Page 25

Briar

T he world around me went dark as the black Town Car glided into the garage beneath Dún Na Farraige Estates Incorporated.

Lorcan sat beside me, our hands resting on the open seat between us, the centimeters between our fingers pulsing with energy.

A driver from Cormac’s fleet, whom I didn’t know, had been assigned to drive the car.

The luxury surrounding the O’Cillians was mind-boggling.

Or maybe I was letting my mind be obsessed with that over the fact that I had kissed Lorcan.

I glanced down at our hands, my fingers twitching as I stopped myself from taking his hand.

I might have kissed him first, but he took part, his tongue searching for mine in a frenzied dance that still made my lips tingle.

My neck burned where his touch had rested, but his other hand…

I clenched my thighs as the ghost of his hand came to mind and how it slid from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me into him until I felt the ridge against my stomach.

As soon as I felt it, he pulled away, turning from me, stammering an apology.

He said he couldn’t because it was too dangerous, which made no sense at all.

I looked over at him as he stared out the window; his hand covered his mouth, just as he had since we got into the car.

At his insistence, we left the gardens just after it happened.

Did he think his erection was embarrassing?

Wasn’t he the one who told me not to be embarrassed, even when I had seen him naked in front of his house?

I didn’t know why I kissed him, except I needed to—I just needed to know what his lips felt like on mine.

We climbed the stairs in silence, the decadent aromas of dinner being prepared in the kitchen causing my stomach to tighten as I realized we hadn’t eaten lunch.

I gripped the cold wooden railing in my hand.

Something about being here, in this place, with Lorcan, just felt right—like this was where I was supposed to be.

My heart still longed for the heat and humidity of the greenhouse, but I couldn’t see myself in it alone anymore.

Lorcan’s shadow was always beside me. But if the way he acted now were any sign, that would not happen.

Lorcan led me through the halls of the ground floor. As we passed the boardroom, I noticed a heavy oak door pulled shut across the hall. Next to it was a brass plate engraved with the words “The Marquess of Dún Na Farraige.”

I tilted my head as we walked by and cleared my throat, wanting to break the silence between us. “If the marquess title has fallen out of use, why is the sign still here?”

“Historic value,” he said, his words short. I caught a fleeting look on his face—something that told me there was more to the story—but it faded as fast as it arrived.

I smiled at Lorcan. “That’s all?”

His jaw tensed before he glanced away, his words not quite matching the tightness in his expression. “It’s nothing.”

As we climbed the main staircase, its frosted glass dome allowing light to filter onto the treads, I yearned for Lorcan to reach back and take my hand.

Never had I regretted kissing someone, but I was starting to believe it was a mistake.

We continued to the first floor, where Lorcan waved his white key card in front of the door, giving us access to the private areas of the town house.

Just as the door clicked open, a familiar voice called behind us.

“Lorcan. Briar. I thought I heard you.” We turned, abandoning the unlocked door.

I marveled at Cormac’s statement as he came up behind us.

He must have excellent hearing. He walked toward us from the back of the house, a portfolio matching the leather one Lorcan had at breakfast in his hand, his face beaming. “How were the gardens?”

“Hello, brother,” Lorcan said casually. “They were amazing. So much has changed.”

Cormac nodded. “I hope you both had a fabulous day.” He looked at me as though he had asked a question.

The feel of Lorcan’s lips lingered on mine, and heat rushed to my cheeks. “It was lovely. Thank you.”

Cormac glanced between us, a sly smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He held up the portfolio. “Rory spent most of the day in the basement. All the information we can share on Lady Isobel Lyon Blackcairn Harrowmont.”

“Harrowmont? But…”

“Harrowmont was her first married name. Likely why your mother couldn’t find her.”

He held the folder out in front of him toward me. A look flashed between the brothers, again as if there was something I shouldn’t know. I would have to ask Lorcan about it later—not that I expected he would answer me.

My hands trembled as I reached for the portfolio, a fire burning in my chest. I opened it, my eyes skimming the first page. “The Tower of London? The House of Lords?” My voice shook as I spoke.

“I must confess, once I figured out what Rory was up to, I had Gabe, our archivist, look for most of it. He prepared the outline you’re reading. Wonderful fellow.” Cormac looked at Lorcan in the eyes. “He’s been with the family a long time.”

Lorcan cleared his throat. “And what is it Gabe found?”

“Lady Isobel was a baroness in her own right,” Cormac explained.

“That meant she wasn’t tried at the Old Bailey but in the House of Lords.

A jury of her peers decided her fate. Had she been married into nobility, it would have been different, but as the Baroness of Blackcairn, not just Lady Harrowmont, she was held in the Tower of London and tried in the House of Lords. ”

“So that is why my mother found nothing? She was looking at the wrong records?”

Lorcan nodded. His eyes were soft as he looked at me. “Yes. She would have had to gain access to the Parliamentary Archives and look for the trial of the Baroness of Blackcairn—”

Cormac chuckled. “But even then, the archives contain little detail, according to Gabe. He pulled this information from the O’Cillian archives.”

Was that a look of concern I saw on Lorcan’s face?

I turned my attention to the documents in my hand.

My heart twisted with a bittersweet ache.

I now held everything Mum had looked for in my hands, everything she wanted to learn and pass down to me.

It felt like a triumph, but it also meant I had no more reason to be here—to be with Lorcan.

“This is amazing, Cormac. Thank you.” I flipped through the pages, dumbfounded that all this information existed. “I’ll have to thank Rory, too.”

I could feel Cormac’s eyes on the top of my head, but I didn’t look up as the records pulled me in. “I’ll let you two go through them,” he said as he walked past us and down the stairs.

Lorcan’s fingers brushed my elbow. “Would you like to take those upstairs? You’re welcome to bring them to my sitting room…”

I looked into his blue eyes, his emotions unreadable again. My voice caught in my throat. “I would like that.”

He waved his key card in front of the lock and held the door open for me. I climbed the stairs, the supple leather of the portfolio soft in my hand. When we reached the top, Lorcan gestured for me to take the lead to his room. He opened the door for me and stepped back, his eyes glued to the floor.

I stepped past him into a cozy sitting room.

The ceiling, with its decorative rose and antique brass chandelier, towered ten feet above us.

The intricate molding along the ceiling’s edge was as ornate as the rest of the house.

A large, dark wooden mantel provided a focal point along the right wall.

The tall windows allowed ample light into the room, and the stormy-blue shutters, which matched the rest of the walls, were open.

Window seats invited a reader to pull a book from the floor-to-ceiling shelf next to the mantel and curl up to read, while the brown-and-blue seating area provided a location for comfortable conversation.

Papers covered the wooden coffee table, and a singular glass with an unfinished amber drink sat next to a crystal decanter.

“Let me move those,” said Lorcan quickly, his eyes following mine to the glass.

He placed them on a shelf beside the fireplace, opposite the bookshelf.

He gathered the same papers he’d had at breakfast and slid them into a portfolio.

The crest caught my eye again. I glanced at the portfolio in my hand and noticed the same symbol.

I held it out to Lorcan. “What is this?”

“The crest of the Clan O’Cillian,” he answered before pressing his lips together. Another question I was going to get only the minimum answer to. I sighed and sat on the sofa, placing the portfolio in front of me.

He glanced around uneasily. “May I offer you a drink?”

I shrugged. “A glass of wine would be lovely. A Chardonnay, maybe?”

He nodded and walked to an intercom next to the door, pressing a button.

“Dani?”

“Yes, Lorcan?” The woman’s voice came through the speaker.

“Can you please bring a bottle of Chardonnay to my room?”

“Absolutely. How many glasses?”

“Just one, please.”

Lorcan turned back toward me. “I’ll just…” He pointed at the decanter, which he had just moved. He turned over a fresh glass from those on the shelf behind it and poured himself a drink just as there was a knock on the door.

“That was quick,” I said.

“Could you get it?” he asked while capping the decanter.

“Yeah.” I rose from the sofa and opened the door to Dani, balancing a tray.

“Lorcan?” she asked as she walked into the room.

“On the table is fine.”

She smiled at me before she set the tray down on the table.

A bottle of wine with a napkin wrapped around the neck sat nestled into the ice in the silver wine bucket.

She poured a glass of wine and left it on the table.

Picking up a flask from the tray with the same O’Cillian crest on the front, she walked toward Lorcan and held it out to him.

His brow crinkled. “What is this for?”