Sister of Rogues

by Cynthia Breeding

  “And, I assume, Richard’s first dispatch of money?”

  Wesley nodded. “Layered beneath the straw packing. Several more shipments and I will have all my funds back.”

  “And then?”

  “And then,” Wesley said, reaching for the brandy, “I turn Kier O’Reilly, the Earl of Adair, over to the proper English authorities for treason.”

  The women had just been seated for lunch two days later when the door-pull sounded at the front entrance. Erin hurried to answer it, only to return a short time later.

  “My lord, a messenger from Naas is waiting to see ye in the front parlor.”

  Kier rose immediately and excused himself. Fiona watched him go, wondering who would be calling in the middle of the day and why the person wouldn’t be invited to share the meal. At home, a visitor would be given Scottish hospitality and fed. London had all sorts of strange rules about when a person could call on a home and who would be received or turned away. Of course, probably none of those rules pertained to a house full of supposed lunatics.

  Kathleen watched Kier leave too, her eyes focused blatantly on Kier’s buttocks encased in snug breeches that also clung to his muscular thighs as he strode out. Fiona looked quickly down before anyone saw where her attention had been focused as well. The black shirt Kier wore defined the wide expanse of his shoulders and the narrow tapering of his waist into the band of those tightly fitting breeches.

  Dear heaven. When had she become interested in men’s clothing?

  “Do not be getting your hopes up, Scottish whore,” Kathleen said.

  Fiona felt her face heat as she picked up her napkin. Her perusal of Kier had been noticed by Kathleen. Fiona could only hope the others—especially Ada and Seamus—hadn’t taken note as well.

  “Do not call Fiona a whore,” Lona snapped.

  Kathleen turned her glittering green gaze to Lona and narrowed her eyes. “I will call her whatever I wish. She thinks she’s so smart, readin’ and all.”

  “Fiona is smart,” Lona replied.

  “She is an angel,” Dulcee chimed in. “A beautiful angel that took my Calum home to heaven.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake—”

  “Ye should not curse,” Dulcee said.

  “I’ll curse if I want to,” Kathleen answered. “Just look at your angel sittin’ there preenin’ like she was some lady, givin’ herself airs.”

  Fiona clamped her mouth shut and laid down the fork lest she be tempted to hurl it at Kathleen. She’d resolved not to cause more trouble, but…

  “Like ye are a lady,” Lona commented.

  “Well.” Kathleen adjusted the imaginary lace on her cuffs. “I am a bloody lady, ye know. My lord husband—”

  “Ye may have blood on your hands.” Lona sneered at her. “But ye are no lady.”

  Kathleen glared at her. “Like ye would know. Ye and that bloody Scot whore—”

  Lona glared back. “I told ye not to call her that!”

  “She is an angel,” Dulcee murmured.

  “She is a bitch in heat sniffin’ around after the O’Reilly—” Kathleen sputtered as Lona tossed a glass of water into her face. “Ye little—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence because Lona launched herself at Kathleen and knocked her from her chair. They landed in a rolling, tangled heap on the floor.

  Dulcee began to wail.

  Seamus grabbed Kathleen while Ada yanked Lona up. “Not another word out of either of you,” the matron said and gestured to Seamus. “We will lock them in their rooms for now.”

  Dulcee fled the room ahead of all of them, muttering unintelligibly.

  It took Fiona a moment to realize she was alone in the room save for Erin and Brena, who stood wide-eyed and pale by the serving board. Fiona’s first inclination was to make a dash for the front door before the guard and matron came back, but that would put the maids in danger of dire consequences for letting her escape. Besides, her club and coins were upstairs in her chamber.

  Fiona looked toward the dining room door. The hall that led to the library was in the opposite direction than Kier had taken on his way to the front parlor. She pushed her chair back and rose. Erin and Brena both looked worried at her action, but they said nothing. Fiona smiled. “I am just going to the library to look for a book. Ye can keep a watchful eye on the hall to make sure I doona run away.”

  They nodded, looking relieved. As she made her way to the library, Fiona realized asking the girls to help her escape would be too risky for them. She’d have to count on her own wits.

  A low-banked fire in the hearth cast a welcoming glow as Fiona stepped inside the library. Velvet drapes were partially drawn across the windows to keep the afternoon sun from shining directly on the covers of the leather-bound books lining the shelves. The smell of the leather and furniture polish, along with the faint scent of peat from the fire reminded Fiona of Shane’s library in Edinburgh and she felt a pang of longing to return to her family.

  She shook her head quickly to dispel the thought. Feeling sorry for herself would do no good. She scanned the library quickly and then moved to take a decent-sized candle off its stand on a corner table. Fiona slipped it into the pocket of her gown, thankful the material was loose enough not to make her theft obvious. At least now she would be able to explore the hidden passageway to see where it would lead.

  Glancing around the room again for another candle, her gaze stopped on the maps spread across a table near the desk. She moved closer and bent down for a better look. Erin had said they were from Cobh, near Cork. If she could escape, perhaps she could go there. Fiona quickly spotted it on the map, noting that it was on the water, which meant it would have a port where she could seek passage home. Fiona eyed the distance from Dublin, calculating it would be a good two or three day carriage ride to get there. She had coin, but she didn’t know where a public carriage house would be. Turning her attention to the Dublin map, she searched for the convent street. If she could find her way to Erin and Brena’s aunt—

  “What are you doing?” asked a voice from directly behind her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Startled that she’d not heard the door open or anyone approach, Fiona straightened so fast that she stumbled backwards. She let out a whoosh of air as her back collided with something as solid as granite. Strong, muscular arms wrapped around her and steadied her before releasing their hold to slip to her arms and turn her around.

  “How did you get in here?” Kier asked, a glint from the fire’s glow lighting his dark gaze.

  Fiona’s throat went dry as his nearness took her breath away and she found she couldn’t speak, a trait she’d never encountered before.

  “How did you get into the library?” Kier asked again, releasing her.

  As he stepped back, she suddenly felt cold, as though someone had opened an outside door, but her throat unclenched and she managed to find her voice. “I took the opportunity when no one was guarding me.”

  “I heard the commotion. What happened out there?”

  “Kathleen insulted me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I would nae repeat it. She just called me names and scared Dulcee.”

  “Ah.” Kier looked thoughtful. “I can imagine. So you defended yourself?”

  “Nae. Lona defended me.”

  Kier raised an eyebrow. “You do a fair job defending others. You did not defend yourself?”

  Fiona felt her cheeks flame. Lord, her brothers would tease her unmercifully for not standing up for herself—or worse, chide her for sitting there like a helpless twit. Did Kier feel the same way? “I should have. ’Twas nae Lona’s battle. I’ll ask that ye make sure she is nae punished.”

  “She will not be punished. Perhaps it is time though, that I take Kathleen to task about her vocabulary.”

  “’Twill just make her more angry.�
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  “I will speak to her. If she insults you again, I want to know.”

  Fiona shook her head. “Kathleen kens I am nae afraid of her, nor do I care what she says. She will take her wrath out on Dulcee instead.”

  “You would protect Dulcee but not yourself?”

  “I willna let Kathleen hurt me.” Fiona shrugged. “When I was a bairn, my brothers often protected me from my father’s wife.”

  Kier gave her a strange look. Fiona could have bitten her tongue. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t bring her family up again. Now he would probably insist that Walter Avery was her father and she had no brothers. But Kier surprised her.

  “It is an admirable trait to protect those weaker than yourself.”

  “’Tis what ye do, is it nae? Take care of the women here, I mean.”

  “It is my responsibility.”

  “Aye, but ye have a kindness in your heart as well.”

  He looked at the floor. “I…I had not thought about it that way.”

  Was he blushing? Fiona was surprised at that. The tips of his ears didn’t turn pink like Jamie’s did when he was embarrassed, but she liked the fact that Kier felt humble.

  “Ye are a good man,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and raising on tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek.

  He slipped his hands around her waist and drew her close before she could place her feet firmly on the floor. For a moment, she hung suspended in air, kept from falling by his strong arms around her. Her body melded along the length of his, making her aware of every sculpted contour of his chest and belly. Something very hard and thick pressed against her thigh and then her head spun as his mouth captured hers.

  The kiss was deep and demanding, not gentling like the other had done to brush and tease and titillate her lips. He filled her, tasting every crevice of her mouth, his tongue lashing hers as a starving man might, hungry for more and afraid he’d not get enough. Fiona clung to him as their tongues battled for supremacy, meeting his demand and asking for more.

  A key turning in the lock brought both of them to their senses more quickly than if the heavens had opened and pelted them with icy rain. Kier moved with the same lightning speed Fiona had seen her brothers use in swordplay and, by the time the door opened, he was standing a respectable distance away.

  “There ye are,” Ada said and marched toward Fiona, ready to grab her. “If ye ever run away again—”

  “She did not run away.” Kier stepped forward, leveling a steady gaze on Ada. “Mrs. MacLeod was invited to use the library any time she chose.” He smiled and picked up a book from the desk. “I was just going to suggest she read these, since she likes Sir Walter Scott’s work.”

  Fiona stared at him, still flustered from what had just taken place. How did Kier think so quickly of a reason to explain what she was doing here? She shifted her gaze to the book. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. It really was Sir Walter Scott’s work.

  “She shouldn’t have left the dining room without me,” Ada said stubbornly. “The warden wants the lunatics guarded at all times.”

  “Guests.” A muscle twitched in Kier’s jaw. “I believe you were otherwise occupied at the time.”

  “Yes, ye can be sure the lun—your guests will be properly punished.”

  “They will not be punished.” Kier took a step closer to the matron, his eyes holding their steadfastness. “I want that clearly understood.”

  “But they were fighting, all of them.” Ada pointed at Fiona. “Over her.”

  Fiona started to protest, but Kier held up a hand. “From what I understand, Kathleen unleashed a tirade of insults, frightening Dulcee, and Lona chose to act before Fiona did. Is that right?”

  Ada pursed her lips sullenly, but she nodded.

  “Fine. Then I will take care of the matter. Mrs. MacLeod, would you like to look for any other books?”

  Fiona wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Her mind must still be muddled. Was Kier asking her to stay? To continue what they’d started? Her body instantly heated—and then she felt a different kind of heat radiating from Ada. Fiona didn’t need to incur any more wrath from the matron than she already had. “I think it’s best I go to my room for now.”

  Kier bowed slightly. “Of course.” He held out her book. “Do not forget this.”

  How stupid could a man be? What had he been thinking to ask Fiona to stay? Obviously, he was not thinking, at least not with the head attached to his shoulders.

  Kier turned back to his desk and dropped into the armchair behind it. Damnation. He should be focused on the information the messenger from Naas had brought. The men from County Kildare wanted to raise the United Irishmen again. While not opposed specifically to Anglicans, it was the group whose rebellion had led to Ireland losing her Parliament. Daniel would need to be made aware of trouble brewing and Kier ought to be contemplating going to Naas himself to calm restless factions.

  Instead, all he could think about was Fiona.

  She kissed like an accomplished courtesan. Then again, perhaps courtesan was not an accurate description. Talented, yes. Fiona’s tongue had darted in and out of his mouth, tentatively teasing, then more boldly as she’d moved her lips across his provocatively, as if she wanted to devour him as much as he did her. Unlike courtesans, however, there was nothing artificial or contrived about Fiona. She gave herself freely, pressing her breasts fully against his chest, moving ever so slightly to create enough friction for her nipples to pebble into hard little nubs that sent fire straight to his groin. Nor did she shy away from his cock pushing into her leg, so close to the juncture of her thighs that he’d had to call on willpower he didn’t know he had not to lift her skirts. Kier envied her husband the pleasure of having taken her to his bed.

  At least he’d had enough sense to lock the door behind him when he’d found her. That had given him the minute of time he’d needed to put a respectable distance between them before Ada had inserted her key.

  He stared broodingly at the same door now. What had Fiona been doing in the library? He hadn’t thought to ask. He’d assumed she wanted a book, but she’d been looking at the maps when he’d entered. He got up and walked over to the table, frowning as he picked one up. Why would Fiona be interested in maps? Perhaps she was just curious about Ireland? Then again, maybe she was thinking to escape. The thought that she wanted to leave him stung. Kier could understand Fiona’s resentment at being confined, but her father had committed her. There wasn’t anything Kier could do about that. His home was a safe place for her. The streets of Dublin were not. The idea that she would even think about getting out—alone, penniless and vulnerable—was sheer lunacy.

  Which, of course, was the reason Fiona was here in the first place.

  Kier ran his hand along his jaw where Fiona had reached up to kiss him, remembering what she’d said. “Ye are a good man.” Had that been meant to distract him? If so, it had worked given what had followed. Was she even more skilled than he’d given her credit for? The Lord knew, Kier had little understanding of women’s wiles. He’d let Lady Litton manipulate him into surrendering his life’s savings without seeing the forest for the trees. Was Fiona capable of doing that?

  Was she so desperate to escape that she’d literally throw herself at him?

  But if offering him her body were her intention, why did she not stay in the library? She’d seemed eager to leave.

  Nothing made sense anymore. Was Fiona trying to use him or wasn’t she? Was her strange insistence on having brothers true or not? Was she sane or wasn’t she?

  Ker tossed the map down. If he didn’t stop this roundabout thinking, he’d soon be in worse shape than his guests. What was the word Fiona used? Barmy. Yes. Barmy. If his mind couldn’t cease dancing around the proverbial maypole, he’d soon be the most barmy of them all.

  As he strode out, he though he heard the sound of
light, musical laughter.

  But that was impossible. No one else was there.

  Fiona listened for Ada’s footsteps to fade away before she leaned against her chamber door and closed her eyes, letting herself relive Kier’s kiss.

  She had only meant to thank him when she’d reached up to kiss his cheek, but the instant he’d pulled her into his embrace, all rational thought had fled. There was only Kier, the fresh soapy scent of him mingled with a light spice, the heat of his hard, muscular body pressed against hers and the strength of his arms around her waist. She’d been so lost in the taste and feel of him, she hadn’t even heard the key turn.

  But Kier had, which meant he had not been as affected by their kiss as she was. Fiona sighed and opened her eyes. She might be a novice in the art, but Kier was definitely practiced in kissing—as good-looking as he was, women probably threw themselves at him. Kathleen certainly did. Fiona felt her cheeks warm suddenly. Did Kier think that’s what she’d done too? Thrown herself at him? She had made the first move after all, and Fiona had seen her brothers quickly and willingly comply with those kind of invitations. Kier had only accepted what he thought she’d clearly offered.

  Which was why he’d heard the key in the lock and she hadn’t.

  Fiona reached into her pocket and took out the candle she’d confiscated. Better to concentrate on escape than on fanciful notions that Kier found her any more attractive than any other woman who kissed him first. At least this candle was longer than the other one had been. It should allow her to explore the full passageway. With luck, she would find a way out.

  Reluctantly, Fiona put the candle back in her pocket. As much as she itched to push the armoire away from the wall and get started, it would be better to wait until Erin had brought the evening meal of bread and cheese. Not only could Fiona take the provisions with her, but not being discovered missing until the following morning would give her a head start. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had time to find Williams Street on the map, so she had no idea where the convent was, but she would find it.