by Lauren Smith
“Thank you,” Celia murmured. A single month away from a future she didn’t want and couldn’t avoid. It would have to be enough.
“Take a minute to compose yourself, then join your fiancé at the party.” Her mother left her alone, and Celia sank down in the nearest chair.
Her red gown flowed around her like the petals of a rose, but it felt like a lie to wear a gown that her family could no longer afford. Later this evening, the rented gown would be returned to the store with no one the wiser. It was one more falsity among a dozen others in her life.
Struck with this thought, the tears came at last. Hard sobs choked her so that she couldn’t catch her breath. Until the moment Callum proposed, she hadn’t wanted to accept that this nightmare was real, that she would have to give up the last real dream she’d clung to her in life.
To be with Carter.
She took several deep breaths to calm herself and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her blonde hair was down around her shoulders in perfect romantic waves, even though her mother had been most insistent she wear it up. Her eyes looked a bit red, and the tip of her nose was red too. It was far too obvious she’d been crying.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed, then smiled a little.
She blamed her cousin, Tristan, for her inner turmoil. Future earl, the tabloids’ beloved bad boy, and current besotted boyfriend of Celia’s new best friend, Kat. Come to think of it, she blamed Kat as well. If it hadn’t been for Kat’s charming American ways, Celia wouldn’t have spent so much time with the couple, which meant that she could have kept her distance from Carter, which would have made this easier. Given that Carter was Tristan’s best friend, it meant he was around altogether too much and yet never enough.
So it was really Tristan and Kat’s fault that she couldn’t come to terms with letting Carter go. Even though it was the right thing to do. She had no right to claim him. As a steward’s son, he would never have the kind of money their family needed. That Matthew needed.
Celia dabbed at her eyes and collected herself, just as her mother had instructed. She walked through her uncle’s grand house, preparing to face England’s high society once again. But as she took the entrance through to the servants’ hall, a shortcut she’d learned when she was seven, she caught sight of Carter again through one of the windows.
He still stood facing the crowds, milling about the tea tables in the gardens. The man looked perfect. Perfect and completely unattainable. He was twenty-six, and with his gorgeous heartbreaker looks, he was catching the eye of every lady, even the married ones. He watched the crowds, and raked a hand through his dark-gold hair, a habit he did only when he was bothered by something. Celia couldn’t help but wonder what preoccupied him. According to Tristan, he could have any woman he wanted. The thought made her stomach churn with jealousy, but she certainly had no right to tell him who he could be with.
She left through the door that led from the servants’ quarters to the gardens. Celia didn’t dare step out into the light and risk being seen.
Take Carter to Italy. Have a taste of the life you’ve always wanted with the man you’ve always desired. One last hurrah before it ends. Do it, or you’ll regret it.
She’d grown up watching him as a young boy, then as a lanky awkward teen, and finally a flirtatious young man. Now he was simply irresistible. She’d been tied to him like how a violin belonged with its bow her entire life, wanting nothing more than to make sweet music together, yet they’d never dared to play a note.
She knew he cared about her, possibly even loved her, though neither of them had ever dared breathe a word of it. He was too responsible, too dutiful, to ever cross that line. They’d kissed only once in their lives, the only time he’d ever lost control around her. But she’d tasted his longing for her in that kiss, felt the echoing loneliness and love for her in it. It had shaken her to her core and her even more afraid of her own feelings.
“Carter?” She spoke his name quietly, not wanting to draw attention from the crowds.
He spun around, lips parted, gray eyes haunted and yet so beautiful. Carter had the sort of masculine beauty that could stop a woman in her tracks, and yet he seemed entirely unaware of his effect. That only made him all the more desirable. She trembled as she thought of having him all to herself for a month.
Just the two of us. If he’ll let me.
“Celia? What’s the matter?”
Rather than answer him, she reached out, grabbed his tie, and dragged him back into the house, slamming the door behind them. The sounds of the party were muted, and the servants’ quarters were dim except for a distant light from the other end of the hall. Carter gripped her shoulders, and she shivered at the feel of his hands on her bare skin. These little moments were never enough. She struggled to remember what she wanted to tell him and, more importantly, what she wanted to ask him.
She hesitated, swallowed hard. “I have to tell you something.”
“Celia, what is it? Talk to me.” She could feel the tension radiating off him. One could only wonder what dire news he expected to hear.
She nodded to herself and continued.
“Callum proposed today. My parents are already talking about announcing the engagement in a month.” Unable to meet his gaze, she glanced down.
“I see,” was all Carter said.
“It’s for the best, you understand. If I marry him, he will pay for Matthew’s tuition to Ravenswood Academy. They have specialists and a great program focusing on math and science which he could really benefit from.”
“And you said yes.” His deep voice was as rich as brandy, but she heard the note of worry buried within.
Celia stared deep into his eyes, then slowly nodded. “I did. My job doesn’t pay enough to cover even a quarter of Matthew’s tuition.”
A stray tear trickled down her cheek. They were trapped. Callum was having to live a lie, she would have to marry for money, and the people they loved had to be abandoned.
“Poor Callum.” She thought of how happy he and Bryson had been for the last two years, but they’d had to keep their love a secret from his parents.
“Poor Callum?” Carter growled. “You talk about saving Matthew and worrying about Callum, but what about you? Don’t do this, Celia. Tell me you’ll stop it. He’s a nice enough bloke, but you can’t marry him, even if it is for Matthew. You won’t be happy.”
“I have to.” She pleaded with her eyes for him to understand, tracing her fingers along his tie, her fingertips touching the silver tie clip. She was unable to resist touching him.
Carter’s eyes warmed, his head dipping toward her, the suggestion of a kiss before he pulled away and looked into her face with a calmness that steadied her.
“I’ll find a way to help Matthew. Give me time.”
“No.” She pressed her hand against his warm chest. “There isn’t time. He’s already been accepted to the academy, and Callum’s already paid for his first semester.”
The wounded expression in Carter’s eyes nearly undid her. He’d wanted to be the one to help Matthew, she knew that, but it wasn’t possible.
“But you don’t love him. You can’t marry someone you don’t love.”
Her laugh was hollow. “Since when have I ever had a choice in who I love?”
Carter nodded at the party through the windows by the servants’ door. She caught a glimpse of her cousin Tristan and his girlfriend Kat. They were dancing together while a Beatles cover band played “Yellow Submarine.” Tristan spun Kat, and she laughed in delight. Nothing in the world was stopping those two from being together.
“If they can, we can,” Carter insisted, lifting her hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles. He seemed so certain, so sure as he spoke, yet she saw clear desperation in his eyes as he seemed to realize this was his last chance. He couldn’t accept the fact that it was already too late.
His eyes were twin pools reflecting the overcast sky above, and it made her dizzy to gaze into them. At that moment,
she felt she and Carter were caught in a glass bubble, just the two of them, their hunger building like a wildfire. Everything outside the bubble was complicated, impossible, but right now, at this moment, breathing in his masculine scent and feeling his warm breath against her face, she could imagine what being with him would be like. If she was with him, even for a little while, perhaps she’d know peace, joy, love…
Tears clung to her lashes. Those dreaded emotions were bubbling back up inside her, and she couldn’t bury them, not when he was this close. It frayed her control and made her nerves raw.
“I can’t do that, Carter. I’m not…” She sucked in a sob. “I have to do what’s best for Matthew. Someone has to, and you know my parents. I just want—” She wiped at her eyes, hating how much keeping the truth from him hurt.
“Celia—”
“I want to be with you,” she finally admitted, her soul soaring the moment she allowed herself to savor that truth. She saw the growing pleasure and hope in his eyes, and she amended, “I want to be with you—for a little while. Before it has to end.”
Pain filled his eyes, but he didn’t argue with her. Instead, he nodded in understanding. He’d always understood her. It was one of the things that made this man so bloody perfect, so dangerously wonderful.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he whispered as she sidled a step closer. His scent enveloped her again, drugging her with its comforting aroma. There was a hint of leather and sandalwood. She wished she could bottle it up and keep it with her forever.
She tilted her chin up. He gazed at her with eyes that promised her the world if she only asked. How could he do that? Be so perfect?
“Callum and I agreed that we need time before we make the announcement official. He misses Bryson, and I told my mother I’m going to visit Aunt Holly for a month. She lives in Tuscany during the summer. I was hoping… Would you come with me?”
Celia reached for his hands and clasped them in her own. They were always afraid to touch in public because there was usually someone watching her. But not now, not here in the servants’ quarters. A hundred years ago she would have feared being discovered with Carter and shamed by her association with a servant. It seemed times hadn’t changed much. There was still an expectation that men and women didn’t break the barriers of upstairs and downstairs.
He exhaled slowly, and she prayed he wouldn’t say no. “Celia, your father would never—”
She pressed a fingertip to his lips, silencing him. “He won’t know. Please, Carter.”
It was her dream, ever since she’d been a little girl. Her prince charming wasn’t a man with a title or a vast estate. He was just the man who loved her. This would be their last chance. Their only chance. He had to say yes.
“Please, if we can’t have anything else, give me this.”
He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her slowly, sweetly, as though he was trying to hold back his hunger, but she could taste it on his lips. She couldn’t help but smile a little, even though her face was wet with tears.
“Everything is going to be all right,” he murmured against her lips. “I promise.”
It had been so long since she’d come alive when she kissed someone. Hell, if she was honest, no one had ever kissed her like Carter had. A whisper of a thrill danced at the edges of her fingertips. She shivered in his arms, nervous and frightened, but she kept smiling. They hadn’t kissed since they were fourteen. So much had changed, and it was as though he was discovering her lips all over again. The kiss scorched her, reminded her what her heart and body had always whispered whenever he was near. That he was the only man for her.
As a teen, she’d often imagined herself like the fabled Guinevere and Carter as her Lancelot. Drawn together by love but kept apart by honor and duty. Now more than ever she felt that wild desperation, like the ill-fated queen, to have her moment with him before she accepted her fate.
When they broke apart, he stroked her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. She clasped his wrists with her hands, clinging to him.
“When do we leave?” he asked.
Celia bit her lip, then replied, “Tomorrow.”
A shadow passed across his face.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s my father. I’ve taken over half of his duties running the Pembroke estate. He has so much to take care of. If I leave him for that long…” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. He rarely talked about his work, but Celia knew it was important to him. He helped keep the lands running, the manor house repaired, the taxes paid, the accounts balanced, and the work was almost always thankless. She knew he had other dreams, ones he kept hidden from the world. If only he could have been brave enough to share them with her…
“Tell Tristan, but no one else. He can help us. I know it.” She cupped his face and stood up on her tiptoes to feather her lips over his again.
The kiss, although light, sent bolts of hunger through her. He grasped her waist, dragging her to him as he deepened the kiss. Their passion sent her head spinning like she’d had too much brandy. When they finally broke apart, she was breathless and held a hand to her kiss-swollen lips.
Carter glanced out the window to where her cousin and Kat were still dancing. “You’re right. He will help us.” Tristan knew more than anyone else what it was like to love someone forbidden to him.
“I have to go,” Celia said, looking around. “I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow morning. I’ll text you the flight information.” She squeezed his hand one more time, even though she ached to kiss him again. His eyes told her what she already knew. If they kissed again now, they might not be able to stop.
“See you soon.”
She bit her lip, still smiling, and slipped out the servants’ door and into the light to face the crowds.
Tomorrow she’d fly to Italy with Carter. For one month it would be just the two of them. She ignored the knot of tension in her chest at the thought of what would happen afterward. All that mattered now was that she had bought them a brief time in paradise, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to have any regrets.
2
Tristan Kingsley gaped at Carter in shock. “You’re going to do what?”
Carter grumbled and took a large drink from his pint. “You heard.” They were sharing a drink in the local pub in Haresbury, a little town not too far from the Pembroke estate just outside London.
“It’s reckless, foolish, and likely to get you shot. I approve.” Tristan’s blue-green eyes sparkled with mischief. “You and Celia in Italy for an entire month? Tell me you won’t spend the entire time mooning at her with calf-eyes and begging to hold her hand. I’d hoped you’d be well past that by now.”
Carter frowned. “You’re encouraging me to shag your cousin?”
Tristan frowned. “Well…er…put it like that and it doesn’t sound good. Make love to her sounds better. Actually, saying nothing at all sounds better—we both know what we’re talking about. Point is, you’d better not waste a damned moment. I made that mistake with Kat, and it almost cost me my life.” Tristan pointed to a faint scar near his left temple, a reminder of Tristan’s nearly fatal car accident the previous winter. He’d been run off the road by a paparazzi SUV while trying to drive from London to Cambridge to see Kat.
“I don’t plan on wasting any time, but I can’t just jump her bones the moment we land, now can I?”
Tristan smirked. “Why not before? I quite enjoyed joining the mile-high club, as the Americans call it. Of course, you’d have to be on the same plane for that to happen, and knowing you, you’ll fly economy while she takes my father’s jet.”
Carter rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, we have to have some discretion in all this.” His best friend had been a notorious womanizer until he’d met Kat. Fortunately, she had changed him for the better. “And yes, she’s taking your father’s jet. I’m flying economy.”
“A sad statement in and of itself. Oh well, another time then.” Tristan seem
ed undeterred. “Just don’t hold back, that’s all I’m saying. For once in your bloody life, you’ll get to be with the woman you’re crazy about. Seize the moment.”
If only it were that easy. But he had spent so long denying his hunger and love for Celia. “I don’t even know what to do,” he admitted.
Tristan wagged a finger at him. “I seem to recall more than one night where you didn’t go home alone. You’ve spent the last seven years bedding women as though your life depended on it. Surely you know how to woo a woman into your bedroom, especially one who wants you. How hard can it be?”
His past relationships weren’t something he was proud of. But Tristan was right—he’d done his damnedest to forget Celia, at least for a few hours while he was with someone else. Sometimes the physical release worked, but only for the briefest moments. In the end, he saw only one woman in his mind, and his lips formed only one name.
“I still can’t believe you’re going to do it. I especially can’t believe it was Celia’s idea.” Tristan shook his head and finished his pint.
Carter swirled his own glass, staring at the amber liquid that made him think of Celia’s hazel eyes and how he wished he was already headed for Italy. Celia was the sort of girl who always did the right thing, even to her own detriment. Protecting her little brother had always been a priority for her. It was one of many things he loved about her. But at the same time, it kept them apart. She would always put her brother first before herself.
And I have no way to help her. There was no way he could raise the funds necessary to put Matthew through school at Ravenswood. If he had another year or two, maybe, but…
“And to think she’s marrying Callum,” Tristan added, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Nice fellow and all, for an Oxford man. But what about Bryson? I know his parents don’t know and wouldn’t approve, but this is the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. Pity. Bryson’s a good man.”