The Promise

by V J Dunraven

  Moreover, he felt as if he had been replaced—the same word Jeremy used when they confronted each other in his art studio. Cassie thought he replaced her with Desiree—and now, he just realized that he actually felt like she replaced him with Jeremy.

  Richard saw a flash of light in the murky tunnel of perplexity in his brain. Could this be possible? To love someone with such possessiveness and protectiveness—yet not be in love with her?

  He fended off Jeremy’s fingers from the platter and pushed the sweets towards Cassie, who beamed at him, then, stuck her tongue at Jeremy—just like all the other times when he rescued her from his pestering.

  “In my opinion,” Jeremy said as he gave up on trying to get the treats back, “Lady Desiree will make you a perfect Duchess.”

  Richard could only but agree. Even now, he could clearly see her standing by his side, managing his vast, complex households and hosting parties for peers of his rank. To his consternation, he could not imagine Cassie coping with the magnitude of a Duchess’ responsibilities. She was too young and carefree—and did not have the training and maturity of Desiree.

  “Darling,” Desiree placed her hand on top of his, “Miss Carlyle and I are going to leave you and Lord Huntington to your port. We shall be in the drawing room when you’re ready to join us.”

  “All right.” he briefly squeezed her fingers, and to his amazement, he delighted at the blush that crept up her cheeks in response.

  Jeremy sought Lady Desiree’s eyes as he and Richard joined them a few minutes later. She was turning the pages for Cassie while she played the pianoforte. Jeremy gave her a secret signal as she glanced in his direction.

  “Darling, why don’t you turn the pages for Miss Carlyle while I ring for some tea?” She motioned for Richard to take her place.

  “Of course.” Richard moved to the spot she vacated.

  “You’ve done excellent,” Jeremy whispered as Lady Desiree pretended to offer him a drink. “Were my notes of use to you?”

  “Oh yes, my lord.” She snuck a quick glance at Richard and Cassie. “The journal you gave me has helped me tremendously in understanding Richard’s likes and dislikes. In fact, I am aiming to join him in his early morning rides at the beach and other activities he prefers.”

  “Good.” Jeremy imitated a laugh at what she had said to discourage suspicion from the other two people in the room. “And have you tried the— er—ah—other things I gave you precise instructions on, in the journal?”

  Her cheeks bloomed into a considerable color of pink. “Yes,” she muttered with visible embarrassment. “I daresay your directions are quite astute.”

  “Yes they are—though I advise you not to go beyond the limit unless you are certain Richard reciprocates your feelings.” Jeremy casually strolled towards a chair and sat, as Cassie ended her piece and stood up from the piano.

  Cassie had been watching Desiree and Jeremy beneath her lashes as they conferred with each other while she played the pianoforte. Since when did those two share such a friendly tête-à-tête? What were they talking about? And why was Jeremy whispering? What was so funny about what she said? Oh—and now she’s blushing? How dare he flirt with the goat lady with her around! Was he trying to seduce her? Had he forgotten that they were supposed to be betrothed?

  Hah! She most indubitably needed to uproot his underlying motive! If she discovered that Jeremy was making overtures of a different nature, she would twist his balls and tie them in a sailor’s knot with his snake!

  Jeremy caught her gaze and winked. Wink all you want, you devil incarnate! She could literally see the fumes blowing out of her ears. She frowned at him in response.

  He raised a black eyebrow and blinked innocently.

  The fumes from her ears turned into billowing clouds of smoke, fogging her vision. She ended her piece and stomped angrily towards the fiend lounging without a care in the world in his chair.

  “What were you and the goat lady talking about?” she rasped in his ear.

  “Nothing,” he replied coolly.

  “What do you mean—nothing?” She glared at him until she thought her eyes would pop out. “She was blushing. I saw it with my own two eyes. Don’t you dare trifle with me, Jeremiah Devlin Huntington!”

  “Oh, that.” He stretched his arms and crossed them behind his head, and shrugged.

  Cassie had the sudden desire to pull his hair and pinch him until he squawked. “You’re trying to seduce her—I can tell! But let me make this clear—it’s not going to happen, do you hear me? I’m your betrothed—”

  “My betrothed?” He interjected smugly and regarded her with those lazy eyes that made her feel as if she was naked. “Since when?”

  Cassie opened her mouth then, closed it again with a gulp. He was right. Their betrothal was nothing but a farce. She had no claim over him and in less than a fortnight, their fake engagement would come to an end. The thought made her pause. For the first time in her life, Cassie felt the sting of fear and vulnerability of losing Jeremy—deep in the confines of her supposed-to-be-enamored-with-Richard heart.

  Chapter 30

  Miss Cassandra Carlyle’s Secret

  Miss Cassandra Carlyle peered out into the darkness from the window of the moving carriage, wondering what in the Hades was wrong with her. She was exceedingly peeved with Jeremy for flirting with the goat lady after dinner and she could not fathom the reason why. Why would she give a fig if he fawned at Desiree like a love-struck billy goat? He could lick her arse all day for all she cared—and she wouldn’t give a damn!

  She cast a black glance at the wretched man in question, sprawled on the luxurious velvet squab across her. He looked peaceful, lulled to sleep by the gentle swaying of the carriage.

  Cassandra sighed. No one loved his sleep better than Jeremy. If it were possible, he would ride his horse with his eyes closed, and if she did not harass him every morning, he would never rise from his bed until past noontime.

  Perhaps his penchant for rest had something to do with his quick mind—for it truly amazed her how he could manage his estates with meticulous attention to detail. And perhaps, all that slumber may be the secret to his youthfulness—for no one in England could look as devastatingly beautiful as Jeremiah Devlin Huntington, sleeping naked in his bed.

  A small smile curved on her lips. Good Lord, but that was close! She’d almost given up her virtue to the dear devilish man. If he’d insisted and kissed her one more time in that maddening way of his, she would have lost her head and let him have his way—snake, tail and all, or whatever it was about him that made her knees shake and her stomach ache.

  But she knew Jeremy would never hurt her nor touch her against her will. Despite his licentious reputation, he was a gentleman deep within that hardened heart of his. And even though he seemed cynical and indifferent to the world around him, beneath that strong exterior was a man who needed the most love and constant reassurance.

  The coach lurched and he slid further sideways, a lock of dark hair falling on his brow. Cassandra’s fingers itched to brush it away, but she clenched her hand instead and looked away. What in the bloody hell was wrong with her? Since when did she begin contemplating too much about Jeremy?

  She stole another glance his way. Well, perhaps she could just prop a pillow for him to rest his head. She would despise herself if he acquired a crick in his neck in the morning.

  Two pillows, a loosened cravat and several gentle strokes on his thick dark hair later, she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his face. He truly was a breathtakingly handsome man. His long lashes fanned on his cheeks and curled at the very tips, softening that devilish glint in his dark eyes if he were not asleep. Oh, and he certainly knew how to use those beguiling eyes to his advantage, Cassandra’s lips twisted. One look and women tore off their corsets and dropped their pantalettes—without h
aving even seen his smile—or his snake yet.

  Cassandra felt a pang of jealousy. Did he have the same effect on the goat lady—even if she was betrothed to Richard already? But why should she be bothered by such a ridiculous thing, anyway? She rolled her eyes in the dark carriage. What concern did she have on whom Jeremy bedded—whether it was the goat lady or half the chits in England? She never did give a rat’s ass before—why would she give a damn now?

  Because you do, a voice from the inner recesses of her mind whispered.

  Cassandra twiddled her thumbs and glanced at the darkness outside. Was that the reason why she was so vexed when he dismissed that fountain tryst, as if nothing had transpired between them? She stared at the ceiling of her bedchamber that night for hours—ruminating, wondering why she felt even more disappointed by Jeremy’s insouciance, than the fact that she never got the chance to steal a few moments with Richard.

  Wasn’t that the real reason why she refused to see him for three days straight—and more—if the cad hadn’t shown up to grovel at the Templeton Soiree?

  And what of their impromptu betrothal? Had she forgotten the way her heart thumped, goose bumps rising on her skin, her belly caving to her knees, when Jeremy swept his long, thick lashes upwards to look into her eyes, as he took her finger and slid his mother’s ring? She’d gotten so spooked—panicked even, at her surprising reaction to him. Why on earth was she nervous? And why she did she even care?

  Because you always did—but were too afraid you kept denying it, the pesky little voice in her head answered. You knew for quite some time now, the voice went on, when he filled the void in your heart that Richard left, when he made you laugh when you were blue, when he stepped into Richard’s place as your friend and protector. You knew—when he kissed you in that fountain and in his bedchamber. Yet you won’t admit it because he’s a rake and a rogue, too dangerous to love and you’re too scared, that you’d rather hold on to a stupid childhood promise that held no merit. Cassandra covered her ears, refusing to heed to her inner muttering.

  Coward. The voice persisted. You shoved your feelings underneath the mattress when in truth you could not even last a day without him.

  Cassandra sighed. All of it was true. She could never bear to quarrel with him then go to bed without knowing everything was right again between them.

  Somewhere between the rhythmic movement of the carriage and the sound of Jeremy’s breathing, a shaft of revelation illuminated the secret depths of her heart. Cassandra’s eyes moistened and she pressed trembling fingers to her lips. Allayne had been right all along.

  She had been clinging to an impossible dream—the ridiculous notion of a knight in shining armor who was the very embodiment of perfection. Who would never hurt her, fight with her, or make her cry. Who would be dependable and faithful, and would never look at another girl. Who would kiss her morning, noon and night, and love her forever. She had been chasing a figment of her imagination, a non-existent hero—to escape the true, but imperfect man of her dreams.

  Richard, her childhood idol, the only semblance of the ideal man she envisioned—was never the one.

  She had been waiting for the wrong prince.

  She leaned over and dropped a kiss on the bridge of Jeremy’s nose, lightly cupping his cheek with her hand. “It was you, all along,” she whispered, caressing the fine shadow of his beard with her thumb. Now that she’d finally acknowledged her feelings, the leaded weight on her chest lifted and she could finally breathe, could finally see the light, like the sunrise at the beach, the dawning of a new day.

  “I think I love you,” she said softly to the dear, beautiful man before her, who was ensconced in a deep slumber. “I’m afraid, Jeremy, but I think I really do.”

  A warm teardrop slid from her cheek as she moved closer and closed her eyes, planting a tender, loving kiss on his lips, careful not to wake him.

  When she opened her lids again, she found herself staring into a pair of magnificent dark eyes. None of the devilish glint was there, but they were shining nonetheless.

  Her heart ricocheted in her ribcage.

  “Say it again,” he whispered huskily, lifting her chin as he reached out to brush the wetness her tear had trailed on her face with his thumb. “I want to hear you say it again.” He pulled her onto his lap, buried his face in her hair and held her in a tight embrace.

  Chapter 31

  The Proposal

  Jeremiah Devlin Huntington never thought he could experience such elation with the mere mention of those three silly little words. After all, he couldn’t count the number of women who have professed their love for him, uttering the same words in his ear—and yet, he could not remember a single instance when any of it mattered.

  But this time, with Cassie in his arms, whispering, “I love you” against his cheek, the bleakness of his world infused with sunshine, his worthless existence suddenly had meaning. The path before him had unfurled and he could see the rainbow in the distance, beyond which, beautiful, happy children with dark hair and bright green eyes beckoned.

  He gazed at her. She had been crying. He framed her face with his hands and brushed away a tear that cascaded down her cheek with his finger. A smile rose on the corner of his mouth.

  “I-I’m sorry.” She tried to pull away from him, but he kept her in place. “You must think I’m a ninny—” She reddened and let out a bland chuckle that he knew was out of embarrassment at being caught in making such a bodacious declaration. “I know you don’t love m—”

  He cut her off with a kiss.

  And gave her his all. Told her everything she needed to know, everything he wanted to say—in a single kiss so passionate yet so gentle, so sensual yet so sincere.

  Gradually, her discomfiture subsided and she melted against him, twining her arms around his neck. He cradled her on his lap, stroking her back as he explored the depths of her mouth. She tasted so sweet, so delicate, her body yielding so softly against his hard chest that his head reeled with unfamiliar feelings. Possessiveness. Tenderness. Love so great it made his heart ache.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her lips as he released her from his kiss.

  “And I, you.” Her eyes moistened once again.

  “Stay with me at Waterford Park tonight.” He slid his fingers beneath the fall of her hair on her nape and kissed her elegant neck.

  “Yes,” she muttered in his ear.

  Minutes later, he carried her into the master’s bedchamber, unmindful of Barton’s eyebrows that lifted past his hairline, though he wisely abstained from speaking at his lordship’s warning glare.

  Cassandra sighed as he gently set her in the middle of his enormous bed. His pillows and linens smelled of him—clean and masculine, wrapping her in a cloud of musk that was Jeremy’s alone.

  He undressed her—slowly—between kisses. After tossing her satin slippers off the bed, he slid her garters off and rolled her stockings down in a leisurely fashion, skimming his fingers along the length of her legs. “Lovely,” he murmured, before he pulled her to a sitting position and began to unbutton the back of her dress.

  He tossed her gown in a swirl of silk over a nearby chair and then proceeded to unlace her corset, swiftly followed by her chemise and drawers, each article disposed of with steadfast efficiency over every available surface.

  Cassandra met his hungry eyes as he raked his gaze at her nakedness. He deftly unpinned her hair and let it fall in a shining tumble of curls over her shoulders all the way down to her waist.

  “You’re exquisite.” His lashes fanned downwards and his eyes lingered on her breasts, then slid further still, to feast on the auburn curls between her thighs.

  Cassandra felt the symptoms of embarrassment re-emerge once again. She was completely exposed to his inspection, while he was still fully clothed.

  “Undress me,”
he said as if he had heard her thoughts.

  He slid off the bed and removed his shoes and stockings, then stood waiting for her by the edge of the bed.

  She kneeled on the mattress in front of him. He was so tall that even with the height of the bed, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. She reached out to push his evening coat from his broad shoulders. He took it from her and tossed it on the floor. She began to unbutton his waistcoat. The finely tailored brocade joined the rest of the clothes on the carpet. His fine lawn shirt followed, baring his muscular chest to her admiring gaze.

  She plowed her fingers into the mat of dark hair sprinkled across the width of his chest. Good Lord, but he was beautiful—like a mythical warrior come to life. She pressed her lips in the crevice between the mounds of his hard chest muscles. He took a sharp indrawn breath and led her hands down to his trousers.

  Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the buttons. His hands alighted over hers. She glanced up at him with questioning eyes.

  “I love you.” He raised her fingers to his lips. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

  “Jeremy—”

  “Sshhh.” He kissed her, then, he gently pushed her backwards, until she was lying on her back on the mattress with her legs dangling over the edge.

  His mouth traveled the length of her throat, trailing kisses on her shoulder before capturing her nipple. Cassandra gasped at the maddening sensations he invoked as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub. He suckled her breasts hungrily, filling his hands with their softness—kneading, squeezing, until she was dizzy with uncontained passion.

  He traced his path back to her lips with his mouth, claiming them with a fervent kiss as he rid himself of his trousers. He lowered his body unto hers, the hardness of his manhood pressing against her belly.

  Cassandra never thought in a million years that she would have a sudden, uncontrollable craving for that mischievous snake of his, but she did—urgently so. She reached down and cupped him.