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Authors: Kaitlin O'Riley

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To Tempt an Irish Rogue

BOOK: To Tempt an Irish Rogue
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TO KISS AN IRISH ROGUE
Feeling slightly faint and her knees shaking beneath her skirt, Paulette clutched the front of Declan’s jacket tightly. He wouldn’t really kiss her, would he?
Time seemed to stop, suspended around them, enveloping them in a special world all their own.
And then, with slow deliberateness, he leaned down and kissed her while his muscled arms encircled her shoulders and drew her against the length of his body.
His mouth, warm and soft, covered hers thoroughly, and Paulette melted at the supremely intimate contact. This man, this virtual stranger, whom she had only met once before, was kissing her.
She should have been surprised by it, appalled by it. Outraged even. But oddly enough, Declan kissing her was not completely unexpected. On some level, she had been thinking about kissing him since the moment she met him. That fact was the most shocking to her.
And now . . .
Not sure what was happening to her, she did not care. She only knew that she did not want this man to stop kissing her.
And he didn’t . . .
Books by Kaitlin O’Riley
SECRETS OF A DUCHESS
 
ONE SINFUL NIGHT
 
WHEN HIS KISS IS WICKED
 
DESIRE IN HIS EYES
 
IT HAPPENED ONE CHRISTMAS
 
TO TEMPT AN IRISH ROGUE
 
YOURS FOR ETERNITY
(with Hannah Howell and Alexandra Ivy)
 
AN INVITATION TO SIN
(with Jo Beverley, Sally MacKenzie and Vanessa Kelly)
 
 
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
To Tempt An Irish Rogue
K
AITLIN
O’R
ILEY
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
To Maureen,
the most incredible sister and aunt.
Thank you for everything.
I love you!
Acknowledgments
I am fortunate to have many amazing people in my life. This past year has been particularly challenging for me and I would have been lost without them.
Thanks go as always to my family: Jane Milmore (for critiquing everything), Shelley Jensen (for being there), Maureen Milmore (for being a betty), Janet Wheeler (for being a bud), Scott Wheeler (for techno-savvy), Adrienne Barbeau (for the beginning), Billy Van Zandt (for eagle eyes), Jeff Babey (for the laughs), Laurence Cogger (for the French), Kim McCafferty (for keeping me sane), and Yvonne Deane (for keeping me positive). I give a very special thank you to Jennifer and Greg Malins for helping to make my life infinitely better this year.
Thank you to all my CH friends (especially Cela, Melanie, Gretchen, Lynn, Jensie, and Jill) for always supporting me and making work more fun.
I wish to thank the lovely Rebecca Zaccagnino for my beautiful website design and the talented Dennis Greco for bringing the places in my stories to life with his gorgeous artwork.
And I give thanks to Jane Dystel and John Scognamiglio for making my writing journey the pleasure that it is.
Lastly, I thank all my readers who love the Hamilton sisters as much as I do.
 
 
Note to Riley
I still can’t believe you’re taller than I am.
Thank you for being so much fun to be with.
I love you more than you know.
Chapter 1
Impressions
London
August 1876
 
The bells above the entrance of Hamilton’s Book Shoppe jingled as the front door opened and the drizzling summer rain drifted in momentarily. It had been a slow afternoon with little business and Paulette Hamilton looked up in eager anticipation at the customer who had ventured out on such a dreary August day. A tall gentleman stepped into the shop, holding an umbrella in one hand and clutching the hand of a reluctant little girl in the other.
“Welcome to Hamilton’s!” Paulette greeted the customers with an animated smile. New customers always made her happy.
As the gentleman folded his wet umbrella, Paulette took careful note of him, which was a habit of hers. Ever curious and observant, she couldn’t help but pay attention to the customers in her store. This gentleman was mature, tall and rather broad and wore expensive, well-made clothes. Beneath his elegant black hat, strands of chocolate-colored hair were visible. He was handsome enough, she supposed, in a dark, brooding sort of way, but she had never favored that look. Paulette usually found herself drawn to golden, fair-haired heroes. At least she did in all the books that she read.
Using her best shopkeeper’s voice, she asked, “How may I help you this afternoon?”
“My little daughter here would like a new book,” he explained, indicating the child hiding with shyness behind him.
The rich, melodic timbre of his words, laced with the notes of a vaguely familiar accent, filled the air around her. Unable to resist the magnetic attraction of his voice, Paulette suddenly eyed him with keener interest as he looked toward the little girl.
The man possessed an aquiline nose, a strong jaw, and a lean face with dark eyebrows. He was clean-shaven, but she could easily imagine a thin black mustache upon him, giving him the look of a wicked pirate. He seemed tense, almost as if he held his feelings tightly in check, but the slightest disturbance could set him loose in a fury. His full mouth was set in a grim line. In fact, he had a look about his face that conveyed the distinct impression that he had not smiled in a long, long while.
Something about the man unsettled her and the dark intensity about him brought to mind the words “sinister” or “dangerous.”
A little shiver raced through her.
Feeling slightly nervous in his presence and somewhat relieved knowing that her assistant was close at hand in the back room, Paulette silently reprimanded herself for being so foolish as to think of herself in any kind of danger. She had never felt this way about a customer before. Why on earth would she think that this man would cause her any harm? Perhaps she had read one too many gothic romance novels lately!
Her attention was drawn to the little girl, who still attempted to hide behind the man’s dark trousers. The child could not have been more than four years old, with a sweet, chubby face framed by golden curls mostly covered under a wide-brimmed bonnet.
Paulette knew exactly what the little girl wanted. Hamilton’s carried the best children’s books in the city and because of that she had dealt with all manner of children in the shop before, from the most well-behaved to the most spoiled, so she was no stranger to bashful children either. This shy-looking girl would be easy to please.
“Well, you are quite a lucky young lady for your father to give you such a special treat,” Paulette began, favoring the girl with a warm grin. “We have some lovely fairy-tale books with the most beautiful pictures in them. Would you like me to show them to you?”
Peeking out from behind her father’s leg, the little girl nodded in agreement. She did not make a sound, but her cherubic face lit with excitement.
“Thank you,” the gentleman said, seeming a bit relieved by Paulette’s suggestion.
“Why don’t you both come with me to the children’s section of the shop?” she suggested brightly.
They followed her to the rear of the store, where she and Colette had designed an inviting space for their smallest customers. They’d had shelves built at a lower height and miniature-sized tables and chairs to better fit little bodies. A brightly colored area rug covered the wooden floor, lending warmth to the section of books on display. Paulette immediately located their most popular-selling book, a gorgeously illustrated volume of fairy tales. She placed the book on the table and motioned for the child to join her while she sat herself on one of the tiny chairs as well.
“I think you might like this one.”
The little girl glanced up hesitantly at her father, seeking his permission. He patted her head in encouragement. “It’s all right, darlin’.”
She moved slowly forward, taking hesitant steps to the table where Paulette waited for her. When she reached the small table, the girl stopped and stared at Paulette in expectation.
“Do you have a favorite story?” Paulette questioned.
The little girl shook her head, her expression extraordinarily serious for one so young.
“Do you like the story of
Sleeping Beauty
?”
The child gave the slightest nod of assent.
“That story has always been a favorite of mine.” Opening the thick volume, Paulette turned to the page that had an elaborate and richly drawn illustration of a grand castle tower covered with an overgrown tangle of thorn-laden vines and a profusion of red roses. The little girl’s eyes widened and a small gasp of awe escaped her.
Paulette asked, “Isn’t this picture beautiful?”
Again, the girl merely nodded. She had not uttered one word since entering the shop.
“I’m Miss Hamilton,” Paulette said, hoping to coax a response from her. “What is your name?”
The child blinked at her and shrugged her tiny shoulders.
“What is your name?” she repeated.
The little girl still did not respond. Paulette had never seen such a withdrawn child. Did she not speak at all? Paulette was usually able to cajole bashful children into an easy conversation by this point. But not this girl. From what she sensed, it was not merely shyness that kept the girl from speaking. Was there something the matter with her? Perhaps she was she a mute? Paulette’s natural curiosity piqued and she wished to ask the gentleman about it, but it was certainly not her place to ask such intimate questions of a stranger.
The girl’s father finally answered for her. “Her name is Mara.”
Aware that the man’s eyes had been focused on her during the entire exchange with his daughter, Paulette glanced up at him.
They held each other’s gaze for longer than two strangers normally would. His deep green eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes that were startlingly long for a man. A tingling sensation raced through her and in that instant, Paulette was almost knocked off the tiny chair upon which she sat.
He was not as old as she had first thought him to be and that surprised her. Although she guessed he was not yet thirty, an aged weariness had settled in his eyes. Struck by the sadness she saw within the emerald depths, she sensed that a profound heartache dwelled within this man. What had happened to him? Paulette was at a complete loss to explain the sudden surge of intense feelings that rushed through her as he looked back at her.
Somehow he seemed less forbidding than he had a moment ago.
“And your name, sir?” she managed to ask, suddenly needing to know.
“Forgive me, Miss Hamilton,” he acknowledged her with a slight bow, removing his hat. “I am Declan Reeves.”
Of course. The accent. Now she recognized it. He must be from Ireland. Wondering what had brought him to London, Paulette forced her gaze away from his mysteriously sad eyes and turned her attention back to the child. His child.
“Mara is such a pretty name,” she murmured to the little girl. Paulette was more than aware that the man’s eyes were still on her. The intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. Her hand moved to smooth her own golden-blond hair.
Again the child did not say a word. She merely looked at Paulette with somber green eyes that now seemed remarkably like her father’s. Mara reached out a hand and slowly began turning the pages in the book of fairy tales, mesmerized by the colorful illustrations.
“Her mother named her.” His voice, smooth and melodic, spilled around her, sending a shiver of a different kind through Paulette.
The mother. Of course there would be a mother, this man’s wife.
Paulette rose from the tiny chair, brushing her striped skirts with her hands in a nervous gesture. “I think Mara likes the fairy-tale book.” She returned to being the efficient bookseller once more. “Is there anything else I can get for you today, Mr. Reeves?”
She found herself staring into his emerald eyes again and Declan Reeves answered her question with a desperate look of longing that caused her heart to constrict in her chest. He seemed to be asking her for something. Anything, and she wanted desperately to give it to him but she was not even sure what it was. She held her breath.
Why did this man unsettle her so?
Shaking herself from her overactive imagination, for surely she could only have imagined what had just passed between them, Paulette straightened her shoulders. She should thank them for coming and get on with business. Instead, she then blurted out, “Does your daughter not speak?”
Paulette immediately regretted her impolite question. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth closed? Her sisters were always telling her to mind her own business. She really tried to, but for the most part Paulette could not help herself and always said what she thought. And yes, once in a while she overheard conversations she shouldn’t, but that was not her fault. She was simply very aware of what was going on around her.
Still it was quite rude of her to ask such an intrusive question. Feeling remorseful, she was about to apologize to him for her bad manners.
“She doesn’t speak anymore.” He shook his head, sadness emanating from him. “She hasn’t spoken a single word since her mother passed away.”
“Oh, I see,” Paulette murmured. His daughter had been struck dumb with grief at losing her mother. How tragic! This poor little girl, losing her mother so young! And this man had lost his wife.
Heart pounding, she eyed Declan Reeves anew as it suddenly dawned on her.
He was not a married man.
Once again chiding herself for such a ridiculous musing, she frowned. Paulette didn’t even like the man! Aside from being a complete stranger, he was too dark, too sad, and too mysterious for her taste. She preferred lighter, happier, and generally more outgoing males. Declan Reeves was definitely none of those things.
“Thank you for choosing the perfect book for Mara,” he said. “It’s sometimes difficult to know what she likes.”
“All little girls love fairy tales,” Paulette said, feeling flustered, still aware that his intense eyes were upon her. She felt incredibly self-conscious, wondering how she appeared to him, in her striped work dress. Earlier that morning, she had piled her blond hair upon her head without much thought, as she usually did. Paulette knew she was not unattractive, yet she wished she knew what this man thought while he stared at her so intently.
“Yes, well, thank you again.”
“You’re most welcome. Can I help you with anything else?”
“Thank you, no.”
“In that case, I shall get the bill for you.”
“Perhaps, I could look about for a moment first?” he asked.
“Why yes, of course,” she said with a nod. “I shall be up front if you have need of me.”
Yet again the man gave her a dark look of longing that Paulette felt to the tips of her toes. The fact that he was a widower and staring at her in such a pointed manner left her breathless. She gave him a faint smile and made her way to the safety of the counter, sighing deeply with relief.
The bells jingled and another customer entered the bookshop. Paulette busied herself assisting Mrs. Abbott in finding a volume of poetry, yet all the while she was keenly aware of Declan Reeves milling about the shelves and his silent daughter still flipping through the pages in the book of fairy tales.
A half hour had passed and Paulette stood behind the counter waiting for him to pay for his purchase. The man finally made his way toward her, with Mara following behind, clutching the book in her arms.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
He raised a dark brow in her direction. “Do you always ask such leading questions, Miss Hamilton?”
“I beg your pardon?” What on earth did the man mean? Paulette hadn’t asked him anything different from the questions she posed to all her other customers. It was her duty, for goodness sake!
He shook his head with a rueful glance, his eyes dark and shuttered. “Never mind.”
Paulette straightened her shoulders again. She was usually very good at reading people, but this man’s manner left her disconcerted and unnerved. “Well then, I assume that will be all.”
“Yes, thank you.”
BOOK: To Tempt an Irish Rogue
13.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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