Rory (9 page)

“And what would that be?”

“You must keep your hands off the servants. Lily insists.”

Damnation.

“Shannon is excellent help and a complete innocent, or I am hoping she is still innocent.”

“Of course she is still innocent. She has proven herself to be a stellar nurse in my time of crisis.”

“Do not touch her, Rory. You will only break her heart, and Lillith would be most displeased. She has grown quite attached to the girl.”

Rory ran a hand through his hair. “What do you know of her?”

“Not a lot. I believe Lillith said she and her brother come from Scotland.” He scrubbed a hand over the shadow of a beard that covered his jaw. “Come to think of it, she mentioned that there was a bit of a discrepancy on where exactly. When asked where in Scotland they hailed from, the boy said Edinburgh, while the girl said Inverness.”

“Did Lillith not think that was odd?”

“She didn’t push them for an answer, and honestly, they’ve been such excellent help that she didn’t want to frighten them
away with too many questions. Let’s face it, everyone has secrets.”

Indeed, he was right. Not wanting to get Shannon or her brother into trouble, he nodded. “Go to bed. You look horrible.”

“Says the man who took a bullet to the shoulder,” Victor said, mussing Rory’s hair. “I can take a hint. I shall leave you alone for the night.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Rory’s head. “I love you, Rory. I hope you know that.”

Rory smiled, surprised by the unexpected display of affection. “Of course, I do. I love you, too, Vic.”

Clinton was nervous as he followed the butler into the parlor of the fashionable townhouse in the Mayfair District.

Lady Anna had invited him here, and knowing she was a link to get to Lord and Lady Graston by way of Lord Ambrose, he would do whatever he needed to.

Hopefully Rory would be here tonight.

“Mr. O’Connor, it’s good to see you again,” Thomas said, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Thank ye for having me, Mr. Lehman.”

“Can I interest ye in a brandy?”

“Certainly.”

It was then Clinton noticed Anna, sitting in the far corner of the room.

“Lady Anna,” he said in greeting, and she smiled.

“Is Lord Ambrose not coming?” he inquired.

“You just missed him, I’m afraid,” she murmured. “He was not feeling well.”

He was disappointed when he realized it would be just the three of them, but he was a patient man.

Thomas walked across the room and poured a drink. The servant
who had met them at the door had disappeared and the house fell quiet, except for the ticking of the second hand on the clock above the mantel.

“I have a little treat,” Thomas said, handing Clinton the glass of brandy. He motioned to Anna, who went to the side cupboard. Making herself at home, she pulled out a pipe and a little box.

Next, she kicked off her shoes and sat on the settee, bringing her knees up beneath her.

Intrigued, Clinton stepped farther into the room.

Thomas blew out a few of the candelabras so that only a few candles lit the space. He then joined Anna on the settee and motioned for Clinton to come over. Soon the room was pungent with the sweet scent of opium.

Never before had he tried the drug, and he hesitated, not wanting to lose control in any way. Yet he didn’t want to destroy his chances at building a friendship that would get him what he wanted.

Anna pulled a small white bead out of the box and set it in the bowl of the pipe. Apparently, she was no stranger to the drug. She brought the pipe to her lips, leaned forward, over the oil lamp, and slowly began to inhale the smoke into her lungs.

She closed her eyes, her lips curving into a smile as she handed the pipe to Clinton.

Almost instantly her shoulders relaxed. How bad could it be? he thought to himself, taking the pipe into his hand and bringing it to his lips. Anna sat back on the settee, a dreamy look in her eyes. Thomas assisted him with the lamp and Clinton inhaled, the smoke filling his lungs.

Within seconds he could feel the drug’s effect as warmth spread throughout his limbs. He felt fingers brush against his hand. The pipe was removed from his relaxed fingers by Thomas, who winked at him.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Mmmm,” he replied, already understanding the appeal of the drug, and why so many had sampled its healing ways. He closed his eyes, and when he next opened them, he saw Thomas and Anna kissing on the settee, the man’s hand covering a small breast. Her gown had been loosened and bunched about her waist. The other man lowered his head and kissed her rose-hued nipples, first one, then the other.

Clinton kept his gaze lowered but could not ignore the throbbing in his groin.

Anna unbuttoned Thomas’s trousers, her hand finding his cock, fisting it. The man smiled, and when she pushed him onto his back, he let out a little laugh and then a moan as she took him into her mouth.

His mouth was as dry as cotton, and he yearned to reach for the whiskey, but he didn’t dare move. His cock was now hard against his belly, and he was grateful for the dark room so that his companions could not see his excitement.

Anna aggressively sucked and laved the other man’s cock. Clinton let his gaze wander over Thomas’s solid frame, the wide chest, the chiseled abdomen, the thick cock.

Thomas’s hand stilled her movements and she looked up at him with a knowing smile.

Clinton’s manhood quivered against his leg.

Anna straddled Thomas, and he rested his hands on her hips, easing her down on his length.

Clinton had last made love to a prostitute in a seedy Dublin club, and that was nearly two months ago.

Watching the duo was agonizing. He barely shifted and the slight movement made him grit his teeth as the material tightened on his bulge.

Lady Anna’s firm breasts bounced as she rode her lover, her back arching.

She was exquisite.

He kept his gaze averted as Anna rode Thomas to completion, their cries rising to the high ceiling.

Anna fell on top of Thomas, and his arms came around her. Clinton’s body was on fire; he got up, intent to find a dark corner and release the burn.

“Where are you going?” Thomas asked, looking over at him.

Clinton shook his head. “I just need some air.”

He nodded and eased Anna up. The lady looked at Clinton with a coy smile, and he wondered if the two hadn’t been aware of their audience all along.

“Don’t be long. I have more opium,” Thomas said, his gaze shifting down Clinton’s body.

He left the room, trying to make sense through the haze that filled his mind. Perhaps he should leave before he did something he would regret.

But then again, he hadn’t asked a single question about Lord Graston. He needed to get into the manor where his young cousins lived, and the only way he could get close was through the two individuals here, which meant he had to stay.

Thought of his cousins was enough to cool his heated blood, and after smoking a cigar, he returned to the parlor that smelled of sex and opium.

“Would you like another?” Thomas asked, bringing the pipe to his lips and inhaling.

“I think I’ve had enough, but I will have another whiskey.”

Anna wore just a chemise, her nipples erect against the silk and she lounged on the settee, watching Thomas. He wondered if this was a common pastime of the two. As though reading his thoughts, she glanced over at him, a brow lifting high.

“Have you been to Lord Graston’s home?” Clinton asked, feeling bold and confident.

“Yes, I have,” Anna said, toying with a blond curl. “And I shall be attending their little soiree next week,” Anna said nonchalantly. “Actually, it’s more of a dinner party.”

“I certainly won’t be invited,” Thomas replied with a scowl.

“Why not?” Clinton asked.

“Lord Graston and his eldest brother, Lord Mawbry, do not particularly care for Thomas here,” Anna said, brushing her hand over Thomas’s bicep.

“Why is that?”

“They are threatened by me,” Thomas said with a roguish smile. “Or, rather, they are afraid of me seducing their wives away from them.”

Anna snorted. “Those women are hopelessly in love with their husbands, and there is not a chance in hell that you, or any other man, would ever have a chance. Plus, neither Rory nor Victor has trouble with self-confidence … but if one of them doesn’t like you for whatever the reason, the other will follow suit. They are as thick as thieves that way. Extremely loyal to each other.”

Thomas shrugged. “One never knows. They might warm to me one day … like Lady Graston has.”

Rolling her eyes, Anna went up onto her elbow and looked at Clinton. “You should come with me to the party, Clinton. I’m allowed to bring a guest, and you are more adventurous than most of my friends, present company excluded, of course,” she said, winking at Thomas.

“Yes, you should go, Clinton,” Thomas urged. “Lady Graston is a dear, and I understand her parties are incredible. Just be sure to report back to me.”

Clinton had to bite his lip to keep from grinning like a fool. He had done it! He had found a way into the proverbial lion’s den.

S
hannon tried not to make eye contact, but it was nearly impossible. Now that Rory was residing at the manor permanently, she could not avoid him, nor could she stop thinking about him. He had been moved to the west wing, and since her duties focused around the kitchen and meals, she saw him only during meals.

Every time she opened the double doors to the dining room, her heart gave a lurch. She could not forget the feel of his hands on her body, the way he had tasted her most private place, or the way she had wanted him buried deep inside her.

Had they not been interrupted by her brother opening the chamber door, then she would have given up her maidenhead.

But everything happened for a reason, as her mother had always said, and in this case, she knew she should be happy that she had been saved from making a grave mistake. After all, giving her virginity to a rakehell would be a devastating and irreparable event.

And yet her heart nearly fluttered out of her chest when she saw him.

Dressed casually in a cream linen shirt and soft brown trousers, Rory sat back in his chair. He did not make eye contact with her, but she could sense his gaze on her every once in a while when she was serving.

When she passed Johnny in the kitchen doorway, the servant had grinned at her, and she smiled in return.

Rory shifted in his seat, and when she looked at him, his jaw was clenched tight.

Was he jealous?

Carrying a small silver tray in her hands without spilling anything, she approached him, offering a variety of cold meats. She stood close, her skirts brushing his hip. She felt his hand touch her leg, just the slightest pressure, but it was enough to set her blood on fire.

He pointed to a piece of duck. With a trembling hand, she pierced the meat with the serving fork and slid it onto his plate.

Her heart began to pound, and she could feel heat rush up her neck as he stared at her. For the next hour she continued to serve and was relieved when Cook said that she could be excused for the night. Tomorrow would be an eventful day. Lady Graston and her niece Marilyn were expected to arrive.

Exhausted from lack of sleep the night before, she went straight to her room, closed the door, and removed the uniform she was truly beginning to detest. She knew she should be grateful for her circumstances, but it was difficult when she yearned for the life she had once had. She wanted to wear pretty dresses and jewels, and dine with family and friends, not spend the rest of her days in servitude.

Removing the pins from her hair, she ran her fingers through the tresses, mourning for all she had lost. For so long she had not allowed herself to give in to her grief, to even think about all that had been
ripped
away from her and Zachary, but
now she could not help the sadness and bitterness that consumed her.

Tears burned her eyes as she realized that she would never know that kind of security again, or that kind of unconditional love. The love of a mother and father for their child.

The door opened. “Zachary, I’ll talk with ye tomorrow. I’m in no mood for company tonight.”

The steps came closer and she turned.

It wasn’t Zachary. It was Rory, and he looked extremely concerned. “What’s wrong, Shannon? What has happened?”

Seeing him in her small, modest chamber was too much. He had consumed her every waking thought, and it scared her. Scared her that the thought of leaving the manor and her position would remove her from him. Scared that one day he would marry a woman of his same station and he would leave here, and she would be forgotten.

“Nothing,” she said, letting the tears fall. “And everything.”

He pulled her down on the bed and cupped her face with his strong hands. “Tell me, Shannon. What has happened to distress you so?”

His touch was heaven. Everything about him consumed her–his powerful body, the musky scent that completely enveloped her, drawing her into his web.

He brushed her tears away with his thumbs and kissed her gently.