by Lauren Smith
5
Celia spent her entire time in the shower fantasizing about Carter. She still couldn’t believe she was here with him, and yet she was hesitant about everything. She wanted him like crazy, but she was afraid. Not of him, but of what happened next. What if she learned she couldn’t live without him? What if she decided to abandon everything she’d arranged, just for him? She would lose everything, and Matthew’s future would be in jeopardy.
But the idea of living a life without knowing love, if only for a little while, was just as unbearable. She couldn’t resist him, not for long, not in this sunny, seductive place so far from home. She didn’t want to resist him. It was why she’d come here, after all.
“Stop being so silly,” she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She could do this. She could spend the month in Carter’s arms, and then she could go on with her life for Matthew’s sake. She had to.
She splashed some water on her hands in the sink and pressed them against her face. The cold water woke up her senses. She dried her face and brushed her hair back, then plucked a few bobby pins out of her accessories case and pinned the locks back. The effect was a loose tumble of blonde waves pulled back to leave her face exposed.
With a nod of satisfaction, she retrieved an emerald-green knee-length dress she’d packed and slipped it on. A deep green like this would make her hazel eyes appear more green than brown. She enjoyed dressing up, and now more than ever it seemed to be vital that she looked her best for Carter. She was quite sure Carter would want her even if she wore a dress made from a burlap sack. But she wanted their time here together to be perfect, and she wanted to feel beautiful with him. She donned a pair of gold gladiator strappy sandals to complete the look and exited the bedroom.
The distant sounds of music lured her to the outside patio opposite the pool. Glittering strings of lights hung from the wooden beams that formed the patio’s ceiling. A table that could seat six people had been set for three. Her aunt carryied out a large bowl of salad.
Carter was crouched in front of an old record player, flipping through a box of vinyl records. He looked positively mouthwatering in his tight jeans and navy-blue polo shirt.
“Stefano had fantastic taste in music, Holly.” Carter stood, an album in his hands, and placed the record on the turntable. A song from the fifties or maybe the sixties came on, and Carter snapped his fingers to the beat. When he turned around and finally saw her, his hands dropped to his sides. He gazed at her, and her knees threatened to buckle, like they so often did around him. He looked at her like she was the last woman on earth and held the key to his salvation. And she knew, without a doubt, that her face mirrored the hunger and need she felt.
“Celia, you look…” He bit his lip, uncertain of what to say next. Holly nudged him in the ribs.
“You look fabulous, as always.” Holly winked at her and waved at the table. “Go and sit down. Food will be ready any minute.”
“Carla!” A sudden shrieking cry made Celia and Carter both jump. Holly laughed. “Sorry about that.” She waved to the ceiling. A gray parrot was shuffling along one of the wooden beams. His clear gray eyes studied them seriously.
“That’s Anthony. He’s an African gray parrot. I inherited him. He belonged to Stefano’s father. They can live to be over a hundred years old. Anthony is only thirty-seven.” She clicked her tongue and pointed at a cage nestled in the corner of the patio, and the parrot flew from the beam to the cage. “He might even outlive me.”
“Who’s Carla?” Carter asked, watching the bird in fascination.
Holly laughed. “Stefano’s father’s mistress. From what Stefano told me, the parrot was there when Stefano’s mother came screaming in the room, yelling Carla over and over again. Anthony can say a lot of words and phrases, but ever since then, shouting Carla seems to bring him the most joy.”
Celia giggled, imagining how awkward it would have to be to live with a parrot screaming your mistress’s name.
“Stefano’s father gave us Anthony soon after that.”
“I’ll bet.” Carter laughed and reached for a bottle of wine on the table. “Drinks?” He hovered near a trio of empty wineglasses.
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Holly said. Carter poured the wine before passing around the salad bowl and starting the meal. Celia took a drink of her wine and watched Carter over the rim of her glass. He looked so calm, so relaxed. In England he always seemed on edge of late, but given his worries over his father’s health and his job, she could understand. But right now she was giving him a moment to just be himself and he was giving her the gift of joy just by being here.
Celia spent most of the dinner watching Aunt Holly draw Carter out of his usual reserved behavior. By the end of the second course, Carter was telling Holly about the numerous times that he, Tristan, and Celia had gotten into trouble as children.
Carter’s eyes glinted with mischief. “But my favorite story is when Tristan and I rigged several suits of armor in the great hall to move whenever Celia walked by. Every time she screamed, we just about keeled over with laughter.”
“You two were terrible,” Celia insisted, half laughing. “I spent weeks terrified that I would wake up and find one of those things clanking into my room.”
“And then there were the fairy circles,” Carter added.
Celia remembered that as well. She’d been only eight when she’d stumbled across a small carved circle of stones in the woods. A plate of teacakes had sat in the center, and she’d taken a few nibbles. When she’d returned home and told her nanny, the nanny had insisted that she was now the property of the Fae folk because she’d tasted their bread.
“Tristan had pinched a bottle of sherry from his father’s study and gifted it to Celia’s nurse so she would play along. The woman did a fine job.”
“Too fine, if you ask me.” Celia blushed, thinking about all the time she’d spent leaving gifts in the fairy circle in hopes of buying their mercy. Coins, biscuits, books. They’d all vanished from the circle each night. Then she’d caught Carter and Tristan tucking the items behind a tapestry that led down a hidden passageway. She’d been furious with them.
“You were so bloody adorable, believing in fairies.” Carter poured her more wine, and Celia rolled her eyes.
“There is nothing wrong with believing in magic as a child,” she insisted.
“There’s nothing wrong with believing in magic as an adult,” Holly added. She stood and waved a bottle of pale liquid that looked a bit like lemonade.
“Limoncello? Helps with digestion.”
Celia and Carter accepted two shot glasses of limoncello. Carter threw his glass back and licked his lips. Celia did the same, then coughed violently as she choked on the drink. Limoncello was stronger than she’d expected.
“Easy, dear.” Holly patted her back lightly as she snatched her water glass and gulped it down. She shot Carter a dirty look when he looked ready to laugh at her misfortune.
“Would you like some gelato for dessert?” Holly offered.
“Oh yes, I’d love some.” Celia also hoped it might help wash down the aftertaste of the limoncello. Holly headed back inside the house. Carter got up and returned to the record player, sifting through the records. “Choose something good,” she told him.
“As you wish.” He flashed her a wicked grin and put on a new record. When the music started, she almost laughed in delight. It was one of her favorites, and she had a feeling he knew that. Carter held out a hand to her.
“Dance with me?”
Her heart skittered wildly as she placed her hand in his and he curled his fingers around her palm. He wound his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Lust and desire stole through her in a slow-burning wave as she followed his steps. She should have been disturbed by her attraction to him, but it no longer came as a surprise. She’d been aware of this man all her life. She knew him almost as well she knew herself, except she didn’t know him like this—as a potential lover. Being in his a
rms, dancing to a soft classic song, she yearned to learn every one of his kisses. She tilted her face back, watching as his eyes lowered to her mouth.
“Celia…,” he whispered with gentle reverence.
“I love the way you say my name.” She wet her lips with her tongue. He was so at home in his body, with his sexuality, unlike her. She had learned to be a proper English lady. The niece to an earl. She was not supposed to be a wild, sexual being which meant she barely knew what she was doing. She’d had two boyfriends, one at university and one just after she graduated, and had enjoyed casual sex with both. But she’d only ever wanted, ever truly, wildly hungered for one man. And now she had him, at least for a while. So why was she still holding back?
“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this?” she asked.
“Not as long as I have,” he replied.
“You sure about that?”
He lowered his head until their temples touched as he guided her around in a delicate circle. He softly hummed the words to the song. “Come a little bit closer…I’m all alone, and the night is so young…”
“The night is so young,” she echoed, closing the distance between their mouths.
The kiss was soft, yet it exploded through her, making her insatiable with a craving for everything that kiss promised. He coaxed her lips apart, and their tongues met in a playful, sensual dance, just like their bodies. She could taste the sweet lingering limoncello on his lips, which she much preferred to drinking it herself.
He let go of her waist, and his fingers combed through her hair, clenching in the strands at the base of her neck. He gazed down at her as their mouths parted.
“You taste divine.” He nuzzled her neck, murmuring soft, sweet words in her ear as he pressed his lips to her throat and cheek.
“Carter, I want you. I want you so much,” she admitted. She blushed as he raised his head and flashed her that bad-boy grin, which melted away any notion of her being a well-behaved woman. It was the sort of smile that made her want to shout at the top of her lungs, listening to the sound of his laughter echo off the trees in the ancient woods outside the Pembroke estate.
Carter’s eyes gleamed. He spun her out on one hand before pulling her back into his arms as they started to dance once again.
“We will go slow,” he promised. “I want every memory to be perfect, and I’m not going to rush this, no matter how much you beg me.”
From his cage, Anthony bobbed his head and whistled softly before chanting, “Beg me, beg me.”
Celia and Carter burst out laughing. In that moment, Celia knew that being here with Carter for a month, taking it slow and making the most of their time together, was going to be worth it.
It was just as aunt had said. There was nothing wrong with believing in magic…even as an adult.
Holly lingered in the doorway, three cups of gelato sitting on a tray, as she watched her niece and Carter dancing and kissing. She returned to the kitchen and set their cups in the freezer, shaking her head and chuckling. The last thing she wanted to do was interrupt. Her niece needed this. The poor girl had always put everyone before herself, and coming here with Carter was not the Celia she knew. But it should be. Celia and that boy…they glowed.
Holly dipped a spoon into her gelato, watching the two young lovers discreetly from inside the house. Carter spun Celia around in a well-executed twirl and pulled her back into his arms. Holly sighed, her heart full of love and sorrow. Lord, she missed dancing. Stefano had been a perfect partner, and she’d never tried to lead or even stepped on his feet once. A man who knew how to dance could woo the world.
She looked at the framed photo of her and Stefano by the sink. They were standing beneath the arches of a church, white doves flying above them. The sky was split with strips of wispy stratus clouds. They’d had only a handful of years together, but she wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Holly looked back at Celia, her heart tightening as she thought about what those two would face if they couldn’t find a way to be together. A life without love wasn’t a life at all.
6
Carter slipped out of his bedroom and paused at Celia’s closed door. He could hear her on the phone talking to Matthew, telling him about Holly’s home in the countryside and about Anthony the parrot. Her laughter made him grin. She was happy here, and that was what mattered right now.
Not wanting to eavesdrop, he decided to explore the house a bit more before turning in. The halls were decorated with expensive, old Renaissance paintings. It wouldn’t surprise him to learn some of these originals were by Italian masters. He paused to examine a Roman marble bust tucked away in an alcove. He’d always thought the way the artists left the eyes blank was a little disconcerting. He’d read that most antique marble busts and statues had once been painted, but one couldn’t detect those colors without using ultraviolet light, the paints having long since faded and flaked off.
“Not a fan?” Holly’s voice behind him made him jump. She laughed and nodded at the bust. “Sorry. I saw you having a staring contest with him.”
“Yes, I suppose I was.” He laughed and followed Holly into the living room.
She retrieved a bottle of brandy from a cart in the corner. “Drink?”
“Thank you.” He walked over to a wall of bookshelves next to the large flat-screen TV. He studied the old books, noticing a number of paperback romances tucked away haphazardly between hundred-year-old tomes.
“Here.” Holly handed him a glass. He swirled the brandy before taking a sip. “Is Celia asleep?”
“Not yet. She’s on the phone with Matthew.”
Carter’s gaze drifted to a framed photo of Holly and a handsome Italian man. They were staring into each other’s eyes, lost to the world around them. He knew Holly’s pain for losing Stefano, because he felt the same every time he looked at Celia. This picture might as well be of him and Celia, and in a month it would be all he had left of her.
“You miss him,” Carter said.
“More than you can imagine.” Holly sighed and took a drink. “So…you and my niece. Care to explain?”
He shouldn’t have been surprised that Holly would ask him.
“I know she is…well… I know what this looks like. I know it all too well. It’s just…well, it’s complicated.”
Holly lightly touched his shoulder. “That’s an understatement. But I want to know why you two fled London, and why you only have a month. Celia was going to tell me, but I’d rather hear from you. For the record, I think you are just right for her.”
Carter exhaled, still looking at the photo of Holly and Stefano.
“Eton asked Matthew to leave after he got into a fight with some boys bullying him. Seems he beat up a rather priggish son of an influential viscount who donates to the school. So he applied to Ravenswood which has a focus on math and science, his areas of specialty and they’re fantastic at working with autistic students and getting them connected so they make connections which lead to careers. Celia said Matthew hasn’t been this excited about schooling in a long time.”
Holly swirled her glass, watching him intently. “I’ve heard of Ravenswood. But what does that have to do with Celia?”
“Well…it isn’t my place to say, but suffice it to say that Celia has become responsible, financially, for Matthew’s tuition. The academy isn’t something they can afford using funds from the National Health Service. It’s a school that operates entirely on a private basis with high tuition.”
“What? Don’t tell me that my brother… He did something foolish, didn’t he?” Holly growled in frustration.
“Yes, very foolish, and Celia is paying for it.”
“That explains much. I’d wondered why he moved onto Edward’s estate.” She smiled at Carter’s reaction. “Oh, I’m not completely out of touch with affairs in England. I just don’t usually bother myself with them. I won’t inquire as to the details, however. So Celia is taking care of Matthew now? I suppose she always did, really. And she
can’t afford Ravenswood?”
He faced Holly. “She got a position at an architecture firm in London, but it isn’t enough, and I…” He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t make even half what the firm is paying her. We can’t afford Ravenswood’s tuition, even if we combined all our resources together.”
Holly’s gaze softened. “But she found a way, didn’t she?”
“Yes. She has agreed to marry Callum Radcliffe. He’s a future earl and heir to a vast fortune.”
“But she doesn’t love him.”
Heat flamed his face. “No. It’s not a love match, for either of them. Callum has certain responsibilities, and he cannot marry the person he loves without destroying his relationship with his parents.”
“Oh…” Holly covered her mouth. “Oh dear…”
“Yes,” Carter agreed. “Callum’s a good man, but he needs an heir.”
“And Celia will do anything to help Matthew,” Holly added. “And so, an arrangement was made. How positively medieval.”
“She and Callum agreed to take a month to be with the people they love.”
The word made her eyebrow arch. “Love?”
Carter knew his face was even redder now. “For a long time now. But neither of us felt we could approach the other. I’m just a steward’s son, after all.”
Holly huffed. “As if that matters. This isn’t bloody Downton Abbey, you know.” Before Carter could explain, she raised her hand. “No, I understand. No doubt my brother filled Celia’s head with similar nonsense as your father did yours. Station and duty and all that rot. So, when this month is up…?”
“They will announce their engagement, and that’s it. No more…” He waved a hand at the villa.
Holly’s shoulders sagged. “I’d offer Celia the money, but I fear I don’t have much. Stefano left me the villa, but I don’t have much in the way of income.” She glanced furtively around. “I’ve taken up a job of translating romance novels into Italian. It pays enough to handle my expenses here.”