Flynn cursed. His glass crashed down on the table, splashing Irish whisky over the surface. He took her hand in his warm, reassuring one, and entwined long fingers with hers. “Brookwood was both cruel and a fool. I am sorrier than I can say, Althea.”
The compassion in his eyes made her want to curl up on his lap. “I have put it all behind me.”
He studied her quietly. “Have you?”
“I believe so.”
“Then I’m glad.”
Quinn entered the room. “Dinner will be served in an hour, milord.”
“Have her ladyship’s maid sent to her room, Quinn.” He turned to Althea. “I’ll take you to your chamber to change.”
Candles in sconces cast a soft light over the dining room. They ate at a banquet-sized oak table. Oil paintings of landscapes and an excellent one of Greystones, hung in gilt frames around the walls. A pair of splendid mirrors framed the fireplace. Another fine room badly in need of a good clean, the tarnished silver lacking a good polish, the crystal dull.
Flynn read her thoughts. “I wish you could see the house as it once was.”
“It’s magnificent.” She tucked into a superb mutton pie topped with rich aspic jelly, which had followed an excellent clam stew. “These old castles have quite a history.”
“Not all of it good. I must show you the oubliette before I leave.”
She took a sip of wine. “Oh, please do, I’m intrigued. That’s a French word. What does it mean?”
“Literally, it means ‘forgotten place’. It’s a secret chamber in the dungeon.”
She shivered. “I don’t like the sound of that. What was it used for?”
“My ancestor’s hid their valuables there. I’m afraid they also locked up hostages from rival families in it sometimes and held them for ransom. A part of Ireland’s stormy history.”
“People were hidden there and forgotten?”
“I believe some were guilty of it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t inherit such cruelty.”
“It was the times, Althea. But the men in my family haven’t always behaved well. My grandfather gambled away most of our fortune, and the less said about my father the better.”
“That has all changed with you,” she said briskly. “The oubliette sounds horrible.”
Flynn grinned. “I’ll take you to see it after dinner. As a boy, I found it better to view during the night.”
She smiled. “Well, that tells me something about your boyhood. You were adventurous and perhaps a little naughty.”
His gaze sought hers. “I don’t believe I’ve changed that much.”
Althea laughed. “Perhaps not. I will enjoy setting things to rights here while you’re away. I have experience of managing a large house.”
“I cannot ask that of you.”
“I should like to. I must have something to do.” She smiled. “I’m not keen on sketching.”
His eyes clouded. “I’m afraid there’s very little money….”
“It would require only a small amount, but I hope it will stretch to a couple more servants.”
“Thank you. I had intended to employ more. I would be grateful if you took things in hand. The house needs a woman’s touch.”
“Your cook is another treasure.” She forked up a mouthful of feather-light pastry.
After a dessert of apples and walnuts topped with a sweet sauce, they returned to the drawing room, where coffee was served.
She studied the painting above them as she sipped the hot brew. The lady’s style of gown placed her in the latter part of the last century. “Your mother?”
“Yes.” His short reply offered her no invitation to continue.
Althea would not be fobbed off. After all, she had just revealed her deepest secrets. “Was she young when she died?” she prompted.
He sighed heavily. “No…as a matter of fact, my mother died very recently.” He hesitated, then withdrew a letter from his coat and handed it to her. “I received this just before we left England.”
As Althea read it, her heart grew heavy with sorrow for him. “It seems both our lives have been blighted by sadness, Flynn.”
“Indeed.” Flynn stretched his shoulders.
Althea understood that gesture. It was as if casting off a heavy weight. She wanted to reach out and draw him to her, not merely to satisfy her own need, but to bring him comfort. All her doubts about Flynn had fled. He was a good man, a fine man. What a pity his mother had not stayed to know him.
As he promised, Flynn took a branch of candles and led Althea down to the dungeon. At the bottom of the steps, he stood in front of a heavy wooden door. Holding the candelabra high, he unlocked it, and entered the dank room with a nervous Althea close behind. In the center of the room, Flynn lifted a trapdoor to reveal a narrow, sunken space beneath an iron grill. A ladder led down into total darkness, smelling of sour, dank air.
She flinched, imagining the despair of those imprisoned there. “They actually left poor souls down here?”
“I believe they did. Hundreds of years ago.”
With a shudder, Althea stepped back, away from it. Flynn dropped the trapdoor, but the chill followed them out into the passage.
She was relieved to see Flynn lock the door. She yearned to return to the light and air above them. This was far worse than the closet Freddie had locked her in when she was eight. Flynn took her arm and returned to the welcome warmth of the drawing room where she moved closer to the fire seeking to dispel the chill. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
“As soon as that?”
“I can’t let Crowthorne’s trail grow cold.”
“No. I suppose not.”
She fought to hide her disappointment. Through the gap in the curtains, darkness cloaked the landscape. The fire burned dully and the candles fluttered, the smoky air scented with beeswax. Shadows crept into corners. Grateful that Flynn seemed to sense her need for quiet, or perhaps wished it for himself, she nestled in her chair. It was companionable and peaceful, but a knot of unease tightened her throat. There was so much unspoken, unfinished, between them. And now time was growing short. Flynn was about to walk into danger once more. How many times could he emerge unscathed? She was terribly afraid for him.
“Flynn?”
“Yes?” He lifted his head, and his eyes swept over her.
Her heart lurched madly. She had never seen such yearning for her in a man’s eyes before. Desire, yes, covertness, but never this. She drew in a deep breath as she climbed to her feet.
“I believe I’ll retire.”
Flynn stood and took her hands. “I might not see you in the morning, Althea. I’ll leave very early.”
“God speed, Flynn.” She left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was close to midnight when Althea left her chamber. She held the candle high, her heart thudding. She’d thought of little else but this once she’d made up her mind. How foolish she’d been to be concerned about the opinions of others which had only served to keep them apart. She was prepared to risk her heart, to have this one time with Flynn, even though a future together seemed doubtful. He would go abroad at the king’s command, and she would return to her life in London once it was safe to do so.
When she reached his bedchamber door she faltered. Brookwood had accused her of being a poor lover so often she’d feared he’d been right. She’d taken no pleasure from the act. An urge to rush back to her bedchamber made her take several steps away down the corridor. But with Flynn, it would be different. Whenever she was near him, she wanted to touch him. She didn’t know much about pleasing a man it was true, but she wanted to try. “Coward!” she murmured and swiveled on her heel, walking back to grasp the door latch before she lost her nerve.
The enormous master bedchamber lay in darkness. Her candle barely lit the way across the carpet to the heavily carved, four-poster bed hung with crimson bed hangings. Flynn’s dark head lay on the pillow. She could hear hi
s slow deep breathing. She would not wake him. With the plan to return to her cold bed, she retreated disappointed, while her body ached for his touch.
“Althea, is that you?” Flynn’s voice came out of the shadows.
“How did you know? I might have been a robber.” She came forward, the candle wobbling in her hand.
He sat up. “Robbers don’t tend to wear attar of roses. Is something wrong?”
The sheet fell to reveal his impressive chest, naked to the waist. The last of her inhibitions fell with it. He slept unclothed, she remembered and shivered with anticipation. Her confidence grew, and she boldly moved to the bedside. “No, nothing’s wrong, Flynn. I want to share your bed.”
His sleepy gray eyes widened and sparkled with warmth. “You are sure?”
“I am sure.”
“The fairies haven’t been whispering in your ear?” he asked with a laugh, his brogue growing heavier.
“Ireland has fairies?” she asked breathlessly. He was making this hard for her, and she’d begun to shiver.
He lifted the covers in invitation, revealing a further glimpse of his lean, finely muscled body. “Mm. None of them are particularly well behaved, but if one has brought you to my bedside, I am not about to complain. Quick, get in. You’re cold.”
“I need you to warm me,” she whispered. She set the candlestick on the dresser, then slipped her dressing gown from her shoulders. She had wanted him, perhaps since they’d first met, but it hadn’t seemed right until now. Flynn had crept beneath her defenses like no other man. She trusted him with her life and her heart. With an intake of breath, she pulled the nightgown over her head. She stood before him naked.
“Althea.” He reached out and drew her into the bed with a long, audible breath. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice filled with passion, sent heat racing along her veins.
Althea leaned into the welcome warmth of his arms as he pulled her beneath the covers. She breathed in his male smell, aware of the long, warm body beside her. She bit her lip on a rush of remembering, and she stiffened as her boldness deserted her.
He sighed when she moved to place space between them. “This is not merely gratitude, is it?”
“Certainly not.” It was her own driving need which had shocked her. She poked his side with a finger. “Do you think this is how I repay those who do me a kindness?”
With a laugh of pure joy, Flynn gathered her close, and his welcome warmth returned, making her aware of their differences, her body soft, his hard with muscle, bone, and sinew. “For a moment, I thought I was dreaming,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re like an angel with your hair down. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake.”
“I don’t feel like an angel,” she said with a small laugh. Her desires were anything but angelic.
With a sharp intake of breath, he took her mouth in a passionate kiss, his hands stroking over her hip to cup her derriere and bring her closer, against that part of him which told her how much he wanted her. “I’ve ached for this.” He drew back to study her face. “Not your submission, never that, but for you to want me.”
“Oh, I do want you, Flynn.” How very true that was. He trembled when she ran her hand over the smooth skin on his chest, her fingers toying with the tuft of soft, dark hair. “So very much.” But her doubts still lingered. “I fear I might disappoint you.”
His eyes were gentle, understanding. “And I think I know why.”
“I failed to satisfy Brookwood.”
He huffed out a laugh. “What a liar that man was.” His gentle fingers trailed feather-light over her throat and breasts, sending tingles through her body.
“I didn’t love him, you see.”
“He didn’t give you much reason to love him, did he?”
“He said I was cold.”
“Did he satisfy you?”
She shook her head.
“Did he kiss you here?” Flynn circled a pebbled nipple with his thumb, then bent to caress it with his tongue. He shifted to the other breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth, gently nipping and sucking.
“No…” She moaned.
“And did he kiss you here?” Flynn’s hand stroked down over her belly to the vee of fair hair between her legs and cupped her sex.
“Certainly not!” Althea flushed and wriggled against his hand. When he teased at the nub, his gentle massage sent currents of exquisite feeling through her. He eased a finger inside her, and she moaned at the intense pleasure his hands produced.
“Some men are selfish in bed, sweetheart. A man and woman should satisfy each other.”
“They should?” It embarrassed her that she was so ignorant.
Flynn’s warm lips followed his hands, making her shiver and yearn and clutch his shoulders to draw closer. “I want to hear you cry out with pleasure,” he said, lifting his head, raw need in his eyes, his voice a soft growl. “And when you lie sated, I promise to let you sleep.”
Her lips quivered in a smile. “How thoughtful of you.”
“Then I shall wake you with the dawn and introduce you to more pleasure.”
“Oh, Flynn!” she murmured. She understood him now, what made him who he was, his vulnerabilities, his strengths, and his fears. And she loved him.
Flynn’s mouth covered hers in slow, drugging kisses. Sighing against his lips, Althea surrendered to his masterful seduction.
*
Dawn light flooded through the gap in the curtains. A deliciously rounded, naked body was tucked beneath the curve of his arm.
“Althea?” Surrounded by a halo of pale hair, she looked very appealing, rosy, and warm. He grew hard watching her, breathing in her essence and the perfume she used, mingling with the lingering tang of sex. They had made love again during the night. Once she’d lost her fears, Althea had been a generous and passionate lover. He’d delighted in every moment and dreaded having to leave her.
Her blue eyes opened and a smile widened her lovely mouth. “Good morning. I recall you promised to tell me all about Irish fairies.”
“I’d rather make love to you.” He began to stoke down over her stomach.
She gasped and wiggled. “Fairies first.”
He kissed her, then leaned back on the pillow, his hands behind his head. “Well, let’s see. First there is the Dillahunt.”
“What are they?”
“They appear around midnight on feast days and festivals. Horsemen clad in a black cloak, always atop a snorting, wild steed galloping across the land.”
“How impressive.”
“And headless.”
“What? No.” Althea giggled and hit his chest. “You are trying to scare me.”
“You did wish to know, my lady,” Flynn said with a half-grin. “Shall I go on?”
“Yes, I’d like to forget about Dullahans. Tell me about some more.”
“Then there’s the cluricaun. They have the power to steal or borrow from humans and enjoy causing mischief by raiding wine cellars at night. They’ll steal dogs, sheep, goats, and even fowl, and ride them across the countryside.”
“Well I never.” She giggled and nestled into his side. “I don’t like the sound of them either. Aren’t there any pretty fairies?”
“Oh yes,” he said with a chuckle. “That would be the merrow. They love the sea like mermaids but have legs instead of a fishtail. And they’re beautiful.”
“That’s more like it.”
“You have to be careful when dealing with a merrow. Can’t trust them,” Flynn said with a laugh. “And don’t get me started on banshees. They might look like a young woman or even a hooded crow. If you hear them wail, someone is sure to die. Fearsome they are.”
“My goodness, you Irish are a terrible lot.”
Flynn rolled on his side and gathered her close.
“I must leave soon. I’d rather think this time can be better spent.”
“Oh? How?” She raised herself up on her elbows. The blanket fell away to expose her full, creamy
-skinned breasts.
He drew in a breath as his groin hardened. “Allow me to show you.” Flynn pulled her back in his arms and rolled until she was beneath him.
Quinn knocked on the door. “Milord.” He called tactfully through the door. “As you requested, the carriage will be ready in an hour to take you to Dublin.”
“Dash it!” he murmured. “Thank you, Quinn. I’ll have coffee in the breakfast room when I’m dressed.”
Quinn scuttled off down the corridor, making a good deal of noise.
Flynn groaned and cradled her face in his hands. “I wish we had longer.” He pressed gentle kisses down her neck. “I need days, weeks, to make love to you.”
“I wish it, too.” She leaned back against the pillow, her hand on his nape, pulling him with her.
“When I return, my sweet, we will make up for lost time.” Flynn sought her mouth, his kisses hard and searching. He trailed kisses over her breasts, across her belly, and down.
“You’re not going to have time…” Her hands pulled at his hair. Then she gasped and clung to him. “Oh, that’s….”
Flynn twirled his tongue around the small bead as she writhed beneath him. Her body was slick with moisture, and she thrust her hips against him with increasing urgency. He couldn’t wait. He pulled her atop him, his hands on her hips, and with a groan of ecstasy, pushed his hard length into her warm, wet center.
Althea cried out and arched her back. Her full breasts bounced as she rose and fell against him, driving them both to the brink. When Flynn grew dangerously close to spending, he tried to pull away to spill his seed, but she kept him there, tightening her thighs against him, her hands on his chest as she held him with her gaze, riding him hard until they came together.
The Viscount’s Widowed Lady Page 22