Wild Irish Girl

by C. B. Halverson

  “That’s good, darling,” Joseph said in a husky voice. “Oh, that’s so good. Now kiss her, and the ritual is complete.”

  I let her nipple drop from my mouth, and I leaned my full weight over her for a moment before planting my palms on either side of her head and caging her with my arms.

  “I bless you with this kiss,” I said in a low voice, finally sucked into the game. “Let the spirit of my ancestors flow through you.”

  With that, I lowered my face to hers, her sweet breath tickling my cheek. Her lips tasted like wine, and I drank her in, her soft mouth locking onto my own. I moved my tongue inside her and hers touched mine, tasting her own desire. She moaned into me, and I broke off the kiss with a soft sigh.

  The air around us snapped, and the candidates shifted closer to her. Joseph took my hand and enfolded me in his arms, leading me away. I glanced over my shoulder, and the orgy had begun, various naked bodies writhing over Lady Aberthorne. Joseph took out a knife from some unknown pocket on his kilt and went around the altar, undoing her bonds. Once freed, she grabbed the flogger and took control, whipping her candidates and ordering them into various positions. Joseph’s hand gripped tighter over mine, and he led me deep in the shadows of the catacombs.

  Chapter 14

  Joseph

  I had to have her. I needed her beneath me. Needed her dripping sex, her full breasts. Needed her flesh around me. Needed to smell her. Taste her. Take her.

  I had to have her. That was all.

  She was ready for me. The way she rubbed herself against Lady Aberthorne, kissed her. It wasn’t jealousy charging through me. She had done what I asked. Trusted me. She had let me take control, but I wanted more. My blood roared in my ears, and the deep desire to take Audrey for my own sent a fever to my brain. I gripped her hand tighter.

  We turned a corner, away from all the moans and sucking sounds of the gathering, and I pulled her into a small vestibule, our bodies engulfed in darkness. I heard her quick breaths, smelled the faint scent of lemons, cut grass. But beneath that…was Audrey…the sweet, salty taste of her sex still lingering on my lips from last night. I pushed her against the wall, and she gasped as I parted her thighs with my rolling hips. She flung her arms around my neck, and her mouth met mine, our tongues darting and searching, trying to connect. My cock jabbed hard into her belly, and she whimpered, stepping on her tiptoes until it fell between her legs.

  I pushed the wool kilt away, and with a savage yank, I shoved her silk skirts up to her middle until her slick quim enveloped me. She moaned into my ear, and I brought my hands down to her waist, hoisting her up against the wall, so I could move deeper between her thighs. The head of my cock teased her slit, and she let out a cry, tilting her hips toward me.

  “Come into me, Joseph,” she said.

  And that was all it took.

  With one sharp thrust, I buried myself inside her. She was wet and tight, and I paused for a moment, afraid I might release right then.

  “Come into me…” she gasped. “Come…”

  Some feral part of me took over, and I shoved hard, moving fast in and out of her. My fingers dug into her skin, forcing her to take me, all of me. Her breath quickened in my ear, and then her nails dug hard into my back, a high-pitched cry filling my ears. She contracted around me, and my mind broke as I filled her, up and up, more and more. She milked my thrusts until I almost fell to my knees, a long shuddering exhale escaping my lungs.

  “Oh, Audrey…” was all I could manage, the intense pleasure still coursing through me. I had come into her mouth last night, but nothing compared to being inside her, being a part of her. Audrey Byrnes…writer, singer, musician, man slayer. She had killed me for a moment, and in that small chamber I found myself returning to earth, shivering and shaking like a newborn.

  I released my hold on her and unsheathed myself, collecting her in my arms. Both of us collapsed to the cold floor, curling up to each other.

  “Did I hurt you? Did I—” I could barely speak. Shame of losing control of myself washed over me, and I clutched her tighter. Good lord, I had taken her against the wall like some animal. That woman deserved so much more. Gentleness. Adoration. Worship.

  She found my lips in the darkness and planted a long slow kiss on my mouth. My cock twitched again as spent as it was, eternally hungry for her. It was impossible to think, to find even a scrap of reason.

  She broke off the kiss. “No, that was exquisite. That was…I had no idea it could be like that. It was…”

  “Yes…” I replied with a sigh of relief. I did not have words for what had just happened between us. Only yes. Forever and eternally, yes.

  “It doesn’t bother you I’ve been with other men?”

  I chuckled low in the dark. “You are not bothered I have been with other women?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  It was my turn to silence her with a kiss. “I have read Mary Wollstonecraft’s treatise on marriage, Audrey. I believe in true equality of the sexes.”

  “So you don’t believe in marriage, then?”

  “I did not say that.”

  “So you believe in free love.”

  “I did not say that either.”

  She turned to me in the shadows, and I reached out to touch her face, tracing the smile on her lips.

  “So what do you believe, Dr. Moorland?”

  “I believe you are quite possibly the most enchanting woman I have ever met.”

  She let out a high, tinkling laugh, and the musical sound of it sent another pang of desire through me. I wanted to hear that sound all the time. Every day. But none of that seemed possible with a woman like Audrey Byrnes. The doctor and the novelist. We might as well have hung up our hats and walked straight into the poor house. But in a few years’ time, I could scrounge up a decent living, enough to keep her in pretty dresses and pen and ink. Could it be enough for her? I turned the question over and over in my head, holding her closer to my chest. Mary Wollstonecraft notwithstanding, I wanted her to be mine, and the thought of another man having her, commanding her body, sent a rush of rage through me.

  I cleared my throat, trying to push those jealous thoughts away. “Were you all right? With everything, with Lady Aberthorne?”

  She took my hand and squeezed. “Oh, yes. I was so afraid at first, but it was quite strange. With you there, I felt safe. No, not just safe. It was if I gave all the control to you. As if you had taken the reins on a wild horse and bidden it to heel to you. And I…I could just ride.”

  I laughed beneath my breath, thinking of the way Audrey’s thighs had straddled Lady Aberthorne. I wanted her to ride me like that, her breasts full and bouncing. Oh, lord help me.

  “She seemed to have enjoyed it,” I said in a tight voice.

  “Yes.” Audrey nuzzled against my neck. “And I’m glad. In the end, I took pleasure in it. And I liked…”

  She cut herself off, shaking her head, her curls tickling my nose.

  I nudged her elbow. “What, Audrey?” I pressed her. “Tell me what you liked.”

  She took a deep breath. “I liked all those people watching me. Knowing you were watching me, too. They could watch me, but not have me. Does that make sense?”

  My arms tightened around her. “Oh yes, darling. I liked that, too. I liked it very much.”

  “So I suppose…” She leaned away from me and yawned. “I suppose in the end, we all got what we wanted.”

  I reached out for her, but she had already stood up. A cold draft hit me, and I pulled that ridiculous kilt back over my waist, adjusting the long strip of fabric.

  “What do you mean?” I said in a cautious voice.

  “Lady Aberthorne is pleased. You have your inoculation program now, and I have the Aberthornes as patrons.” Her voice trailed off as she fled the vestibule.

  I grasped at the wall, searching in the dark for her until I found a wisp of her dress. With a gentle tug, I pulled her sleeve, willing her to stop.

  “Audrey, I…”
my voice sounded so thin, and I shook my head, trying to collect my thoughts. I could not for the life of me imagine how a woman who wrote one of the greatest love stories of our time, The Chieftain’s Daughter, could be so completely unromantic in real life. All that feigning of sensibility, of deep feminine feeling…it was all an act for her admirers. Whatever force had inspired her to write that novel was an impulse buried so far down, I feared I might never reach it. Perhaps in our lovemaking I could touch it, but like mist, it slipped through my fingers and burnt away so quickly.

  “What is it, Joseph?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  I let her go and heard her footsteps retreating across the stone floor.

  “Wait!” I called after her, fumbling for her in the shadows. “This wasn’t about the inoculation program for me. I want you to know that. I…I am glad that is going to happen, but…oh, blast it.”

  Everything I said sounded so foolish, and I ran my hands through my hair, pacing in the darkness. “What I am trying to say is…I did it for you. It was all for you. No other reason.”

  She paused and the darkness felt heavy, drowning me like a great ocean wave. I longed to see her face, read the expression in her bright green eyes, but I could barely make out the faint outline of her white dress.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and before I could reply she disappeared.

  Chapter 15

  Audrey

  I stared at the letter, resting my head in my trembling hands. I always thought the decline of the Byrnes family would be a gentle descent into obscurity. I never imagined our ruin would be so sure and abrupt.

  They’ve closed down the theatre, and Dublin Castle is investigating Papa for sedition. He is altogether in such a state. He won’t leave his bed and drinks himself to oblivion before noon every day. Please come home, Audrey. The lawyer fees are mounting, and along with his previous debts and my doctor bills, I fear we may be on the street by the end of the month. Do you have anything to send?

  I let out a bitter, yelping laugh as I reread that last line. I had already used almost all of my advance to pay most of Papa’s creditors, and as it was, I barely had enough money for a passage back to Dublin. I would return just in time to join Lyddy and Papa in the gutter.

  My thoughts returned to Lord Castlevane and what he had confessed to me in Warren’s. He knew this was happening and had refused to do anything to stop it. My chest tightened and a shudder of rage ran through my limbs. My fists clenched, and I slammed them down against the desk. I would have to go to him. Beg him to stop the investigation. It’s what he wanted all along.

  The sun settled low against the hills surrounding the Aberthornes’ estate, and it threw long shadows across the silk wallpaper. There was so much to do, and I would have to leave first thing in the morning.

  I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my head on my arm, the thought of departing sending a deep pang of regret to my heart. After last night with Joseph, I thought we might have a little more time. Time for what, I didn’t know, but I felt if I left the mansion, the bond connecting us would snap irreparably. Last night he had shattered me, taken hold of me and commanded my body like no other man ever had. It frightened me a little how much I trusted him, how much control I had placed in his hands. I blinked back a flood of tears pressing against my eyelids, and I longed for his steadying presence. But if I had ever entertained the notion of marrying Dr. Moorland, all those silly illusions were dashed by Lyddy’s letter. What sort of respectable man would marry a penniless novelist with a drunken father and sickly sister? Papa’s scandal with The Rebel Sons alone would ruin Joseph’s credibility. I had nothing to my name but a mountain of family debts, and I either had to sort it out myself or marry into a great deal of money.

  Lord Castlevane could make all these problems disappear.

  I suppressed a shudder. No. The thought of being the wife to that draconian bureaucrat sent a flood of ice water through my veins. I would die first. I would find a way to clear Papa’s name, and as for the money…I wouldn’t be the first writer set low in the world. I would find a way back to the top. Somehow. And if no one would hand me a ladder, I would make my own. If there was one thing I knew how to do in this life, it was scrape and claw my way out of poverty. I needed to keep a closer eye on Papa and Lyddy, and I couldn’t do that from the Aberthornes’ estate.

  I took up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell, watching the black liquid drip and slide down the glass for a moment before taking out a fresh sheet of paper. I drafted three letters. One to Lyddy telling her I would be in Dublin soon. One to the bank to transfer a small amount of funds to her. And the last…to my publisher requesting an increase on my advance for The Brahmin Princess.

  I was just signing my name when a knock sounded at my door, and in swept Christine, her gold hair wild and her eyes bright.

  “There you are!” She darted across the room and took my hands, shaking her head at the ink stains across my palms. “Writing, writing. Don’t you ever tire of it?”

  I gritted my teeth, covering my letters with another stack of papers. “I don’t, actually.”

  Christine laughed and dropped my fingers before leaning against the window. “Oh, Audrey, I do wish you could have come today. We rode out to the loveliest ruins. Some Druid thing or another. Lord Weston took some notes and said he might create a new composition inspired by them.”

  I turned to Christine. “It’s been a while since you penned a new thing. Why not write something yourself of the ruins?”

  She smiled and stared out the window. “I doubt I could ever write something as beautiful as his words. They cut me to the quick, Audrey…I…”

  She trailed off, and I studied her, the delicate curve of her nose, her flushed cheeks. I wanted to scream at her to run from Lord Weston. Run as fast as she could. But Christine would never listen to reason. Sometimes I felt she was the antithesis of reason, but I had read her poems, and I knew somewhere beyond the high-pitched laughter, the endless ribbons in her hair, the wine-riddled chatter existed an unmovable core of truth. If only she could find her way back there again. I thought once maybe I could help her, but my eyes drifted to Lyddy’s letter buried beneath my other correspondence. It would not be me. Not this time.

  “I have to return to Dublin,” I blurted.

  Her gaze snapped back to me. “What? Why?”

  I shook my head and took a deep breath. “It’s my father. He’s ill. And they…” I paused, swallowing the news about Papa’s investigation. I knew I could trust Christine, but even still. I had to contain the scandal as much as possible. It would circulate around London soon enough. What that meant for my writing, I could not imagine. How much of a rebel would the ton tolerate? Fiery Celtic tempers are fine in romantic novels, but I had no idea what they would make of my very real life Irish nationalist for a father.

  “Anyway, I will need to leave first thing in the morning,” I said. “I will need to make a short stop in London to visit my publisher, but after that…” I trailed off, taking a deep inhale.

  “Oh, Audrey,” Christine whispered. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”

  “No…no…” I bit my lip and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure all will be well. He’s had these episodes before. We’ll be fine, and I’ll be back in London in time for the next season.”

  She flashed me a grin, but her eyes remained clouded with worry. “It’s a shame you have to leave now. You know Dr. Moorland could not stop talking about you all day.”

  Heat rushed to my face, and I stood. “We should prepare for dinner.”

  “He’s so handsome, Dr. Moorland. And so intelligent.”

  “Indeed,” I murmured, pulling my best silk from the bureau.

  “He can switch to literature to science to philosophy without missing a step, and his opinions are so enlightened. So singular. He should have tried his hand at poetry.”

  “Dr. Moorland seems quite happy in his profession.”

  Chri
stine shrugged. “I suppose. But it seems like such a shame.”

  I whirled on her. “A shame? If I’d had half a chance to be anything besides a governess, I would have taken it. Because as it stands, writing certainly isn’t helping my situation.”

  She blanched and her lower lip trembled. “Oh, my darling. I am sorry. You are right.”

  My shoulders fell, and I stepped over to her, taking her hand in my mine. “My dearest friend, I apologize for snapping. It was you who found me and pulled me out of such drudgery. I will always be thankful for that.”

  Christine squeezed my hand. “I may have found you, Audrey, but it was you who pulled yourself out of obscurity. You are truly extraordinary.”

  Her small arms clasped me close to her, and I had to smash my palms against my eyes to keep from crying. She let me go, her hands falling to my elbows.

  “Let me give you the money for passage to Dublin,” she said.

  I shook my head. “Christine, you know I cannot…”

  Her grip tightened. “I insist. And it would be rude to turn down a gift, so do not even try to fight me on this.”

  I stared into her gray eyes, and saw myself reflected in them. I knew the scandal surrounding Christine. How she had committed adultery against Lord Elliot. They said she was a selfish woman, someone who only cared for herself. But I knew the truth. Her heart was an ocean, and no matter what had happened between the two of them, she had shown me endless kindness. I owed her everything.

  “Very well,” I said. “Come. Let us dress for dinner.”

  “The Aberthornes will be so disappointed by your leaving,” she said as she wandered to the door. “Lady Aberthorne speaks about you as if she found a new pet.”

  The door clicked closed behind Christine, and I took ten deep breaths before pulling off my day gown and letting it pool on the floor. A pet. Indeed. Heat flamed in my face as I recalled the way I had nuzzled Lady Aberthorne, kissed her, caressed her. I was barely human to her as an Irishwoman of lower birth. I might as well be a lapdog for all she cared. I thought of Joseph, at what he said before about not seeing me as a doll, or a plaything. My heart crushed beneath the memory, and I realized I was about to leave the only person alive who perhaps really saw me for who I was.