“It’s such a glorious morning, I got an early start. Oooh! I see Tom Alcott has been by already with his mother’s shortbread!” Lizzie’s face lit up in delight.
“Yes, please take the basket away from me before I devour all of them,” Paulette said, suddenly unable to stomach the thought of another shortbread biscuit. It was strange that she lost her appetite the minute Declan Reeves had entered the shop.
“Oh, I’ll take them from you gladly and have some with my tea!” Lizzie took the basket in her hand. “I shall bring them to the back room to fortify me as I sort through those crates of—” Lizzie suddenly eyed the tall form of Mr. Reeves meandering through the shop. He voice dropped to a whisper. “Who is that?”
Paulette couldn’t help glancing in his general direction. “A gentleman from Ireland who was in two days ago with his daughter,” she explained quietly as that flutter of nervousness rushed through her again at the thought of Declan Reeves. “He’s browsing.”
“So I can see.” Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it a bit early for customers?”
“We’re open, aren’t we?” Paulette countered, but her thoughts had been exactly the same as Lizzie’s. Even though the shop opened early, most customers didn’t usually come in until closer to noon. He had arrived rather early.
Lizzie shrugged, and with basket in hand, she walked toward the rear of the shop, calling, “You know where I’ll be.”
With Lizzie in the back room, Paulette felt comforted knowing she was no longer alone in the shop with the Irish gentleman. Glancing around, he was out of view again and she wondered what he was looking at now. She picked up the quill pen and dipped it in the ink and tried to resume her accounting. But she could not focus on the columns of numbers in the ledger as she ought to. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Declan Reeves. Where was he? She could not see him. Was he reading a book? It was too quiet in the shop. The minutes ticked by. She could no longer see or hear him.
What was he doing?
Perhaps he needed help selecting a book. Feeling braver than she had earlier, she decided to offer him her assistance. Taking a fortifying breath, Paulette made her way toward the row where she had last spied him. Walking with determination and purpose, she moved down the aisle.
Just as she rounded the corner, she stopped short. For there was Mr. Reeves. In order to prevent herself from slamming into the wall that was his body, she unthinkingly placed her hands upon his chest. Her fingers rested on the black buttons on the front of his black jacket and she could feel the beating of his heart beneath her hands. She was so close she could smell the clean scent of the soap he used. So close she could count the threads in the fabric of his jacket. Staring at his broad chest, she paused for a moment, filled with trepidation. Then she forced herself to look up at his face, tilting her head back to be able to see.
He was looking down at her, a bemused expression on his handsome face.
“Oh, pardon me!” she found herself babbling. “I just wondered if you needed my help.”
Declan Reeves grinned at her then. She had not seen the man smile before and the beauty of it almost took her breath away. It dazzled her, confounded her, because it changed his face completely. He no longer seemed dark and brooding in the least. There was a youthful exuberance in his expression that captivated her. She stared at him in mute fascination for what seemed like a very long time. The green of his eyes was quite rich and clear, without even the tiniest flecks of gold to mar the pureness of the color. It was like peering at two perfect emeralds.
“Yes, I would like that.” His melodic voice cut through her little reverie.
“You would like what?” she asked breathlessly, the question she asked him only a moment ago now forgotten. Her eyes still locked with his and her hands continued to rest familiarly on his chest. The warmth from his body surged through her palms, along her arms and into the whole of her being.
“Yes, I would like you to help me,” he said.
“Of course.” She did not move, did not dare to breathe. Her gaze held steady, the odd connection between them intensifying.
The charming grin left his face, replaced by an expression of distinct longing and Paulette suddenly understood they were not speaking of books but something else entirely. The man was alone and hurting, suffering in his soul. The pain was evident in the depths of his eyes, the anguish in his face.
Bowing his head toward her, he whispered low, “You’ll help me then?”
The aching appeal in his voice asked for more than assistance in the bookshop and Paulette’s heart skipped a beat. He needed her. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, at this moment she would give it to him. Without hesitation she answered, “Yes,” knowing she had just agreed to something she could not name.
He moved his head closer to her, close enough to kiss her, close enough to feel his breath on her cheek.
Feeling slightly faint and her knees shaking beneath her skirt, she clutched the front of his jacket tightly with her fingers for support. He wouldn’t really kiss her, would he? She stared at his full lips, which were perilously and deliciously close to her own.
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. With female intuition surging within her, she leaned into his embrace, seeking more.
This man, this virtual stranger, whom she had met only met once before, was kissing her. Paulette had never kissed anyone before! Had never met anyone she wanted to kiss before. And now . . . well now, she was allowing a man she barely knew to kiss her!
It was heavenly. Being held by him. Being kissed by him.
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 . . .
Now there was only intense sensation after sensation that rocked her to the core. The utterly male scent of him filled her head, leaving her slightly dizzy. The smoothness of his freshly shaven skin against her cheeks sent waves of heat through her veins. His strong arms wrapped around her so securely she felt nothing could ever harm her while in his embrace. And his mouth. Oh, God, his mouth . . .
Warm and soft and firm all at once, his lips moved over hers, gently at first then growing more insistent. More demanding. Her mouth opened, an unspoken invitation, and his heated tongue slipped inside. A slow, languid, yearning ache began to blossom within her, moving like warm honey through her entire body.
Not sure what was happening to her, Paulette truly did not care. She knew only that she did not want this man to stop kissing her.
And he didn’t stop.
Mouth against mouth, she felt she was devouring him while being devoured by him at the same time. It was blissful. That deep yearning continued to grow within her, a longing for him. For more. She wanted to melt into him.
Vaguely she was aware of the jingling of the bells above the shop door, but she wanted nothing to interrupt the magical sensations she felt while kissing Declan Reeves.
“Paulette!”
With utter gentleness and great reluctance, he released her. “Are you Paulette?” he asked so softly, his breath hot against her ear.
Was she Paulette? Heavens above! The man did not even know her given name! Her face turned scarlet, her cheeks burning. She could only nod.
“Someone is calling you, lass.”
“It’s my sister,” she managed to murmur, cringing at the thought of Colette finding her this way.
“Then go to her.” He gave her a warm smile.
Barely recovering from his smile, his kiss, she removed her hands from his chest. O
n trembling legs she turned around and made her way to front of the shop, stunned by what had just happened to her.
“Oh, there you are!” Colette said, as she glanced through the ledger on the counter. “You left the house before I could catch you this morning. I can only stay for a little while. Simon has a fever now. Phillip just recovered and now, of course, Simon comes down with the same illness! So let’s go over these figures, while I’m here.” She suddenly paused and gazed at her sister, her expression perplexed. “Whatever is the matter with you, Paulette?”
Unconsciously, Paulette’s hand flew to her cheek and the skin was warm to the touch. Was it so obvious? Could her sister discern that she had just been kissing a complete stranger behind the bookshelves? Did it show on her face? Did she appear disheveled?
Paulette had no idea what had come over her to do such a thing! Certainly she had never behaved in such a scandalous manner before. How had she allowed that man to kiss her when he hadn’t even known her name? And he had not even apologized for such an affront on her person, come to think of it.
“Nothing is the matter,” she managed to squeak out, wondering how she could keep what had just happened to her a secret for long. Had the man who had kissed her senseless not been nearby she may have blurted out to her sister what she had just done. “Why do you ask?”
“You have a peculiar expression on your face. Almost as if you’ve seen—oh! Good morning, sir. Forgive me, I didn’t realize we had a customer here already.” Colette’s brow furrowed as she watched Mr. Reeves walk from behind the bookshelf. Her eyes darted suspiciously to Paulette.
“Good morning, madam,” Declan said, appearing surprisingly relaxed in his manner. “Miss Hamilton was helping me select a book for my daughter.”
“Oh, I see,” Colette murmured, but it was clear that she did not understand what had happened between the two of them.
Paulette barely found her voice to do the introductions. “Colette, this is Mr. Declan Reeves, from Ireland. Mr. Reeves, this is my sister, the Marchioness of Stancliff.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stancliff. I’m afraid I did not introduce myself properly to your sister. I am also the Earl of Cashelmore.”
Once again, Colette’s blue eyes flashed between the two of them.
Paulette held her breath. Could Colette know that they had just been kissing? She said a little prayer to herself that her sister could not. And since when was he Lord Cashelmore? Why had he not introduced himself as such when she met him two days ago? Instead he used plain Mr. Reeves. The man was a complete mystery!
“It is nice to meet you, Lord Cashelmore.” Colette gave him a slight nod of her head in acknowledgment. “I trust my sister has been able to help you find what you are looking for?”
“Yes, she has.” Mr. Reeves stared at the two of them, his gaze lingering on Paulette at his words. “And may I add that the two of you could never be mistaken for anything other than sisters? You both look astonishingly alike.”
If Paulette had a pound for every time someone remarked on how much she and her sisters resembled each other, she would have a mountain of money in the bank. It never failed to amaze her how people marveled over their looks. Sisters were related, for heaven’s sake. Of course they would look alike! When meeting someone who knew nothing about her family, she usually liked to watch their eyes widen when she mentioned the next bit of the Hamilton tree. But Paulette was still too overwhelmed to speak. So she let Colette take care of it.
“There are three more of us, Lord Cashelmore.”
“Five?” His eyes widened in astonishment. “There are five of you? All girls?”
They both nodded, accustomed to this type of questioning about their family.
Paulette simply wished to stop the dizzy breathlessness that filled her. She gazed at Mr. Reeves as he stood before them. He really was quite handsome, although that rather dark and foreboding look had returned to his face. How was he able to change his countenance like that? Had she truly just allowed him to kiss her senseless only a few moments ago and now they stood here exchanging pleasantries with her sister?
“And do you all look this much alike?” he questioned.
“More or less,” Colette said by way of hurried explanation with a wave of her hand.
He seemed intrigued. “And this is obviously your family’s bookshop. Do you all work here together?”
“Yes, at one time or another.” Colette seemed more intent on learning about the man in the shop than discussing her sisters. “I seem to recall hearing your name before, Lord Cashelmore, but I can’t quite place it.”
“I’m not sure where you would have heard about me,” he said. “I’ve only just arrived from Ireland last week.”
Colette gave him an appraising glance. “I understand you have a daughter?”
“Yes,” Declan said. “She is four years old. Your sister met her the other day and helped me find a book for her. Do you have children, Lady Stancliff?”
Colette’s face lit up and she beamed proudly. “Yes, I have two sons. Phillip is five and Simon is two and a half.”
Paulette listened in amazement as Declan Reeves expertly steered the conversation away from himself, while he and Colette chatted about raising children. She had wanted her sister to continue to ask him questions because she was more than a little curious about the man who just kissed her and was now disappointed that the topic had changed to their children.
But she knew exactly why his name was familiar to her sister.
Paulette recalled quite well where Colette had heard Mr. Reeves’s name mentioned before and wondered if her sister would remember. It was during supper at Devon House the night before last. After Paulette told them about their visit to the bookshop, Lucien recalled reading about him in the paper and recounted for them how Mr. Reeves was under suspicion for the death of his wife.
A different kind of shiver raced down her spine.
No wonder he deflected the conversation from himself. She continued to stare at him, wondering if it were possible that the man was guilty of murdering his wife. Even though he looked a bit roguish, Paulette could not reconcile the man who cared for his daughter so sweetly with a man who would commit murder. In her mind it didn’t make sense.
But could she reconcile herself to the thought that she may very well have just kissed a murderer? Her heart pounded wildly as she stared at the handsome gentleman in front of her.
“Paulette?”
Startled by the sound of her name, Paulette blinked and looked at her sister. “Yes?”
Colette eyed her with some concern. “Paulette, Lord Cashelmore asked you a question.”
Paulette looked back at Declan Reeves, feeling like a simpleton. What had he asked her? “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I was woolgathering, apparently, and I confess that I did not hear what you just said.”
“I merely asked if you would help me select another book for Mara now?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she responded, thankful to have something familiar to do. This she could handle. “We shall go to the children’s section.”
She felt Colette’s eyes on her as she and the Irish gentleman walked away from the counter and was infinitely grateful that her sister was not capable of mind reading.
Chapter 5
Wondering
As he followed Miss Hamilton to the children’s section of the bookshop, Declan knew she was more than a little flustered and he was the cause of her discomfort. The poor girl’s cheeks were still pink and she had barely been able to follow the conversation he had just had with her sister.
And Lady Stancliff had apparently heard the rumors about what happened to his wife and his involvement in the sordid affair, but had been too polite to say anything in front of him. For that he was thankful. For some reason, he desperately did not want Miss Hamilton to know about the ugly rumors. He had come to London to escape the gossips and accusations and having to explain himself.
He had no wish to ha
ve to explain his past to someone as completely enchanting as Miss Hamilton.
Miss Hamilton. Paulette. Her name was Paulette. He liked thinking of her as Paulette. The name suited her.
Had he truly been so brazen as to kiss her passionately behind a bookshelf? What had possessed him to do such a thing with a woman he didn’t even know? It had been the strangest and yet most romantic encounter he had ever had. As soon as Paulette put her hands on his chest, as soon as she touched him, he felt connected to her somehow. Being so close to her did something to him. A part of him that was frozen inside seemed to melt. He suddenly wanted to bare his soul to her and it terrified him. To keep himself from confiding in her, he kissed her instead. And then kissing her was all he could think about. Ah, what a grand kiss it had been though! She was sweet and eager. And had tasted faintly of shortbread, funnily enough.
But more importantly she had kissed him back. God, just recalling it made him want to kiss her again.
Yet guilt plucked at him, for he should not have taken such liberties with her.
When they reached the children’s section with its colorful child-sized furniture, which he recalled from his last visit, she spun around and faced him. Her blue eyes sparkled in her delicate face, her sweet mouth a line of anguish.
“Mr. Reeves. I mean Lord Cashelmore . . . Oh, I don’t even know how to address you now.” There was a note of panic in her voice.
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her. “It doesn’t matter. Call me whatever you wish, Miss Hamilton.”
She stared at his hand on her shoulder. With a nod of her head, she gently placed her hand over his.
The moment her hand, so soft and small, touched his, Declan could not breathe. Surprised by the intensity of their contact, he slowly pulled his hand away. “Call me Declan if you like.”
Her eyes met his and she whispered, “You mustn’t kiss me like that again, Declan.”
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