Duchess of Sin (30 page)

Anna slid her fingertip between her lips to taste him. As she sucked at the salty wetness, he moaned deeply and closed his
eyes. A muscle ticked along his jaw as if he reined himself in hard.

“
Diolain,
” he muttered.

She sat up and pushed him down in her place, flat on his back on the carpet. She stripped away his breeches until she could
see his naked body at last, nothing in her way. The firelight turned him to molten gold, and she thought he must be some sort
of Celtic god in truth. She touched every inch of him, exploring, wondering at his beauty and strength.

On his left upper arm he had a tattoo, a small, purple-black mark of an elaborate Celtic cross. She traced over the pattern
with her fingertip.

“Did this hurt?” she whispered.

“Aye,” he answered tightly. “Like the very devil.”

“And this?” She touched a puckered, pale pink knife scar over one rib.

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember being stabbed?” she said. Her heart ached to think anyone could ever hurt him. That he had suffered so
much.

“I was a foolish youth, brawling in a tavern.”

“Well, surely you remember this one.” She touched a scar on his thigh, larger than the knife wound, puckered and faded red.
She remembered that night during the rebellion, when she found him in that ruined stable. His leg had been hurt then, bound
with stained rags. “From ’98?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

“And this…” She turned to the half-healed wound on his shoulder. “I remember this one all too well.”

“Then you must remember why I told you to stay away from me, colleen.”

Anna laughed. “I fear I have a terrible memory. And I never obey.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

She bent her head to press an openmouthed kiss just below that shoulder wound. Slowly, taking her time to fully enjoy him,
learn him, she kissed his flat brown nipple, biting at it lightly. He cursed and tried to catch her by her hair, but she slid
away from him. She trailed the tip of her tongue down the taut line of his torso, over his abdomen. The muscles tightened
under her lips.

She kissed the old wound on his leg. One day, she would get him to tell her that story. But not now. Now she wanted him to
think only of her, of the two of them in that moment, and not of the past or the future.

Gently, she kissed the inside of his thigh, as he had with her. His skin was hot, damp, and he smelled of that dark, clean
essence she loved about him. Slowly, carefully, she touched her tongue to the tip of his penis.

“Anna!” he shouted.

“Shh—let me,” she whispered, echoing his words to her. He lay back, but she could feel the taut wariness of his body. She
licked along his length, tasting his salty sweetness, feeling that hard, velvety heat under her tongue. Then she took him
fully into her mouth.

“Anna, nay.” He tugged at her hair, drawing her away from him. His eyes burned into her as she sat back on her heels to look
at him. “You’ll kill me.”

“I hope not. I have plans for you, Conlan McTeer, and they will take a very long time to carry out.”

“And I have plans for
you,
cailleach,
” he growled. He
seized her by the hips and bore her down to the carpet as he rose up over her.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder, kissing her skin as she laughed happily. “Do you promise?”

“If I could, I would lock you up in this house for weeks and weeks,” he muttered against her. “I would tie you to my bed and
never let you go.”

Anna shivered at the images that his words summoned. “That sounds delicious. And what would you do then, when I was at your
mercy?”

“I would kiss you here…” He lightly licked at her hardened, ultra-sensitive nipple. “And here.” He slid lower, kissing the
damp curls between her legs, the soft inside of her thigh. His tongue trailed down her leg as he slowly removed her stocking,
until he bit gently at her toe. Then he did the same to her other leg, until she was completely naked. His willing captive.

“I would kiss every single inch of you until you begged me to stop,” he said.

“I never would,” she whispered. “So we would be here forever.”

“Even better.” He gently spread her legs wider, kneeling between them. “Do you want me, Anna? Do you want me inside of you?”

“Yes!” she cried. She opened herself to him, and he drove deeply home.

This time there was no pain, only that delicious fullness, the press and friction of being joined together at last. She wrapped
her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, faster.

He drew back only to drive forward again and again,
that friction rougher and hotter. She closed her eyes and listened to the harsh, uneven rhythm of his breath as they moved
together. He was part of her now, but she wanted even more of him. She wanted everything he could give—and she wanted to give
him everything in return.

Faster and faster they moved, their cries and gasps mingling. She rose up and caught his lips with hers as she felt her climax
build again. She cried out at the release; a shower of sparks fell over her. His back tightened under her touch, taut as a
drawn bowstring, as he shouted out his own release.

He fell heavily to the floor beside her, facedown as he trembled. Anna was shaking, too, exhausted and exalted by that wondrous,
unbelievable pleasure. By the joy of being with him. She opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling beams, breathing slowly
and deeply until she could feel herself slowly float back down to earth. She heard the crackle of the fire, the soft brush
of snow against the window, and Conlan’s breath against her ear. The pounding of her own blood in her veins.

She smiled, feeling so wonderfully decadent, so free, so perfectly where she should be.

Conlan sat up beside her and gently took her face between his hands as he stared down at her. He looked so solemn that she
felt suddenly chilled.

“What is it?” she said. “Is something wrong? Did I—did I do something wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Anna,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t able to pull away.”

“What?” she said, completely confused.

“I couldn’t stop in time.”

“I don’t—oh. Oh!” And she felt so deeply foolish. In
all her wild pleasure, her heedless desire, she had not stopped to consider the possibility of a child.

For one small, wonderful instant, she thought of a tiny, green-eyed baby, a fierce little Irish boy or girl. Then she remembered
she was not Conlan’s duchess. She was…

Well, she did not know what she was, or even what she really wanted to be. She only saw his remorseful face.

“I—I think it is all right,” she said. She sat up and reached for her chemise to cover her nakedness. Frantically, she tried
to remember all her mother and Eliza had told her about marital matters. “I just had my courses.”

“If there is…”

“There will not be!”

“Anna, colleen.” He took her hand, forcing her to look at him. “If there is, you will tell me at once, won’t you?”

So he would be forced to marry her? She did not want that, not at all. She
did
want him, but only if he wanted her just as much. Wanted a life with her because of
her
, not because they had to. “It won’t come to that. Now, please, can we talk about something else? Or better yet, not talk
at all.”

He hesitated, and she could see he wanted to argue and press the issue. But at last he nodded. “Very well. If you will promise
to tell me.”

“I promise.”

“Should I take you back to the Connemaras’ now? I don’t want to.”

Anna glanced at the clock on the stone mantel. “We have a little more time,” she said. She lay back down on the floor, tugging
him down beside her. She wrapped her arms around him as he rested his head on her shoulder. The clock ticked ominously, as
if to remind her how brief and precious their time really was.

“I love being here,” she murmured. “I love this house. It’s like a fairy tale.”

“You don’t think it is terribly outdated and unfashionable?” he said with a laugh.

“It’s romantic and dignified. Why do you never have parties here?”

“Who would come? I’m not the best-liked man in Society, you know.”

“Everyone would come, of course.” She smoothed her fingers through his hair as she studied the ceiling and the great fireplace.
“You are the duke. Plus, they would be perishing of curiosity to see what it looks like in here. It could be of great use
to you.”

“How so?”

“Just like the Olympian Club. When people are having fun, drinking and gossiping, they say things they ordinarily would not.
And they make alliances with those who share their amusements. Such alliances strengthen a family’s position and helps them
do what they want to improve their lands without hindrance. A really good party is so much more than amusement and so much
stronger than anything they do in Parliament.”

Conlan propped himself on his elbow to stare down at her. “Is this Lady Anna Blacknall speaking? The girl they say only cares
to dance and gamble at cards? I knew there was more to you.”

Anna laughed. “I am glad you think so. But every lady who grows up as I do learns these things. I saw it with my own parents,
and with their friends like the Leinsters, the Conollys, and the Shannons. Glittering displays are exceedingly useful. I was
taught to be a hostess when I was in leading strings.” She paused, staring into the fire
as visions whirled in her head. “You could have a wonderful ball in here. A masquerade with a medieval theme. Perhaps even
an entire house party weekend with a joust and a grand feast! You could have actors from Dublin to do the joust, and…”

“Anna!” Conlan laughed and stopped her words with a kiss. “Such vast plans. A girls’ school, a medieval feast.”

“Oh.” Feeling foolish, her cheeks hot, she rolled onto her side and sat up. This was not her house, nor was it likely to be.
She was carried away by daydreams, as usual. “Of course. It is your house. You have a perfect right to keep it to yourself.
But fine entertaining could help your cause, if you would let it.”

She heard him sit up behind her, the rustle of cloth as he reached for his breeches. “My cause?”

“Yes.” She looked at him over her shoulder. His face was carefully expressionless. “I know you have one. It’s what the Olympian
Club is all about, yes? Why people try to kill you. Is it the Union?”

He hesitated and shook his head. “You should not be involved, Anna.”

“I am already involved,” she cried. She was so angry at the way he let her in, let her close to him, then pushed her away
again. All for her own good, he said. Yet she was tired of being sheltered. “I was there twice when someone tried to kill
you. I am your lover, Conlan, and I want to help you if I can. I am not entirely without resources of my own.”

“I know,” he said roughly. “You’re brave, and you have a gift for knowing people. Caring about them—even if you want people
to think you’re careless.”

He thought she was brave. No one had ever thought
that before. She smiled, despite the lingering anger and frustration. “I also have connections in Society. Now tell me, Conlan—is
it the Union that puts you in danger?”

“Yes,” he said. He reached for his discarded coat and took a cheroot from the pocket. He lit it with a stick from the fire
and took a long drag from it before he went on. “I work with those who oppose it, and there are many who would stop us. They
have much at stake if the Union does not happen, money and estates that were bribes from the English government. They would
do anything to hold on to them.”

Anna frowned as his words sank in, the confirmation of all her suspicions. “Does that not put you with Ascendancy men like
Foster and Parnell? And they say many Catholics are
for
the measure.”

Conlan exhaled a plume of gray-blue smoke, studying the glowing tip as if it held the answers in its fire. “Some of them expect
Prime Minister Pitt to pass Catholic emancipation in exchange for their support, but they are fools. He might do it on his
own, but Parliament and the British nobility would never allow it. But there are anti-Union Catholics, just as there are pro-Union
anti-Catholics, and everything in between. Everyone has their own motives. And through the Olympian Club I can find what they
are.”

Anna leaned back against the edge of the chair and hugged her knees to her chest. “But why are
you
anti-Union? Why do you ally yourself with those men at all?”

“I only ally with Ascendancy men for my own ends, as they do with me. They think they can make us English just by calling
us so, that by taking away the Dublin Parliament but leaving the Viceroy at the Castle, they
can control us. Pitt says it will lessen our receptivity to— French ideas.”

“French ideas. Hmm,” Anna said, remembering Monsieur Courtois and Conlan’s meeting with him.

He went on. “But the power of the County landowners would be diminished with no Dublin Parliament.
My
power would be diminished, and that is how I keep my title and how I keep my people safe. This property protects them.”

Anna thought of little Molly and her family, snug and warm in their comfortable house. She thought of Killinan Castle’s own
people, the care her parents always had for them. And of the poor, hungry people of other estates, where no one fought for
them. She thought of Eliza and her work, of all it meant to belong to Ireland.

“I cannot sit in Parliament myself since I’m Catholic,” he said. “Being a landowner is my power, and I will always fight to
hold on to it, against any who would take it away.”

“Like your cousin?”

Conlan gave a humorless chuckle. “Grant was always a greedy bastard. He wanted to be the duke, to have this land with its
fertile fields for himself. He would have used it up and discarded it.”

As Grant would with her, if she let him? “Is that the only reason you fight?”

“No.” He tossed the end of the cheroot into the fire and reached for her. She fell into his arms, snuggling close to him.
“We are Irish. And we must fight every chain England would use to bind us to them. The Parliament in Dublin is a corrupt and
poor one, but at least it is composed of those who have property here. In Westminster, we would have no voice at all.”