I Kissed an Earl (and I Liked It) (That Wicked O'Shea Family Book 1)

by Merry Farmer

  The grass dividing the road from the cove went a long way to slow the bicycle, and by the time she rolled out onto the sand, she’d lost enough speed to risk squeezing what she thought was a handbrake. Sure enough, the bicycle stopped completely. Marie let out a yelp as she jerked forward, then crumpled to the side as she lost her balance. She and the bicycle fell in a tumble of metal and skirts.

  “Are you all right?” a rich, tenor voice called from the direction of the water.

  Marie yelped again, embarrassed to have been caught crashing, and glanced around furtively. She saw no one close by on the sandy beach or near the small cliff that sheltered half of the beach from the road. The road was clearly empty, which meant the voice could only be coming from the water itself.

  Sure enough, as she scrambled into a crouch, ready to stand, she spotted a man, just over waist-deep in the sea. He must have been kneeling, as he wasn’t far out enough for the water to be that deep. His bare chest glistened in the sunlight, highlighting lean, toned muscles and whorls of dark hair that stuck damply to his skin. He had dark, curly hair on his head to match, dancing eyes, and a broad smile with surprisingly straight, white teeth. The sight of him thrilled Marie more than the bicycle.

  She stood straight as quickly as she could, brushing sand from her skirt. “I am quite all right,” she said, her own smile growing. “Just taking Lucifer for a turn about the countryside.”

  “I take it Lucifer is your bicycle,” he said, his grin more mischievous than ever.

  “Not that it’s anything to you, but yes,” she said, crossing her arms and striking a bold pose as she ogled his bare chest. The man knelt there in the water, fine as you please, not seeming to care that she was taking in the full sight of him.

  “Oh, I see.” His smile widened. “How interesting for a woman to name a bicycle after a fallen angel.”

  “It takes one to know one,” Marie said, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

  He laughed. The sound was luxurious and exciting. It did things to her insides. Things that were exacerbated by the way the waves washed in and out around the man’s waist, giving her hints of far more than she should be looking at now and then. The bounder wasn’t wearing drawers.

  “And you’re certain you’re not injured in any way?” he asked, continuing to tease her with his eyes.

  “Perfectly uninjured in every way,” she told him. “And yourself?”

  “Oh, I’m grand,” he said, inching forward a bit and looking as though he might stand. “I was worried that you might have hit your head, you see.”

  “My head?” Marie blinked, lowering her arms.

  “Seeing as you seem unable to gather your wits about you or look away, like a well-bred young lady should.”

  There was something tantalizing and challenging about his comment. Whether he was genuinely hinting for her to give him a moment of modesty so he could wade out of the water to fetch his clothes—which she now saw sitting in a pile farther down the beach—or daring her to keep looking, she couldn’t quite tell. So she chose to keep looking.

  “My head is right as rain,” she said, then nodded to the parts of him below the water. “Is yours?” She said a quick prayer of thanks for all the rough language she’d learned through selling their beer to the local pubs.

  “Perhaps you should judge for yourself,” he said.

  And then he did the wildest and most shocking thing Marie had ever witnessed in her life. He stood up.

  Water cascaded down his perfect form, sluicing over fine, strong hips and thighs, highlighting his narrow waist, and making him glisten like a mythical creature. But that was nothing to the sight of the dark hair around his groin and the bold, masculine shape of his balls and penis. The water must have been cold enough that he wasn’t in any sort of an aroused state, but Marie hardly cared. There it was, bold as you please, kissed by sunlight, an impressive cock. The man had the audacity to rest his hands on his hips and grin like a fool as she drank in the sight of him, either not caring that he was on full display for her or reveling in it. Indeed, when she finally managed to get her eyes to snap up to meet his face, the man looked downright proud of himself for standing there as God made him. And God had made him well.

  “It would appear that we have a bit of a dilemma on our hands,” he said, his voice lowering to a sultry timbre.

  Marie almost didn’t hear him. She was too busy staring. Her day had just turned far more interesting than she’d bargained for. “What dilemma is that?” she asked, pretending nothing was amiss, even though she could feel her face heating.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced,” the man said, obviously well-mannered and polite. Except for the whole shameless nudity thing.

  He started toward the beach, veering off as though he intended to fetch his clothes. Marie wasn’t having any of that, though. She abandoned Lucifer in an instant and darted across the sand, intent on reaching his clothing before he did.

  Chapter 2

  Christian’s heart shot to his throat—or perhaps an organ slightly lower—as Lady Marie O’Shea dashed toward his clothes on the shore. He knew who she was, of course. By sight and by reputation. He wasn’t certain whether she recognized him. He’d been away at university and then on a tour of the continent, after all, and had only just returned home a few months earlier. And besides, a lady like Marie O’Shea would have no reason to know who the younger son of an earl of middling importance was.

  She was after his clothes. That was all that mattered. He picked up his pace, splashing through the shallows toward the beach, cock swinging freely, trying to decide whether he hoped he reached his clothes before her or not. He wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself, and frankly, he appreciated the look of bold interest that Lady Marie had given him. Appreciated it and more. If not for the cold water, he might have given her more to look at. There was still a danger of embarrassment on that front, but Christian didn’t care. He was who he was, and he loved that about himself.

  “Ha!” Marie shouted as she pounced on his clothes. She gathered them into her arms, then wheeled back as if she would hold them hostage indefinitely. “Now you’re in a pinch.”

  Christian splashed his way out of the water and across the beach to stand several yards in front of her, hands on his hips, cock hanging. He paused to catch his breath and grinned at her, then shook his head. “And what sort of a pinch is that?” he asked.

  She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was staring at him, so he didn’t hide how much he liked it. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d engaged in conversation while swinging free. Although there was generally a great deal more alcohol involved, and he hadn’t been in that position since Italy.

  Marie swallowed hard, then snapped her eyes up to meet his again as she hugged his clothes. For a moment, she wore a startled look. Then she burst into a sheepish laugh. “Do you know, I forgot completely what I was going to say.”

  “Yes, I have that effect on people,” he said with a wink.

  “Do you, now?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.

  “I think it’s because of my blistering wit and magnificent intelligence.” He shifted his weight slightly, standing as though they were meeting in a ballroom and he was fully clothed.

  Her lips twitched and her eyes danced with humor. “I suppose you’re exactly the sort of lad people like to invite to their parties, then?”

  “That goes without saying.” Christian shrugged. Her gaze dropped to his groin again. He knew full well she was a lady, but that didn’t cool his urge to handle himself to see how she reacted. He refrained, of course. He might not have been anyone destined for greatness—his position in the family didn’t even warrant use of the prefix “Lord”—but his father was an earl. A little decorum with a member of his own class was necessary.

  But not enough to make any sort of move to retrieve his clothes from her.

  “You still haven’t introduced yourself,” she reminded him in a hoarse voice a moment later,
meeting his eyes again.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t remember me on sight,” he said, taking a step forward. Her eyes widened and she snuck another look at his willy. “Christian Darrow?” he said, forming it as a question to see if the name would jog her memory. “Lord Kilrea’s errant and prodigal younger son.”

  Marie’s mouth dropped open—which was entirely distracting, since she was still staring at his cock and the sight of her pink lips parted that way threatened to give her more than she bargained for to look at—and she gasped in recognition. “Aren’t you in Spain or some such?” she asked, gaze meeting his again at last.

  “Yes,” he answered, trying not to laugh. “That’s where we are at present, is it not?”

  Marie snapped her mouth shut and sent him a flat look.

  “I must have gone for a longer swim than I thought and washed up on this shore instead of the one near Bilbao.” He winked for good measure.

  “Well, then, you won’t be needing these.” She tossed her armful of his clothes behind her. “You can just swim back to Spain and fetch the clothes you left there.”

  “I could.” He shrugged. “But who needs clothes on a fine, warm day like this. I trust you’re warming up yourself, Lady Marie?”

  His pointed teasing didn’t have quite the effect he’d hoped for. Any other fine lady whose acquaintance he’d ever made would be fainting with embarrassment at the sight of him. All of him. Part of him wanted to see how far he could push things to make Lady Marie faint as well. Except that if she hadn’t already, if she wasn’t falling all over herself in an effort not to stare at his naked body, he doubted there was anything short of vulgarity that he could do to put her off.

  Not that he wanted to put her off. Quite the opposite.

  God, he liked her.

  After a heavy pause, she blinked and glanced up again. “You know who I am?” she asked.

  “All of Ireland knows who you are, Lady Marie O’Shea,” he said, adding a wink.

  “Thank God,” she said in a seemingly relieved voice.

  Christian wondered if she truly was relieved or if he’d finally embarrassed her by mentioning her reputation. Her face was a little too pink, and her eyes sparkled a bit too much. Whether she was letting on or not, he’d unnerved her at least a little bit. Which was grand, as far as he was concerned.

  Her gaze started to drop again, but she cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “So you’re back in Ireland, then, Mr. Christian Darrow.”

  “I am,” Christian said with a nod, unable to resist adding, “In the flesh.” He peeked down at himself.

  Marie burst into a snort that she had to hide with one hand to her mouth. “And what fine flesh it is too,” she added, giggling as she did.

  That was it. Christian was charmed beyond reason. He’d taken a shine to women on site in the past, as they had to him, but the instant draw he felt toward Lady Marie went beyond any of those trifling feelings. Any woman who could endure his naked company with both appreciation and a snort of laughter was the sort of woman he wanted to be friends with. Or more. In spite of the fact that his father would chastise him for having no decorum or discretion. Perhaps because of it. His bloody father had never understood the way he enjoyed life. If his father had had his way, every man on earth would be boring and stolid and—

  And the last thing he wanted to think about when faced with a beautiful nymph like Lady Marie was his failure to live up to his father’s expectations.

  “What brings you to this bit of beach that I thought was secluded enough for a dip in the middle of the afternoon?” he asked, shifting his weight but continuing to pretend there was nothing unusual about him having the conversation naked.

  “My brother has just given me a bicycle,” she explained.

  “Lucifer,” he said, proving he remembered the name.

  “And I was exploring,” she finished.

  “I bet you were,” he said, one eyebrow flickering.

  She laughed out loud, and perhaps would have said more if a hint of movement from beyond the beach hadn’t distracted them both. They turned to find an old woman—likely from one of the nearby villages—strolling along the road. She had a basket over one shoulder and was singing to herself.

  “Quick,” Christian hissed, dropping to his knees on the sand. “When she sees us, pretend I’ve just washed up on the shore.”

  “What do you—you can’t just—how do you expect—” Marie issued her flurry of protests, but giggled even harder as he flopped to his stomach, arms spread, feigning death. “Oh, you are a corker, aren’t you,” she mumbled, dropping to her knees beside him.

  A moment later, the old woman’s singing stopped and turned into an alarmed shout.

  “Help, oh, help!” Marie called out to her—a little overdramatic, but still admirable in her enthusiasm.

  Christian jolted as Marie’s hands spread across his shoulders and she leaned closer to him. He could smell the faint scent of flowers and soap wafting from her in a combination he’d never known before. The heat of her body close to his was as delightful as the sun. He was glad he’d positioned himself face-down in the sand, because the effects of the cold water were wearing off fast as blood rushed to his cock.

  “Please help me,” Marie called out, slightly quieter as the old woman’s footsteps swished across the sand.

  “Oh! Oh, dear! Who is that?” the woman croaked, perhaps a little more alarmed than their impromptu prank should have made her.

  “He washed in from the sea,” Marie said, just enough of a note of humor in her voice to hint that she sensed their joke could go too far as well.

  “From the sea, you say?” the old woman asked.

  “I was riding my bicycle, and I stopped to dip my toes in the water,” Marie told her, one hand still on his back as she twisted, presumably toward the woman. Christian had his eyes closed, so he could only guess what Marie looked like. “I was sitting here on the beach, enjoying my day and watching what I thought was a magnificent seal playing in the surf. Then, all of a sudden, I realized it wasn’t a seal at all. Before I knew it, the tide pushed him in, and he swept up onto the shore like this.”

  She ran a hand down his spine, briefly caressing his backside. It was all Christian could do to lie still as his cock jumped and pressed uncomfortably into the sand. Perhaps attempting to out-cheek Lady Marie O’Shea wasn’t such a bright idea after all. He had no idea how he would get out of the predicament he’d found himself in with his dignity intact.

  “Heavens above, child,” the old woman gasped. “You must get away from him at once.”

  “But I cannot,” Marie protested dramatically. “I feel drawn to him, captivated. Almost as though a spell were at work.”

  Christian caught himself hoping that she bloody well did feel captivated by him. That thought threatened to spoil his composure completely. He was supposed to be passed out, after all. He wanted to grin from ear to ear and learn more about Marie. Any woman who could play along with a prank moments after meeting him when he was as naked as the day he was born, was a woman he desperately needed in his life.

  “Drawn, you say?” For a moment, the old woman sounded curious. Then she sucked in a hard breath. “Bless us all and saint’s preserve us,” she gasped. “Get away from the creature, woman. He’ll capture you and drag you back into the sea for certain.”

  “But he needs my help,” Marie sighed, both hands caressing his back now.

  If Christian were a betting man, he would have said Marie was manhandling him with the specific intent of arousing him. Where in the bloody hell had a young lady from an aristocratic family got it in her mind to torture a man like him?

  “He’s a selkie, girl,” the old woman scolded Marie.

  “A…a what?” Marie asked with false innocence.

  “A seal that’s taken human form,” the woman explained. Judging by the way Marie inched suddenly away from him, Christian assumed the old woman had grabbed her arm and attempted to pull her away. �
��He’ll steal you away into the sea, girl,” the old woman went on. “He’ll seduce you away from all that is good and holy, and that will be the end of you.”

  “I’ve never been seduced away from all that is good and holy,” Marie said, almost as though she liked the idea. She was a woman who had named her bicycle Lucifer, after all.

  “Hurry, child, hurry,” the old woman urged her. The shuffling of her feet across the sand hinted to Christian that she was trying to get away. “Get away before it’s too late.”

  “But he’s so…alluring.” Marie returned to stroking his back. She might as well be stroking his prick for the reaction he had to her touch. Perhaps joking with the old woman had been a bad idea after all. “He’s so warm and magnificent,” Marie went on. She spread one hand across his backside and gave his cheek a squeeze.

  Christian jerked and made a strangled noise. “Are you trying to get the two of us in a muddle?” he muttered, sand sticking to his lips as he did.

  Marie lowered her voice to a vixen’s purr near his ear. “Are you going to seduce me and drag me back into the sea?”

  It was too much. Christian burst into laughter, opening his eyes and peeking up at Marie. He scanned the beach quickly for the old woman. The poor dear was racing away on the road, her back to him and Marie. That was enough to convince him it was safe to get up—which he started to do, but stopped abruptly when he got as far as propping himself on his elbows. Rising any farther would be out of the question. He was already fully risen.

  Marie inched back, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, and sat with her hand bracing behind her. “I suppose it’s safe for you to go get your clothes now,” she said, nodding to his pile of clothes several yards away.

  “Not at the moment,” he said with a sheepish laugh, face heating.

  “Why not?” Marie glanced over her shoulder at the old woman’s retreating form. “She isn’t looking back this way, you know.” She faced forward again, staring saucily at him and biting her lip.

  Christian laughed. “You’re the daughter of an earl, aren’t you?” he asked.