Good Earls Don't Lie (32 page)

Rose pulled at his clothing until she loosened his shirt from his trousers, searching for his bare skin. His body was warm, his muscles well formed, as she traced his abdomen. Iain loosened the buttons of his trousers with his free hand, pressing her hand downward.

“Touch me,” he commanded. “The way I’m touching you.”

His words broke the spell between them, making her worry about the others outside the room. She grew nervous and admitted, “I’ve never . . . done this before, Iain. I’m afraid of what we’ve begun.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she suspected that this would end up in marriage, no matter what doubts she might have.

And perhaps that was why she wanted him so badly. Because, in her heart, she wanted to be with this man, no matter the obstacles.

Iain never took his gaze from hers as he removed his hand from her body. He guided her palm to his velvet erection. The moment she touched him, Rose felt a sense of power. She was fascinated by the soft heat, and when he closed her fingers around his stiff column, she understood what he wanted . . . to be pleasured in the same way he was touching her. The thought was overwhelming, and she moved her hand upon him, caressing his length.

A low hiss escaped him, and he sent her a wicked smile. “That’s it,
a ghrá
. Just like that.”

She let out a moan when he moved his hand back between her legs, sliding two fingers inside. As she drew her fist upward, he began to thrust his hand until they found a similar rhythm. He nudged his thumb against her secret flesh, and the spiraling caress intensified her arousal. She did the same to him, circling her thumb upon the head of his manhood. Beneath her fingers, she felt a bead of moisture, and her own body ached to receive him.

“I want to be in you,
a ghrá.
I want to thrust within, over and over.” He underscored his words by suckling at her nipple while he worked his hand between her thighs. She was so wet, craving more from him until she arched her back. She couldn’t stop herself from squeezing at his length, fisting him with her palm until it, too, was wet.

“More,” he demanded, and she obeyed, quickening the tempo. He rewarded her by flicking his thumb faster, pushing her closer to the edge in a rhythm that drowned her in the tidal sensations of sexual need. She felt herself rising, coming apart as he thrust and withdrew his fingers. When she reached the brink of ecstasy, she squeezed her hand around his erection, crying out while his tongue swirled across her nipple. Her body clenched the fingers he had buried within, and a rush of shimmering release unfolded, making her buck against him. Her body quaked with a violent shudder, and she felt his own answer while her hand grew wet with his seed.

“You belong to me,” Iain murmured against her mouth. “Just as I belong to you.”

She was utterly sated and didn’t believe it was even possible to move. Iain gave her a handkerchief, and she cleaned her palm while he helped her repair her clothing. She didn’t doubt that, to anyone else, she would appear as if she’d allowed Iain the most intimate of liberties.

“I don’t think I can return to that ballroom,” she admitted. “I don’t think I can walk anymore.” She sent him a languid smile, but his expression had turned serious. For a while, they sat in silence, and she contemplated her answer to his proposal. Was it right to accept, when she was not the heiress he needed?

Moments later, the intrusion she’d been expecting took place. Someone unlocked the door, and it swung open. Lady Wolcroft was waiting for them, along with Lady Arnsbury and Lady Ashton. All three women entered the room, and Rose felt her cheeks flame.

Lady Ashton stared at Iain, and the frost in her eyes held quiet hatred. Instinctively, Rose reached for Iain’s hand, but his face remained stoic. He behaved as if his mother was not here. But there was no doubting the tension in his posture and the invisible walls between them.

It was Lady Ashton who spoke first. “Whatever Iain might have said to you, Lady Rose, he spoke falsely.”

“He has asked me to marry him.” She tried to conjure up a smile, but the disapproval on the women’s faces made that impossible.

Her grandmother’s expression turned disappointed. “There was a time when I would have been glad to hear of this, Rose. But I am afraid that it cannot be.”

She gripped Iain’s hand, feeling as if a trap were closing in on her. “And why is that?”

Lady Ashton sent her a look of sympathy. “Because whatever Iain may have told you, he is not a legitimate heir. Nor is he the earl.”

Chapter Sixteen

His mother’s revelation was not a surprise, since Iain already knew about the night she’d been attacked by Seán O’Toole. But the look of hurt on Rose’s face bothered him far more. In his mind, he hardly cared about whether or not he was the earl. Did it matter so much to her?

“The villain who fathered you is dead,” Moira said. “And not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for it.”

“That’s why my father died, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly. “He found out about the attack and went to kill the tenant who hurt you.”

“He wasn’t your father,” Moira corrected. “But yes. Aidan was filled with rage, and he shot the man who hurt me. And then that bastard didn’t die fast enough. He killed my husband and now both of them are dead.”

A single tear rolled down her face. “I should have rid myself of you when I learned I was with child. But it would have been a mortal sin.” She stared at him, and in her eyes, he saw nothing but hatred. “I’ve suffered every day you lived. And I will not stand by and let you ruin another woman’s life.”

He expected Rose to speak, to say something to defend them. But her silence was damning. Though she continued to hold his hand, he could feel her grip loosening.

She didn’t want him any more than his mother had. He should have expected it. And although he ought to let her go, now that she knew he was a bastard, damned if he wanted to. His only thread of honor had snapped in front of a truth he didn’t want to face.

Iain stared at the women with no regrets for what he was about to do. He tightened his hand upon hers. “Most of the men and women in that ballroom will believe that I have compromised Lady Rose,” he said coolly. “I intend to marry her, no matter what anyone says about me.”

“I cannot allow that,” Lady Wolcroft interrupted. “My granddaughter believed that you were an earl, a man who could provide a future for her.
I
believed that, too.” To Moira, she admitted, “I am sorry for my interference. You never told any of us about . . . why you hid him from the world. I thought you were merely estranged.”

“I kept Iain away so that this would never happen,” his mother admitted. “I could not bring shame upon my husband.”

It was as if he weren’t in the room at all. Iain refused to remain silent while they discussed his future. Ignoring all of them, he turned back to Rose. “Before all this happened, I asked you to marry me. Have your feelings changed, now that you know the truth?”

The frozen expression on her face revealed her own doubts. “I feel as if I’ve stepped into the midst of a storm. I need a moment, Iain.” With that, she let go of his hand.

The women closed in on her, and Lady Wolcroft sent him a dark look. “I think it’s best if you leave now, Ashton.” She opened the door and waited.

Iain didn’t move. Instead, he locked his gaze upon Rose. “This is about what
you
want,
a ghrá.
They don’t matter.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. But her hands were trembling as she gripped them together. “I—I need time to think.”

It was as if he’d been imprisoned within panes of glass. He’d wanted to believe that she would be different. That she would love him enough to overlook the broken shards of the life he had.

He didn’t want to leave her here with these vultures who would tell her how to live her life and what to do now. But when he saw her pale expression, his worst fears were confirmed.

Love wasn’t enough to overcome the revelation that he was worth nothing. She’d wanted an earl, not a bastard. And no matter how much it broke him, the right thing was to let her go.

Rose had barely slept since the evening of the party. While her grandmother had been upset about the scandal, her own emotions felt numb and closed off from the world. For a moment, she had let herself believe that Iain loved her, that they would find a way to be together.

He wasn’t the Earl of Ashton, according to his mother. And from the look on his face, he hadn’t appeared surprised at Moira’s revelation. Had Iain known he was not the earl all along? Had he come to England, trying to trick an heiress into marrying him so he could seize an innocent woman’s fortune? After all the weeks they’d spent together, she couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing. It wasn’t the sort of man he was. His devotion to Ashton was real, whether or not the earldom belonged to him.

She had suspected the possibility of him being illegitimate when he’d spoken of his mother’s hatred. And yet, she had set aside her doubts, trusting him when he’d said he was the earl.

She didn’t know what to believe. She needed to confront him and find out the truth. But the thought of losing Iain was breaking her heart into pieces.

Today, she’d chosen a demure gown the color of a thunderstorm. The dove gray suited her somber mood. She took the stairs slowly, gripping the banister. When she neared the first landing, she saw her mother bidding farewell to Cain Sinclair, along with his wife, Margaret, and their youngest daughter, Evangeline. No one had told her that the Sinclairs had come to call.

“Evangeline, can you stay and talk with me awhile?” she called out to her best friend. Right now, she needed someone to give her advice. Her friend’s honesty might help her put everything into perspective.

“Of course.” After bidding her parents farewell, Evangeline asked, “Would you like me to go up to your room, or shall we sit in the drawing room?”

“I’m almost downstairs, so let’s go into the drawing room.” She held on to the railing as she eased each foot down the stairs, feeling the ache in her legs. Though each day was easier, her muscles burned with the exertion.

Her mother was beaming as she opened the drawing room door for them. “He’s coming home tomorrow, darling.”

“Who is coming home?” She glanced at Evangeline, who shrugged.

“George, of course.”

Rose’s smile grew strained, and she exchanged a look with her friend. “Give us a moment, won’t you?” Evangeline acquiesced and stepped into the hall.

Her mother’s face was radiant, and she sighed happily. “I knew it would work. I gave him all our money, and now he’s coming home.”

“Mother, it can’t be. Father has been . . . gone for years.” Her throat constricted with fear, and she added, “How much of our money did you give away?”

Lady Penford’s expression grew distant, and she strode to the door. “He told me we would have profits enough for strong dowries for all of you. You can marry your earl, Rose. I do like him.”

“Mother, listen to me.” She caught Lady Penford by the shoulders, trying to make sense of it. “Are you saying that we do have money?”

“He’s coming home soon. His ship may arrive any day now.” Her mother’s face was filled with joy. “I’ve missed him so much.”

A strange thought occurred to her, and she probed further. “Did you mean James is coming home?”

“Yes. And George, of course. Both of them will be home in time to see you married.” She raised an eyebrow, and her mood shifted to disapproval. “I did hear about what happened at Lady Arnsbury’s party the other night. I do hope Lord Ashton is getting a special license, as we speak.”

Her mother’s conversation kept shifting from one topic to another, and Rose could hardly tell what was real—especially regarding news of her brother.

“I don’t know if I’m going to marry Lord Ashton, Mother. I have no dowry.” She ought to regret what she’d done, but the truth was, she didn’t. No matter how scandal shadowed her now or how little money there was, her heart still belonged to Iain.

“Yes, you have a dowry. And everything will be fine. I’ve seen to that.” Lady Penford’s smile brightened again. “My little birds will fly their nests, and all will be well.” She squeezed Rose’s hand and said, “Now, I am feeling tired. I want to rest.”

The moment her mother was gone, Rose sank into a chair. Evangeline stepped inside the room and asked, “Did you still want me to stay?”

“Please.” She rubbed at her temples and said, “My mother is having a difficult day.”

Evangeline nodded. “Yes. Your grandmother asked my family to help her, and that’s why we were here. She gave permission for my father to assist your land steward. He’ll find out what has happened with your finances, and I know he’s made some investments already to help. You needn’t worry.”

Deep inside, a flutter of hope emerged. “Truly?” The thought of a successful businessman like Mr. Sinclair and his wife intervening and helping her family was a welcome one.

“Yes.” Evangeline closed the door and pulled up a chair. “But that’s not why you wanted to talk to me, was it?”

She shook her head. “It’s Lord Ashton.”

A slight flicker of disappointment crossed Evangeline’s face. “I thought that might be what you wanted to speak with me about. But the earl only has eyes for you.”

“I truly was hoping the two of you would end up together.” She felt sorry that her matchmaking had backfired in such a way.

Her friend settled against her chair. “I’m used to it, Rose. Men never have eyes for me—only my father’s wealth. Sometimes I wish I could meet a man who believed I had nothing.”

“Well, I
am
sorry. It wasn’t my intention to steal him away from you.”

“Nonsense. There was nothing between us, for he’s in love with you. And all London is talking of how he seduced you in the library.”

Rose was about to blurt out,
He did not
—but then realized that yes, he’d done exactly that. She buried her face in her hands. “What am I to do, Evangeline?”

“Marry him, of course. The talk will die down. It did for my parents when they wed.” She got up from her chair and crossed the room. There was still a leftover tray of sandwiches and tarts from the tea earlier with the Sinclairs. Evangeline picked it up and brought it over to share.

“Unless . . . you don’t want to marry him?”

Rose let out a heavy sigh. “I do want to marry him, though. In spite of what everyone thinks.” She poured out the entire story to her best friend, knowing she could trust Evangeline not to say anything. “Am I a fool to still want him?”

Her friend thought a moment. “Even if he was not the earl’s son, he was born within the time the countess was married. She never claimed he was illegitimate, did she?”

“No. At least, not yet.”

“Then, legally he
is
the earl, blood or not.” Evangeline took a sandwich and eyed her. “The only question is, do you love him? Do you want to marry him?”

Rose didn’t answer her friend at first. If love meant that being without Iain was a physical ache, then yes. In spite of everything, she
did
want him.

“Let me say it another way,” Evangeline offered. “If I told you
I
was going to marry him—”

“I would want to claw your eyes out.” Rose took a sandwich from the tray and ate it. “I suppose that answers my own question.”

Her friend smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, Rose. Go to Lord Ashton, and you’ll find a way to be with him. Whereas I shall remain a spinster, content to bury myself in poetry and books.” She smiled happily at the thought and took another bite of her sandwich.

“And what if James returns?” Rose teased.

Evangeline coughed and sputtered, whacking herself in the chest. “Lord Penford? Are you mad?”

“He might be returning. Unless, as my mother claims, it’s the ghost of my father, back from the dead.” It was a morbid comment, but sometimes it was easier to handle her mother’s eccentricity with humor.

“Forgive me, but your brother left me and went to another country for the better part of a year without so much as a
by your leave
. He is a horrid man, and I wouldn’t let him court me if the alternative was being eaten alive by eels.”

The vehemence in her friend’s voice was stronger than she’d imagined. “Well then. I’ll tell him not to call on you.”

Evangeline bit her lip and smiled. “I much prefer to plot and scheme on your behalf. I could go with you to Lord Ashton’s townhouse to distract his mother and sisters.”

She thought about it and said, “No, as nice as that sounds, I must speak with him myself.” Having her friend here had lifted her spirits.

But even more, she longed to see Iain. Only then could she separate the truth from lies. And when she saw his face, she hoped to discover whether there was any hope for a future together.