The Irish Heiress

  AN IRISH KISS

  With an anguished groan, Foster slowly reached for her, pulling her closer, and her heart soared. She was so close she could smell the scent of him, manly and warm. She tilted her face toward his.

  Then he placed his hands on either side of her face. In a hoarse voice, he whispered, “I have wanted to do this since the moment I first saw you.”

  Lowering his head, he tenderly placed his lips upon hers.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes and gave in to his kiss.

  His lips were warm, soft, and inviting . . . inviting her to take more from him. His hands slid from her face to her neck and then down her shoulders and along her back, drawing her into his embrace.

  Mara’s arms found their way around him, reaching up and clasping his neck as their kiss deepened. A wondrous thing it was, this kiss. It was a deliciously wicked and incredibly intimate kiss. Never imagining a kiss could be like this . . . this mad, overwhelming, all-consuming rush of desire that flooded her whole being.

  On and on it went. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter. It was as if they had both been starving, and kissing each other was their sustenance. She never wanted it to stop . . .

  Books by Kaitlin O’Riley

  The Hamilton Sisters

  WHEN HIS KISS IS WICKED

  DESIRE IN HIS EYES

  IT HAPPENED ONE CHRISTMAS

  TO TEMPT AN IRISH ROGUE

  HIS BY CHRISTMAS

  The Hamilton Cousins

  THE HEIRESS HE’S BEEN WAITING FOR

  THE IRISH HEIRESS

  Stand-Alones

  SECRETS OF A DUCHESS

  ONE SINFUL NIGHT

  Collections

  YOURS FOR ETERNITY

  (with Hannah Howell and Alexandra Ivy)

  AN INVITATION TO SIN

  (with Jo Beverley, Sally MacKenzie,

  and Vanessa Kelly)

  The IRISH HEIRESS

  KAITLIN O’RILEY

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  AN IRISH KISS

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  1 - Premonitions

  2 - Realizations

  3 - Variations

  4 - Invitations

  5 - Suggestions

  6 - Conversations

  7 - Declarations

  8 - Emotions

  9 - Passions

  10 - Revelations

  11 - Desolations

  12 - Relations

  13 - Obstructions

  14 - Impressions

  15 - Instigations

  16 - Ramifications

  17 - Visions

  18 - Interpretations

  19 - Complications

  20 - Connections

  21 - Recriminations

  22 - Explanations

  23 - Conflagrations

  24 - Reactions

  25 - Proclamations

  26 - Conclusions

  Epilogue

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Kathleen M. Milmore

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4465-9

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4466-6 (eBook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4466-9 (eBook)

  To my beautiful sisters,

  Jane, Maureen, Janet & Jennifer.

  I don’t know what I would do without you in my life

  Acknowledgments

  Once again I need to say how very thankful and grateful I am for my family and friends on the east and west coasts who make my life better in every way: Riley Anderson, Jane Milmore, Shelley Jensen, Maureen Milmore, Janet Wheeler, Scott Wheeler, Jennifer Malins, Greg Malins, Yvonne Deane, Kim McCafferty, Cela Lim, Lynn Abbott, Gretchen Kempf, Jenny Goodenough, Adrienne Barbeau, Billy Van Zandt, and all my sweet nephews. I especially thank Christopher Robinson for believing in me even when I don’t, oh and for our pajama days . . . yet.

  I also wish to thank my amazing agent, Jane Dystel, and my wonderful editor, John Scognamiglio, for their constant support and encouragement.

  Note to Riley

  Try it, you’ll like it.

  1

  Premonitions

  September 1894

  It was happening again.

  When it occurred in a public place, Lady Mara Reeves tended to panic at the very thought of it happening to her. As it was just now . . .

  There really was no way to stop it once it started. At least not a way that she was aware of as yet. No, Mara’s only recourse was to find a quiet corner and hope this particular episode passed quickly. It hadn’t happened to her in quite a while, but she recognized the prickly signs immediately. And they were inordinately strong this time, as if making up for their long absence with a vengeance.

  It reminded her once again how different she was from everyone else.

  Casting a silent prayer that no one would notice her, with hurried steps Mara retreated to a small alcove along the massive hallway, as she suddenly grew very dizzy, almost faint. Her elegant champagne-pink silk ball gown grew restrictive around her chest. She reached out to a marble pillar for support, the cool white stone sending chills right through her long white gloves to her heated flesh.

  Then, just as she knew it would, that peculiarly familiar tingling sensation crept over her skin ever so slowly, awakening each and every nerve in her body. Her heart raced and she grew warm and yet she shivered. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she clenched her teeth. Pressing her fingers to her temples, Mara closed her eyes and held her breath. The lively music from the ballroom receded into a dark cloud of silence. Sharp pinpricks of awareness lit up inside of her, flashing sparks of light from within.

  And then it happened . . . Misty wisps of images began to take shape in her mind.

  Fire. Glints of flames. Blinding bursts of light. Shimmering walls of golden orange and brilliant yellow. Breathtaking, scorching heat. Trapped in the burning building, blazing embers and smoky ash filling the air, Mara didn’t know where to go. Gut-wrenching, tormented screams echoed against the rush of flames. Her own panicked, terrified cries reverberated around her. Scalding tears, knowing it was her fault, knowing it was too late. Blinding heat and black smoke and swirling flames, the vicious sting of fear and the horrific smell of imminent death.

  Her death. She was going to die in this raging inferno.

  Then nothing. A short breath of blessedly cool air. She gasped.

  A man. Frantically calling to her, his hand outstretched, reaching for her, a look of love, mixed with anguish and horror, awash on his handsome face. His eyes, oh, his eyes! Deep green and filled with abject longing and desire, they implored her to come with him, to believe him. And she wished to be with him with a certainty that belied all else. She held o
ut her hand to him, trusting him implicitly, the terror that engulfed her dissipating at the touch of his fingers. Flooded with relief and elation, buoyed with happiness and hope, Mara clung to him, his strong arms embracing her.

  He pulled her tightly to his broad chest and she was safe, secure, loved. In spite of their dangerous surroundings and the acrid smell of smoke thick around them, she could breathe easily within his sheltering embrace. A profound peace enveloped her. Never had she felt such an ebullient happiness and tranquility. This man loved her deeply and she loved him. She looked into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. The desire to be with him overwhelmed her. She was his and he was hers. The certainty, the rightness of it, was all-consuming.

  She belonged to him. They belonged together.

  And just like that, the intense images evaporated, as if Mara had simply awakened from an incredible and vivid dream.

  Yet Mara had not been sleeping. She had been very much awake.

  Shaken by what she’d just seen, she remained motionless, fighting the urge to cry. The loss of the exquisite connection with that man and the inexplicable sense of warmth, happiness, and pure love brought tears to her eyes.

  Mara trembled, as if she were shivering from a cold wind.

  Whenever she had one of her strange premonitions, it was always about someone else, never about herself. It had been that way her whole life. Sometimes she could foresee the future, getting a glimpse into what was going to happen to the people she loved. Sometimes she saw good things, other times she saw things she did not wish to know. But they always presaged the actual events themselves. And she had never been wrong. When she saw something in her visions, it always came to pass.

  Ever since she was a little girl, she had kept these premonitions, these feelings or intuitions or signs or whatever they were called, to herself. Locked deep inside. She’d mentioned them to her father once when she was about seven years old, and from the panicked and worried expression in his paternal eyes, she learned not to mention them to him ever again. Another time, she had half-heartedly confided in Sara about them, but her cousin seemed baffled by her revelation.

  However, this time her premonition was completely different from any of the others she had ever had.

  This time the vision was about . . . her. Mara was the center of it all.

  Mara was the girl in the flames.

  Fire had haunted her whole life. Was it any wonder that a vision that involved her included flames and smoke? Fire fascinated her and terrified her. There was no mistaking what she had seen and felt just now, even if she could not discern what it meant in any real context. Was she in danger now? When would this come to pass? Tonight? Tomorrow? A year from now?

  The only thing she was certain of was that it would happen.

  “Mara . . . ? Mara, are you unwell?”

  In a daze, she blinked up at a familiar face.

  Her cousin, Phillip Sinclair, placed a steadying hand on her arm. His voice full of concern, he repeated her name. “Mara?”

  Bracing herself, trying to refocus her mind, Mara finally responded with an automaticity that surprised her. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

  “Well, you don’t look perfectly fine at all.” Phillip shook his head, his boyishly handsome features lined with skepticism. “You look ghastly and about ready to faint. Let’s go sit in the drawing room for a moment, so you can rest. You’re lucky I happened to come along when I did.”

  Nodding in wordless agreement, Mara followed Phillip away from the grand ballroom, where the sounds of lively music from the orchestra and the exuberant rise and fall of laughter and voices muddled together. All the guests were enjoying a wonderful evening of dancing and dining to celebrate Uncle Jeffrey’s birthday. Meanwhile an icy-cold knot tightened in the pit of Mara’s stomach.

  What had just happened to her?

  It was unlike anything she had experienced before. Of all the visions, the seeings, she’d had in her life, this one had been drastically different. Still trembling, she took a gulp of air and walked unsteadily beside her protective cousin, holding tight to his arm, grateful for his calming presence, for it anchored her in reality.

  As they moved down the marble-floored corridor and passed by her aunt and uncle’s other guests, Mara looked up and into the face of the man she had just seen in her vision. She gasped.

  Eyes of the deepest forest green, fringed with dark lashes and framed with dark brows, arched in matched surprise as they met her own. These eyes gazed into her very soul, until Mara felt as if she were drowning in them, consumed by them. The man did not look away from her, nor did he flinch from their locked gaze. Strange feelings washed over her.

  Instant recognition. A sense of knowing and belonging. A feeling of wonder. A blossoming of something exquisitely wonderful. Mara could not breathe. There was a connection so strong, she could only stop abruptly in place and stare back at him, utterly speechless. Frightened by the power of it, by the sheer beauty of it, she was motionless.

  It was him.

  She knew it was him. Not only that, she knew his name.

  Mara sensed Phillip’s confusion as he stood beside her, wondering what had caused her to suddenly become still. She heard Phillip’s voice greeting the man from her vision. “Good evening, Lord Sterling.”

  The man’s green eyes never left Mara’s, although he addressed her cousin. “Waverly, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I believe we met at the races last spring,” Phillip continued amiably, “May I introduce you to my cousin? This is Lady Mara Reeves. Mara, this is Foster Sheridan, Lord Sterling.”

  Utterly transfixed by him, Mara remained immobile and incapable of forming words, while he and her cousin exchanged pleasantries.

  It was then Mara took in his whole face. The masculine features of Foster Sheridan, the Earl of Sterling. She had seen him before! Oh, yes, she had . . . It was a few months earlier, and she had been distracted and worried about her cousin Sara that evening, and did not speak to him. But Mara had watched this attractive man from afar during Lady Cabot’s ball that night. Thinking him quite handsome, she had even asked Lord Bridgeton about him that night, to learn his name.

  That had been all there was to it. They had not spoken or even exchanged glances and she had not seen him again. She hadn’t given him more than an idle thought since that summer night.

  Until her vision.

  Until now.

  And here he was before her, saying what a pleasure it was to meet her, the rich tone of his voice sending excited shivers throughout her body. Mara heard mumbled words escape from her own lips but hadn’t a clue what she’d actually said, for she was momentarily mesmerized by the magnificence of his smile. His attractive face lit up from within and his eyes danced with merriment, with enchanting crinkles at the corners. Warmth emanated from this man and enveloped her like a luxurious velvet blanket. She clenched her fingers, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. To actually caress his smooth-shaven cheek, to run her fingers along his strong, chiseled jaw, to brush them across his full, inviting lips.

  Lord Sterling. Foster Sheridan.

  It was him.

  He was the man in the premonition that had just shaken her to the core. The images in which she felt such indescribable happiness and peace. With him. With this man who left her feeling completely unlike her usual self. With this man she had never really crossed paths with before. Yet she knew, with an unwavering certainty in her soul, that their futures were irrevocably entwined.

  So lost in her little reverie of wanting to touch this man, to know him, she was only vaguely aware of her cousin bidding him farewell. No! No! Not yet! It’s too soon! Mara wanted to cry out with the loss of him, yet she could not think of anything to say to prolong their encounter.

  Lord Sterling gave her a gentlemanly bow. “Lady Mara, it’s quite early yet, but I must admit that meeting you has most definitely been the highlight of my evening.”

  She merely nodded and smiled, for she couldn’
t form coherent sentences at a time when her little world was suddenly turned upside down. Before she knew it Phillip was guiding her along the marble hallway again, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. She fought the overwhelming desire to run back, back to Lord Sterling and his remarkable eyes. And that exquisite feeling she had while standing near him.

  However, Mara managed to steal a quick glance over her shoulder. Lord Sterling simply stood there watching her walking away, looking as bewildered as she felt. And the longing in his eyes echoed the feelings that flooded her being.

  She wanted to be with him.

  Phillip led her to a private drawing room that belonged to Aunt Yvette. Once she was seated upon a blue damask divan, Phillip asked, “Mara, you are not at all yourself. Can I get you anything? A glass of water? A cup of tea? Some champagne, perhaps?”

  When she found her voice, she answered, “Tea, please. Thank you.” A cup of tea might take him longer. She simply needed to be left alone for a bit to collect her thoughts and calm down.

  “You rest here. I’ll bring you some tea.” He paused hesitantly, his look questioning. “Would you like me to fetch your mother or father? Would you prefer to go home instead?”

  “Oh, no. I’m quite all right, Phillip. Truly. Please don’t worry my parents. They are enjoying Uncle Jeffrey’s birthday party. I’m just light-headed because I haven’t eaten much of anything today. I suppose I’m just hungry.” She gave him a half-hearted grin. “It’s all my own fault.”

  It was a fib about not eating, for she’d had quite a hearty lunch, but it was all Mara could think of to explain her dizziness. She surely couldn’t tell him the truth. Oh, Phillip, I just had the most life-altering premonition, which left me dizzy and breathless and then we ran smack into the man I am certain will change my life! Her cousin was sweet and understanding, but she could never reveal her true feelings to him that way!