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Synopsis
She wanted a life of her own. . . Paulette Hamilton loves working in her family's London bookshop. Strong-willed and sharp-witted, she hopes to one day open a second shop, and she won't let romantic follies get in her way. But the best laid plans have never met such a handsome Irish widower with a dubious history. . . He wanted to leave his behind. . . Declan Reeves came to London with his young daughter to escape his life in Ireland. Though he's vowed to never marry again, he quickly falls prey to the tempting blue eyes of fair-haired Paulette. But her family is suspicious of his past, and before he can make her his wife, he must travel to Ireland to vindicate his reputation. Torn between honor and desire, Declan and Paulette launch a perilous search for the truth. Whether it lies in the past or a present beyond their control, it's their only hope for a future together. . . Praise for the Novels of Kaitlin O'Riley "O'Riley's believable, charismatic characters and fast-paced plotline set this novel well apart from the usual romance fare." -- Publishers Weekly (starred review) on When His Kiss Is Wicked "This lovely story makes the most of the warmth and joys of the holiday season." -- Library Journal on It Happened One Christmas
Release date: October 24, 2011
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 352
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To Tempt an Irish Rogue
Kaitlin O'Riley
The bells above the entrance of Hamilton’s Book Shoppe jingled as the front door opened and the drizzling summer rain drifted in momentarily. It had been a slow afternoon with little business and Paulette Hamilton looked up in eager anticipation at the customer who had ventured out on such a dreary August day. A tall gentleman stepped into the shop, holding an umbrella in one hand and clutching the hand of a reluctant little girl in the other.
“Welcome to Hamilton’s!” Paulette greeted the customers with an animated smile. New customers always made her happy.
As the gentleman folded his wet umbrella, Paulette took careful note of him, which was a habit of hers. Ever curious and observant, she couldn’t help but pay attention to the customers in her store. This gentleman was mature, tall and rather broad and wore expensive, well-made clothes. Beneath his elegant black hat, strands of chocolate-colored hair were visible. He was handsome enough, she supposed, in a dark, brooding sort of way, but she had never favored that look. Paulette usually found herself drawn to golden, fair-haired heroes. At least she did in all the books that she read.
Using her best shopkeeper’s voice, she asked, “How may I help you this afternoon?”
“My little daughter here would like a new book,” he explained, indicating the child hiding with shyness behind him.
The rich, melodic timbre of his words, laced with the notes of a vaguely familiar accent, filled the air around her. Unable to resist the magnetic attraction of his voice, Paulette suddenly eyed him with keener interest as he looked toward the little girl.
The man possessed an aquiline nose, a strong jaw, and a lean face with dark eyebrows. He was clean-shaven, but she could easily imagine a thin black mustache upon him, giving him the look of a wicked pirate. He seemed tense, almost as if he held his feelings tightly in check, but the slightest disturbance could set him loose in a fury. His full mouth was set in a grim line. In fact, he had a look about his face that conveyed the distinct impression that he had not smiled in a long, long while.
Something about the man unsettled her and the dark intensity about him brought to mind the words “sinister” or “dangerous.”
A little shiver raced through her.
Feeling slightly nervous in his presence and somewhat relieved knowing that her assistant was close at hand in the back room, Paulette silently reprimanded herself for being so foolish as to think of herself in any kind of danger. She had never felt this way about a customer before. Why on earth would she think that this man would cause her any harm? Perhaps she had read one too many gothic romance novels lately!
Her attention was drawn to the little girl, who still attempted to hide behind the man’s dark trousers. The child could not have been more than four years old, with a sweet, chubby face framed by golden curls mostly covered under a wide-brimmed bonnet.
Paulette knew exactly what the little girl wanted. Hamilton’s carried the best children’s books in the city and because of that she had dealt with all manner of children in the shop before, from the most well-behaved to the most spoiled, so she was no stranger to bashful children either. This shy-looking girl would be easy to please.
“Well, you are quite a lucky young lady for your father to give you such a special treat,” Paulette began, favoring the girl with a warm grin. “We have some lovely fairy-tale books with the most beautiful pictures in them. Would you like me to show them to you?”
Peeking out from behind her father’s leg, the little girl nodded in agreement. She did not make a sound, but her cherubic face lit with excitement.
“Thank you,” the gentleman said, seeming a bit relieved by Paulette’s suggestion.
“Why don’t you both come with me to the children’s section of the shop?” she suggested brightly.
They followed her to the rear of the store, where she and Colette had designed an inviting space for their smallest customers. They’d had shelves built at a lower height and miniature-sized tables and chairs to better fit little bodies. A brightly colored area rug covered the wooden floor, lending warmth to the section of books on display. Paulette immediately located their most popular-selling book, a gorgeously illustrated volume of fairy tales. She placed the book on the table and motioned for the child to join her while she sat herself on one of the tiny chairs as well.
“I think you might like this one.”
The little girl glanced up hesitantly at her father, seeking his permission. He patted her head in encouragement. “It’s all right, darlin’.”
She moved slowly forward, taking hesitant steps to the table where Paulette waited for her. When she reached the small table, the girl stopped and stared at Paulette in expectation.
“Do you have a favorite story?” Paulette questioned.
The little girl shook her head, her expression extraordinarily serious for one so young.
“Do you like the story of Sleeping Beauty?”
The child gave the slightest nod of assent.
“That story has always been a favorite of mine.” Opening the thick volume, Paulette turned to the page that had an elaborate and richly drawn illustration of a grand castle tower covered with an overgrown tangle of thorn-laden vines and a profusion of red roses. The little girl’s eyes widened and a small gasp of awe escaped her.
Paulette asked, “Isn’t this picture beautiful?”
Again, the girl merely nodded. She had not uttered one word since entering the shop.
“I’m Miss Hamilton,” Paulette said, hoping to coax a response from her. “What is your name?”
The child blinked at her and shrugged her tiny shoulders.
“What is your name?” she repeated.
The little girl still did not respond. Paulette had never seen such a withdrawn child. Did she not speak at all? Paulette was usually able to cajole bashful children into an easy conversation by this point. But not this girl. From what she sensed, it was not merely shyness that kept the girl from speaking. Was there something the matter with her? Perhaps she was she a mute? Paulette’s natural curiosity piqued and she wished to ask the gentleman about it, but it was certainly not her place to ask such intimate questions of a stranger.
The girl’s father finally answered for her. “Her name is Mara.”
Aware that the man’s eyes had been focused on her during the entire exchange with his daughter, Paulette glanced up at him.
They held each other’s gaze for longer than two strangers normally would. His deep green eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes that were startlingly long for a man. A tingling sensation raced through her and in that instant, Paulette was almost knocked off the tiny chair upon which she sat.
He was not as old as she had first thought him to be and that surprised her. Although she guessed he was not yet thirty, an aged weariness had settled in his eyes. Struck by the sadness she saw within the emerald depths, she sensed that a profound heartache dwelled within this man. What had happened to him? Paulette was at a complete loss to explain the sudden surge of intense feelings that rushed through her as he looked back at her.
Somehow he seemed less forbidding than he had a moment ago.
“And your name, sir?” she managed to ask, suddenly needing to know.
“Forgive me, Miss Hamilton,” he acknowledged her with a slight bow, removing his hat. “I am Declan Reeves.”
Of course. The accent. Now she recognized it. He must be from Ireland. Wondering what had brought him to London, Paulette forced her gaze away from his mysteriously sad eyes and turned her attention back to the child. His child.
“Mara is such a pretty name,” she murmured to the little girl. Paulette was more than aware that the man’s eyes were still on her. The intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. Her hand moved to smooth her own golden-blond hair.
Again the child did not say a word. She merely looked at Paulette with somber green eyes that now seemed remarkably like her father’s. Mara reached out a hand and slowly began turning the pages in the book of fairy tales, mesmerized by the colorful illustrations.
“Her mother named her.” His voice, smooth and melodic, spilled around her, sending a shiver of a different kind through Paulette.
The mother. Of course there would be a mother, this man’s wife.
Paulette rose from the tiny chair, brushing her striped skirts with her hands in a nervous gesture. “I think Mara likes the fairy-tale book.” She returned to being the efficient bookseller once more. “Is there anything else I can get for you today, Mr. Reeves?”
She found herself staring into his emerald eyes again and Declan Reeves answered her question with a desperate look of longing that caused her heart to constrict in her chest. He seemed to be asking her for something. Anything, and she wanted desperately to give it to him but she was not even sure what it was. She held her breath.
Why did this man unsettle her so?
Shaking herself from her overactive imagination, for surely she could only have imagined what had just passed between them, Paulette straightened her shoulders. She should thank them for coming and get on with business. Instead, she then blurted out, “Does your daughter not speak?”
Paulette immediately regretted her impolite question. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth closed? Her sisters were always telling her to mind her own business. She really tried to, but for the most part Paulette could not help herself and always said what she thought. And yes, once in a while she overheard conversations she shouldn’t, but that was not her fault. She was simply very aware of what was going on around her.
Still it was quite rude of her to ask such an intrusive question. Feeling remorseful, she was about to apologize to him for her bad manners.
“She doesn’t speak anymore.” He shook his head, sadness emanating from him. “She hasn’t spoken a single word since her mother passed away.”
“Oh, I see,” Paulette murmured. His daughter had been struck dumb with grief at losing her mother. How tragic! This poor little girl, losing her mother so young! And this man had lost his wife.
Heart pounding, she eyed Declan Reeves anew as it suddenly dawned on her.
He was not a married man.
Once again chiding herself for such a ridiculous musing, she frowned. Paulette didn’t even like the man! Aside from being a complete stranger, he was too dark, too sad, and too mysterious for her taste. She preferred lighter, happier, and generally more outgoing males. Declan Reeves was definitely none of those things.
“Thank you for choosing the perfect book for Mara,” he said. “It’s sometimes difficult to know what she likes.”
“All little girls love fairy tales,” Paulette said, feeling flustered, still aware that his intense eyes were upon her. She felt incredibly self-conscious, wondering how she appeared to him, in her striped work dress. Earlier that morning, she had piled her blond hair upon her head without much thought, as she usually did. Paulette knew she was not unattractive, yet she wished she knew what this man thought while he stared at her so intently.
“Yes, well, thank you again.”
“You’re most welcome. Can I help you with anything else?”
“Thank you, no.”
“In that case, I shall get the bill for you.”
“Perhaps, I could look about for a moment first?” he asked.
“Why yes, of course,” she said with a nod. “I shall be up front if you have need of me.”
Yet again the man gave her a dark look of longing that Paulette felt to the tips of her toes. The fact that he was a widower and staring at her in such a pointed manner left her breathless. She gave him a faint smile and made her way to the safety of the counter, sighing deeply with relief.
The bells jingled and another customer entered the bookshop. Paulette busied herself assisting Mrs. Abbott in finding a volume of poetry, yet all the while she was keenly aware of Declan Reeves milling about the shelves and his silent daughter still flipping through the pages in the book of fairy tales.
A half hour had passed and Paulette stood behind the counter waiting for him to pay for his purchase. The man finally made his way toward her, with Mara following behind, clutching the book in her arms.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
He raised a dark brow in her direction. “Do you always ask such leading questions, Miss Hamilton?”
“I beg your pardon?” What on earth did the man mean? Paulette hadn’t asked him anything different from the questions she posed to all her other customers. It was her duty, for goodness sake!
He shook his head with a rueful glance, his eyes dark and shuttered. “Never mind.”
Paulette straightened her shoulders again. She was usually very good at reading people, but this man’s manner left her disconcerted and unnerved. “Well then, I assume that will be all.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Ignoring his brooding countenance, she collected his payment without comment, while offering a smile at his little girl instead. “Are you happy with your book, Mara?”
Mara glanced up at her with wide green eyes. Her winsome little face, seeming even more innocent and precious framed by the wide brim of her bonnet, filled with happiness and expressed what she would not say with words. She loved the book.
She smiled at the sweet girl. “I am so pleased that you like it.” Paulette glanced back up at Declan Reeves, relying on her shopkeeper role to steady her. “Please keep me in mind if you should need anything else.”
Their gazes met and something forceful and charged raced through her as she looked into his green eyes, so deep and impenetrable. She shivered slightly at the intensity.
“I’m sure I shall,” he said with a glance that sent more quivers through her.
Flustered, Paulette blinked and looked away, shuffling a stack of papers on the counter in a businesslike manner, suddenly at a loss for something to say in response. It seemed he responded to every innocent comment she made as if she meant something else entirely. She managed to mumble, “Thank you for coming to Hamilton’s.”
“No, it is I who should thank you, Miss Hamilton.”
She looked up as he turned to the door, ushering his silent daughter out of the shop and into the misty afternoon.
“How were things at the shop today?” Colette Hamilton Sinclair asked. “I meant to stop by this afternoon but then Phillip came down with a bit of a fever.”
Paulette sat having dinner with her two sisters and her brother-in-law in the elegant dining hall of Devon House later that evening.
“It was a good day all in all, taking into account the rain.” Paulette’s thoughts drifted back to the magnetic dark-haired man and his silent daughter who had been in the shop that day. “The strangest gentleman came in to buy books for his daughter. I think he was from Ireland. His little daughter was so sweet but she hasn’t spoken a word since her mother died.”
“How sad,” murmured her younger sister Yvette, who was seated across the table from her. “Was he a handsome man?”
Of course Yvette would want to know what he looked like! That’s all she cared about. Whereas Paulette found the subtler qualities in a person more interesting. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of the Irish gentleman. “He was not what I would describe as handsome, but he was not unattractive either,” she began, recalling the brooding dark looks and unreadable expression. But he had those deep green eyes and full mouth. “Yet . . . I suppose he was handsome.”
“From Ireland, did you say?” Colette, her oldest sister, asked, sounding a bit intrigued, her blue eyes sparkling. “What was his name?”
“Declan Reeves.”
“Declan Reeves?” Lucien Sinclair echoed, pausing with his fork in the air and taking a marked interest in the conversation. Colette’s husband’s dark brows furrowed and he glanced sharply at Paulette. “Are you sure he said the name Declan Reeves?”
“Yes, I’m positive.” Paulette nodded, wondering what could have captured her brother-in-law’s attention. “His daughter’s name was Mara. She had to be about four years old, and so pretty. But dreadfully sad. Why do you ask?”
Lucien set his fork down. “I just read something in the paper about him yesterday. He’s Lord Something-or-other, but it must be the same fellow.”
Now it was Paulette’s turn to question. “What did the paper say about him?”
“Nothing good, as I recall,” Lucien explained. “I won’t slander a man’s name based on gossip, but there are those who are suspicious of him and the manner in which his wife died.”
A cold shiver raced down Paulette’s spine and she suddenly sat up straighter in her chair. The uncomfortable feeling she had in the shop when she met the man now did not seem so far-fetched. There had been something dark and rather sinister about Mr. Reeves. She dared to ask, “How did his wife die?”
“There was mention of a fire, I believe,” Lucien said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know all the details as I was just skimming the article in the Times and didn’t pay much attention to it, but the name stuck in my head for some reason.”
Paulette’s heart ached at the thought of the little blond girl who would not speak and a wave of sadness washed over her. The child had lost her mother in a fire and it must have been quite traumatic for her. Was there a possibility that her father was responsible for her mother’s death?
“Well, let’s talk about something more cheerful, shall we?” Yvette added while wrinkling her nose. “I don’t care for morbid stories.”
“No, I’m sure you’d rather discuss fashion and handsome gentlemen,” Paulette pointed out, oddly relieved to be changing the topic of conversation. Although she wished to know more about the mysterious and brooding Declan Reeves, learning that he might very well have killed his wife left her feeling unnerved. But somehow, after seeing how kindly he treated his little daughter, she did not think him capable of such an act, no matter how forbidding he looked.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with talking about pretty clothes. Or handsome gentlemen,” Yvette countered with an enigmatic smile. With her blond hair styled in an attempt to appear older than she was, she added, “And one of these days I’m going to be wed to the richest and handsomest gentleman of all.”
Lucien gave her an amused look. “And just who would that be?”
Yvette paused in deep thought. “I’m sure I don’t know. I have yet to meet anyone who catches my fancy.” Her dainty chin went up defensively. “I’m still looking.”
“And you keep looking until you find him, Yvette.” Lucien gave his youngest sister-in-law an indulgent smile.
“I have every intention of doing so.” Yvette disregarded the skeptical looks of her two sisters. “Mark my words.”
“Well, I’ve no doubt you will when you are old enough,” Colette said. “You are only eighteen, Yvette.” As the eldest sister, Colette had taken over the role of parent to her younger siblings after their father died and their mother had been unable to care for them.
“Yes, I’m eighteen now and old enough,” Yvette responded eagerly, tossing her blond curls with an air of superiority. “And Paulette is twenty-one.”
“I’m almost twenty-one,” Paulette amended, as always careful of the little details. She wouldn’t reach her twenty-first birthday until September.
Ignoring her correction, Yvette pointed to Paulette. “She should be married by now!”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Paulette protested. “I’m not interested in getting married.”
“Oh, you always say that, Paulette, and I don’t believe you one single bit.” Yvette tossed her head emphatically. “Every girl wants to get married.”
“Well, you’re quite mistaken on that account.” Paulette was in no rush to have some man telling her what to do night and day. She was quite happy with her life the way it was, thank you very much. Paulette loved living with her sister and her husband at Devon House and working at the bookshop. Colette and Lucien were much more permissive than her own parents ever would have been and they allowed her the freedom to manage the shop and to be her own person.
Ever since Colette had married Lucien Sinclair, their lives had changed for the better and Lucien’s generosity had allowed them to keep the bookshop. Even though their widowed mother, Genevieve Hamilton, had decided to leave London and live in Brighton, Lucien Sinclair had invited all Colette’s sisters to live at Devon House. Her older sisters Juliette and Lisette were both married now, leaving only Paulette and Yvette still living with Lucien and Colette.
Last year Simon Sinclair, Lucien’s father, died, making Lucien the Marquis of Stancliff, and Colette the Marchioness of Stancliff. Given their titled positions the two of them always had many social obligations, but Colette still managed to raise her two sons and take care of things at the bookshop with Paulette.
More than content with the way her life was currently arranged, Paulette had no interest in rushing into a marriage with just anyone. She had already made up her mind that she would wed only if she could find someone just like Lucien Sinclair. In her eyes he was a perfect husband to Colette. Yet Paulette harbored a secret doubt she would ever find a man who would let her do exactly as she liked.
“So, no,” she continued with certainty, “I’ve no wish to marry.”
Yvette looked horrified and turned to her eldest sister for support. “Colette, you cannot allow Paulette to spend the rest of her life alone in the bookshop!”
Colette, her blue eyes filled with kindness, gave Yvette a look of understanding, but did not agree with her. “Paulette can do as she wishes. Just as you can.”
Vindicated, Paulette smiled in smug triumph at her younger sister. Honestly! She had more important things to do than worry about finding a husband. She was about to open a new shop, for heaven’s sake! The business of marriage required more time than she was willing to take away from the importance of managing the bookshop. And Colette understood her on this matter better than her other sisters did.
Yvette could just keep her romantic dreams and aspirations for a lofty marriage. Paulette would marry some day, perhaps, if she met someone special enough, but she certainly wasn’t on the hunt for a husband like so many girls her age were. Luckily there was no pressure for her to marry right away. Colette and Lucien were in agreement with her, so Paulette was free to do as she liked, knowing full well that she was fortunate indeed. Most girls were not so blessed.
Yvette let out an anguished little squeal, blinking back tears. “But if Paulette doesn’t marry, then I cannot!”
All eyes turned to her in surprise and, once again, Lucien laughed. “Where on earth did you get that idea?”
Yvette’s expression filled with worry. “I can’t marry before my older sister does, Lucien. It isn’t right! And if Paulette doesn’t ever marry, then what’s to become of me?”
Paulette really tried her best to contain her laughter but failed. The giggles just escaped. Yvette’s worry seemed quite ridiculous to her.
Lucien and Colette both began speaking at the same time. “Yvette, you don’t have to wait for Paulette to marry first!”
“I don’t?” Yvette blinked in surprise. “I thought it was common knowledge that sisters had to get married in order of their age.”
“Maybe that is true in some households, but I can assure you, Yvette, you can marry, or not, whenever you wish to, regardless of what our little Paulette here decides to do,” Lucien explained. An unspoken look of understanding passed between him and his wife.
“Thank you for taking that pressure off me, Lucien,” Paulette said, grateful beyond measure that Colette had married such a reasonable man. Lucien had always understood her motives and actions and Paulette loved that about him. The last thing she needed was Yvette breathing down her neck to hurry up and wed some fool, just so she could plan her own grand wedding. “Besides,” Paulette pointed out with her calm reasoning, “there’s no one that you want to marry at the moment, is there?”
“Well, no . . .” Yvette stammered helplessly. “But it’s the principle of it all.” She released a weary sigh. “However, if Paulette is not worried about being a spinster—”
“Who said anything about me being a spinster?” Paulette cried in indignation. Honestly! Maybe she would marry someday. At some point. If she met someone truly special. Paulette was not averse to marriage. Hadn’t she seen her three older sisters marry quite happily? It was for that very reason that she would not be rushed into anything.
“Well, you don’t want to have a Season and you don’t go to parties or have gentleman callers. You don’t seem interested in the least in finding a husband,” Yvette pointed out. “It just stands to reason that—”
“Please stop!” Colette held up her hands. “I’ve had quite enough of this conversation for one evening. Suffice it to say that . . .
“Welcome to Hamilton’s!” Paulette greeted the customers with an animated smile. New customers always made her happy.
As the gentleman folded his wet umbrella, Paulette took careful note of him, which was a habit of hers. Ever curious and observant, she couldn’t help but pay attention to the customers in her store. This gentleman was mature, tall and rather broad and wore expensive, well-made clothes. Beneath his elegant black hat, strands of chocolate-colored hair were visible. He was handsome enough, she supposed, in a dark, brooding sort of way, but she had never favored that look. Paulette usually found herself drawn to golden, fair-haired heroes. At least she did in all the books that she read.
Using her best shopkeeper’s voice, she asked, “How may I help you this afternoon?”
“My little daughter here would like a new book,” he explained, indicating the child hiding with shyness behind him.
The rich, melodic timbre of his words, laced with the notes of a vaguely familiar accent, filled the air around her. Unable to resist the magnetic attraction of his voice, Paulette suddenly eyed him with keener interest as he looked toward the little girl.
The man possessed an aquiline nose, a strong jaw, and a lean face with dark eyebrows. He was clean-shaven, but she could easily imagine a thin black mustache upon him, giving him the look of a wicked pirate. He seemed tense, almost as if he held his feelings tightly in check, but the slightest disturbance could set him loose in a fury. His full mouth was set in a grim line. In fact, he had a look about his face that conveyed the distinct impression that he had not smiled in a long, long while.
Something about the man unsettled her and the dark intensity about him brought to mind the words “sinister” or “dangerous.”
A little shiver raced through her.
Feeling slightly nervous in his presence and somewhat relieved knowing that her assistant was close at hand in the back room, Paulette silently reprimanded herself for being so foolish as to think of herself in any kind of danger. She had never felt this way about a customer before. Why on earth would she think that this man would cause her any harm? Perhaps she had read one too many gothic romance novels lately!
Her attention was drawn to the little girl, who still attempted to hide behind the man’s dark trousers. The child could not have been more than four years old, with a sweet, chubby face framed by golden curls mostly covered under a wide-brimmed bonnet.
Paulette knew exactly what the little girl wanted. Hamilton’s carried the best children’s books in the city and because of that she had dealt with all manner of children in the shop before, from the most well-behaved to the most spoiled, so she was no stranger to bashful children either. This shy-looking girl would be easy to please.
“Well, you are quite a lucky young lady for your father to give you such a special treat,” Paulette began, favoring the girl with a warm grin. “We have some lovely fairy-tale books with the most beautiful pictures in them. Would you like me to show them to you?”
Peeking out from behind her father’s leg, the little girl nodded in agreement. She did not make a sound, but her cherubic face lit with excitement.
“Thank you,” the gentleman said, seeming a bit relieved by Paulette’s suggestion.
“Why don’t you both come with me to the children’s section of the shop?” she suggested brightly.
They followed her to the rear of the store, where she and Colette had designed an inviting space for their smallest customers. They’d had shelves built at a lower height and miniature-sized tables and chairs to better fit little bodies. A brightly colored area rug covered the wooden floor, lending warmth to the section of books on display. Paulette immediately located their most popular-selling book, a gorgeously illustrated volume of fairy tales. She placed the book on the table and motioned for the child to join her while she sat herself on one of the tiny chairs as well.
“I think you might like this one.”
The little girl glanced up hesitantly at her father, seeking his permission. He patted her head in encouragement. “It’s all right, darlin’.”
She moved slowly forward, taking hesitant steps to the table where Paulette waited for her. When she reached the small table, the girl stopped and stared at Paulette in expectation.
“Do you have a favorite story?” Paulette questioned.
The little girl shook her head, her expression extraordinarily serious for one so young.
“Do you like the story of Sleeping Beauty?”
The child gave the slightest nod of assent.
“That story has always been a favorite of mine.” Opening the thick volume, Paulette turned to the page that had an elaborate and richly drawn illustration of a grand castle tower covered with an overgrown tangle of thorn-laden vines and a profusion of red roses. The little girl’s eyes widened and a small gasp of awe escaped her.
Paulette asked, “Isn’t this picture beautiful?”
Again, the girl merely nodded. She had not uttered one word since entering the shop.
“I’m Miss Hamilton,” Paulette said, hoping to coax a response from her. “What is your name?”
The child blinked at her and shrugged her tiny shoulders.
“What is your name?” she repeated.
The little girl still did not respond. Paulette had never seen such a withdrawn child. Did she not speak at all? Paulette was usually able to cajole bashful children into an easy conversation by this point. But not this girl. From what she sensed, it was not merely shyness that kept the girl from speaking. Was there something the matter with her? Perhaps she was she a mute? Paulette’s natural curiosity piqued and she wished to ask the gentleman about it, but it was certainly not her place to ask such intimate questions of a stranger.
The girl’s father finally answered for her. “Her name is Mara.”
Aware that the man’s eyes had been focused on her during the entire exchange with his daughter, Paulette glanced up at him.
They held each other’s gaze for longer than two strangers normally would. His deep green eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes that were startlingly long for a man. A tingling sensation raced through her and in that instant, Paulette was almost knocked off the tiny chair upon which she sat.
He was not as old as she had first thought him to be and that surprised her. Although she guessed he was not yet thirty, an aged weariness had settled in his eyes. Struck by the sadness she saw within the emerald depths, she sensed that a profound heartache dwelled within this man. What had happened to him? Paulette was at a complete loss to explain the sudden surge of intense feelings that rushed through her as he looked back at her.
Somehow he seemed less forbidding than he had a moment ago.
“And your name, sir?” she managed to ask, suddenly needing to know.
“Forgive me, Miss Hamilton,” he acknowledged her with a slight bow, removing his hat. “I am Declan Reeves.”
Of course. The accent. Now she recognized it. He must be from Ireland. Wondering what had brought him to London, Paulette forced her gaze away from his mysteriously sad eyes and turned her attention back to the child. His child.
“Mara is such a pretty name,” she murmured to the little girl. Paulette was more than aware that the man’s eyes were still on her. The intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. Her hand moved to smooth her own golden-blond hair.
Again the child did not say a word. She merely looked at Paulette with somber green eyes that now seemed remarkably like her father’s. Mara reached out a hand and slowly began turning the pages in the book of fairy tales, mesmerized by the colorful illustrations.
“Her mother named her.” His voice, smooth and melodic, spilled around her, sending a shiver of a different kind through Paulette.
The mother. Of course there would be a mother, this man’s wife.
Paulette rose from the tiny chair, brushing her striped skirts with her hands in a nervous gesture. “I think Mara likes the fairy-tale book.” She returned to being the efficient bookseller once more. “Is there anything else I can get for you today, Mr. Reeves?”
She found herself staring into his emerald eyes again and Declan Reeves answered her question with a desperate look of longing that caused her heart to constrict in her chest. He seemed to be asking her for something. Anything, and she wanted desperately to give it to him but she was not even sure what it was. She held her breath.
Why did this man unsettle her so?
Shaking herself from her overactive imagination, for surely she could only have imagined what had just passed between them, Paulette straightened her shoulders. She should thank them for coming and get on with business. Instead, she then blurted out, “Does your daughter not speak?”
Paulette immediately regretted her impolite question. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth closed? Her sisters were always telling her to mind her own business. She really tried to, but for the most part Paulette could not help herself and always said what she thought. And yes, once in a while she overheard conversations she shouldn’t, but that was not her fault. She was simply very aware of what was going on around her.
Still it was quite rude of her to ask such an intrusive question. Feeling remorseful, she was about to apologize to him for her bad manners.
“She doesn’t speak anymore.” He shook his head, sadness emanating from him. “She hasn’t spoken a single word since her mother passed away.”
“Oh, I see,” Paulette murmured. His daughter had been struck dumb with grief at losing her mother. How tragic! This poor little girl, losing her mother so young! And this man had lost his wife.
Heart pounding, she eyed Declan Reeves anew as it suddenly dawned on her.
He was not a married man.
Once again chiding herself for such a ridiculous musing, she frowned. Paulette didn’t even like the man! Aside from being a complete stranger, he was too dark, too sad, and too mysterious for her taste. She preferred lighter, happier, and generally more outgoing males. Declan Reeves was definitely none of those things.
“Thank you for choosing the perfect book for Mara,” he said. “It’s sometimes difficult to know what she likes.”
“All little girls love fairy tales,” Paulette said, feeling flustered, still aware that his intense eyes were upon her. She felt incredibly self-conscious, wondering how she appeared to him, in her striped work dress. Earlier that morning, she had piled her blond hair upon her head without much thought, as she usually did. Paulette knew she was not unattractive, yet she wished she knew what this man thought while he stared at her so intently.
“Yes, well, thank you again.”
“You’re most welcome. Can I help you with anything else?”
“Thank you, no.”
“In that case, I shall get the bill for you.”
“Perhaps, I could look about for a moment first?” he asked.
“Why yes, of course,” she said with a nod. “I shall be up front if you have need of me.”
Yet again the man gave her a dark look of longing that Paulette felt to the tips of her toes. The fact that he was a widower and staring at her in such a pointed manner left her breathless. She gave him a faint smile and made her way to the safety of the counter, sighing deeply with relief.
The bells jingled and another customer entered the bookshop. Paulette busied herself assisting Mrs. Abbott in finding a volume of poetry, yet all the while she was keenly aware of Declan Reeves milling about the shelves and his silent daughter still flipping through the pages in the book of fairy tales.
A half hour had passed and Paulette stood behind the counter waiting for him to pay for his purchase. The man finally made his way toward her, with Mara following behind, clutching the book in her arms.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
He raised a dark brow in her direction. “Do you always ask such leading questions, Miss Hamilton?”
“I beg your pardon?” What on earth did the man mean? Paulette hadn’t asked him anything different from the questions she posed to all her other customers. It was her duty, for goodness sake!
He shook his head with a rueful glance, his eyes dark and shuttered. “Never mind.”
Paulette straightened her shoulders again. She was usually very good at reading people, but this man’s manner left her disconcerted and unnerved. “Well then, I assume that will be all.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Ignoring his brooding countenance, she collected his payment without comment, while offering a smile at his little girl instead. “Are you happy with your book, Mara?”
Mara glanced up at her with wide green eyes. Her winsome little face, seeming even more innocent and precious framed by the wide brim of her bonnet, filled with happiness and expressed what she would not say with words. She loved the book.
She smiled at the sweet girl. “I am so pleased that you like it.” Paulette glanced back up at Declan Reeves, relying on her shopkeeper role to steady her. “Please keep me in mind if you should need anything else.”
Their gazes met and something forceful and charged raced through her as she looked into his green eyes, so deep and impenetrable. She shivered slightly at the intensity.
“I’m sure I shall,” he said with a glance that sent more quivers through her.
Flustered, Paulette blinked and looked away, shuffling a stack of papers on the counter in a businesslike manner, suddenly at a loss for something to say in response. It seemed he responded to every innocent comment she made as if she meant something else entirely. She managed to mumble, “Thank you for coming to Hamilton’s.”
“No, it is I who should thank you, Miss Hamilton.”
She looked up as he turned to the door, ushering his silent daughter out of the shop and into the misty afternoon.
“How were things at the shop today?” Colette Hamilton Sinclair asked. “I meant to stop by this afternoon but then Phillip came down with a bit of a fever.”
Paulette sat having dinner with her two sisters and her brother-in-law in the elegant dining hall of Devon House later that evening.
“It was a good day all in all, taking into account the rain.” Paulette’s thoughts drifted back to the magnetic dark-haired man and his silent daughter who had been in the shop that day. “The strangest gentleman came in to buy books for his daughter. I think he was from Ireland. His little daughter was so sweet but she hasn’t spoken a word since her mother died.”
“How sad,” murmured her younger sister Yvette, who was seated across the table from her. “Was he a handsome man?”
Of course Yvette would want to know what he looked like! That’s all she cared about. Whereas Paulette found the subtler qualities in a person more interesting. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of the Irish gentleman. “He was not what I would describe as handsome, but he was not unattractive either,” she began, recalling the brooding dark looks and unreadable expression. But he had those deep green eyes and full mouth. “Yet . . . I suppose he was handsome.”
“From Ireland, did you say?” Colette, her oldest sister, asked, sounding a bit intrigued, her blue eyes sparkling. “What was his name?”
“Declan Reeves.”
“Declan Reeves?” Lucien Sinclair echoed, pausing with his fork in the air and taking a marked interest in the conversation. Colette’s husband’s dark brows furrowed and he glanced sharply at Paulette. “Are you sure he said the name Declan Reeves?”
“Yes, I’m positive.” Paulette nodded, wondering what could have captured her brother-in-law’s attention. “His daughter’s name was Mara. She had to be about four years old, and so pretty. But dreadfully sad. Why do you ask?”
Lucien set his fork down. “I just read something in the paper about him yesterday. He’s Lord Something-or-other, but it must be the same fellow.”
Now it was Paulette’s turn to question. “What did the paper say about him?”
“Nothing good, as I recall,” Lucien explained. “I won’t slander a man’s name based on gossip, but there are those who are suspicious of him and the manner in which his wife died.”
A cold shiver raced down Paulette’s spine and she suddenly sat up straighter in her chair. The uncomfortable feeling she had in the shop when she met the man now did not seem so far-fetched. There had been something dark and rather sinister about Mr. Reeves. She dared to ask, “How did his wife die?”
“There was mention of a fire, I believe,” Lucien said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know all the details as I was just skimming the article in the Times and didn’t pay much attention to it, but the name stuck in my head for some reason.”
Paulette’s heart ached at the thought of the little blond girl who would not speak and a wave of sadness washed over her. The child had lost her mother in a fire and it must have been quite traumatic for her. Was there a possibility that her father was responsible for her mother’s death?
“Well, let’s talk about something more cheerful, shall we?” Yvette added while wrinkling her nose. “I don’t care for morbid stories.”
“No, I’m sure you’d rather discuss fashion and handsome gentlemen,” Paulette pointed out, oddly relieved to be changing the topic of conversation. Although she wished to know more about the mysterious and brooding Declan Reeves, learning that he might very well have killed his wife left her feeling unnerved. But somehow, after seeing how kindly he treated his little daughter, she did not think him capable of such an act, no matter how forbidding he looked.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with talking about pretty clothes. Or handsome gentlemen,” Yvette countered with an enigmatic smile. With her blond hair styled in an attempt to appear older than she was, she added, “And one of these days I’m going to be wed to the richest and handsomest gentleman of all.”
Lucien gave her an amused look. “And just who would that be?”
Yvette paused in deep thought. “I’m sure I don’t know. I have yet to meet anyone who catches my fancy.” Her dainty chin went up defensively. “I’m still looking.”
“And you keep looking until you find him, Yvette.” Lucien gave his youngest sister-in-law an indulgent smile.
“I have every intention of doing so.” Yvette disregarded the skeptical looks of her two sisters. “Mark my words.”
“Well, I’ve no doubt you will when you are old enough,” Colette said. “You are only eighteen, Yvette.” As the eldest sister, Colette had taken over the role of parent to her younger siblings after their father died and their mother had been unable to care for them.
“Yes, I’m eighteen now and old enough,” Yvette responded eagerly, tossing her blond curls with an air of superiority. “And Paulette is twenty-one.”
“I’m almost twenty-one,” Paulette amended, as always careful of the little details. She wouldn’t reach her twenty-first birthday until September.
Ignoring her correction, Yvette pointed to Paulette. “She should be married by now!”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Paulette protested. “I’m not interested in getting married.”
“Oh, you always say that, Paulette, and I don’t believe you one single bit.” Yvette tossed her head emphatically. “Every girl wants to get married.”
“Well, you’re quite mistaken on that account.” Paulette was in no rush to have some man telling her what to do night and day. She was quite happy with her life the way it was, thank you very much. Paulette loved living with her sister and her husband at Devon House and working at the bookshop. Colette and Lucien were much more permissive than her own parents ever would have been and they allowed her the freedom to manage the shop and to be her own person.
Ever since Colette had married Lucien Sinclair, their lives had changed for the better and Lucien’s generosity had allowed them to keep the bookshop. Even though their widowed mother, Genevieve Hamilton, had decided to leave London and live in Brighton, Lucien Sinclair had invited all Colette’s sisters to live at Devon House. Her older sisters Juliette and Lisette were both married now, leaving only Paulette and Yvette still living with Lucien and Colette.
Last year Simon Sinclair, Lucien’s father, died, making Lucien the Marquis of Stancliff, and Colette the Marchioness of Stancliff. Given their titled positions the two of them always had many social obligations, but Colette still managed to raise her two sons and take care of things at the bookshop with Paulette.
More than content with the way her life was currently arranged, Paulette had no interest in rushing into a marriage with just anyone. She had already made up her mind that she would wed only if she could find someone just like Lucien Sinclair. In her eyes he was a perfect husband to Colette. Yet Paulette harbored a secret doubt she would ever find a man who would let her do exactly as she liked.
“So, no,” she continued with certainty, “I’ve no wish to marry.”
Yvette looked horrified and turned to her eldest sister for support. “Colette, you cannot allow Paulette to spend the rest of her life alone in the bookshop!”
Colette, her blue eyes filled with kindness, gave Yvette a look of understanding, but did not agree with her. “Paulette can do as she wishes. Just as you can.”
Vindicated, Paulette smiled in smug triumph at her younger sister. Honestly! She had more important things to do than worry about finding a husband. She was about to open a new shop, for heaven’s sake! The business of marriage required more time than she was willing to take away from the importance of managing the bookshop. And Colette understood her on this matter better than her other sisters did.
Yvette could just keep her romantic dreams and aspirations for a lofty marriage. Paulette would marry some day, perhaps, if she met someone special enough, but she certainly wasn’t on the hunt for a husband like so many girls her age were. Luckily there was no pressure for her to marry right away. Colette and Lucien were in agreement with her, so Paulette was free to do as she liked, knowing full well that she was fortunate indeed. Most girls were not so blessed.
Yvette let out an anguished little squeal, blinking back tears. “But if Paulette doesn’t marry, then I cannot!”
All eyes turned to her in surprise and, once again, Lucien laughed. “Where on earth did you get that idea?”
Yvette’s expression filled with worry. “I can’t marry before my older sister does, Lucien. It isn’t right! And if Paulette doesn’t ever marry, then what’s to become of me?”
Paulette really tried her best to contain her laughter but failed. The giggles just escaped. Yvette’s worry seemed quite ridiculous to her.
Lucien and Colette both began speaking at the same time. “Yvette, you don’t have to wait for Paulette to marry first!”
“I don’t?” Yvette blinked in surprise. “I thought it was common knowledge that sisters had to get married in order of their age.”
“Maybe that is true in some households, but I can assure you, Yvette, you can marry, or not, whenever you wish to, regardless of what our little Paulette here decides to do,” Lucien explained. An unspoken look of understanding passed between him and his wife.
“Thank you for taking that pressure off me, Lucien,” Paulette said, grateful beyond measure that Colette had married such a reasonable man. Lucien had always understood her motives and actions and Paulette loved that about him. The last thing she needed was Yvette breathing down her neck to hurry up and wed some fool, just so she could plan her own grand wedding. “Besides,” Paulette pointed out with her calm reasoning, “there’s no one that you want to marry at the moment, is there?”
“Well, no . . .” Yvette stammered helplessly. “But it’s the principle of it all.” She released a weary sigh. “However, if Paulette is not worried about being a spinster—”
“Who said anything about me being a spinster?” Paulette cried in indignation. Honestly! Maybe she would marry someday. At some point. If she met someone truly special. Paulette was not averse to marriage. Hadn’t she seen her three older sisters marry quite happily? It was for that very reason that she would not be rushed into anything.
“Well, you don’t want to have a Season and you don’t go to parties or have gentleman callers. You don’t seem interested in the least in finding a husband,” Yvette pointed out. “It just stands to reason that—”
“Please stop!” Colette held up her hands. “I’ve had quite enough of this conversation for one evening. Suffice it to say that . . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
To Tempt an Irish Rogue
Kaitlin O'Riley
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