Irish Linen (19 page)

Mrs. Gibbons appeared delighted to see her. Meghan greeted the woman with a smile; and then with Lucas by her side, she followed her employer up the staircase to a sitting room on the second-story level of the house.

“I’d like you to make a new set of drapes for this room,” Flora said, drawing Meghan’s surprise.

A quick glance at Lucas told Meghan that he was as startled by his aunt’s revelation as she. “I thought you wanted a gown altered,” he said.

The woman waved the notion aside. “The gown can wait. The drapes in this room are too glum for my taste.” She went to a sewing table along one wall and fingered a folded length of fabric. “Can you do this for me, Meghan?” she asked.

“Aye,” Meghan assured her. “I’ll be glad to.” She moved to touch the material. “ ‘Tis lovely cloth.”

Flora smiled. “I had it specially printed at the mill for this room.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The pattern is one that was designed by my late husband. This will be the only printed cloth. I never thought to use it before … until now.”

Meghan heard the emotion in her employer’s voice and chanced a look at her nephew. Lucas was regarding his aunt with a soft expression that made Meghan’s insides melt.

The older woman cleared her throat and gave
Meghan a brief smile. “Lucas will help you remove the old drapes.”

“But I thought—” Lucas began.

“I can manage—” Meghan said simultaneously.

“Nonsense!” Lucas’s aunt declared. “Lucas, you’ve been working too hard at my accounts these last few days. You can certainly use some time off from them to help Meghan.”

Meghan refused to meet his gaze. The thought of him working by her side made her nervous … and yet it pleased her, too.

Flora had moved to the window, and now she gave Lucas instructions on how to remove the drapes. Then she began to address her seamstress. “Meghan?” she said when the young woman didn’t respond.

Meghan glanced over and flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what ye said.” Her gaze slammed into Lucas, whose dark eyes twinkled as she approached. She shot him a silent reproving look, and his lips curved with amusement.

“I said that the style of the old drapes is fine,” Flora said. “There should be everything you need here. If you run out of thread, you can let Mrs. Riker or one of the housemaids know.” She paused to grin. “We have plenty of cotton thread.”

Meghan shared her grin. “Aye.”

Flora’s gaze ran the length of Meghan’s serviceable gown. “Did you make your dress?” she asked.

The Irishwoman shifted uncomfortably. She’d restitched the gowns that Rafferty had purchased for her, but they were plain, not at all like the garments that Flora Gibbons wore. “Actually me fiancé bought it for me,” she confessed. “I had to alter it, but—”

“Your fiancé?” Flora seemed startled. “I didn’t know you were engaged.” A furrow appeared on her brow.

“Is it one of my workers?”

Did she see her employer’s gaze slide briefly to Lucas? Meghan wondered. She shook her head.

Lucas’s voice boomed into the ensuing silence. “He works in Somerville, Auntie.”

This time there was no denying Flora’s surprised glance toward her nephew.

Lucas’s facial muscles tightened at the subject of Meghan’s fiancé. He stared at his aunt with speculation and wondered why the existence of Meghan’s fiancé should bother his relative.

Meghan looked uncomfortable, and Lucas couldn’t blame her. Why should it concern his aunt whether or not Meghan was betrothed?

His eyes narrowed. Unless … But no, the idea was too ludicrous to make sense, he decided. Meghan McBride wasn’t someone his family would approve for him. She was not of their class. Odds are Aunt Flora was simply worried that she might lose a good worker.

“Meghan is not ready to leave your fold yet, Aunt Flora,” he said, testing his theory.

His aunt laughed and seemed to relax. “I hope not.” Her gaze studied Meghan intently. “There are still matters at the mill that Meghan and I need to resolve.”

“Matters?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “I want to know why Meghan felt the need to stop production.”

“It’s being investigated,” Lucas said quickly, uncomfortable with his aunt delving into such matters.

“By whom?”

“George Simmons … and me,” Lucas replied.

“Handle it yourself, Lucas.” When Lucas looked at her with surprise, she explained, “I can trust your findings will be honest ones.”

Sensing Meghan’s uneasiness with the conversation, Lucas agreed and then suggested that Meghan start
work. She seemed tense to him as Flora showed her where the sewing supplies were kept.

Soon, Aunt Flora left the room, and he and Meghan were alone. He hated to know that she was uncomfortable in his presence. He wanted to regain the relaxed camaraderie they’d shared on the ship … and then later again on their journey to Somerville. The way it was before he’d lost reason and got carried away by lust.

Meghan was pulling things out of the sewing table drawer when Lucas came up behind her.

“Meghan.”

She jumped. She had known he was still in the room, but she hadn’t realized that he was so close.
You’re a liar, me girl,
she silently told herself.
Ye’ve known every movement, every breath, that he’s made since he greeted ya in the kitchen.

“I apologize for that awkward moment with my aunt,” he said, surprising her.

She faced him. “Neither your aunt nor ye has anything to apologize for. It’s her mill.”

He sighed, and it seemed as if the tension had left his large frame. She gazed up into his handsome face, and the brightness of his smile stole her breath away.

She blinked and then averted her gaze downward.
Why, God, did I have to fall for this particular man?
Was his aunt right? Would Lucas report honestly and see Phelps punished for his behavior? Wanting to believe it, she felt her guard lower toward this man.

She felt his fingers on her cheek. She lifted her chin, and with the gentlest caress, he tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. Meghan closed her eyes, moved by his tenderness, and the hollow feeling she’d felt for so long began to fill up again with warmth.

“Meghan,” he murmured.

Her eyes met his. “Lucas, this is mad. I should have
stayed at the mill. We’re courting danger with me being here.”

His mouth twisted into a tender half smile. “Contrary to what you may think, this was my aunt’s idea, not mine.” He bent his head until she could feel his breath whisper against her mouth.

“I could have denied her request,” she admitted, unable to keep herself from leaning toward him. She was caught in his spell, a web of magic that stroked and caressed her with heat … and caring.

There was something genuine about Lucas Ridgely, she thought. Something good and kind and true. She didn’t believe for one minute that he played a poor knight in shiny armor, as he’d said. He had rescued her how many times now? Twice? Three times, she realized, although she didn’t want to recall the third when he’d saved her from being a willing wanton.

He didn’t move to kiss her; yet, he was close enough that if she leaned forward an inch their mouths would touch … and ignite.

Lucas?
She didn’t realize that she’d said his name aloud … not until he answered her.

“Yes?” He moved away slightly and cupped her face with both hands, sensitizing her cheeks. He shifted his fingers lower to rub his thumbs across her lips. “You know I want to kiss you.”

She swallowed. “Aye.”

“And you want me to, don’t you?” His dark eyes held her gaze.

Her eyelashes fluttered closed briefly. “Aye,” she confessed with a rasping breath.

Still, he didn’t immediately kiss her. He stared at her mouth while his fingers and thumbs caressed her lips, and she gloried in his tenderness, even while she experienced an urgent desire.

“Meghan.” His gaze searched hers.

“Aye, Lucas,” she whispered. “Do it. Do it, before I think of all the reasons why we shouldn’t kiss.”

With a groan, he bent his head while he lifted her chin, and then his warm mouth slanted across her lips with hunger. The hot searing contact made Meghan’s blood rush and her knees weaken.

Lucas lifted his head, ending the kiss too soon. “Sweet,” he murmured in a tone that made her shiver. “So sweet …”

And then he captured her mouth with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. She leaned closer and sighed with pleasure when his arms surrounded her. He stroked her back, while he used his mouth to caress her lips. He trailed a path across her cheek and nibbled on her ear.

“Lucas,” she begged. She wanted more … to feel his hands, his mouth on her breasts.

“I know,” he whispered. “I feel it, too.”

She could hear the increased rate of his breathing.

It mirrored the rasp within her own chest.

Suddenly, Lucas stiffened, and it was then that Meghan heard a sound in the corridor.

“Later,” he promised. He released her with a smile of regret and a look that rocked her.

As the haze of magic began to dissipate, Meghan’s reasoning powers returned with an awakened sense of horror. She’d known it was dangerous to have him near, but she hadn’t realized how dangerous. There was no denying that she had invited his kiss. She spun away from him, berating herself for her lack of control, as she pretended to be busy with the folded cloth. Her face warmed as she thought of her behavior.

What was it about him that stole her reason along with her breath?

A wave of guilt hit her hard; she grabbed onto the
edge of the fabric until her knuckles whitened and her fingers ached.

His hands closed over hers, gently easing them from the cloth. “Don’t fret, Meghan McBride,” he said. “I can tell how your mind is working, but it’s my fault more than yours.”

Her gaze shot to gauge his expression. His dark eyes and the curve of his mouth hinted at self-reproach. She wanted to tell him the truth, to take the blame for what had just occurred between them, but shame kept her silent.

“Think about this, Meghan, when you’re with your Rafferty,” he said through tight lips. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply before he set her away. “Now about these drapes …”

Meghan’s mouth throbbed with the imprint of his kiss. She heard her thundering heartbeat as she followed Lucas to the window and attempted to gather her composure enough to get on with the work at hand. Lucas’s high-handed attitude started to make her simmer with anger. “How are ye and Phelps different?” she dared.

He froze in the act of taking down the first set of window drapes. Then he turned slowly, his frame taut with tension, and then climbed down to place them over the edge of a large mahogany desk. He faced her then, his gaze mocking. “The difference, Meghan McBride, is that you like it when I kiss and touch you.”

He ignored her gasp and returned to work. “Do you need anything else?” he asked harshly after he’d taken down the second and last pair. The tension was so thick it nearly choked off their breathing air.

She shook her head.

“Then, I’ll be helping my aunt at the mill. If you find you need some more thread, tell Mrs. Riker.”

Which means don’t come to me,
Meghan guessed. She
agreed to his terms and then set to work, as if dismissing his presence, which she actually couldn’t do. She heard him leave, and at the sound of the closing door, she released a shuddering breath. With trembling fingers, she touched her mouth, recalling the pleasure brought on with his tender kiss. His third and more demanding kiss had aroused her physically; his gentle kiss had tugged on her emotions and her heart. And then she had gone and said something nasty to him, because she was afraid of her feelings …

Confused, Meghan fought the urge to follow Lucas and call him back. Then she felt guilt, for she hadn’t been thinking of her fiancé from the first moment she’d seen Lucas downstairs. Lately, her only thoughts and desires during each wakened and sleeping moment involved Lucas Ridgely, not Rafferty O’Connor.

Her hands shook as she unfolded the cloth, and she stared at the cotton print until her vision blurred with terars.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered.

Abandoning the fabric, Meghan sat down in a nearby chair and bent forward to cradle her head in her hands.

“I’m in love with a man who wants to bed, but not wed me.”

“Why can’t ye come to Somerville next Saturday?” Rafferty scowled at his fiancée as he pulled the carriage to a stop before Patty Rhoades’s boardinghouse.

Meghan sighed. “I told ye that I’ve been working for Mrs. Gibbons. I promised to alter two gowns for her.”

“Work on them in the evenings.”

She shook her head. “I cannot. ‘Tis my position now. I’ll not lose it.” She shot him a look of irritation. “I’m earning a living, O’Connor. What else would ye have me do? Quit me employment here and work at the powder mill?”

He shook his head. “We’ll need evera bit of our resources for our cottage after we’re married.” He studied her with speculation. “Ye’ve been saving yer money, haven’t ye, Meghan? Perhaps I should hold onto it for ye.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been saving it fine, Rafferty O’Connor. I don’t need ye to keep it.” What she didn’t leave on account at the mill, she’d stashed beneath her mattress at Patty’s. Why was she uncomfortable with the idea of spending her money on a cottage with Rafferty? She’d known all along that she’d be sharing his home some day.

Lucas Ridgely invaded her thoughts. Since she’d begun work at the house, she’d seen him daily and her
love for him had grown … while her feelings for Rafferty had … changed.

“I’ll be here next Saturday as usual, Meghan.”

She bristled. “No, Rafferty.”

Her fiancé’s hands tightened on the horse’s reins. Studying his whitened fists, Meghan had the feeling that Rafferty would like to reach over and shake her. “I’ll be ready a week from Saturday,” she told him. She didn’t suggest he come to visit her before then, although he could have if he’d wanted badly enough to see her. But she was irritated with him, and something had happened between them the previous evening that had scared and appalled her and made her want to put some distance between them for a long while.

Last night, Rafferty had kissed her, but he’d tried to touch her breasts, too, and—God help her—she’d struggled. She hadn’t wanted Rafferty’s touch. She hadn’t even wanted his kiss, let alone for him to paw at her the way he’d done! Rafferty had been furious with her, but she didn’t care.

“Good night, Rafferty.” She climbed down from the carriage. As usual Rafferty made no move to help her as Lucas did. Which was just as well, she thought, given the way she was feeling at present.

“Aren’t ye going to kiss me?” he asked angrily.

Meghan ignored him as if she hadn’t heard as she walked to the door of Patty’s boardinghouse.

“It’s been over four months since yer da died, Meghan,” he said. “It’s high time we marry!” He’d shouted his last words, which sounded too much like a threat to Meghan.

With a loudly muttered curse that made Meghan’s face flush with anger, Rafferty flicked the reins and drove the carriage away.

Meghan stood on the porch before entering the house.
I can’t marry him
, she thought.

“Meghan? Is that you?” Patty came out of the kitchen with a warm smile of greeting that died upon seeing the young woman’s face. “What is it?” she asked with concern.

Tired, Meghan shook her head. “It … it’s not something I can talk about yet.”

Patty didn’t appear offended. “Well, you come into the other room and join us. We’re about to taste a new cake receipt I’ve tried.”

“Thank ye, that’d be nice,” she replied, one corner of her mouth lifting in a slightly crooked smile.

But after she’d taken several steps, Meghan felt as if her limbs were leaden. She was tired of worrying about her life. She’d not slept in Somerville, not with Miss Doddleberry’s snores, which had been horrendous with an infection of the woman’s nasal passages.

“Patty,” she called softly. “I think I’ll go up to bed, if you don’t mind. I’m not feeling up to cake, I’m afraid.”

The woman nodded with understanding. “You look to need sleep.” Her gray gaze held concern. “Go on up then,” she said. “I’ll make your excuses to the others.”

Meghan murmured her thanks and then made the long, arduous journey up two flights of stairs. In her attic room, she undressed, lay on the bed, and closed her eyes. Her muscles throbbed. Her thoughts spun with images that confused and disturbed her. The memory of Rafferty’s behavior as he’d tried to fumble beneath her bodice to fondle her breasts made her shudder with revulsion.

Don’t think of him.
She thought of Lucas’s kisses instead … how they made her feel warm and fuzzy inside … not chilled and … unclean.

“I can’t marry Rafferty O’Connor,” she whispered into the dark attic room.

It no longer seemed to matter about Lucas’s offer to make her his mistress. Her decision was based on her feelings—or lack of—for Rafferty alone.

I’ve enough money saved to pay Rafferty for me voyage and me clothes. Somehow I’ll pay him back for Da’s passage, too. But I’ll not stay and marry him, simply because I’m grateful for what he’s done.

Suddenly, she remembered Lucas’s words.
“It’s not gratitude I want from you, Meghan
…”

He wanted her still. And Lord help her, she wanted him and loved him.

She’d have to be content to live alone.

By the time Saturday evening came and she’d joined the others at the dinner table at Patty’s, Meghan felt edgy. Now that she’d made her decision to end her betrothal to Rafferty, she valued her employment as a lifeline. Fortunately, Flora Gibbons seemed to have a great deal of work to keep her busy, but what would happen once Mrs. Gibbons ran out of things for her to sew? Would she be allowed to return to the mill?

“Is Rafferty coming tonight?” Susan asked pleasantly.

“I hope not,” Meghan replied without thinking.

Susan stopped and regarded her friend with surprise.

Meghan flushed as she realized that everyone at the table was staring at her. “Have ye forgotten that I’ve work to do at Mrs. Gibbons’s?”

“Oh, yes, you told me, I forgot.”

But Meghan thought she’d heard disappointment in her friend’s tone, so she cornered her alone after dinner to question Susan about it.

“Ye don’t like Rafferty O’Connor, do ye,” she asked as she found Susan in her room. The young woman seemed hesitant to answer as she stood at the window, gazing out into the night. “Susan, please … tell me.”

Susan turned to regard her with a sober expression. “No, I can’t say I have a liking for the man.”

Meghan raised her eyebrows. “Why?” She’d never given thought to how her friends felt about her fiancé. She’d been too busy struggling with her own mixed feelings. Did they all feel the same way?

“You don’t seem angry,” Susan said with a glimmer of surprise.

“No, I …” Meghan’s voice trailed off, and she looked away. “How can I be angry when I feel the same way?”

Susan’s startled gasp brought Meghan’s head around. “You don’t care for the man, but you’re going to marry him?”

Meghan grabbed her friend’s arm as she heard voices from the stairs. “Please,” she begged, “not so loud. I don’t want the others to know yet.”

The woman blinked. “Okay,” she said, as she regarded her friend strangely. “Now would you please explain?”

Meghan had to smile. Susan sounded excited that she was the one whom Meghan had chosen to confide in. “I’ve decided not to marry him,” she admitted after a brief hesitation.

“You have!” Susan burst out.

Meghan hushed her, and the young woman apologized to her friend.

“Aye,” Meghan said. “He is … well—changed. It’s been over two years since we became betrothed, but he and I hadn’t seen each other for most of that time.” The voices outside the room receded as the women went back downstairs.

Her thoughts turned inward with old memories. “He seemed a different man when Da was alive. Rafferty was full of ambition … of life. He had such wonderful plans, ye see.” She came out of her reverie with a smile for Susan. “I’ve never met a more solid and dependable man as Rafferty O’Connor—except Da, of course.” Something twisted inside her as she recalled the months of struggling to find food. “When our potato crop failed us again, we went hungry. Many of our people gave up hope. Children sickened and died … men and women, too …” She felt her throat tighten. “We’d been eating roots, berries, and cabbage leaves, but soon they’d disappeared.”

She turned pain-stricken eyes on her friend. “Do ye know what ‘tis like to see the people ye’ve known and loved all of yer youth naked and filthy, when they weren’t dressed in rags? To watch a mother cling to her dead child, both of them looking like skeletons?” Meghan choked back a sob. “Dear God, I hope to never see or know the likes of such again. Every day I pray for those who stayed behind, knowing that if it hadn’t been for Rafferty O’Connor, I’d still be there just like the rest of them … sick or dead … and with the
Sasanaigh
uncaring as long as they continued to take our grain.”

“Oh, Meghan …” Susan’s eyes filled with tears as she caught Meghan’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Meghan tried to smile. “There was Rafferty, ye see,” she said with a soft expression. “He never gave up hope that our lives could be better. He was fighting angry, he was. Swore no Sax’n was going to lay him low. He’d find a way to get to America, he said.” She released a shuddering sigh. “He promised to send for us—me and Da—once he had the funds.” She paused. “And he did.”

Susan’s features reflected her understanding of Meghan’s current situation. “You’re grateful to him.”

“Aye.” Meghan dabbed at the corner of each eye with her finger. “I’m grateful to Rafferty O’Connor, and when I began to have doubts about us, I kept remembering my gratitude.” She closed her eyes. “But is gratitude alone enough for a lasting marriage?”

Susan shook her head. “No,” she said. “Although there are some who have married for less.”

“And were happy?” Meghan probed with the intensity of needing to know.

“Perhaps,” the other woman said. “But I know I wouldn’t be,” she added.

“No,” Meghan agreed. “I think I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“So you’ve decided to break your engagement.”

Meghan nodded. Break, she thought with a pang. Would she be breaking Rafferty’s heart when she finally told him?

“You feel terrible about it,” Susan said as she gave Meghan’s arm a gentle squeeze meant to comfort.

“Aye. Wouldn’t ye feel the same?”

Susan’s mouth firmed. “About Rafferty O’Connor? No.”

Meghan stared at her, shocked. “Why?”

“Because he’s treated you appallingly, Meghan McBride. You’ve been so busy being grateful to him that you’ve been blind to his behavior toward you!”

“I—” Meghan bit her lip. “Ye are right,” she said with a tired sigh.

“When will you tell him?”

“He’ll be coming for me next Saturday. I suppose I’ll tell him then.”

“No,
” Susan said. “You must tell him before that. Why suffer another week of worrying when you can get the deed done with sooner?”

“I guess I could go Sunday evening.”

But Susan shook her head. “We can go on Monday. It’s the easiest day in the dressing room, and I’ll be able to leave early.” The woman’s lips twisted. “I suppose there’s one good thing to working there.”

“We?” Meghan said as she realized that her friend had included herself.

“You don’t think I’d let you travel to Somerville alone, do you?” Susan replied, and Meghan experienced a rush of affection for the girl. “Quick goodbyes are always best. I’ll wait in the carriage for you.”

Aye,
Meghan thought.
Quick goodbyes are always best.
Her heart thumped with pain. Then why couldn’t she follow that advice when it came to Lucas?

Because although she knew that the time spent in his company was a long farewell to the man she loved, she wanted to experience … to have something to remember … for those lonely nights when finally she’d be left all alone.

Rafferty gripped the jar of licorice drops fiercely, before he slammed it onto the counter. “Damn her,” he muttered. He had an ache in his loins for Meghan McBride that had become obsessive.

He’d wanted her from the first signs of her budding womanhood, but he’d done the honorable thing and waited, because she was the daughter of his best friend.

He’d been nervous when he’d asked her to marry him, surprised when she’d agreed.

“Ye’re dragging yer feet, Meggie love,” he said with a sneer. “I’ll not be put off much longer!”

Alicia Somerton had become whiny of late. Apparently, someone else had seen him leaving the Somerton residence at an unusual hour and had mentioned the fact to her husband Michael. She’d managed to
allay Michael’s suspicions with the excuse of Rafferty having delivered some supplies. Her husband had seemed satisfied with her answer, but Alicia was now nervous.

Although she found Meghan annoying, Alicia wanted Rafferty to marry his fiancée soon.

“I’d hate for Michael to learn about us, darling,” she’d purred as she’d stroked his chest after the last time they’d been together. “You and I are good together—you’re so creative—but until you and Meghan are safely married, I think it best if we suffer a separation.”

His anger roiled in his gut until he recalled the pleasurable satisfaction he’d felt with what had followed their conversation … in Alicia’s bed.

He enjoyed his employer’s wife. Who wouldn’t relish bedding a lust-inciting, earthy wanton? As much as he loved to futter Alicia, he knew she was right to part company for a while. But without Alicia to sexually excite and appease him, his yearning for Meghan had increased to an agonizing, stiff bulge beneath his trousers.

His shaft got hard just thinking about Meghan’s breasts. His hand cupped his crotch to ease the throbbing. He closed his eyes and saw himself sucking her nipples as he thrust between Meghan’s open thighs.

The bell on the shop door rang, and he glanced toward the entrance. Mrs. John edged inside, her gaze noting him before sliding away.

Rafferty squeezed his crotch before releasing himself. It was early morning, the wrong time for what he had in mind, but he didn’t care. “Good day to ye, Mrs. John,” he said. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

The woman’s head bobbed as she nodded. She looked as if she’d skitter away at the least little provocation.