Robert's Rescue [Lords of Hawksfell Manor 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  Lords of Hawksfell Manor 9

  Robert’s Rescue

  Robert is lonely, and accepts the Earl of Hawksfell’s invitation. He meets a maid and chauffeur who bring light into his life.

  Rose values her position and vows to never have children. She’s attracted to chauffeur Jared and the new Hawk who comes to the manor.

  Jared likes the new Hawk right away. He’s also drawn to Rose. He’s never given his heart but he falls for both her and Robert.

  Can Rose and Jared rescue Robert from his loneliness? Or will he retreat to his house, alone forever?

  Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 26,492 words

  ROBERT’S RESCUE

  Lords of Hawksfell Manor 9

  Josie Dennis

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  ROBERT’S RESCUE

  Copyright © 2015 by Josie Dennis

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-120-3

  First E-book Publication: March 2015

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  ROBERT’S RESCUE

  Lords of Hawksfell Manor 9

  JOSIE DENNIS

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter 1

  Yorkshire, England 1913

  Robert Hawk, Baron Waltham, ran his fingers through his hair and let out a harsh breath. The maid sent him a small smile over her shoulder. Her brown hair was still neat and her uniform crisp, although the skirt was tossed up over her hips. He tucked himself back in his trousers and cleared his throat.

  “That will be all,” he said to her.

  Her eyes widened at his cool tone but it was the way he preferred it. Straightening, she pushed her skirts back down and turned to him. She opened her mouth, she had a very lovely mouth, then gave a nod.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The moment stretched and he arched a brow. She dipped her head and hurried past him, shutting the door of the library behind her.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, sinking back into the plush chair in front of the fire.

  An icy rain pelted the leaded windows, the sound like breaking glass against the panes. He stared into the flames, willing to warm himself. He was so cold. Despite his recent fiery coupling with the housemaid he remained untouched. It was as it always was. As it had been since reaching manhood and first encountering the odd curse that was purported to plague all the Hawk men—sexual desires that had to be satisfied, and never by his own hand.

  He’d tried to fight the urge, as he always did. That compulsion he’d inherited from his unknown father who gave him his name and little else but this. Oh, he was blessed with the gift for money. This was exhibited in his fine home, Waltham Hall. Everything he touched turned to gold, from the estate’s farms to his investments in London, and yet, he had no one to share any of it with.

  He never had anyone, truly. His mother was gone for much of his twenty-seven years, and his only memories of her were of her sick room. Hushed servants and caring nurses had filled his childhood and he had no chums from that time either.

  “A brandy, my lord?” his butler said from the doorway.

  Robert glanced at the thin and neat old gentleman then shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  The butler’s brows knit, and he tilted his head. “Are you feeling quite all right, Lord Waltham?”

  Robert smiled at the servant he’d known his whole life. “I’m fine, Phelps.”

  Phelps pursed his lips. “Might I suggest you get out of the house on the morrow?”

  “Winter still has its grasp on Yorkshire, Phelps.” He managed a smile. “Surely you’re not suggesting I brave the cold?”

  Phelps gave his customary rusty laugh. “You are a hardy one my lord, yet you are as stuck in your ways as an old spinster.”

  “A spinster?”

  Phelps shrugged. “You spend your time here in this lonely manor or down in the carriage house. A young man in your position should socialize.”

  “I prefer this lonely manor and I enjoy my time in the carriage house.”

  Phelps sniffed. “Puttering with those motor cars of yours, yes.”

  Robert found a true smile then. “Tell me you will at last allow me to drive you into the village?”

  Phelps’s eyes rounded. “No thank you, my lord!”

  Robert held up a hand. “And you say I’m stuck in my ways.”

  Phelps’s snorted. “I’ll leave the bottle here.” He glanced down toward the hallway where the maid had gone and returned his gaze to Robert. “I trust you are feeling well?�
��

  Robert knew what he meant. It was the damned Hawk curse. Phelps was the one to tell him of it when Robert first felt its burn. He’d told Robert of his father who’d legitimatized him then abandoned him to be all but raised by the Waltham servants. It had also been Phelps who comforted him when Robert had tried to ease himself, causing unimaginable pains in his stomach and an erection that lasted for hours.

  “I’m well, Phelps. You see to it that the servants know how matters are handled here at the manor.”

  Phelps straightened an air of pride about him. “Indeed, my lord.”

  Robert stood. “I believe I’ll go off to bed. If the weather clears I may venture outside the manor tomorrow.”

  Phelps snorted again. “Never say you are minding me now.”

  Robert coughed, feeling the unusual desire to laugh. “Good night, Phelps.”

  “Good night, my lord.”

  Robert left the study and climbed the curving staircase to his luxurious and lonely bedchamber. A fire burned merrily here as well, and he walked toward the leaded window to stare out at the slates on the roof. They glistened, the icy rain having encased them in cold beauty. The weather would surely break tomorrow. Then he could spend a few hours in the carriage house working on the motor cars. He’d fed the beast tonight. It should be a few days at least before he was seized with the urge.

  He thought of what Phelps had said. Perhaps, weather permitting, he would take one of his motor cars into the village and spend some time away from the manor.

  “What could it hurt?” he murmured.

  Not him. That was certain. Nothing touched him.

  * * * *

  Jared Morrissey wiped his hands on a rag and closed the bonnet on the humming engine. The Earl of Hawksfell’s motor cars were quite splendid but when he had the opportunity to work on Michael Crowley’s he felt truly blessed. That man, third cousin to the Countess of Hawksfell and a particular favorite of both her and the earl, loved his motor cars. He gave Jared high praise for keeping them in such good condition. It was true that Michael tended to run them too high and work them too hard, but Jared couldn’t feel anger toward a man of quality being unafraid of getting his hands dirty on the engines now and again.

  Jared had been at Hawksfell Manor for over three months now and none of his previous employers ever displayed an inkling of interest in what went on beneath the bonnet of their expensive vehicles. It was no matter, really. As chauffeur he was happy to take on the duty. There were whispers of Jared’s predecessor finding a new position with one of the earl’s Hawk relatives but that didn’t concern Jared. Down here in the carriage house he was on his own. For the most part.

  He was self-taught and loved to work on the new toys the earl bought for himself, the countess and Michael Crowley. It secured his employment, and that was the most important thing. He wouldn’t go back to being a skinny, hungry boy eager for any work or any attention from his drunk of a father. As for his mother, he had no notion of that woman’s identity. His father said she was just some whore, which was the way the man spoke of most women. In fact, when Jared had told him of his new position at Hawksfell his father had warned him that the late earl had dark urges and that the man’s son must be cut from the same cloth. Jared was to protect himself, his father insisted. He claimed that Jared was far too pretty to be kept in the carriage house and that he needed to stay on his guard to keep from becoming another of the earl’s playthings.

  Jared had been shocked. Not by the fact that the late earl had such a reputation. He’d heard enough of it in the village over the years. Even this younger earl, Gabriel Hawk who had risen to rank through the death of his father, had such desires. Jared had seen the heated looks passed from earl to countess, and from earl to Michael Crowley as well. Heated looks but clear affection as well. There was nothing of the predator about Gabriel. If he carried on with both Lady Hawksfell and her third cousin, who was Jared to care? He had his work and his rooms above the carriage house. He was making a good life for himself. He only prayed it would last. He didn’t want to be hungry again.

  “Mmm, that sounds lovely.”

  Jared looked over to find Rose, Lady Hawksfell’s maid, eyeing the car. Her brown eyes sparkled as she fixed her gaze on him now. A flash of heat coursed through him.

  “Good morning, Rose.” He took in her neat uniform and shining auburn hair. It was tucked up and topped with a lacy cap but a few tendrils teased her smooth cheeks. “You have no duties this morning?”

  She smiled, a pretty expression that curved her full rosy lips. “I see to my duties, Morrissey. The countess is quite pleased with me.”

  Jared heard the teasing in her soft Irish brogue. The sound always stroked him in the naughtiest manner.

  “I believe her previous maids thought as much.” Rose’s eyes widened and Jared smiled to lessen his jab. “Not that their circumstances were attributed to the countess’s whims.”

  “I should say not.”

  Rose straightened her slender frame, unconsciously accentuating her perky, round breasts behind that pristine white apron he could glimpse in the gap of her wool wrap.

  Jared leaned back against the motor car and crossed his arms. He caught her running her gaze over his bared forearms. It might be chilly in the carriage house but he preferred to keep the grease from soiling his shirts. Not that Mrs. Holmes, the housekeeper, didn’t see to it that everyone on staff at Hawksfell looked properly turned out. He didn’t want to make more work for the staff if he could help it.

  “So what brings you down here on this cold March morn, lass?”

  Her eyes sparkled as he let his own Irish show in his voice. She stepped closer and he caught that scent that echoed her name. Roses, like the sweetest hothouse blossom.

  “I was just looking for a bit of company, Morrissey.” Her hand strayed to his vest and she barely brushed his buttons. “It’s right lonely up there in the house.”

  Jared arched a brow at her. “Now, Rose. Never say you’re looking for a bit of sport.”

  Her eyes rounded again and she stepped back. “I’m not that kind of girl!”

  She trembled and he wondered just what would have to occur for her to indulge in the heat he always sensed right under her starch.

  “That’s a pity,” he said, grinning.

  Her pretty mouth fell open, and then she clicked her tongue. “You’re a tease, you are. I can’t make you out.”

  Jared shrugged. “I’m no mystery, Rose.” He pushed off the motor car and came close to her. “Now, you? Ah, you’re a right riddle, you are.”

  Rose swallowed audibly and stared up at him. He wanted to kiss her. Saints, he wanted to fuck her. She was pure, though. Even though she was built for sin he could tell she was a virgin.

  “Morrissey,” she breathed.

  He leaned down just a hair to brush her lips with his. A hint of sweetness met his tongue and he pulled back. His breath came fast as desire slammed into him. Oh, this girl was dangerous to the life he was building here.

  “Go, Rose,” he rasped.

  She flicked out her tongue to lick her lips. “I don’t understand.”

  He growled and stepped back. “Go back to the house.”

  She blinked rapidly, then turned and fled. Thank God he’d come to his senses. Ah, but the lure of comfort in the sweet girl’s arms was so seductive. It was far better this way. He wouldn’t trade a safe and sound existence for a quick coupling in the carriage house.

  No matter how much he craved connection, he wouldn’t let himself succumb.

  * * * *

  Rose Killian ran from the carriage house as if the devil himself was at her heels. What had she been thinking, going down there to tease Morrissey? He was pretty and quite the flirt with those sparkling blue eyes of his but she never thought he’d be so bold as to take her up on the offer she persisted in making. She meant nothing by it. She was just so lonely since coming to work at Hawksfell Manor. The countess was all loveliness and very sweet and the ea
rl, even though he was very imposing, was genteel and proper. She’d heard about the goings-on over the past months, of Hawk relatives coming and spiriting away members of the staff with lust and love. Mrs. Holmes, the housekeeper, never allowed talk to go on about the Hawk family, though. Not in the servants’ common room below or in the attics where the servants all slept above.

  She hung her wrap near the rear door then ran up the back stairs and all the way to her attic room and shut the door tight behind her, her breath still coming fast.

  Straightening, she approached the dresser set in one corner of the tidy room and peered into the mirror atop. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair mussed from her flight from the carriage house. She unpinned her cap and scraped her hair back into its neat bun. Again she worried about her propensity to seek out the chauffeur. It was frightfully cold outside yet she’d run out there with just her wrap around her shoulders. What was it about this place?

  She’d been here two months now. She’d taken the position serving the countess when the lady’s maid left with another Hawk gentleman. She only prayed another wouldn’t visit any time soon. She was starting to realize that she was unable to keep from acting on her attraction to Morrissey. How the devil was she to ignore the lure of someone as magnetic as a Hawk?

  She’d tried to get the truth behind the rumors out of Hugh, the earl’s valet. He was gone now as well, truth be told. Another of the earl’s half-brothers appeared just last month and Hugh left with him and his lady love. It was passing strange, this proclivity for quick attachments. Was Hugh romantically involved with this latest Hawk? The earl’s new brother was frightfully handsome. That was certain. And obviously smitten with a female cousin of the countess who had come to visit. Well, Hugh had been as well.