Naughty Earls Need Love Too (That Wicked O'Shea Family Book 7)

by Merry Farmer

  “Such as?” Maeve asked, her voice shaking.

  Avery grinned and arched one eyebrow at her. He then shifted his position, moving toward her feet. She parted her legs a bit so he could have room to kneel, but as soon as she did, with a devilish look in his eyes that she felt in the heart of her body, he grabbed hold of her ankles and pulled them apart even more.

  In an instant, he had her legs wide open, and when he pushed her ankles up in a way that made her feel that she must have looked like a frog, she couldn’t catch her breath. And that was nothing to the way she felt when he bent forward to kiss her in the most intimate way possible. No, not to kiss her, to lavish her sex with strokes of his tongue and the brush of his fingertips. Her body soared with pleasure as he thrust his tongue into her in a way she should have thought was obscene, but that had her gripping the bedcovers beside her and arching into him.

  It was all so maddeningly wonderful, and although a large part of her wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible, she felt her orgasm flying up into her with the speed of the storm that crashed around them. Before she could so much as consider whether it was proper or whether he would think less of her for coming so hard so fast, her body jolted into throbbing tremors of pleasure that had her crying out and surrendering herself fully to him.

  That in itself was pure bliss, but when Avery groaned in triumph, then shifted to stretch his body atop hers, positioning himself carefully and thrusting inside of her, a whole new wave of sensation washed through her. Alice had warned her of the discomfort of the moment virginity was lost, but had also told her that it was fleeting and everything that came after was worth it. She was absolutely correct in that, but for the fact that it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she’d been led to believe it would. That moment of something tearing was no worse than the spill she’d taken from the bicycle that afternoon, and when Avery paused while filling her, checked her expression, then began to move, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in her, Maeve clung to him and moved with him, happier than she’d ever been in her life.

  It was a different sort of pleasure than orgasm, but the bliss of being filled and claimed by a man had her sighing and moaning in time to his strong thrusts. She had an inclination that Avery was an aggressive, demanding lover who enjoyed mastering his partners, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, as far as she was concerned. Far from it. The way he claimed her with his thrusts, gazing down at her with possessiveness as he did, had her feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world.

  It was so good that her body treated her to a second burst of deep, throbbing pleasure as Avery’s sounds and thrusts grew pitched. She was convinced she’d have bruises in the morning, but when he tipped his head back and let out a cry as his body owned her, spilling his seed into her, she nearly wept with the perfection of it.

  As powerful and aggressive as Avery had been while claiming her, as soon as he spent himself and collapsed to her side, he turned into a pussycat.

  “That was wonderful,” he hummed, drawing her back against his chest and cradling her as though she were the most special thing he’d ever had his arms around. “You are so beautiful, so perfect. I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  Maeve’s breath caught in her lungs. She glanced over her shoulder as best she could while nestled in Avery’s embrace. “Do you mean that seriously?” she asked. “Or is it simply the platitude you tell all of your conquests after you have thoroughly debauched them?”

  Avery opened his eyes, grinned, then leaned down to kiss her shoulder. “I think we both know at this point that I meant it seriously,” he said, stroking her side as he held her. “I know that I have been a notorious rake in the past, but in this moment, I am the furthest thing from that.”

  Maeve’s heart raced. “So you will not abandon me to my fate as a fallen woman after this?” She paused, then added in a surprisingly vulnerable voice, “You will not think less of me for enjoying my ruination so much?”

  Avery laughed deep in his throat, the sound lazy and seductive. He pulled her closer against him, even though they were both overheated and sweaty. “My darling,” he said. “I must confess, sadly, that I never have the brain power to stay awake after sex, let alone to have serious discussions. But I can assure you of this—when I say I will never let you go, I mean it. If you’ll have me, I will speak to your parents tomorrow.”

  Maeve wanted to weep with happiness. It was the most inappropriate proposal she could have imagined, but also the very best. “I suppose I should take exception to being used like a London courtesan,” she said, snuggling against him and closing her eyes, “but I will confess that I enjoyed your dominance far, far more than I expected to.”

  “Good,” Avery said in a half-asleep voice. “And once we’ve mastered that, I’ll show you a few ways to put me in my place as well.”

  Maeve thrilled at the idea. She had never imagined that sexual congress could be so much fun or so imaginative. She fell asleep quickly and found herself dreaming of all the ways she and Avery could learn how to keep each other entertained in the bedroom.

  The sound of the rain lasted long into the night. At some point, she and Avery woke long enough to feel the chill in the air and to move between the bedsheets instead of lying on top. Maeve slept soundly for several more hours, and when she awoke, the sun was out, birds were chirping somewhere…and someone was in the process of opening the cottage’s front door and walking through the main room in heavy boots.

  “What the devil?” a gruff, male voice said.

  Maeve sucked in a breath. She felt Avery tense behind her and lift to one arm just as a grey-haired man in traveling clothes, carrying a small suitcase, stepped into the bedroom doorway and saw them.

  All three of them shouted in various degrees of alarm. Maeve screamed and hugged herself, very conscious of her nakedness. The old man shouted in pure shock. Avery growled with a combination of surprise and protectiveness.

  “My lord!” the old man yelped, dropping his suitcase and immediately turning away.

  “Murphy,” Avery said in reply, scrambling out of the bed. “I did not know this was your cottage. We were trapped here by the storm last night.”

  “I…oh…er…my lord….” Mr. Murphy stepped back into the main room seemingly more embarrassed than Avery or Maeve. “I’ll just let you tidy up then?” he said, striding away from the door.

  Avery crossed the room to close the door, then turned back to Maeve. “We should probably make as speedy a retreat as possible,” he said, humor and embarrassment painting his face pink.

  “I should say so,” Maeve said, bursting into laughter. She jumped out of bed and went to work gathering and donning her discarded clothes. “Who is that man?”

  “Thomas Murphy,” Avery explained as he, too, dressed in haste. “He’s one of my tenant farmers, though he has retired from labor. This retirement cottage is on my estate.”

  “Oh.” It was all Maeve could say. Embarrassment helped her to rush through getting dressed and tidying herself up as much as she could, but surprisingly it wasn’t the same as shame. She didn’t have a single regret about what she and Avery had done.

  Once they were both dressed, before opening the door and facing whatever was to come, Maeve stepped into Avery, resting her hands on his chest and gazing up at him.

  “I don’t regret anything,” she said, then winked.

  “Neither do I,” Avery said with a fond grin, then leaned in to kiss her. Maeve wanted to melt against him and be a part of him forever. But he pulled back and said the only words that could have disturbed her blissful mood. “Let’s get you home to your parents and explain ourselves.”

  Chapter 6

  It dawned on Avery as he and Maeve wheeled their borrowed bicycles across green fields sparkling like diamonds with raindrops from the night’s storm that he should feel guilty for debauching a good, respectable woman like Maeve. He should feel terrible for the way he’d seduced her with thoughts of pleasure alone, and
how he hadn’t paused to consider the consequences. And while he was contemplating feeling guilty about things, he should have scolded himself for behaving like a cad with her, for taking what he wanted from her so aggressively, and for even hinting that he’d like her to pleasure him like a mistress would in the future.

  But as they grinned and giggled at each other while walking the last mile back to Maeve’s house, his heart was filled with nothing but happiness and light. Not to mention the deep certainty that offering for Maeve and marrying her as soon as possible would ensure the sort of future happiness that he never thought he would be privy to.

  In short, Maeve had proven herself to be clever in the way she conversed with him, she’d proven herself to be bold and brave in the way she brought his wool and presented it to him in front of his kinsmen, and she’d proven herself to be exactly the sort of willing siren he adored when she’d sighed and moaned and come hard with him thrusting mercilessly within her. Maeve Sperrin was the perfect woman for him.

  And as they pushed their bicycles to a stop in front of the Sperrins’ house, she looked as though she was on the verge of entering a labyrinth to face a minotaur.

  “I will speak on your behalf, if you’d like,” he said, drawing her into a reassuring embrace once they’d leaned the bicycles against the railing of the front porch. “If your father and mother are inclined to censure you in any way, I will speak up for you.”

  The way she glanced up at him with love and gratitude in her eyes made Avery feel ten feet tall and as strong as an ox.

  “You truly are a wonderful man, Avery,” she said, lifting briefly to her toes to kiss his lips. “Who ever would have thought it?” she added with a cheeky grin, stepping out of his arms and turning away from him to mount the stairs to the front door.

  Avery laughed, and he was struck by the mad feeling that he was a puppy being led by a leash. He was supposed to feel the opposite, was he not? As though Maeve were completely under his sway, not that he was hers to do with as she pleased.

  He shook his head as he came to stand by her as she knocked on the front door. Love wasn’t what he’d always assumed it was, but he had a feeling it would turn out to be much better.

  He was surprised when Maeve’s mother answered the door instead of a maid or butler. The woman’s face was creased with anxiety, and the moment she saw her daughter standing there, she burst into a cry of relief.

  “Maeve, darling,” she exclaimed, then reached for Maeve, drawing her into her arms. “We’ve been beside ourselves with worry for you.”

  “We were caught in the storm,” Maeve said with a laugh, hugging her mother in return. “But we were safe and well the entire time.”

  Mrs. Sperrin stiffened at Maeve’s words, then, much to Avery’s dread, she sniffed slightly. From there, she leaned back and held Maeve at arm’s length. She glanced from her daughter to Avery, then back again, with a deeply suspicious look. To top it off, she narrowed her eyes and subtly sniffed again.

  “We?” she asked at last, letting go of Maeve and stepping back into the house.

  Avery guessed at once what Mrs. Sperrin had detected. In their haste to leave Mr. Murphy’s house that morning, they hadn’t bathed. A middle-aged woman who had had several children of her own would be wise enough to detect scents on her daughter that shouldn’t have been there. And all of that was without taking into consideration the scandal of a single man and woman spending a night together alone, whether anything had happened or not.

  “I fell from my bicycle on the ride yesterday,” Maeve explained as they walked into the parlor nearest the front door. “Alice was with us at first, but when the storm started, she rode back to fetch a wagon.” Maeve suddenly frowned and glanced to Avery. “I suppose she never returned with that wagon because of the storm.”

  Avery nodded. That was the most likely explanation. If he hadn’t been so certain Miss Woodmont had her sights set on him, he might have believed that she had deliberately left her friend alone with a man overnight to speed along the process of marriage.

  “We haven’t heard from Alice either,” Mrs. Woodmont said, gesturing stiffly for Avery to have a seat in one of the parlor’s chairs. “Marcy, would you fetch tea for our guest?” she asked the young maid who had appeared in the parlor doorway.

  “Yes, Mrs. Sperrin.” The maid curtsied and went on her way.

  “We sent Jenkins to the Woodmonts’ to inquire after Alice, but we haven’t heard back from him yet,” Mrs. Sperrin said.

  Avery nodded. That explained why Mrs. Sperrin had answered the door herself.

  “I am terribly sorry for any inconvenience our misfortunes might have caused you, madam,” he said in his most respectful voice possible. He had a feeling Mrs. Sperrin didn’t think particularly highly of him at the moment.

  Before he could go on, Mr. Sperrin appeared in the doorway with a booming, “Is that Maeve, home at last?”

  “Home safe and sound, Papa,” Maeve said, jumping up from the sofa, where she’d just had a seat, and crossing to embrace her father.

  Avery winced slightly at her affectionate gesture. If Mrs. Sperrin had detected what he suspected she had, then Mr. Sperrin would certainly scent their indiscretion as well.

  Indeed, as soon as Maeve stepped back from him, Mr. Sperrin sniffed, then frowned.

  Avery drew in a breath, knowing he’d need to take action right away. He hadn’t precisely planned to ask for Maeve’s hand so bluntly, but necessity dictated speed.

  “I am well aware of the less than savory appearance of your Maeve and I being secluded together overnight in a small cottage,” he began, hoping that his use of Maeve’s given name would alert her parents to where he was headed next.

  “I trust nothing untoward happened?” Mr. Sperrin asked, glaring at Avery as though he already knew the answer.

  Avery felt rather like a biological specimen pinned to a display board. He couldn’t quite bring himself to lie, but he was loath to reveal the entire truth.

  “I think we are all aware of the appearance of the situation,” he said frankly, nodding to Mr. Sperrin with as much deference as an earl could show a man whose social standing was lower than his. “And I can assure you, I wish to make things right.”

  Maeve suddenly drew in a breath and touched a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Papa, you don’t think….” She left her sentence unfinished, as though she wasn’t quite certain she could lie either.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let you fly off with an O’Shea without accompanying you myself,” Mrs. Sperrin hissed, sinking deeper into the sofa where she sat. “Now you’re ruined beyond repair.”

  Avery’s brow went up. That was a bit dramatic of the woman. Particularly since he was standing right there, willing to make things right.

  Mr. Sperrin looked as though he were on the verge of calling the constable as well.

  “I think you misunderstand my intentions,” Avery said, inching closer to Maeve. He glanced to her, hoping she saw his unspoken request that she show solidarity with what he planned to say next.

  “Forgive me if I question the intentions of a rake,” Mr. Sperrin said. “We have seen the ruination that a wily man can cause before.”

  Avery took in a breath. The Sperrins either knew about Miss Woodmont, or they had knowledge of other sorts of indiscretions. His half-cousin Frank’s origins weren’t exactly a secret in the county, after all.

  “I would like to ask for Maeve’s hand in marriage,” he said, sounding more combative than joyful about the request, thanks to the treatment he was receiving. “I have come to love her dearly, and after everything Maeve and I spoke of last night, it has become clear to me that I want nothing more than to make her my wife and to spend the rest of my life with her.”

  If that didn’t convince them he was genuine, nothing would.

  Indeed, both of Maeve’s parents lost their angry looks. They exchanged glances with each other, stared at Maeve for a moment, then burst into smiles.

  “Of course, w
e accept your offer of marriage,” Mr. Sperrin answered on Maeve’s behalf.

  Avery thought that was a bit presumptuous of him and extraordinarily hypocritical, given the man’s suspicions of moments ago, but as he already knew Maeve’s thoughts on the matter, he was willing to ignore the way the man slighted his own daughter.

  “My little Maeve, a countess,” Mrs. Sperrin said, pressing her hands to her heart as she sat forward on the sofa.

  “I love your daughter,” Avery said, reaching for Maeve’s hand and raising it to his lips. He was tempted to wink at her, but decided that would create problems neither he nor Maeve needed. “Nothing would make me happier than to love her forever.”

  Maeve smiled at him as though he’d unhooked the moon from the sky and given it to her as a bauble to wear in her hair. “And I accept wholeheartedly,” she said.

  “A Christmas wedding,” Mrs. Sperrin said, leaping up from the sofa and crossing to them. “We must have a Christmas wedding. We could decorate the church with holly and berries and red ribbons—”

  “I am afraid that we won’t be able to wait that long,” Avery cut her off.

  “Oh?” Mr. Sperrin asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion all over again. “And why is there need for so much haste?” He glanced to Maeve as though he expected her to announce the impending arrival of a grandchild.

  Avery was quickly losing patience with the Sperrins. “Haste is necessary because I am expected in London for the opening of Parliament in a month’s time,” he said. “I would rather marry Maeve in three weeks, as soon as the banns can be properly read, and take her with me instead of extending the engagement or being forced to travel back and forth, as I assume you would like her to be married from her own house.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Sperrin said, looking sheepish. “Yes, I believe that would be agreeable.”

  “No, it would not.”

  The sudden comment came from the doorway, where Miss Woodmont stood, along with a man Avery assumed was the Sperrins’ butler. Miss Woodmont had evidently been standing where she was long enough to hear the engagement announcement.