Pippa knew what trusting him had done to her fragile heart, but the girl wanted whatever morsel he allowed her to have. She felt ashamed to even think such a thing, especially after years of ignoring him and her own feelings.
One of the hardest things she had ever done was shun him, pretending as if he had meant nothing to her all those years. After that dreadful day in his father’s parlor, she had gone into a deep melancholy. It was impossible for her to do anything—work, eat, get out of bed. All she could do was sleep and cry.Mourning the friend she had lost, but even then it had felt like there was more between them.
Shaking her head, Pippa inhaled a deep breath. “Please don’t say such things. We both know what this marriage truly will be.” She recited her mantra in her head. Reminding herself of their relationship and what she meant to him.
It is only a year. I mean nothing to him. He is not my Chauncey.
“Why don’t you enlighten me, Kitten?” St. Clara stroked her cheekbone, the motion leaving fire in its wake. “What exactly do you think this marriage will be?” he asked, leaning closer to her, replacing his fingers with his lips.
Her breath stuttered. How was she supposed to think with his lips on her skin? To baffle her, he began tracing his fingers up her bare arm.
Pippa exhaled, needing to be strong like he was. “A-an arrangement between old acquaintances?—”
St. Clara reared back as if she had struck him. “Old acquaintances? Is that what I am to you?” He challenged her, his eyes burning with fire.
“Yes.” She met his gaze, holding it with all her might, but she wanted to look away from the intensity of his. It was too much. It was like gazing at him, the boy she had trusted more than anyone in the world all those years ago. However, they weren’t the same person. Chauncey was sweet, funny, and kind, or maybe she had just assumed he was. Perhaps he was always the Duke of St. Clara, deceitful, a liar … a cheater.
Suddenly she was in his arms, his handsome face hard and angry and very unlike the St. Clara that he presented in society. Nothing like her Chauncey, who was always smiling, eyes glistening with mischief.
“We were everything to each other. No matter what game you continue to play, that will never change.” His grip on her tightened, demanding her attention.
“I assure you I am not playing any games.” She pushed him away, standing, needing to be free from him. “I take no pleasure in this, in needing you, but we both know that a woman on her own in our world is nothing without a husband.”
He had always overwhelmed her. Even when they were children, she found him breathtaking.
He stood, walking to her. “Then why deny what we are, what we feel?” His breathing was heavy as he stared at her, his eyes shifting from hers to her needy mouth. And dear God, she wanted him to kiss her again. There was no denying her appetite for him. It was clear and palatable. He was right, damn him. The attraction between them was potent and thick.
“What would you like me to do? Jump in your arms after nine years?” she shouted, her hands running through her long hair. “I’ve already done that. I can’t be a fool again, St. Clara.” She shook her head, wishing she could clear her mind, but he invaded every part of her.
He rushed to her, forcing her to look at him. “Fool? You have never been a fool to me.”
“Wasn’t I?” Her voice was quiet, so quiet that she barely heard herself. Her question took everything out of her. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. “Young and trusting, I believed every word you told me.”
The tears, curse them, came freely now. She thought these wounds were long buried, these feelings gone forever. But they weren’t, and a part of her worried that they never would go away. There was another part that didn’t want them to, and that scared her more than anything.
“Because it was true. Everything I ever told you was from my heart.” He pressed her hand to his heart. She could feel theerratic pounding through his shirt. “Yes, I wanted to save you from your uncle, but more than anything I wanted to keep you as mine forever.”
“Don’t.” Pippa fisted his shirt. “It’s too late. Nine years is too long. One year, and then you let me go, forever.”
“Is that what you really want?” His large hands cupped her face, his eyes glistening with his own tears.
It was too much for Pippa. She couldn’t understand why he pleaded so dearly for her when she knew the truth about Maggie and the babe.
She wanted to ask him, to demand answers, but she had vowed to herself to never speak of it again.
“Y-ye…” She couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come. “Yes … yes.”
“No, it’s not.” Taking hold of her neck, he pulled her towards him, and she went willingly.
His mouth claimed hers again. Pippa welcomed it, like she had been under water, and it was her first breath of fresh air. His lips were fevered, his kisses urgent as if he was trying to convey something with the intense torture of his mouth. His tongue against hers was Pippa’s undoing. Her knees shook, nearly buckling underneath her, but St. Clara saved her with his powerful arms.
Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her to the bed, laying her down on the soft feather mattress.
He leaned his long body over hers, their lips slowing from the fevered kisses that sent warm tingles down her body. She tightened her grip on him, her fingers woven in the nape of his hair.
St. Clara gave kissed her lips before he pinned her with eyes full of desire. “I’m going to prove to you how much you’ve always meant to me.” Pippa sucked in a breath, but he stole it by pressing another kiss to her lips. It was brief but full of heat andwant. “Then after a year, if you still do not believe that you mean everything to me…” St. Clara swallowed, doubt filling his dark eyes. “I will let you go and spend the rest of my life regretting that I lost the best thing that ever happened to me, not once, but twice.”
CHAPTER 15
