle as I picture a stilted breakfast with Danny, Nuala and me.

  He grins. “But see you later?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  He playfully rolls me over on my back, pulls down the quilt, exposing my breasts which are standing to attention for him.

  “Now where,” he asks, his gaze roaming my face and upper body, “do I kiss?”

  I squirm. “Uhm...”

  He plants his mouth on my lips and fondles my breasts until I’m gasping against his mouth. An ache of desire flares up between my legs. I clench my thighs together to resist a further descent into lust.

  He pulls his lips off mine, his hands away from my breasts. “Oh no, I shouldn’t have started this,” he says. “I promise to make it up to you this evening.”

  “You better.”

  I want to whack this cruel, heartless man with a pillow, but it’s too much effort. Besides, he’s already gone out the door.

  I lie there, my idle hands wanting to touch myself, to relieve the pressure, but I tell myself to wait, to wait for him.

  I try to sleep, but it’s impossible. I get up and potter around and delay taking a shower. My head is full, full, full with Danny Moore, Duke of Munster. I close my eyes and I see his face. I can still smell his scent on me, still feel his touch, his cock ramming into me, breaking me open. I need more.

  Nuala’s clanking dishes downstairs, making breakfast. I sigh and grab my towel for the shower.

  ***

  “Nuala,” I say tentatively when we settle at the table for breakfast. “I know about Owen Callaghan.”

  She nods. “I’m glad. It had to come out eventually. How did you hear, love?”

  “From Danny.”

  “Indeed?” she says.

  As we tuck into our breakfast of fried eggs, sourdough bread and tea, I feel my aunt looking at me as if she knows everything that happened upstairs last night. She’d have to be deaf not to. It makes for an awkward few minutes.

  “Yes, he was here last night,” I say, the heat rising into my cheeks.

  “I kind of guessed,” she says, smiling. “I’m happy for you, Shannon. And him. He’s welcome in this house anytime, just for the record.”

  “So, knowing how unpopular he is, why did you think it was a good idea that I start working there?”

  She takes a long sip of tea before answering. “It was serendipity more than anything. You were coming here, he needed a temporary housekeeper. They weren’t going to get a replacement for Mrs. Muldoon any time soon, and once you explained your circumstances, I felt a bit of physical activity and extra money would do you good.” She laughs. “I don’t mean that kind of physical activity.”

  I laugh too.

  “Plus,” she continues. “I didn’t want you moping about my house all the time. Yes, Shannon, I may be a doting aunt to you, but I have my introverted, artistic side and I need my peace. Why do you think it is that I live out here on this lonely cliff when I could be in the heart of civilization Limerick or Cork or even God forbid, Dublin?”

  “Makes sense,” I say.

  “Did I make a good decision?” she asks. “Sending you up to the manor? Are you feeling alright, or is it all too much work having both jobs?”

  “No, it’s absolutely fine. And thanks for doing it.”

  “You just seem so tense at times. Maybe you miss home?”

  “No, no. Everything’s fine. I do miss home, of course, but I want to make the most of my time here while I can.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  She gets up to clear away the dishes. I rise too and we work together. I won’t tell her about Brett. Now that Danny knows, it’s enough. I don’t know why, but the world seems a safer place now that I’ve shared my Brett burden with Danny.

  I understand so much more about the man now. Everything, from his reclusive ways to the nods and whispers of the community. If that accident hadn’t happened, he’d be married six years now with a brood of legitimate children of his own, most likely. Instead, he’s a pariah, killing himself to keep a successful business going while repairing a beautiful home and doing overtime on the babysitting—but all for what? How does he stand it?

  I get the feeling he's not living in the present but instead in some distant future or alternate universe where the tragedy never happened. In my short time here, I hope I can make him appreciate being alive in the here and now.

  20

  DANNY

  I get home in time, take a quick shower, cart Lorcan off to football and back. All the while, I’m obsessed with the memories of last night, just counting down the minutes until her arrival at nine. She’s not going to get much housework done today if I have any say in the matter.

  When I see her from my study window, climbing the path in her sexy jeans, it takes all my willpower to not to run down and greet her. I can still feel her perfect pussy clenching around my cock and how good it felt to be inside her.

  Then the phone rings. It’s Tom Kerrigan—my lawyer.

  “Lord Moore, Tom Kerrigan here. I got this lawyer quibbling about the liability clauses in the Carthy contract. They're panicking now that there’s been the outbreak of TB in Donegal, you understand.”

  “Oh God,” I mutter.

  “Yeah. So, should I travel up to them, or should we work it out by correspondence first?

  “We have to go there,” I say. “Both of us. Can you set up a meeting with their legal team?”

  “Sure thing, Your Grace.”

  Damn, another road trip.

  By the time I’ve finished reading the contract, Tom has gotten back to me with a proposed meeting time. It’s this afternoon at four.

  I have a narrow window of time in which to talk to Shannon before I go, so I waste no time in getting down to the kitchen after I finish the follow-up calls.
>
  She’s in the kitchen. “Shannon, something’s come up with the contract in Kildare. I need to be away for two days to deal with it, but we’ll talk while I’m away, okay?”

  She nods.

  “Wait. Come with me,” I say.

  She shoots me a regretful smile. “No, Danny. That would be shirking my responsibility. It’s your mother who hired me, after all.”

  “Damn you and your conscience, woman. Next time you’re coming with me.” I lean in and kiss her lips. It’s not nearly enough, but then again, I’ll never get enough.

  Her lips meet mine and her hand sneaks up my spine. “I’ll look after Dedalus for you,” she says.

  My heart melts. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Make sure you look after yourself, too.”

  “No,” she says with a sultry look. “I’ll wait for you to do that.”

  “Hold that thought,” I whisper, breaking off. I back away, and curse under my breath that I have to leave this goddess.

  I drive to County Kildare with that kiss imprinted on my brain. Field after field of green flies by in a monotonous ribbon and my thoughts keep meandering back to Shannon. As the cars pass by, I construct castles in the sky, dreams of a future where I’m happily settled, building a future, with a great woman by my side.

  And she is great. She’s brave and true. She has what it takes to get her life back on course after Brett. If she can announce to the pub with half of Ballytirrel in it that I’m a good guy then she can handle absolutely anything.

  I just want to whisk her away from Ballytirrel. There’s no actual reason I couldn’t—for a few days anyway. My mother would survive. Yes, that’s what I’ll do when I return— take her on a weekend trip, away from the community, away from the Callaghans. Somewhere I can breathe freely again.

  Maybe take her up the mountains. She hasn’t seen anything of Ireland since she got here. It’s time I showed her more of what this country has to offer. And more of what I have to offer.

  I’m smiling as I turn in the entrance of Carthy’s horse farm. This negotiation will be tough, but nothing can ruin my mood today.

  21

  SHANNON

  The house is silent when he leaves, almost as if it’s holding its breath. I consider myself to be a pretty self-contained person, but it already feels lonely without Danny.

  I hunker down and play with Dedalus for a while. It’s comforting, like a proxy for stroking his master.

  “Oh, Dedalus, you and I are going to have to survive, right?” I say to the dog who gives a friendly yap yap.

  Maybe it’s better that we have this mini separation. A lot has happened in the past two days and my head needs to get around it.

  Over the next hours, Danny sends me a steady stream of texts. He’s in Kildare now, and tomorrow he’ll be traveling on to Dublin, staying with Garrett, and then the day after tomorrow, he’ll be back. It’s not the two days he originally thought, more like four.

  Sigh.

  I suck it up and do the housework and follow my usual routine. With each day, I’ve managed to shave a few more minutes off the time I need to do the chores and I perform them a little better. This leaves me with a little extra time in the afternoons to sit in my drawing-room and get my writing jobs done. I’ve picked up two new clients so business is brisk, and my bank account is loving it.

  With Lady Moore, I’ve established a complicated pattern of moving throughout the house so that we avoid each other as much as possible. Luckily, she’s a creature of extreme habit. I can time almost to the minute when she’ll come out of her bedroom in the morning (9:25 a.m.), when she’ll check the post (10:45), when she’ll come down for lunch (12:30), when she’ll head out to whatever engagement she has organized for the early afternoon (1:45 on the dot.)

  So, it comes as a surprise when, on the third morning after Danny’s departure, I walk into what I’ve arrogantly come to regard as “my” drawing-room and she’s standing there in a chiseled, cream tweed suit. She’s holding herself so still, she’s ghost-like.

  I let out an unladylike yelp. “S-sorry, Lady Moore, didn’t expect you there.”

  She smiles, somewhat caustically. Then she brings the full weight of her stare onto me. In those intense blue eyes, I see the family resemblance for the first time.

  “Have you settled in?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “And are you happy here?”

  “Sure, yes. I’m starting to find my way around.”

  “You know, don’t you? About Owen Callaghan?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Danny told you?” She fingers her necklace. “Or someone else did?”

  “It was him.”

  She nods, and some of the tension in her face seems to relax. “It hasn’t been easy, you know. The whole thing.”

  “I’d imagine not,” I say warmly. I consider her position. Being the mother of a convicted killer can’t be easy even if it was an accident.

  “Indeed,” she says and sighs. “I just want this to be over. For Danny to finally marry Cliona and have it official.”

  It’s like a knife in my heart. I grip the side of the chair.

  “Have what official?” I ask in a small voice.

  “Oh, I’m not saying they’re made for each other or anything like that. But they’d make it work. If married, they’d be able to get Lorcan adopted. There’ll be peace, closure.”

  She shuts her eyes dramatically. I don’t know how much of this is real and how much designed to simply throw me off course. Either way, I’m doing my utmost not to let any emotion show. Not sure how successful I’m being. I’m already feeling my legs tremble.

  Her eyes drill into me, expecting some response.

  “I…uh…yes, that would be great,” I blurt. “But…if that happened, would Lorcan even be able to inherit?” It’s a dumb question, but I’m feeling blindsided by this adoption issue. I didn’t think of that.

  She sighs. “Not the duke title, no. Antiquated laws put paid to that. But he’d be here, safe, cared for. No matter if they did produce a legitimate heir for the title, Lorcan would have his share of the property. The title is just the trappings. I for one, wouldn’t care if it died, as long as the house remains intact for future generations.”

  All this talk of Danny and Cliona producing an heir is turning my stomach. I fidget with the straps of my laptop bag. “Well, I really didn’t want to disturb you, Lady Moore.”

  She lifts a hand in a regal wave. “No, no, I’m leaving now. You’ll have the room to yourself.”

  So, this was all deliberate. Her coming here. She was waiting for me.

  After she leaves, I don’t even open my laptop, but sit staring into space.

  I debate whether to let Danny know. I’ve landed in a situation that’s more complicated than I imagined. Danny’s not as free as he lets on. It was too good to be true.

  Of course, we haven’t defined the terms of “us” so I can’t justify any disappointment I may be feeling. It was naïve of me to think I could waltz in here and have him for myself, even for a short while. So incredibly naïve.

  We’ve never discussed what could happen after my visa runs out. It’s too early and I don't even want to think about it. And yet, if we leave it much longer, it’ll be too late. Maybe it was ever only going to be a temporary fling—as temporary as my visa.

  I check my phone. No messages. I read over some older ones from Danny just to reassure myself it wasn’t a dream.

  Then I force myself to block my troubles out and to get five hundred fresh words done on my article because that’s the only thing I seem to have any control over in my life.

  But when I look over my prose an hour later, it’s stilted, dead. It’s hard to get creative when I feel like an imposter in Lady Ellen’s home.

  It’s a whole web of intrigue I’ve landed in. And, most importantly, there’s a kid involved. Danny may not be the biological father, but maybe the Danny-C
liona unit is the closest thing little Lorcan has to security? Maybe I should stop being so selfish for a few seconds and look at the bigger picture.

  As the clock bongs five, I pack up to skedaddle out of here. I feel like running, but I manage to maintain a dignified fast walk until I’m out of sight of the house. A weird sixth sense tells me the mother is watching me from behind the velvet drapes in one of those upstairs windows. I don’t turn around to look.

  On the road to Nuala’s, I’m so lost in my miserable thoughts that I don’t notice when the car slowing down behind me until it’s trailing along at the same pace as I’m marching. I spin around. Danny?

  But no, it’s a blue Ford I don’t recognize and the man driving it isn’t Danny. I peer through the windscreen to get a better look. It’s a Callaghan brother. The oldest one. Seamus-with-the-beard.

  “Hiya.” He calls out through the window. “D’you want a lift?”

  “I’m fine. I like the walk.”

  He sticks his elbow out the window. “I can give you a tour.”

  I chuckle. “Uh, I think I’ve seen it all.”

  “Ah, but you don’t know the Callaghan Secret Tour.”

  His grin is infectious. I hesitate. Danny wouldn’t like this. This is the man that’s out to get him. But from where I’m standing, he seems friendly. And I may be able to figure out whether Danny’s paranoia is justified. Keep your enemies close, and that all.

  As if in collusion, the rain starts to drip from the heavens.

  Seamus glances skyward. “See?”

  I shrug. “Why not?” I open the passenger door and slide into the seat.

  “Good choice,” he says as I buckle up. It feels weird to be a passenger on this side of the car and I remark on that.

  “You’re telling me,” he laughs. “I’m not used to driving on the left side any more, nor this thing being on this side.” He raps the gearbox with the back of his hand.