The Shamrock & the Rose by Regan Walker Read Free Book Online

you could have told me your uncle was
gone.” Increasingly anxious, she said, “We must leave at once.”
    He reached for her hand and brought it to
his lips. “It seems a bit late for that remedy, Rose.”
    “Do you think me a common actress to be had
at your whim?”
    “No—though the thought appeals,” he
admitted.
    “Why…why I am the houseguest of the
countess, and a lady!”
    Suddenly serious, Morgan O’Connell said,
“Rose, I’m quite sincere, and prepared to make it up to you. Hell,
setting aside my own reservations about your being English, I’m
prepared to marry you.”
    “Merely because you are a gentleman?” she
snapped.
    “That is part of it, certainly. But there is
more between us, I think, something quite unique, enough so that I
would consider marrying a woman I never would have before. In
Ireland, your being English is every bit the black mark to my
family that is my being Irish to yours. But I rather think what has
begun between us is special. Haven’t you felt it? Certainly others
in your English ton have married with less. Much less.”
    His expression caused her cheeks to burn.
She did feel a current like a bolt of lightning whenever he touched
her. And she had to admit she wanted him to kiss her again. But a
forced marriage with the Irishman was out of the question.
    “Regardless what Alvanley does, I want to
see you again,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “Despite
our different heritages, backgrounds, social levels, even our
ambitions…I find myself unable to stay away from you.”
    She looked into his sincere blue eyes and
felt his strong hands pressing into her back. Surprisingly, she did
not say no. Not outright. “I do not have many hours that are mine,
Mr. O’Connell. I have performances—”
    “I will come to the theatre after the
performance tomorrow.”
    “I will not be there tomorrow. Nor the next
day.”
    “Then it will be the evening after
that.”
    “I cannot go anywhere with you at that time,
Mr. O’Connell. You must realize that. It will be late.”
    “Nevertheless, I will be there, Rose, even
if only to kiss your hand and bid you good night. Now let us see
how quickly we can get you home. We will do our best to avert any
crisis.”
    * * *
    Morgan paid a visit to Claremont house each
of the next two days. He’d meant what he’d said. He would do the
honorable thing. But more and more he wanted to marry Rose
Collingwood regardless of the need, though if it took this incident
to do it, to make her family consent to his suit, he was not averse
to using it.
    So that she would know he had not lost
interest, yesterday he’d brought her a small enameled box
containing a carved wooden rose and a shamrock. At least Alvanley
got that part right. He thought the two fit together nicely,
nestled against the green velvet lining, much as Rose and he had in
his uncle’s parlour. He could still smell her light flowery scent
and feel her breasts pressing into his chest as he kissed her.
Riding back from the park with her perched in front of him had
nearly driven him mad with desire as her wriggling bottom pressed
against his swelling groin; it took all of his control to settle
for the kiss he’d given her when they finally arrived at his
uncle’s. Today he wanted to look into those emerald eyes that so
reminded him of Ireland.
    As he walked up the steps leading to
Claremont House, out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure dart
behind a tree. Who could it be? A footman or maid? But why would
they act so quick to avoid being seen? Shaking off a concern he
could not explain, he knocked on the door and presented his
card.
    “Miss Collingwood is not in, sir,” said the
butler he now knew as Cruthers.
    Morgan handed him a note and said, “Please
tell her I called and give her this. And if you would, Cruthers,
remind her I hope to see her tonight.”
    The note was one he’d composed himself after
several glasses of whiskey, a pathetic attempt at a valentine,