She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
She’d been kissed before. Not often, but at least a few times—but never had the experience been so…wonderful.
“Have I offended you?” he asked, the expression on his face part humor and part concern.
He smiled when she shook her head. “You have a question. I can read it on your face. What is it?”
She swallowed. “Why?”
“Why did I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Because I wanted to. And I thought you wanted me to as well.” His expression turned serious. “Was I wrong?”
Celie thought to lie, but couldn’t. “No,” she answered softly.
“Good.”
Before she could think what he meant, he lowered his head and kissed her again.
His mouth covered hers. The feel of his lips atop hers was as warm and tender as before, only this kiss was different. There was nothing simple in their contact, nothing shallow. Nothing that hinted at friendship. Even the way he held her emphasized a possessiveness she’d never experienced before.
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him, holding her tight, and her body ignited with a burning sensation that shot to every extremity. Suddenly, even though he kissed her with more passion than she’d ever been kissed before, it wasn’t enough.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her. She stretched out her fingers and let them glide through his hair.
The feel of it was silky and soft, yet thick and heavy, as strong and robust as the arms holding her. The flames inside her intensified at such an intimate gesture. And he deepened his kiss even more.
Each second slowed, then seemed to stop while her balance shifted at a dizzying pace. She’d lost control several minutes ago. She no longer knew how long he’d held her in his arms, or how long he’d kissed her with such fervor, or when her knees had turned to butter beneath her. All she knew was that she couldn’t breathe on her own but needed him to help her, couldn’t stand on her own but needed him to support her, wasn’t complete on her own but needed him to make her whole.
His mouth opened atop hers and he urged her to follow his lead.
She did.
Celie knew at that moment she’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he took her there. And go willingly.
He deepened his kiss, demanding more and taking all she gave. Then, as suddenly as he’d begun his kiss, he lifted his mouth and released her. Thankfully, he didn’t drop his hands from her, but pulled her closer to him and wrapped her in his embrace.
Celie placed her cheek against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her ear. His chest heaved as rapidly as hers, and she knew their kiss affected him as much as it did her.
“Jonah?”
“Shh,” he whispered, cupping one hand against her head and the other around her shoulders to keep her cocooned in the shelter of his arms. “Don’t say anything yet. It’s…too soon.”
Celie did as he asked, even though she was desperate to ask him what had just happened to her. She’d give anything to be more worldly, to have more experience in the art of kissing. Was this the way it always was when two people kissed? Had the effect of the kiss they shared been the same for him?
If it had, no wonder people enjoyed it so much.
“Are you steady enough to make it back to the house?”
She nodded, and he loosened his hold on her so she could test her shaky limbs. “Jonah,” she began after they’d taken the first few steps back through the garden.
His arm around her shoulder tightened, and Celie stopped speaking.
“Tomorrow, Celie. We’ll talk tomorrow. After I’ve had a chance to sort things out.”
Celie nodded, and they made their way back to Lady Cushing’s music room.
She would have to wait until tomorrow…
But it wouldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter 6
Jonah sat in the darkness and stared at the flames that whipped in the fireplace. His emotions roiled inside him with a fury that matched the flames. Each pop of the burning logs snapped at him like a harsh reprimand for tonight’s foolish behavior.
Why the hell had he kissed her? Doing something so stupid had never been part of his plan. Now he’d jeopardized everything.
From the moment he received word that he was the new Earl of Haywood, he’d had one goal—to keep from losing Haywood Abbey. That was when he’d laid the foundation for what he had to do to pay the staggering debts his father and brother had left him.
An image of how Haywood Abbey looked before his father had allowed it to fall to ruin flashed before him. The grandeur of his family home when his grandfather was still alive tugged at him with affection. He loved Haywood Abbey more than his father or brother ever had and was desperate to bring it to its former glory.
He breathed a deep sigh. There was only one way to save the estate he loved. He had to marry someone who would come with a dowry massive enough to pay his astronomical debts.
But that someone was not going to be anyone related to the Duke of Hadleigh. It was not going to be Lady Cecelia Randolph. Paying court to her had never been part of his plan. Never!
He took a larger sip of the whiskey in his glass. If only he’d never given in to the temptation to exact a small amount of revenge the first night he’d seen her. If only he hadn’t followed her outside the night of Lady Plimpton’s ball. If only he hadn’t talked to her and glimpsed how special she was.
His strategy from the beginning had been so simple and straightforward. He would make his way back into society. He would find and marry a bride who came with a large enough dowry to pay his debts. He would devote the remainder of his life to making Haywood Abbey profitable. His plan was perfect. Its success was guaranteed.
Until he’d met Lady Cecelia Randolph.
Approaching her had never been part of his plan. The less he had to do with the Duke of Hadleigh or anyone connected to him, the easier his life would be. Then he’d seen Hadleigh’s sister leave the ballroom, and his desire to strike out at his enemy made him do something he knew would infuriate Hadleigh.
There wasn’t much he could do to irritate his nemesis, but he had two things in his favor that he hadn’t had three years ago: he wasn’t a second son any longer, but was now the Earl of Haywood, and he’d returned home a war hero. Even Hadleigh’s ducal influence couldn’t force society to turn their backs on someone the Queen herself had decorated.
So, in an impulsive move, he followed her onto the terrace.
Of course Hadleigh would know he had. His enemy had followed every move he’d made all night.
Jonah remembered smiling inside when he thought of how furious Hadleigh would be when he realized that the man he hated more than anyone in the world was alone with his sister. He remembered how pleased he’d been when he found Lady Cecelia alone and started talking to her. How full of himself he’d been because, for the first time ever, he had the upper hand over Hadleigh.
But meeting Hadleigh’s sister wasn’t what he’d anticipated. He hadn’t expected Lady Cecelia to be so intelligent and personable. He hadn’t expected her to be so thoughtful and understanding. He hadn’t expected to feel a connection to her and want to spend more time with her.
The afternoon they’d gone for a drive had been the most enjoyable afternoon he’d ever spent. And the most disturbing. The ease with which they conversed caused him to yearn more for her company. But when he left her at the Hadleigh town house he vowed he’d never seek her out again. He knew if he didn’t stop the forward progress of this ill-fated relationship, her friendship would ruin everything. Hadleigh would see to it.
Then tonight he’d kissed her.
He rested his head on the back of the chair and called himself every kind of fool imaginable. What was wrong with him? Didn’t he realize he’d lose everything if he allowed his emotions to control him? The feelings that erupted inside him when he held her in his arms, when he kis
sed her, were more intense than he thought any emotion could be.
Pursuing her was guaranteed to destroy him. And his plan to save Haywood Abbey.
He couldn’t allow himself to continue down this path. If he did, he’d risk everything he needed to accomplish.
There was a limit to the harm Hadleigh could inflict as Jonah went forward with his goal to marry well and restore his family estate. But there was no limit to what Hadleigh would do if Jonah continued to pursue his sister.
Jonah didn’t doubt Hadleigh would do everything in his power to destroy him. He’d vowed he would, and Jonah didn’t doubt for one minute that he’d go through with his threat.
If only he could erase the memory of Hadleigh’s sister from his mind. But how could he, when the time they’d spent together in Lady Cushing’s garden earlier was the most memorable experience of his life? He only wished he hadn’t lied to her, but he could hardly admit that seeking her out that first night had been a perfect way to repay Hadleigh for embarrassing him in front of the ton three years ago. He could hardly make the boast that he knew how much it would infuriate Hadleigh if he spent time alone with his sister. That he couldn’t stop his desire to make him pay at least a little for the night he’d turned his back on him and the rest of society had followed suit.
But nothing after that had been planned. He’d kissed her tonight because the desire to kiss her had been as strong as the desire to take in air to breathe. He’d kissed her tonight because he could no more walk away without holding her and kissing her than a starving man could walk away from his next meal.
He closed his eyes and relived the kiss they’d shared. He’d kissed many willing women before, but their kisses had never been as powerful as Lady Cecelia’s. The feel of her lips pressed to his rocked him to his very soul. He told himself he needed to walk away from her now, but feared it was already too late.
He sat in the darkness for several long minutes remembering the feel of her in his arms. Reliving the way she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. His body reacted as violently as it had earlier in the evening.
He growled in frustration, then sat forward in his chair and listened to the voices in the foyer—loud voices, angry voices.
He waited.
The door slammed against the wall with a loud thud, and the Duke of Hadleigh stormed into the room.
“The Duke of Hadleigh to see you,” Bundy said in a gasping voice. “I told him you weren’t receiving—”
“And I told your butler I didn’t give a damn,” Hadleigh roared.
“How like you, Hadleigh,” Jonah said, rising to his feet. “Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
Jonah nodded at his former sergeant—now butler. “Light some lamps, Bundy, then you may retire for the evening. I’ll see His Grace out.”
Bundy issued Hadleigh a severe glare, then lit several lamps and left.
The minute the door closed, Hadleigh took three menacing steps into the room. “You leave my sister the hell alone,” he growled. “I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” He paused. “Unfortunately, your sister has indicated she doesn’t feel the same way you do.”
“I don’t care what you think she’s indicated. I don’t want you near her.”
“If you feel so strongly about this, perhaps it’s your sister you should be talking to.”
“Damn you!”
Jonah couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “It must be terrible to have a sister as strong willed as you are. I imagine you find her nearly impossible to control.”
“I’m warning you, Haywood—”
Jonah slashed his hand through the air. “Enough! You’re done warning me. And I’m done listening to you. You’ve done your worst. There’s nothing more you can do to me.”
Hadleigh glared at him for several long, silent moments, then sucked in an angry breath. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You’re using my sister against me, trying to take Cecelia away from me just like you took Melisande.”
A rage more intense than Jonah could control pummeled him from every side, and he threw his glass into the flickering fireplace. Glass shattered against the stones, and the whiskey flashed into wild, violent flames. “You fool! You were always blind where Melisande was concerned and still are!” Jonah glared at his enemy. “Taking your sister away from you would be fitting, though, wouldn’t it? Courting her, then marrying her. There would be a certain amount of justice in repaying you for what you did to me three years ago.”
Hadleigh’s face reddened. “You’ll never marry her. I’ll never allow it!”
Jonah smiled. He couldn’t help himself. “I hear Lady Cecelia comes with an amazing dowry.”
“Then you hear wrong. My sister only comes with an amazing dowry if I approve of the man she marries. If I don’t give my stamp of approval, she comes with nothing. Nothing! Do you hear?”
Jonah walked to the window and stared out into the ebony darkness beyond. “That does pose a problem, then, doesn’t it, Your Grace? The question becomes what I consider more important. Marrying someone who will come with a massive enough dowry to pay my father’s debts and save Haywood Abbey? Or sacrificing Haywood Abbey to marry Lady Cecelia? But one never knows. I might consider taking your sister from you repayment enough for what you did to me three years ago.”
“What I did to you?”
Jonah spun from the window and faced Hadleigh. “Yes, what you did to me! You made me an outcast in society. You left me with no choice but to leave England because I was no longer welcome here. Because of you, I was gone when my father and brother died. Now, it’s possible for you to get a small taste of my revenge.” He paused to let Hadleigh realize the strength of his anger. “What would you do, Your Grace? What decision would you make if you were in my shoes?”
“Damn you, Haywood!”
“You’ve damned me enough, Your Grace. You’ve ruined enough of my life. It’s time you realize what it was like to have all the choices taken from me, to have the power to do nothing except react to what your enemies do to you. I have spent every day since I returned trying to repair the damage you caused me and my reputation.”
The two adversaries stared at each other for several tension-filled moments. Hadleigh’s angry glare held countless unspoken threats that would have frightened anyone else to death. But Jonah knew him too well. He’d already lived through the worst his enemy could do to him. He’d never yield to his dominance or his threats again.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?” Jonah asked, making sure his voice held a note of disinterest. “If not—”
“This isn’t finished, Haywood. You haven’t heard the last from me.”
“Another threat, Your Grace? What more do I have for you to take?”
Another long silence stretched between them. Jonah refused to be the first to shift his gaze from his enemy’s intense glare.
The Duke of Hadleigh finally broke the silence. “Stay away from my sister,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
“I will if Lady Cecelia requests I do so. If not…” Jonah finished his thought with the shrug of his shoulders. “Now, I’m sure you can find your way to the door.”
“You’ll regret this, Haywood. I’ll see that you do.” With those words, the Duke of Hadleigh spun on his heel and left the room.
Jonah waited for the front door to slam shut and wasn’t disappointed. He slowly made his way to his whiskey decanter and filled his glass. Bundy came into the room.
“Do you think it was wise to anger the duke like you did, Cap’n?” he asked.
Jonah took a large swallow and let the whiskey burn a path down his throat. “Probably not, Bundy. But the duke’s hatred is like a powder keg with a lit fuse. His hatred for me is what keeps him alive.”
“That’s what worries me. What’s going to keep you alive?”
“The most valuable lesson I learned from the war was not to let your
enemy determine the time or the place to wage an attack. Hadleigh’s going to attack. I prefer to make the decision as to when and where.”
“How will you do that, my lord?”
“I won’t, Bundy. Lady Cecelia will.”
Jonah carried his glass to his chair and sat. “Go to bed now, Sergeant. I’ll take care of things down here.”
“See that you do, my lord. See that you do.”
Hadleigh leaned forward and lifted the edge of the heavy velvet curtain at his carriage window. Its weight was designed to keep out the chill and prevent him from being observed as his carriage made its way across London. He stared out into the bleak darkness and watched the rain fall from the sky in huge drops. The heavens were weeping for his Melisande as they had time and again since her death.
Haywood had reentered his life to inflict more misery—as if he hadn’t caused enough pain.
A dreary dampness covered the streets and collected in the gutters. The night fit his mood. It helped him plot his revenge. Haywood would pay for what he’d done. And this time, his payment would cost him everything.
Hadleigh let the curtain fall back into place. He regretted he couldn’t drink a toast to celebrate Haywood’s demise, to the complete and total annihilation of everything Haywood held dear—the estates, his home, his reputation, and his future. Everything but his life.
He should want Haywood dead, but he didn’t. He wanted his enemy to live. To live an empty existence. To live without hope for a future. To live without love.
The blackguard thought he stood a chance of winning Cecelia’s heart. Well, he didn’t. Cecelia was no doubt only enjoying his company because he’d once been a friend and she was too kindhearted to cast him off—although he was surprised she’d accepted his attentions as long as she had. She usually cast aside every male suitor long before now. But she would soon. She’d react to his suit the same as she reacted to every other man’s attentions. She’d ignore him as if he had the plague. She’d put him in his place the moment she realized his intent.
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