To Tempt an Irish Rogue (3 page)
Read To Tempt an Irish Rogue Online
Authors: Kaitlin O'Riley
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
“It’s your neck,” Gerald offered. “I just thought you should know that the situation has become more serious and it might be wise to take your leave while you still have the opportunity.”
“They can say I’m guilty, but that does not mean that I am. Besides, they have no proof of anything. Jesus, Gerald, I’m only twenty-five years old! I refuse to give up my inheritance, my title, and my home to take the blame for something I had no part in.”
Gerald grew quiet, his graying brows furrowed. “Then come home and face them. You’re not proving your innocence by hiding here in London.”
“I’m not hiding! I’m here because of my daughter. And Margaret’s family knows this. They’re angry I took Mara away from them, which is another reason they are lashing out at me while I’m not there to defend myself. If the Ryans had any proof at all they would have had me arrested already.”
“So you’re staying here in London then?” Gerald asked.
Declan nodded. “For the time being, yes.”
“Any idea how long that might be?”
Declan released a very long sigh. “As long as it takes.”
Chapter 4
Attraction
Paulette pulled up the shade that covered the door to Hamilton’s Book Shoppe, turned the “Closed” sign to read “Open,” and smiled as the morning sun greeted her. Finally! A bit of good weather after the rainy spell they’d had the last few days! She glanced around the tidy shop, pleased with its attractive and inviting appearance. She and Colette had worked tirelessly to make the shop a success and her pride in her family’s business filled her with joy.
She could barely recall the cramped, dusty, and disorganized place it had been when their father had been alive and handled everything, before she and Colette had transformed the shop. But she distinctly remembered being a very little girl and her father lifting her up to the top of the ladder so she could reach a book for him. Paulette had loved being up that high. She had loved the smell of the books. A beautiful mix of leather, paper, and ink. And when her father had allowed her to assist him, she adored helping customers choose the perfect book.
Running her hand along the glass-covered counter, she savored this early morning quiet when she first opened the store and she was the only one there. The shop truly belonged to her then and it was her favorite time of the day. She reveled in being the first one up and out of the house and busy at the shop. It made her feel as if she were ahead of everyone else.
The bell over the door jingled merrily. “Good morning, Miss Paulette!”
She smiled at the red-haired young man who entered the shop. “Good morning, Tom. How are you today?”
“I’m just fine on this gorgeous morning.” His freckled face grinned broadly and he placed a cloth-lined basket on the counter. “My mother sent these over to you.”
“Oh, I can smell them from here!” Paulette squealed with delight. Mrs. Alcott made the most heavenly shortbread biscuits and she knew they were Paulette’s favorite. Tom Alcott and his mother had lived in the rooms above the bookshop for the last few years and had been the caretakers of sorts.
Her older sister, Lisette Hamilton Roxbury, had helped to save Tom and his mother from the slums of St. Giles and had given them work and lodging at Hamilton’s Book Shoppe. It had been a perfect arrangement all around. Although about six months ago, Mrs. Alcott and Tom finally moved to one of the houses that Quinton Roxbury had designed. Paulette had not yet found anyone to take the Alcotts’ place and the living quarters upstairs, where the Hamilton sisters had been born and raised, were still unused.
“Please thank your mother for me,” Paulette said, reaching beneath the red-checkered cloth and retrieving a shortbread biscuit. She couldn’t wait to have one.
“She knows how much you like them.”
“Thank her for me, please.” Paulette grinned. “I miss having you both here.”
“We miss it too, but we love the new house. And with Mother getting married soon, the house is a better place for us.”
Paulette nodded as she ate the cookie, delighting in the sweet buttery flavor. She was happy that Anna Alcott was finally getting remarried, after all the heartache she’d been through in her life. Jack Harris, a grocer, was a fine man and would take care of her and her son. Thirteen-year-old Tom still helped out in the bookshop when he wasn’t in school.
“Do you have anything for me to do today?” Tom asked.
Wiping the crumbs from her lips, Paulette nodded. “Yes, if you could just take that package over there to the printer I would appreciate it.” She pointed to the shelf near the door.
“That’s it?”
“For now, yes. Get going to school or you’ll be late.” She smiled at him. Tom was a good boy and she didn’t want him to miss a minute of his education.
“Thank you, Miss Paulette.” He flashed her one of his broad grins, grabbed the package wrapped in brown paper, and moved to the door. “I’ll drop this off on my way to school.”
“Thank you, Tom. And good-bye.”
Alone in the shop once more, Paulette stepped behind the counter and sat upon one of the high stools. Her assistant, Lizzie Parker, wouldn’t arrive for another hour. She took another cookie from the basket. Taking a bite, she opened the thick accounts ledger, bound in red leather, and glanced at the long columns of figures.
Hamilton’s Book Shoppe was doing very well and she was certain the new shop would do even better. With quick efficiency she added up each column, her numbers neatly arranged in her precise handwriting. Without thinking she grabbed another cookie from the basket and popped it into her mouth. Heavenly. She had to stop herself or she would eat the entire basket!
The bells above the door jingled and she glanced over to see who entered the shop. Her heart did a little flutter at the sight of Declan Reeves. His tall form blocked the sunlight and for the briefest moment outlined him in silhouette. Paulette had trouble swallowing the last of the shortbread.
“Good morning.”
His lyrical voice sent a shiver through her. Unable to speak, she nodded her head and managed a weak smile in greeting. The cookie suddenly felt like sawdust in her mouth. She forced herself to choke it down.
“It’s nice to see the sun again. Don’t you agree, Miss Hamilton?”
“Why, yes.” How her lips formed the words, she had no idea. Her heart was beating ridiculously fast. For lack of anything else to say, she offered, “It’s quite early yet.”
He responded, “I prefer to start my days early.”
“So do I.”
An awkward silence ensued as they stood there, staring at each other. The usual bookseller patter that always came to her so naturally abandoned her in his presence.
Declan Reeves was much handsomer than she remembered. Younger looking, too. Perhaps it was the morning light. He seemed less foreboding and for some reason that made her even more nervous. Why was he back in the shop so soon? Was it only two days ago that he had been in the bookshop with his daughter? His daughter! Now she had something to talk about!
“Where is your little girl?” she asked, surprised by the normal tone of her voice. She wished she had a cool glass of water.
“She’s at home with her nurse.”
The lyrical sound of his Irish accent made Paulette’s pulse quicken. “Did she enjoy the book of fairy tales I selected for her?”
“Yes, thank you very much. Mara loves it. I’ve read it to her at least a hundred times before bed the past two nights.”
The image of this man reading a story to his little girl made her heart flip over in her chest.
“I’m so glad,” she murmured. “Are you looking for another book for her?”
“Perhaps.” His emerald green eyes settled on her. “But I was also looking for myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “And what is it you would like?”
His eyes widened the slightest bit, but he didn’t answer.
“Would you care to browse?” she suggested weakly.
His intense glance lingered on her longer than anyone would deem proper. Her cheeks grew warm and a funny feeling filled her chest.
“Would you mind if I did?” Mr. Reeves questioned, one of his dark eyebrows raised.
“Not at all. Feel free to wander about the store.” She waved her hand in an attempt to appear casual and light-hearted. “If you decide you need my assistance, please let me know.”
“I promise I will, Miss Hamilton.”
Paulette surreptitiously watched him turn and make his way down one of the rows of tall shelves lined neatly with books of all sorts. He was in the philosophy section. Interesting, she thought.
He was very tall, she noted, almost as tall as the highest shelves. And he walked with definite purpose, with his hands clasped behind his back. It was strange. He had the mannerisms of a much older man, yet he was quite young. Close to her own age perhaps. She was dying to ask him how old he was, but knew it was impolite. He disappeared around the corner shelf at the end of the row and she lost sight of him.
Rousing herself, she wondered at her nervousness. The man had flustered her and she did not know why that should be so. In an effort to calm herself, she reached for the water pitcher and filled a cup with the cool liquid. She downed the water quickly.
Once again the bell jingled and the shop door opened. A trim young woman with a bright yellow bonnet covering her black hair entered. “Good morning, Paulette.”
“Hello, Lizzie.” Grateful that her assistant had arrived and she was no longer alone with the enigmatic Mr. Reeves in the shop, Paulette smiled. “You’re early this morning.”
Lizzie Parker and her brother Daniel had been assisting in the bookshop for the last few years, but recently Paulette had trained Lizzie to manage it completely, to take her place when the new shop opened. Paulette and Colette would need to spend most of their time in the new store.
“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.
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