Chapter One

For the third evening in a row, Richard Oakes Crandoll Leighton, the Duke of Ravenwood, known to his friends as Roc, relaxed in the Rose & Thorn pub watching the fiddler dance around the room, her long black hair flowing beautifully around her shoulders and down her back with each motion, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment and raw passion.

Caitlin O’Shea intoxicated him with her beauty. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen; jaw dropping beautiful. Every night for the last two weeks after she finished work, she shared a shepard’s pie and a pint of Guinness with him. Tonight, he meant to walk her home and perhaps steal a kiss and if lucky, two. It seemed every time he took two steps forward with her, she immediately sent him one step back.

He didn’t know how she played the fiddle while she danced and twirled around the room, but she did and she was amazing. She finished the last song of the night, sitting flirtatiously on his lap, drawing the final note with her bow. Then she graced him with the smile that sent his heart surging.

Unable to resist this new side to Caitlin, he set his hands on her waist, touching her, enjoying the feeling of her body so close to his while imagining her naked next to him. So far, she had eluded him and this simple gesture surprised him. It seemed to Roc she flirted with him tonight, another first. He intended to appreciate every second.

“Cat, do you mean to tease? It might not be wise.” He loved spanning her tiny waist with his hands. If things went the way he hoped, she’d return to London with him when it was time for him to go home. To accomplish that he had his work cut out, because she seemed man shy.

She didn’t answer right away but set her bow and fiddle on the table then, “Don’t know how to tease a man. If that’s what I’m doing, my sincere apologies or if you like it, I won’t apologize.” She nodded to her da who stood behind the bar. “Another pie?” she asked.

He let his inhibitions out and roared with laughter. She had a way of switching subjects without blinking. “Another pint too.”

She stood, leaving him to go to the bar for the food and drink. When she returned, he’d set her instruments in their case.

He leaned back, watching her as he sipped the pint. “Do you want to stay here the rest of your life, here in Portrush? Or would you like to see another part of this vast world?” He’d take her anywhere she wanted to go as long as she would consent.

“Didn’t realize there was a choice,” she said with her mouth full. “Don’t have the means to go anywhere. Don’t know where I’d go if I did have the money.” Swallowing, she drank her beer then set it on the table, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I’d go to Africa and take a safari.”

“You could go to London or Paris. Switzerland is always fun as is Germany. Safaris are dangerous.” He drummed his fingers on the table. Didn’t know why he was nervous, but she touched a part of him he thought long dead and he wasn’t sure how to react to this slip of a woman who seemed so different from anyone he’d ever known.

She leaned forward, both hands on the table. “Now why would I want to do that? And what would I do there, in London or Paris or those other places you mentioned? Everyone would take one look at me and know I don’t belong.”

Shrugging, he held his breath thinking about the wisdom of what he was about to say then changed his mind and said something innocuous. “Just curious if those are some places you’d like to see.”

“You live in London don’t you, Roc? It might be fun but like I said, I don’t have the money to travel. Might go to Belfast for a day or two but don’t know why I would do that either. The fact is, I don’t want to be beholdin’ to any man. If you took me somewhere, well then, you’d want something from me.”

He tried to ignore her last comment about wanting something from her because it was true. “I could help you with that, the money that is. If it’s something you want to do.” The first night he saw her in the pub, he’d gone home and wrote a message to his solicitor asking him to purchase a townhouse close to his. He knew it was more than presumptive but he didn’t mean to return home without her. He also didn’t know how to convince her that going with him was the best choice for her.

“Nothing’s for free.” She continued eating and studying him. “Just what would you ask in return? I know you’d want something. You’re a man, after all.”

He choked, not expecting the straightforwardness of her question. She challenged him, putting him on the defensive. “Only what you’re willing to give.”

“Now, I know you’re a lord of some sort. Heard the rumors running through the town, but I’m a commoner and the only thing I can think you might want me to give you is my body. After all, I’ve nothing else.” She pushed the half eaten food to the middle of the table as if it was no longer palatable. For a few uncertain seconds, she stared at her drink twirling the dark amber liquid in her glass before downing a few gulps. “I’ll be no man’s mistress.”

“I’m not asking,” he said, but eventually he would and at this moment he didn’t like the direction of his thoughts. All he understood was that he craved her, needed her by his side. It had been years since he felt that kind of elemental and primitive desire. Five years ago he lost the woman he envisioned would remain by his side for the rest of his life. She died in a fire in Tuscany. He put that memory out of his mind for the moment, concentrating on the delicate and very beautiful female sitting in front of him.

“You’re not? Well, I’ll believe you for now, but I know that you want me by the look in your eyes. Raw desire, that’s what I see and I’ll not be givin’ myself to you.”

He slowly finished the last of his drink then setting his glass on the table, “Just because a man wants a woman doesn’t mean he intends to make her his mistress. That’s an entirely different proposition,” he said, trying to defend himself and found there really was no defense when she spoke such blatant truth, seeming to read his thoughts.

“So you say.”

“It’s the truth,” he told her but not in this case. “You’re an amazing fiddler. Don’t see how you can dance while you play. What can’t you do?” He chose to change the subject instead of drowning in the last one.

Closing her eyes for a second or two and seeming to think, she said, “I’m a terrible house keeper. I spend the mornings cleaning the pub, the evenings playing my fiddle and the last thing I want to do when I get home is clean house. So many times there is dust on the tables and dishes in the sink. It seems I drop my clothes wherever I take them off.”

He threw his head back, roaring with laughter, thinking if she were his mistress, she’d have people to do that for her. “I don’t like to clean house either, but I suppose I’ve never really been tested. The chore has never been expected of me.”

“What do you want out of life?” She smiled as if she understood the diversion when she asked the question.

“A little peace and quiet,” he said quickly, realizing how true that was. He’d travelled most of Europe undertaking different missions directed by the English government. Now all he wanted was to do as he pleased for at least a year, perhaps more. Most of all, he didn’t want to feel the need to sleep with one eye open.

“Is that all? I’d think someone of your status would want more, perhaps fame and fortune, perhaps…”

“I’ve more money than I can spend in a lifetime and because my father was not a wastrel, he was able to pass my title on to me. So no, I need to spend time at White’s, find a willing woman who is not afraid of pleasure and perhaps in a few years find a woman I might want to wed and have children with.”

“You want to marry.” Her face turned a ghostly shade of white.

He couldn’t help but wonder why the change in color. “In a few years,” he told her, “And you? Do you want to marry?”

“Never,” she grit out, turning her face away, seeming to hide from him.

He wanted to see the flicker of emotions over her face, needed to see why she was so adamant in her denial of marital bliss. Perhaps in time she’d tell him. “I thought women wanted to marry and have children. Find someone to take care of them.”

She nodded to a well-dressed man at the bar, “See the drunk over there? Da promised him my hand in marriage. He’s a mean drunk. His name is Blair O’Connell. I told Da I wouldn’t marry him even though he’s an Irish lord, but my da insists. Says if I don’t he’ll kick me out.”

Roc felt a moment of anger, which quickly turned to rage as he watched the man, kick a stray dog that had entered the pub. Roc’s fists tightened. ‘He’ll kick you out of where?”

She shrugged her tiny shoulders, shoulders that shouldn’t have to bear such a heavy burden. “He owns the small cottage I live in. I pay rent to him so I can be out of his house and by myself. I do value that small bit of independence and it’s nice Da allows it. He doesn’t have to, you know.”

“Is there anywhere else you can go?” Besides my new townhouse in London. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. “Can I help?”

“No.” She paused, thinking, yet the smile forming on her face gave him a chance to believe he might be part of her thoughts. “I can’t afford anything else. He wouldn’t ever fire me from the band, but I need to clean the pub if I’m going to pay all my bills.”

“I could purchase a cottage and you could pay me rent,” he blurted before he realized this was counter to his purposes. Convincing her to come with him in a few days was his priority, not buying a place for her to live in so she could stay in Ireland.

“That is a thought, but I’m sure I’d have to refuse. Everyone would believe the wrong things about me and if I have anything, it’s my reputation. Without that there is nothing for me.”

Grateful she refused, “I understand.” Deep in his heart he was ecstatic she turned him down, but he still needed to find a way to make her life easier.

“Look, I need to walk home. It’s late and I crave sleep.” She stood then picked up her fiddle case.

“May I?” He took it from her. “Walk you home, that is? A girl shouldn’t be out at night alone.”

“Chivalry,” she murmured, then smiling, “I have to walk home alone every night. I try to leave before the lord O’Connell leaves. I don’t want him anywhere near me. He makes my skin crawl and sometimes I think he follows me, watches me in the house.”

“So?” He waited patiently for an answer. “May I accompany you home?” he prompted.

“Yes,” she smiled at him again, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, “I think I’d like that, but you have to know that’s all. Just a walk home, nothing more.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He opened the door for Caitlin, stepping out into the cold night air. It was early spring and one never knew what the weather would be like here. Tonight is was cold, nearly frigid because the sky was clear, with stars dotting the blackness.

“Wait.” She rushed into the pub then came out with a shawl. “I forgot my wrap. It’s a bit chilly. The breeze reminded me.” She looked a bit ashamed at her forgetfulness.

“I forget things too.” He grinned at her. “Are you warm enough now?” he asked, shifting the case to his other hand before wrapping an arm around her to draw her closer for warmth.

She didn’t push away from him and neither did she answer his question. Inwardly he smiled, enjoying the feel of her soft curves next to him. They walked in silence. He knew exactly where she lived. The last three nights and from a distance he made sure she made it to her home safely then set off for his lodgings.

She didn’t have to tell him about O’Connell. He’d known the first time he watched the man ogling her there was something more to their relationship, none of it good. Now that he understood what her da had done, he meant to change things. As soon as possible he’d have a long chat with her da as well as Lord O’Connell.

“Here we are.” She turned, stepping slightly away from him but now his hand rested at her waist.

He didn’t want to let her go, needed to understand her thoughts where he was concerned. “It’s dark inside. Do you want me to wait here?” He wondered at the expression flitting across her face. “Are you always afraid to step inside your home when you return at night?”

She was shaking her head even while she stepped closer to him. Next to him, he felt the fine trembling of her body.

“Was that a yes or a no? I’m a bit confused.” He didn’t want to laugh. Her fear was real and tangible, and without asking he was pretty sure the terror had something to with O’Connell.

“Both. Yes, when Blair has left before me. I can’t know where he is or if he’s waiting for me, and no, when he’s still in the pub. If he’s still in the tavern, he usually sleeps it off on the floor. Da wakes him up in the morning and sends him home.”

“My little cat, you shouldn’t ever be afraid.” He tenderly brushed her flyaway hair behind her ears. The feel was silken and it seemed to be on fire. He wanted to feel the heat surround him and he needed more than anything to run his fingers through the length.

“Believe me, I don’t like the feelings.” In his arms, she shuddered as if the fear surrounded her.

“May I come in?” he asked, understanding he might very well be overstepping his bounds.

Cat didn’t answer but she pulled a key from a pocket in her skirt and fumbled for a few minutes at the door. “I can’t seem to…”

“Let me help.” He didn’t understand the trembling of her hands and he hoped she wasn’t afraid of him. He took the key from her.

Seconds later, they stood inside her house. She scurried around the room, sending light into the small cottage. “Would you like a drink? I’ve tea. Not much else.”

He hesitated a moment, unsure of the right answer. He detested tea. “Of course, that would be fine.”

She seemed to sense his aversion to tea. “I’ve whiskey if that’s what you would prefer.” She stood by the cupboards in the kitchen.

“Whiskey would be nice,” he told her and reminded himself he should gift her with a bottle simply because he intended to walk her home every night until they left for London, and he didn’t want to deplete her meager supply.

She poured them both a glass, bringing it to him, “Would you like to sit down? I’m not sure what to do, never asked a man into my home before.” She fiddled with the glass as if she didn’t know whether she should drink it or play with it.

He smiled at her before sitting on the sofa. It was threadbare but must have been nice in another time. She deserved more than this. “I see what you mean about your housekeeping. Doubt if I would make a fuss if no one ever entered where I lived.”

With one hand she held the glass and the other she plucked at her skirts, her eyes cast downward. Then she looked up, “Is the whiskey to your liking?”

For some reason he needed to be honest, “I’ve had better.” He laughed. “As I’m sure you guessed.”

“Thank you for being truthful. Da gives me the whiskey that no one will order. I’m not sure why.”

“He wants you to have something for the man he promised you to if he comes calling.” This thought ate at him. He didn’t want to think about what that man could do to her in a drunken rage. Men like that were known to beat anyone who disagreed with them.

“I won’t let him in,” she shot back. “He’s not welcome here. Da can promise him the moon but when it comes to me, he has no rights. I’ll make decisions that are true for me.”

Roc wasn’t at all sure how Caitlin would keep the man out if he wanted in and that thought terrified him. Now more than ever, with this added knowledge, he needed to convince her that her best shot at a better life was in London with him.

“You might not be able to stop him. He’s a lot stronger than you.”

“I know.” She ran her tongue around her lips before downing the drink. “Would you like another?” She stood and striding to the bottle of whiskey she poured herself more then seemed to wait for his answer.

He held his glass out and she poured more, setting the bottle on a nearby table. “Why would your father sell you to this man who is nothing more than the town drunk?”

She looked clearly shocked by his expression. “He’s not really my father, and the man has money, owns property. Da says he wants more for me than playing my fiddle in the pub.”

The answer was short and to the point, “Not your father? Who is he?” now he had many more questions than answers about this young woman he cared for more than he’d cared for anyone his entire adult life.

“I call him my da but he’s really my uncle.” She closed her eyes then downed the whiskey before pouring another.

“You probably shouldn’t have any more.”

“Of course, you’re right. I have to wake up before six so I can go to the pub.” But she sipped again, clearly distraught by their conversation.

“What happened to your mother and father?” The questions surrounding his Cat grew.

She lifted her delicate shoulders slightly, looking at him with tear filled eyes. “My mother died in childbirth and father…some duke or earl…some English lord who didn’t care what happened to mother or me. I don’t know who he is and neither do I care.”

A wave of revulsion at the man who sired Cat swept through him. “Bloody hell,” he gritted out unable to think of anything else to say. She was sired by a lord and now groveled in a small hut with nothing to her name.

“It’s the god’s honest truth. I don’t know who my father is but I think Da does, but he won’t tell me because I think deep down he hates me for taking his sister’s life. And he might be afraid I’d try to find him.”

“Then he’s not much of a man,” Roc said, reevaluating his desires where Cat was concerned as well as his previous behaviors. He’d always taken precautions when he had sex. As far as he knew, there were no bastards, no women he abandoned when he was tired of them. Good God, his mother, The Duchess would have killed him if he did anything like that.

“So you say,” she said, standing, swaying a bit then steadying herself by placing a hand on the table. “Not used to drinking whiskey. Or so much.”

“Perhaps you should have a hot cup of tea before I leave.” He found himself in front of the sink not knowing what to do. Bloody eyes, it couldn’t be that hard to make a cup of tea.

She was laughing and the sound warmed his heart even though he understood she was laughing at him. “I’ll just have a glass of water. I’m not drunk, just exhausted and a wee bit tipsy. I’ll probably sleep like a babe tonight thanks to you.”

“Then I should be leaving so you can get some sleep.” He held her hands in his, feeling the callouses on her fingers and wishing he could do something to convince her she would allow him to take her to London. She shouldn’t have to work to keep food on her table when he could provide for her.

Yet after the conversations they’d had, he was pretty sure he understood why she told him she’d never be any man’s mistress. He vowed though she’d change her mind. He would find a way.

“I like your company,” she told him, moving closer to him, her chin tilted upward so he was looking into her blue violet eyes. Tonight, they were more violet than blue.

“But you don’t want me to stay the night.” He watched her expression turn to something he’d never seen before.

“Perhaps what I want is not what I can do.” She touched her hand to his cheek, her eyes speaking of desire and passion.

“Just one kiss then I’ll go.” He rested his hand on hers, feeling the fine trembling, understanding fear had changed to hunger as well as a desperate passion. “I won’t hurt you and nothing we do here, tonight, will damage your reputation.”

“Promise?”

He saw the rise of her breasts and felt the pounding of her heartbeat in the pulse at her wrist. “Promise.”

She moistened her lips as if in anticipation. “Roc?”

“No time for questions.”

His lips met hers, the warmth and softness reached deep into his soul. He needed more yet refused to act on his desires. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, maybe not, but her tongue swept across his lips, reached inside his mouth.

Her tiny gasp helped him realize she acted on instinct not knowledge. She had no idea what she had done, what she initiated when her tongue met his. But he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass. He deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, exploring every part of her she allowed. His hands held her face so he could have better access while his lips and tongue engaged in a sensual dance with hers.

Minutes later, when he pulled away, her lips were swollen slightly, tempting him even more to pursue this to the natural end. But she’d never forgive him if that was what he did. He didn’t want regrets ever in this fledgling relationship.

“Are you working tomorrow?” he asked, hoping she would finally have a day off and he could spend some time alone with her.

“Just cleaning the pub in the morning. I’ll be finished by noon. Why?” She moved back from him, holding her hand on her chest as if she tried to slow her breathing.

“Good, then I’ll pick you up here at one o’clock, if that’s alright. We’ll go for a carriage ride and perhaps I’ll bring a basket of food. Would you like that? And some wine.” He craved time alone with her, private time but also understood that for now, he would have to keep his courting to kisses. He laughed to himself, remembering his mother’s teaching. “When you are out with a lady, you best think with your head and not your cock.” He would have a devil of a time doing that with his Caitlin.

Her hands were under her chin, her eyes bright, “I’d like that, a carriage ride, food and some wine. I’ve never done anything like that before or been alone with a man.”

At her innocent words, Roc’s breath caught in his throat. “Goodnight, my little Cat, sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Roc left Cat’s house, whistling and thinking to himself of ways to help this woman without her knowing. That’s all he wanted, to help her and make her life easier. Well, that was not quite all, he wanted her in his bed.

When he stepped inside the home he rented, he sat down, writing another letter to his solicitor and to his mother, The Duchess. What he put in motion, he meant for it to answer the questions to Cat’s parentage.

The first letter was destined for his solicitor inquiring as to the progress in purchasing the townhouse. The second one was to his mother.

Mother,

I’ve met a woman with a very interesting story. She is about eighteen years of age and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Just looking at her steals my breath. This evening she told me her father was an English lord but she didn’t know his name and her mother died in childbirth. I’m guessing the mother ran away from the man because Caitlin ended up here in Ireland. This isn’t a lot of information to go on, but I will be forever in your debt if you can inquire into her possible parentage. By the way, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on.

Love, your son

Roc

~ * ~

Caitlin watched Roc walk down the road then she slowly closed the door behind her. With the door shut tight, she leaned against it, her back resting on the wood. She touched a fingertip to her lips, recalling the sweetness of his kiss and longing for more.

The only other time she’d been kissed was when Blair caught her behind the pub. He’d pressed her hard against the side of the tavern demanding a response she couldn’t give him. She shuddered, her skin seeming to crawl.

Turning quickly, she locked the door. Sometimes when he wasn’t too drunk, Blair turned up after she went home, banging on the door until he gave up and left. Before she put her nightdress on, she blew out the lanterns and the candles.

Darkness surrounded her when she finally pulled back the covers to the bed and slipped beneath the quilt. She turned over, pounding the pillow as if that would help her sleep, but thoughts of Roc’s kisses kept her awake.

Too bad Roc was an English lord. Why couldn’t he be a commoner like her, someone she could let herself fall in love with? He was handsome, his broad shoulders narrowing to lean hips. His well-muscled legs long, but it was his dark brown eyes that drew her to him, beckoning her and making her feel so hot she wanted to take off all her clothes. But tonight she relished his lips pressed against hers, the intensity and the strange longing he drew from her. They were full and warm, soft too, probably the only soft part of him.

Hours later it seemed she drifted off to an uneasy slumber, dreams of Roc and his kisses haunting her as she pulled and tugged at the bedding. When the clock finally chimed six times, the covers were wrapped around her legs and her body was sweat sheened.

Rubbing her eyes, she quickly rose and padding to the small kitchen, she took a loaf of bread and cheese from the cupboard then heated water on the stove for tea. While she waited for the water to boil, she dressed in a well-worn day dress suitable for cleaning the bar before pulling her hair back and winding it into a tight chignon.

She ate quickly, eager to get the cleaning finished and return to her cottage. They were going for a carriage ride and her fingers shook at the idea of sitting next to him and watching the scenery go by. She wanted another kiss and meant to figure out how to convince him of that. Perhaps she could initiate the kiss. Would he like that or would that be too forward of her?

Winding her fingers around the hot cup, she let the heat warm her hands while she sipped the tea and ate a few bites. She felt a little nauseous, nerves rattling while she thought about spending some special time with Roc.

When she left, she locked the door behind her even though nothing ever happened in the small town of Portrush. She was wary of Blair and what he might do when he had too much to drink and when he discovered she’d let Roc walk her home last night, she didn’t know what he might do.

She hoped her da had not let him sleep in the tavern and that she wouldn’t find him residing in some dark corner. Waking him so she could clean did not bode well for her. He would ask her about last night because she didn’t doubt he saw her walk out of the pub with Roc. It would surprise her if he hadn’t followed them.

The tavern was quiet and empty when she stepped through the door. She pulled the curtains apart to let the light of the day inside. No one slept in a corner on the floor. Her breathing seemed to even out as she let the breath she’d been holding from her lungs. Her wishes had been granted.

Grabbing a damp cloth from the back room, she cleaned the tables then put the chairs on top of them so she could mop the floors.

A few hours later she finished her chores and was taking off her apron when a noise in the back caught here attention. She peaked around the corner, “Da? Is that you?”

“It’s me, Caitlin. You about finished,” he asked walking through the kitchen to meet her and give her a quick hug. “You got a few minutes? I’d like to speak with you about last night.” He rubbed his neck, a gesture he used when his nerves were on edge.

Inhaling a long deep breath, she braced herself for a lecture about Roc and why he wasn’t good for her and that she shouldn’t let him walk her home. She took a quick look at the clock, “I’ve about thirty minutes.”

“Good, put two chairs down for us to sit on.” He walked into the main room with two cups of coffee and some freshly made tarts from Ida’s place.

“I know what you’re going to say, Da.” She reached out accepting the hot cup and sipping gingerly.

“I don’t think you do.” He drank seeming to study her before he bit into the lemon tart.

“Yes, I can already hear you telling me that he’s a lord and he’s going back to England. All he wants from me is one thing.” Her fury escalated as she thought about what she said about herself. Surely, she had something more to offer a man than just her body.

Her da was shaking his head, his expression grim. “No, don’t need to tell you something you know. Rest assured this is different and it’s coming from my heart because I love you.”

“Then what?” Impatiently, she ran her finger along the rim of her cup, her mind still on the outing this afternoon with Roc. “Da, I love you too but we rarely agree anymore.”

“Your mother.” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his well-muscled arms over his chest and tucking his hands under his armpits.

“Mother? You’ve never said much about her. Why now? Because you think I’m on the verge of making the biggest mistake of my live?”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “Your mother, Fiona, she loved an adventure. It seemed to me she always wanted what she couldn’t have. She flitted back and forth from here to Belfast. One day she didn’t come home. I got a message from her months later that she was in London and she’d met a man, a marquise, she said or maybe an earl.”

“I’ve heard some of this,” she said yet she never tired of stories about the mother she never met. “Nothing you say about my mother can be compared to me. I’m satisfied here in Portrush even though…” She moistened her lips reminding herself Roc was not for her. “There is no one here for me. I’m fine with that.”

“I know, bear with me. She returned about a year after she ran off and about ten months after I got the letter from her.”

“I’m not going to let that happen. I’m no man’s mistress, never will be. If I’ve learned anything from the stories about Mother, I know what I don’t want.” Anger simmered deep inside and she understood the simple facts about this. If she didn’t know her mother’s story, she’d most likely do the same thing. Roc could seduce her if she allowed him to, but that scenario would never come to fruition. She would not allow it to happen.

“So you say. I just want you to be careful.” He reached for her hands and for a short time he held them in his. “A man such as your lord can be very persuasive to a naïve young woman such as yourself.”

“I promise. This,” she gestured around the room, “is all I need.” But it wasn’t. She craved a wonderful man to call husband. There was no one in Portrush and for a moment she understood her mother’s need to leave the small village. The move had been necessary for happiness, but it resulted in her death.

“I’ve pushed you toward Blair because he is a lord, an Irish one. He can take care of you. He has an estate and despite his penchant for drink, is well taken care of.”

“He’s a drunk and a lecher.” She rubbed her arms, wishing her da would find something else to speak of. “The thought of kissing him or lying in bed with him sends chills up my spine.”

“While he’s a sloppy drunk, he’ll never break your heart.” It seemed he gave one last effort to convince her that marrying Blair would be good for her.

“You can’t break anything you don’t possess. I despise the man and you know as well as I do that he’s a mean drunk.”

“I don’t think he would hurt you.” Her da tried to defend Blair to her, but it wasn’t going to work.

“He kicked a dog just last night because the poor animal wanted food. You feed the strays leftovers; the animal was just eager.” Her words grew more heated and she became more determined as she spoke of Blair and the cruelty that lay just below the surface.

“He would never hurt a woman,” he repeated, “especially you. He thinks himself in love with you.

She stood too quickly, knocking over her chair, “He won’t hurt me because I don’t plan on giving the odious man a chance. A title is not the worth of a man or a woman. Unless you have something else to say, it’s time for me to leave. This is discussion is finished.”

“What’s your hurry? Sit a moment and relax.” He reached out again this time to stop her. “You’re not working tonight so you’ve got time.”

She didn’t want to lie to him, but she didn’t see any other recourse. Perhaps leaving out something wasn’t a lie. If she didn’t come in early this morning the question would have never come up. “I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I need to go home and this discussion with you is exhausting.”

“Did your lord stay the night?” His voice turned angry, perhaps accusatory while he glared at her.

“Of course not. Don’t you believe me when I tell you I’m not going to sleep with the man. He will not be in my bed because I understand he could never marry a commoner, and I won’t be his mistress or his whore.” She was very nearly screaming while the frustration of the morning and the lost sleep took over her senses and emotions.

“I’m sorry, dear. I do believe you. It’s just that I can no longer protect you and I know that for a fact. I wanted you to have a good man, but it doesn’t seem to be happening.” He motioned for her to leave. “Go on, get some sleep. I apologize for making you angry.”

“Blair O’Connell is not a good man. You need to tell him that you take back what you offered months ago. I’m not ever going to be that man’s wife. So tell him I’m unpromised to him.”

Her da cleared his throat. “I’ll try but it seems he’s given me a loan that I would have to pay back if you don’t wed him.”

She had been on her way out the door, but with those words she whirled on him, fists clenched at her sides. “You sold me? Was the O’Connell the highest bidder? How dare you do such a thing.”

With that said she was out the door, slamming it shut behind her. She muttered as she raced to her cottage, needing a hot bath to get the filth of this conversation with the man she’d always trusted to have her best interests at heart off her body. She didn’t think she could scrub enough.

Inside she set the pots to boiling then pumped water into buckets to partially fill the tub. Gazing at the clock, she realized she’d have to settle for a tepid bath. Once the water was in the small tub, she tore off her clothes, letting them fall on the floor then slipped into the water.

She only had fifteen minutes to bathe and dress. Soaping and rinsing she managed to wash all of her, including her hair. When she stood, she wrapped a bath sheet around her and stepped behind the curtain separating her bed from the main room.

The knocking on the door caught her attention. She turned to look just as Roc opened the door and looked inside.

“Cat, you ready? I know I’m a little early but I wanted to see you.” He stepped inside when she didn’t answer right away.

She gasped, moving backward and stumbling over the bucket she used to rinse the soap. “No.”

“I brought you something…”

A dog appeared out of nowhere and jumped on her, licking her face and wagging its huge tale. Desperately, she tried to keep her towel in place. “An Irish Wolf Hound?” She tried to stand but the puppy kept her firmly on the floor.

Roc strode around the corner. “You don’t have to take him if you don’t…” Quickly he backed from the room. “Sorry, didn’t realize you didn’t have any clothes on.”

She was sure she heard a hint of laughter and maybe a touch of appreciation, and she realized she wasn’t very embarrassed. She didn’t think he’d seen much except her legs sticking out from beneath the bath towel.

“Just wait out there and take this little guy or he’ll never let me get dressed.” She laughed as the dog licked her nose again. “Go on, go to your master. Shew.”

“You’re his master and I can’t get him unless I come where you are.” He was really laughing now, and if she wasn’t completely naked underneath this simple covering, she’d laugh too.

She saw his booted feet, perfectly shined Hessians, below the curtain. “Come get him but close your eyes.”

“Don’t think that will work. Don’t want to fall into your tub or onto you. I’ll try to keep from looking at you but it’s going to be hard.”

“Very well.” She let out a long breath of air. “Do your best. I suppose my legs aren’t anything you haven’t seen before.” A sudden and unexpected wave of jealousy washed through her at her very own words.

He stepped around the curtain, and she knew he wasn’t looking at her but the dog was practically sitting on her lap. If he were to retrieve the animal, he’d have no recourse but to take a quick look. She pulled the towel higher but as the dog wiggled on her lap, one edge slipped dangerously low. She tugged again.

“There, got him.” He now held the squirming puppy in his arms and backed from the room with a devilish grin that set her heart spinning and her mind whirling with so many scenarios she didn’t know what direction to take.

“I’ll be right out.” She dropped the bath sheet before putting on the clothing she’d carefully laid out just a few minutes ago.

“Better be or this little guy is going to be around that corner again. Can’t hold this squirming bundle of energy forever.”

“Done.” She stepped around the curtain, grinning at him, just as the dog wiggled from Roc’s arms and made a mad dash for the doorway.

“Oh no,” Roc said, racing to take the dog outside but it was too late. The dog stopped and spread legs was doing just what they feared.

“He peed on my floor.” She started laughing then laughed harder when Roc joined her, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“I’ll clean it up,” he volunteered, still laughing. He looked around the room and she pointed to a place by the sink where he found a sponge and soap.

“Tell me why the dog and why do you want to give him to me? Is it one of Ida’s dogs?”

In the middle of cleaning up the spill, the dog pranced around him, seeming to think this was some type of game. “Yes, I picked up a basket of food from Ida and she told me the puppies were ready to leave their mama. Thought you could use a good dog for protection.”

“I do love dogs and perhaps that’s not a bad idea,” she told him, scooping the puppy into her arms. Thoughtfully, she rubbed its ears, but he didn’t want anything to do with petting. He managed to get out of her arms then found one of her wool socks, worrying it and shaking it as if he meant to kill it. “Now he’s got my sock, little rascal.”

On hands and knees, Rock grabbed the animal, retrieving the sock without letting the dog put a hole in it. “Got it.” He held the sock in the air as if it was a prized possession.

“What am I going to do with him? I can’t keep him outside. I’ve nowhere to put the little devil.”

“Let’s build a place where you can store him when you’re gone. It won’t hold him for long, but at least we can go on our outing. Then we can think of something else.” He looked for pieces of furniture he could put together to make a pen. “There.” He brushed his hands together then picked up the dog, setting him in the new pen. Then he put a bowl of water where the dog could get to it. “You’re going to have to think of a name.”

She walked toward him, trying to put her damp hair into a manageable do. “I have no idea what to call that beast and in a less than a year, he’s going to eat me out of house and home.”

“Let me help you with your hair. Can’t help you with anything else.” She turned her back to him, setting the needed pins on a nearby table. In a matter of seconds, he secured her hair.

“How do you know how to do that? Never mind, I probably don’t want to know,” she murmured, the same wave of jealousy she felt earlier surfaced. “Do you think he’ll still be there when we get back?”

He lifted his shoulders in a gesture that said he didn’t know. “I’ve picked up some of the things you left on the floor just in case he makes a jail break.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know why she was thanking him. He brought a little adorable nuisance into her home, one she could only feed if Da helped her out with scraps from the pub.

“Do you want a shawl,” he asked as he grabbed one from the coat stand as well as her fiddle case. “It appears it might rain a bit.”

Outside a breeze ruffled her air and made the leaves on the trees shimmer. A mountain of white clouds billowed on the horizon, but the carriage caught her attention.

“It’s huge,” she whispered totally in awe.

He let his head fall back, roaring with laughter. “It has nearly all the comforts of home. When I sail on one my ships, I always bring it with me. Come take a look. I had it custom made.” He held out his arm for her.

She didn’t understand why he laughed at her comment, but she did like laughter; much preferred it over anger and some of the other more depressing emotions. Didn’t even care if he laughed at her, she’d try to find a way to laugh with him.

“I would like to see inside.”

“Then you shall,” he told her, gallantly opening the door and helping her inside.

The interior was plush and the seats wide enough to sit three across. “It’s beautiful,” she said, awestruck, looking to see if he laughed. “Is it as comfortable?”

“Not as much as your sofa at home, and when the carriage is moving one can’t get rid of the potholes and rocks on the road but otherwise, yes. It has storage beneath the seats where I keep blankets and other items I’ve found I like to have handy on trips.”

“Did Ida make the basket of food for you?” She sat down, running her hands along the fabric of the seats, soaking in the luxury, thinking if she had something like this to ride in she might like to take a trip to Belfast or perhaps farther to Dublin.

“For us.” He corrected then sat across from her. “For long trips I had the man who made this carriage put in pullouts, see.” He showed her. “I can sleep, well perhaps relax a bit more than normal.”

“Potholes and rocks.” She wondered if he ever slept with a woman here.

“No, I haven’t,” he said grinning again.

“Haven’t what?” He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been thinking. Why would his mind go there as well unless he was thinking about doing that with her?

“I haven’t slept with any woman in this carriage or any other one I own,” he told her, holding her hand in his.

“How many do you own?” She didn’t understand why she was prying into his life. In a week or so he would leave. He’d told her as much and she’d never see him again.

“Two carriages and four ships.” Letting go of her hand he leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the seat, a smug expression on his handsome and too debonair features. Confidence exuded from him.

“You’re very wealthy. What do you see in me?” She wanted to slap herself for asking the question. Didn’t she know what he saw in her, an easy conquest and his next mistress? She meant to stay ahead of his game. She wasn’t going to be an easy conquest.

“Does that bother you?” He tapped on the roof signaling the driver to start. “And I see a lot in you. You’re a beautiful and intelligent woman. I could listen to you play your fiddle all day long.”

“He does know where we are going?” She needed to change the subject before she put her foot in her mouth again.

“I certainly hope so,” he said, leaning forward and reaching for her hands. “You need to try and relax. You’re as stiff as a broomstick. I don’t want to make you nervous. This is supposed to an enjoyable outing for you.”

“It’s just hard when you’re so handsome and all I can think about is the kiss last night.” She wished she hadn’t said that.

His grin sent her heart spinning. “You liked the kiss, does that mean you want another one?” He suddenly drew her to his side of the carriage, settling her on his lap while his lips found hers.

~ * ~

“You’ve betrayed me,” Blair O’Connell, Earl of Glenwild, glared at Sean O’Shea, Caitlin’s da, over his pint of Guinness.

Sean pushed the money he borrowed from Blair toward the man, “I didn’t mean to betray anyone. The lass doesn’t want to marry you. Says she won’t.”

“You should have done more,” Blair insisted, his glare still firmly planted on Sean. “Should have insisted.”

“Did all I could do. If you didn’t get drunk every night and right in front of Caitlin, you might have stood a better chance.”

“Don’t want your money back,” Blair pushed it back toward Sean.

“You and I both know you only gave it to me because you thought she’d be your wife. Get it through your thick skull, it’s not going to happen.” Sean understood most of why Caitlin wanted nothing to do with this man.

“I’m going to find a way to make her say yes.” He drank down the beer then pushed the glass toward Sean asking for more.

Sean felt a sick feeling fill his gut. His first thought went to revenge and he recalled Caitlin’s words. If he could kick a dog, he could certainly do the same to a woman.

“You’ll keep your distance where she is concerned,” Sean gritted out, his fists tight.

“Or you’ll do what? Do you forget who I am? I could have you arrested on some trumped up charge if I wanted to get rid of you.”

“You could do that but no matter how smart you think you are or how much power you think you have, the man who is even now courting Caitlin can squish you with his thumb.” Sean felt good that he’d done his research on the Duke of Ravenswood. The family was powerful and while the duke had not been present in London for years, it seemed his mother wielded more power than anyone but the prince regent.

“Just why do you think to have such an absurd idea. Who is this man, Roc Leighton, I believe.”

“Perhaps I should allow you to find out the hard way by crossing him.” Sean liked that idea and the more he thought about it, the better it became. For a time, he’d truly harbored the idea of a wedding between Blair and Caitlin, now he sensed what she felt all along. He was a despicable man.

“I’m the most powerful man all the way to Belfast. No one gainsays me.” He puffed up a bit with those words.

“Ever heard of The Duchess?” Sean let the question hang for a few seconds while he waited for an answer.

“Never,” Blair said but his usually ruddy complexion turned sallow.

Sean knew, just as everyone in these parts knew, who The Duchess was. “The Duchess is Roc’s mother, but of course I see you’ve realized that meager fact. Roc is the Duke of Ravenswood and he commands all the power now.”

“Well…” Blair sputtered. “He won’t marry her like I would have. No, he’ll take her virginity which was mine to take then he’ll turn her into his mistress instead of his wife.”

“It was only yours if Caitlin wished to grant it to the likes of you. Now the object of your obsession is out of your reach. I wouldn’t even protest if Caitlin chose to become his mistress over becoming your wife.” Sean watched for more reactions to the stunning news as well as his insinuations.

“You’re just a bitter man because you never found a wife for yourself. You had to take solace in raising Fiona’s girl,” Blair shot out as if trying to anger him.

He never wanted a wife because he preferred men. He’d always kept a low profile where his desires were concerned. No one in this small village knew of his preference except Ida and of course Blair. She had become his confidant.

“Never had the desire for a wife because I stayed busy with Caitlin. Don’t regret one tiny second either.” He wiped his hands on the apron he wore. “Clients are starting to come into the pub. I’ve got work. If you know what’s good for you, stay away from Caitlin. It’s not a threat from me but one from the duke to you through me.”

Blair sauntered to a table after ordering food. He seemed contrite, nursing his beer and staring out the window, his eyes glazed over. Sean had the feeling Blair would be sleeping on the floor tonight unless he could summon one of his servants to bring him home.

He’d be so drunk he wouldn’t bother Caitlin, at least Sean prayed that would be the case.