He took another drink and allowed the scotch to burn a trail down his throat as he keptreplaying back the scene in the dining hall.If he’d thought Fallon O’Malley was appealing before, it was nothing compared to the passionate woman who had spoken during dinner.It was obvious that Stewart was right and her loyalty toward her homeland had not diminished in the slightest since she’d made her way to English soil.
He frowned. Had he ever been that devoted to anything in his life?
He thought of his days as a privateer during the Crimean War, or rather, a glorified pirate, for he had done it for the thrill of the chase which had nothing to do with his patriotism for England. His actions then had caused a gap between him and his father that had been repaired in later yearsonlybecause he’d proved to his sire that he cared about something larger than himself by becominga merchant, for he discovered he’d had a head forbusiness. He decided that was also part of the reason he’d donned the disguise of the Raven as well, because he had witnessed firsthand the poverty-stricken island and knew that in order to redeem his former selfishness, he had to do somethingto provehimself worthy in his father’s eyes, even if the older manwas oblivious tohis son’s current endeavors.
For just the briefest moment this evening he’d consideredthe idea ofapproaching Miss O’Malley as the Ravenone nightunder the pretense of gaining information aboutthe Fenian’s inIreland, but reallyit would be a wayto get to know her better,to prove that Stewart’s assessment was right. Butthenhediscounted the notion just as quickly for he didn’t want to even take the chance of placing her in that much danger should her association with him become known.He would just have to uncover any secrets another way.
Unfortunately, he couldn’tapproachherunder thepretenseof a prospective suitor,for his planswith Josephine would soon be put into motion and he had to make their arrangement appear convincingfor those that were watching.
He put the lid back on the flask and tucked it inside his jacket, intent on returning inside, but a sudden blur ofmovementnear thebeachcaught his attention. Instantrecognition struck him when he spied that deep emerald gown, but what caused his eyes to narrow was the gentleman who followed a short time later, his purposeful stride telling Atticus all he needed to know.
Damn the man!Locklyn’s reputation in the brothels of Southampton and beyond were well known, and they weren’t complementary. He had left a trail of bastards and black eyes in his wake, and for that reason alone, Atticus detested the man. He didn’t approve in harming any woman, and most certainly not for the enjoyment of it. If that wasn’t enough for him to despise Durmor, then it was the fact he’d suddenly set his sights on a new target.
He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and strode down the terrace steps.He refused to stand by andallowLocklynto sullyher.
As a gentleman, it was the least he could do.
***
Fallonclosed her eyes and allowed the scent of the sea to floataroundher as she bathed in the moon’s glow.She could hear the faint music coming from the ballroom, drifting through the open French doors, as people laughed andthe chatter of conversation continued to be abundant, butshecould notresista temporary moment of solitude any longer.Thediscussion about the dining tablethis eveninghadonlyproventhat she was an outcast here. She could imagine what her aunt might have to say once the guests had finally departed. But whatever she said wouldmerely go further to establishthat Fallon didn’t fitinand it had been foolishendeavorto imagine that she could. It was true things were more difficult in Ireland, but at least there she felt as if she hadbelonged. As hard as she might try to do the same in England, she doubted it would ever be the same.
Perhaps it was time for her to return home.
Shehugged herselfandopened her eyes tostare out blanklyacross the water. The wavesweresparklingas they headed toward the shore. If she couldjustswim back to Carraroe, things would be better.
Fallon walked toward theedge of the sandy beach where it met the shore.Shesat on a large boulder andkickedoff herslippersandremoved herstockings,sighing when the coolsand squishedbetween her toes.
The hair on the back of her neck rose in warning just as she turned to see afigure emergefrom the shadows of a nearby tree. “Are you out here waiting for me?”Locklyn drawled. As he took a step closer to her, impulse made herstand up andtakeastep back. It was a mistake, for the gesturemust haveincited his amusement,forhis eyes blazed withunmistakablelust.
She reached down and snatched up her shoes and stockings, but before shecouldescape, hehadgrasped her wrist and pulled her roughly against him. “I’ve beenwonderinghowthoselovely Irish lips might taste,” he murmured, as he ran a fingertiplightlyalong her cheek.
She shuddered and turned her face away.
“Come now,” he cajoled. “There’s no need to play coy with me, my little virginal bud.” He tilted his head to the side. “Unless, of course, you aren’t as lily white as you appear. Tell me, have you had a man rutting between your thighs, bringing you to the heights of pleasure?”
Fallongasped.She had never had someone speak to her in such a forward manner. She didn’t like it.“How dare you!”She tried to pull her arm free, but he held fast.“Unhand me at once!”
“There’s no need to beungrateful. There are several women who would enjoy—”
Adeep, ominous voice rose out of the darkness. “Let her go, Durmor.”
Locklynhesitated, but slowly removed his hand from her wrist.Fallon rubbed the area that had turned red and raw as he slowlyturned around to face AtticusClarewhohadclosed the distance between them with a casual stride, although the warning in his dark eyes was anything but subtle.
“I don’t believe this is any of your concern, Clare,” Durmor countered. “The lady and I were just having a friendly chat.”
Fallon huffed as shedonnedher stockings and slippers and brushed past him angrily.“Ithink your definition of ‘friendly’and mineis quite different,” Atticusmurmured. When Fallon would havewalkedpast him, hegallantly held out his arm to her. “I was hoping to claim the next dance, Miss O’Malley.”
Fallon was grateful foranythingthat got heraway from Locklyn, so she graciously accepted Mr. Clare’s invitationwithout a second thought. Shechose to ignore thehate filled glare that Locklyn shot them on their departure,andshe had the sinking feeling she hadn’t seen the last of him.
As they made their way across the lawn,Fallonglanced at her escort and found that his expression had turned rather indifferent.“Thank you,” she forced herself to say.Theonlysign that he might haveheard her, orhad any lingering annoyancetoward Locklynwas the tightening of the muscles where her hand lay atop his arm.
He led herinside andto the dance floor where the orchestra wasjust getting ready tostrikeup a waltz. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect as heeffortlessly maneuvered her into position. She felt the pressure of his hand at the small of her back as he took her hand in his andthey soon began to sway to the music.
Fallon thought they might havesome sort oflight conversation, buthe remained silent through the entire dance, his attentionfixed on a point beyond her shoulder.She realized then that she couldn’t figure him out. One moment he was coming to her rescue from an overzealous suitor,and the next he was acting as though she wasn’t even worthy ofconversation. However, for a man she had been so quick to vilify, the fact was hehadsaved her from a rather unfortunate situation with Locklyn, and for that she was grateful.
When the music concluded, he offered her a rather curt bow. “Excuse me.”
Fallon watched him go with a rather perplexed expression, but she had no time to discover what had stolen his interest, for another man walked up and asked her to danceasAtticus Clare was swallowed upbythe crowd.
