My Lady Series Bundle (49 page)

"Ah hh!" he groaned, then his body arched stiffly and a rush of his fiery seed sizzled deep inside her. Their moans combined to the cries of fulfillment and she felt his cock contracting, and then bursting forth again with a sharp bass groan from his throat. Then on the lingering dredges of her climax, his hot seed filled her again, until he lay panting beneath her and she collapsed halfway across his chest.

They were elements of a tempest in the universe together. They were a storm's center. They were the fire of a raging flame or the sun's searing heat. Untamed, uncontrolled together. They sparked something uncommon in each other and combined, it made a vital whole.

"I
want
you, Nia. I want you by my side.
No
more of these games."

"Radford!" Nia's hands stopped his hand reaching for the blindfold.
"Please."

"Judas, Nia!" he exclaimed harshly.

"I must speak to you," she pleaded. "Please, listen to me, I..."

Radford's hands lifted as he searched blindly, and then her hands helped him to find her face. "I would know you without sight, in any moment for the rest of my life," he murmured as he traced the features of her face. Yet, his hand suddenly stilled, when he felt her tears. "Nia?" he uttered, with more words coming behind her name.

Yet, before he could, Nia blurted on a strangled sob, "I am a whore!
Oh,
Radford, a whore! Do you
hear
me?"

At that exact instant of her guilt-ridden exclamation, a sound clamored loudly behind where they lay tangled on the bed. Then suddenly two feminine squeals erupted, jerking Nia's gaze upward to see two ladies gaping at her in the open doorway of Radford's bedchamber. Nia cried out in surprised horror, just as Radford was exclaiming her name again. She shoved upon his chest with surprising strength and leaped out of the bed, managing to grasp her chemise as she ran frantically from the room.

"Nia!" Radford bellowed, tearing the blindfold away from his head. His full intention was to give chase, yet the climatic events suddenly righted themselves in his mind as he sat upright on the edge of the bed. He realized then, just exactly what Nia had said and his body's motions came to an abrupt halt, as his glaring gaze landed on the two women gaping at him.

"Get the hell out of here!" he bellowed in a uncharacteristically maddened shout that sent them fleeing immediately. He realized that he'd raised his fist to them unconsciously and when he saw it before him, he lowered it tensely to the bed beside him. His knuckles knocked the corner of something solid on the bed bringing his gaze downward. Radford saw the corner of what appeared to be a fat envelope. He plucked at the edge of the envelope, until it came out from beneath Nia's scattered clothing. There on the front of the packet had been written his name with the words "from Nia" underneath. He realized that Nia had intended to give him this and he began to open it up, trying to settle his heart to what explanations he might find.

What he found amazed and disturbed him more than the fact that Nia was a
fille de joie
. And after he read the entire set of instructions from Nia's apparent client-benefactor, two things settled in his mind, both in opposite directions. Nia was never supposed to make love with him and she was being
paid
to do what she did. That piece of information alone stopped him from following her, and he wondered angrily, if all the feelings that she'd shared with him were contrived.

"F
uck,
she is a whore," Radford said angrily, his back stiffly turned to Saxon. He was disillusioned, hurt, and grasping. "She only did it for money! And the man who paid her could be my enemy. Although, I fail to see the gain." The sound of Radford's drinking glass shattering against the fireplace filled the room.

"Nia O'Shea?" Saxon asked with an exclamation.

Whom the hell else would he be speaking of,
Radford thought sourly, as he turned toward Saxon. But then, he saw Brynmore, evidentially newly arrived to his estate, standing behind Saxon with a surprised, and somewhat alarmed look on his face.

"Say the name again," Brynmore demanded.

Radford watched Saxon turn to Brynmore as he tried to understand the look on Brynmore's face.

"Nia O'Shea," Saxon provided once more, only this time his voice was level and devoid of the incredulousness from moments before.

"Bloody hell, I know her," Brynmore exclaimed. Then his voice turned to angry words. "The lass is
not
a whore!"

"But..." Saxon glanced at Radford.

"You
know
her?" Radford exclaimed, then he added in a deadly quiet voice, "The lady told me this herself."

"Then, there is some explanation," Brynmore replied. "Nia O'Shea is from a good Irish family. Bloody hell, we are related somewhere down the line. Aye, my mother was a very dear friend with her mother, before she and her husband died."

"Then why, the hell, could I not find any bloody O'Shea, when I looked?" Radford asked with a demanding tone.

Brynmore's gray eyes narrowed. "O'Shea is her mother's name, not her father's. Dunmore was his name. There must be some reason that she is using her mother's name."

"Because, she
is
a whore," Radford spat quietly, while perversely enjoying Brynmore's shoulders stiffening as though he had been insulted. Then suddenly, Radford sighed as though all the air left his lungs and his anger escaped with it. "Not that I care that she is a
fille de joie
. Damnation, I care simply that she was paid to..." He could not finish.

"To bed you," Saxon said quietly.

"Is, Nia, this woman, Saxon, that you told me Radford was involved with?" Brynmore asked.

Saxon nodded. "Much more than simply involved, I think," Saxon added.

Radford looked up at them not speaking, but knowing his face spoke of his answer. "For money," he whispered.

"There must be an answer," Brynmore insisted. "I must see her."

"I..." Radford hesitated, then strengthened his voice, shaking his head, then starting again. "You need to discover who did this, who paid her. For what reason, because..." He could not go on.

"I understand," Brynmore replied. "Saxon can fill me in on the rest."

"She was at the Boars Head," Radford said, then as he turned away, he uttered,
"Christ
, make sure she is safe." Then he stalked from the room.

Nia sniffled as she folded a shimmering dress into the small valise she'd opened on the bed in her room at the Boars Head Inn. She'd brought the dress for the masquerade ball this evening at Radford's estate. Somehow in the back of her mind, even without knowing Benny's further instructions she'd assumed that she would be attending the ball. It had simply seemed like to her, to be another perfect place to enhance the mysterious seduction.

"It is better this way," she mumbled, not convincing herself at all. How could she have made such a jumble of everything? How could she so callously blurt out that she was a whore to Radford without further explanation? "Because there is no further explanation," she chided herself miserably. "Those ladies did you a favor. They saved you from seeing Radford's accusing face. O-Or his disgust!"

Nia's voice broke as she tried without success to turn her attention back to her packing. She knew she was lingering, only it was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. To leave now and turn her back on Radford. Even though she knew that he could not possibly want her now.

"But at least he has read Benny's letters by now and he will k-know." Her voice caught. "He will know that I made l-love to him instead of taking the money." Suddenly there was a knock upon the door and Nia quickly wiped away a few tears and called, "Enter." She'd been expecting the Inn's maid to help her. She reached to shut her valise as she heard the door opening, and then she turned toward the person entering.

"Laird Duneagan!" Nia gasped, so thoroughly surprised that she wobbled and sat on the bed, before her knees gave way. "Blimey!" It was all she could think to say as Laird Brynmore Duneagan looked down on her with a welcoming quirk on his lips.

"Lady Nia Dunmore," he replied with a short bow. "Bloody hell, Nia! It has been too long." With that said, Brynmore strode forward and grasped her hands pulling her up before him. In her surprised state, Nia could do nothing more than acquiesce to his lead and before she knew it she was embraced in a huge bear hug. Late, she remembered to hug her friend back.

"Ach, lass, it is so good to see you. It has been entirely too long. Shame on us," Brynmore rumbled and Nia could feel it in his chest, where they embraced tightly and suddenly she burst into tears. She was completely mortified, yet she could not stop as she bawled into Brynmore's tartan, which was thrown over his shoulder.

"Aw, I thought so," Brynmore said as he rocked her. "Let it out, lass. Let it all out."

An embarrassing ten minutes later, found Nia sitting on the bed clutching a hand-linen to her nose that Brynmore had provided as he sat next to her on the bed.

"What brings you here, Bry?" Nia sniffled. "How in the world have you run across me like this, after all these years?"

"Ach, I truly do regret that it is so long, lass. I should have come after your parents passed. But the war." Brynmore shrugged. "Still, it is no excuse after I returned to England."

"No, no Bry." Nia patted his hand. "I never expected you too. We were all so sad to hear of your family's loss. You got my letter? So many, Bry," Nia added sadly.

"Aye, I got your letter. It helped, Nia, surely it did. Ach, Nia, I was just so..." Brynmore paused, then said, "I just found myself avoiding anyone that would remind me how many I'd lost. Both my brothers, Da, and Uncle Claymore."

Nia squeezed his hand. "I am so sorry, Bry."

Brynmore lifted his head looking at her. "Aye well, you know well enough that life goes on, Nia. And as to why I have found you here, well, I should tell you that, Radford, is one of my closest friends."

Nia's eyes widened with her lips forming an "O" of surprise. "Oh no, I-I..." she stuttered.

"Listen to me, lass," Brynmore said, patting her hand. "I've heard most of the stories concerning you and Radford. But I know there is more."

Nia dropped her gaze, pulling her hands from Brynmore's hands to clutch both of them into her lap. "I'm a lady of the night," she whispered, then she lifted her head and said more strongly, "And, I am
not
ashamed of it. It's honest work!"

"And it's certain to be the money, Nia. How could I be so unthinking? I knew your parents left five siblings. Yet, I never thought to ask. How could you not come to me, lass? We are not so distantly related, and clan is clan," Brynmore said.

"You had lost so much, Bry. And the line is long in our relation." Nia looked at her hands twisting in her lap and stopped their motion. "I did not know I could ask anyone or expect anyone to take our cause."

"Ach well, you know now," Brynmore said, reaching forward and clasping her hands to pull her into another short and welcome embrace. "My mother would be chiding me from heaven that I did not take care of her best friend, Mary Dunmore's, children."

Nia clutched him. "Galen has been accepted into Oxford. It is so very expensive."

"Now, now," Brynmore soothed her. "The clan has worth and young Galen will return to us an asset. Besides you still have the land and house I'm thinking and you just need someone to help you make it profitable. One way or another, lass, I'll not hear any more of this lady of the night shenanigans." Brynmore lifted her chin looking down on her. "Besides, I think it might not be a problem soon."

Nia looked up at Brynmore curiously, wondering what he meant. Then, he cleared his throat. "I think though, lass, that before you travel back to Dublin and we settle you in, you might have something here left to do."

"Radford?" she asked. Then, she said, "I have told him all of it and left the evidence. I'm sure you know."

"Nia, do you understand that he thinks you'll be paid. That you left for the money."

"No!" she exclaimed. "I could not. Not now. But, I thought..." she paused, thinking that she had been so emotional. Maybe, she'd not properly thought about what Radford would think. It would be so much crueler if Radford thought she would take the money. It would taint everything they had been together so much worse than it already was.

"He would refuse to see me. He cannot ever want to see me again."

Brynmore held her back from him looking down on her. "Then you cannot take a, "no," for an answer, lass. He needs to hear the whole of it. You owe that to him and your honor demands it."

Nia lifted her chin. Brynmore was right. She must set her sins right as best as she could, no matter how difficult it would be. She just needed to tell Radford, to speak to him and to say goodbye.

"You are right," Nia said to Brynmore finally.

Brynmore nodded, then he said, "Now tell me more about this person that hired you."

R
adford stood in his ballroom, lighted with the glow of chandeliers and candle sconces upon the wall. The orchestra played a soulful waltz and the large room was filled with men and women dressed in creative renditions that swept the spectrum from fairies and goddesses to the devilish mischief-maker Pan and the omnipotent Zeus. He was dressed as a phantom without a shirt, bare chested, but he wore a flowing black satin cloak with a blood red lining thrown over his shoulders. His mask was black velvet with devilish points over his brows. Everyone was masked and he was sincerely grateful for his own mask.

In the throng of revelers he was hard to identify as he stood beside a large sweeping potted plant beneath an arch on the side of the ballroom. From his vantage point he could see the room, yet nearly not be seen himself. The perfect place to brood, while his friends of the Archangels and their wives graciously took over the main hosting of his party. He had requested it and one look at him, he supposed, had sealed their questions as to why. He'd also asked that they spread the rumor that they, as his closest friends, knew that he'd asked a lady from the continent to be his bride. Yet, until she accepted, which appeared quite favorable that she would, he was not revealing her name to anyone, out of gentlemanly concern, of course. That he assumed, should quiet his life considerably from the grasp of any ladies setting their attentions upon him. He hoped!