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Chapter Seven
Delilah walked into Almack’s the following evening, not with the intent on finding a husband, or impressing the patronesses to ensure that her voucher didn’t get revoked on her father’s behalf, but rather, she was on a mission to ensure her friend had the happily ever after that she deserved.
She walked in the door with her chin held high and her gaze assessing. She knew she looked her best that evening, for Francesca’s maid had made her way to the hotel to help her dress in a shimmering, gold gown with a delicate lace overlay. Since Delilah’s hair still wanted to be unruly and not hold a curl, the maid had worked with that, keeping a few strands down to frame her face and pulling the rest back into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck. Combined with a pair of white gloves and pearls adorning her ears and neck, she looked as grand as any of the other debutantes in attendance.
After parting from her father and walking along the edge of the room, she spied her first quarry. Adam was chatting with a group of men similar in age, although upon further inspection, she was disappointed to see that Francesca wasn’t there, although her parents were. When she approached them with a concerned frown, her mother claimed that Francesca had a megrim and was unable to attend.
Frustration zinged through Delilah, but she decided to make the best of the situation at hand. She had known Francesca’s mother for some time, after all, so perhaps she could convince the lady to engage in a brief, private conversation. But just as she was about to ask if they could take a turn about the room, she spied a movement out of the corner of her eye.
Her mouth promptly fell open.
Conor spotted her at nearly the same moment and the grin he wore was positively ruthless and charming at the same time.
She froze as he started to weave his way through the crowd toward her.
Francesca’s mother must have followed her gaze, for she said, “Oh, are you acquainted with the earl?”
She snapped her lips closed and turned to the viscountess. “Pardon?”
“The Earl of Castlemaine.” She gestured to Conor. “Even though he’s Irish, I suppose it counts in some regards.” She shrugged and then walked away, as if she hadn’t just revealed a complete shock. But then, she likely assumed that Delilah already knew he was a man of some import and not just a simple groom.
A wave of embarrassment swept over her as he stopped in front of her. Before he could utter a single word, she hissed, “You have a title?”
He hesitated for a moment, as if she had taken him aback, but he recovered quickly enough. “Aye. But I don’t really count it as anything special.”
She blinked. “How can you say that? You’re an earl! All this time I’ve been calling you Mr. Flannigan instead of ‘my lord,’ and you never thought to correct my mistake?”
He snorted. “It was rather entertaining, I admit. But truly, it was bestowed upon my great-great-grandfather…” He paused, tilting his head as if considering. “Or was it third great?” It was all Delilah could do not to strangle him where he stood. He lifted a shoulder. “Either way, it was because our family was connected to the mistress of King Charles II, so he slapped us with a title as a mere courtesy.”
She couldn’t believe the blasé manner in which he brushed off his title. Granted, while there were some Englishmen who didn’t bother to count the Irish among the peerage, Conor still deserved more respect than to be referred to as a mere “mister.” And certainly not a groom.
Her face warmed at the recollection of her mistake, but then, she reminded herself that he could have corrected her at any time, and yet, he allowed her to continue making a fool out of herself when it was apparent everyone else…
She stopped mid-thought and narrowed her eyes. “Was I the only one who was unaware who you really were?”
He had the grace to appear a bit sheepish. “To be fair, ye didn’t ever ask—”
She threw her hands up in the air, going from chagrined to furious in the span of an instant. “You are unbelievable! No, insufferable!”
He grinned broadly. “So ye like me, do ye?”
With a groan, Delilah didn’t even bother with a reply, but stalked away from him, praying that he was intelligent enough not to accost her further.
She was wrong.
Intending to step outside for a breath of fresh air to cool her anger, she’d only gone a few steps before her name was called. “Miss Rollins, surely ye can forgive a poor Irishman for having a bit of fun.”
She stopped abruptly and spun on him in the middle of the sidewalk, but then found that words abruptly failed her. She tried to ignore the tempting way he looked under the streetlamps, but the flickering flames gave him an even more seductive appeal and try as she might, she was not immune to his charms, regardless of how angry she was.
She clenched her hands into tight fists and attempted to regain control of herself. “You, sir, are no gentleman to have led me on like you did.”
He strode toward her slowly. “Ah, but lass, that’s where ye’re wrong. I haven’t even begun to lead ye on.” He reached out and grasped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. He lowered his head and Delilah held her breath, anticipating the moment of his kiss. For it was coming. There was no stopping it.
And yet…
He hesitated. Looking deeply into her eyes, he whispered, “I know ye want me. I can see it in yer eyes, but I want to hear it from those tempting lips.”
Delilah opened her mouth, intending to rebuke his claim, but only a breathy sigh escaped. Fighting for control, she said, “I will not.”
“‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”
He quoted a well-known line from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” and Delilah was further drawn into his masculine pull.
“Ye should know that ye have nothing to fear from me, lovely Delilah,” he whispered huskily, his lips near her ear, his warm breath caressing the delicate shell. “I am yer Samson, powerless to resist ye. Is it so wrong to want the same from ye?”
Delilah closed her eyes, wondering how she might have any sort of control over him when she couldn’t even find the will over herself. He pulled back and when she gazed into his eyes, they shimmered with a swirling, emerald gleam. “How can you possibly ask this of me?” she asked softly. “I don’t even know you.”
His head descended, but just before their lips met, he murmured, “This is all you need. Just feel.”
Delilah’s lids fluttered closed once more and with the first brush of his mouth on hers, desire zinged through her body with the force of a lightning bolt. A rush of desire pooled in her lower midsection, and she began to tremble with a passion she didn’t even fully understand. The only thing she knew was that Conor was the only one who could ease this ache inside of her.
The embrace was nearly over before it had begun, a teasing prelude of dark, sensual delights. “Oh, lass, you threaten to unman me.” He brushed the back of his knuckles down the exposed section of her arm, causing shivers to shoot throughout her body.
Delilah knew she shouldn’t have said anything. She ought to have kept her mouth firmly closed, but she wasn’t sure if it was the passion rushing inside of her blood, or the thought of Francesca and Adam and their unrequited love, but she found herself admitting, “I ought to push you away and tell you not to bother me ever again, but for some reason, I… can’t seem to do so.”
His eyes were fervent on her face, exploring, seeking. “What are ye saying, lass?”
She swallowed hard, for there was no going back once she spoke. “As mad as it might seem, I find that I… want you too.”
He smiled. “That’s a rather broad statement. I’m afraid ye’ll have to be more specific.”
She took a deep breath, for she should have known he wasn’t going to make this easy on her. “I want to know what it’s like between a man and a woman. With you.”
With a growl, he pulled her back within the circle of his arms and kissed her until her head was spinning. When he released her, they were both breathing heavily. “Meet me tonight.”
Tell him no, that you changed your mind… “Where?”
“At the front of the hotel at midnight. I’ll take it from there.”
She nodded her head, but then a thought occurred to her. “You’re not staying there too?”
“No. I’m staying with a friend in the Albany apartments, as I wasn’t sure how long I might have to pursue this enchanting English lass, but rest assured I’ll make sure he’s nowhere to be found tonight.”
At first, Delilah was about to feel insulted, but when she saw his teasing expression, she realized that he was speaking of her.
He released her and she was suddenly bereft without his warmth, although the air outside was mildly pleasant, being held by him was even more appealing. “If ye’re not outside by quarter after I’ll know ye’ve changed your mind.”
With that, he held his arm out to her and escorted her back inside the assembly rooms. He didn’t tarry but took her hand in his and kissed the back of her gloved knuckles. “Until later this evening.”
