“I think I now know why you wanted to use the French Letters,” she said.
He hummed. “Gentlemen rarely accept a child that is not theirs, regardless of who the mama is.”
Walking her fingers up his chest to rest her palm over his heart, she asked, “Did you ever want children?”
“Once upon a time, perhaps,” he murmured. “But the world is an ugly place, Cece, and I’d be damned if I brought someone into this world to let them suffer. And before you say it—yes, we can shield them for as long as we can, but there is always going to be a day when we cannot.”
“And that terrifies you.”
“No, it sickens me.” Sliding his hand into her damp tresses, he cupped her face. “But I suppose you do, and when I am gone, you’ll have the freedom to do it.”
“I told you,” her face fell, “I don’t want to marry—”
“Now,” he stopped her. “You don’t want it now, but think about the years ahead, two years, four, fifteen years even. I will not stop you from getting what you truly desire.”
She wanted to object, but realistically, wasn’t he right? It rubbed her raw, though. She could not believe it herself. Her shoulders wilted, “I—I don’t want to fight about that, not when you are so close to leaving.”
A crafty grin curved his lips. “What do you suggest we do instead?”
“You are insufferable,” she smiled before leaning in to kiss him.
Halfway through the kiss, he tipped her back on the bed and covered her body with his. Falling back, he peeled the sheets from her body and, gazing down at her breasts, he murmured, “You are as beautiful as a symphony.”
A warm rush flooded her heart, but it was soon chased by a horrible sinking feeling. She had barely seventy-two hours to enjoy the pleasure of his company before he was gone, possibly forever.
She smiled, hiding the pain deep down. “Can you go beyond last night?”
His brows shot up, but a knowing smirk curled his lips. “You tell me by morning light.”
CHAPTER 27
It was past noon when Cecilia slowly crawled to waking. Her eyes fluttered, and she shifted on the bed to find it empty. She faintly remembered Cassian telling her he was due at Westminster for another session of the House of Lords meeting. This time regarding the lands entailed upon the Dukedom and what would become of them.
Her body felt sore, as if she had ridden a horse from one end of London to the other, but the feeling of utter bliss still rested in her bones. Cassian had proven his vow right and had given her four peaks back-to-back.
The last time, he had lifted her clean off the floor and taken her against the wall in a scandalous position she had not even known existed.
Her throat felt thick and she clutched the coverlet, overwhelmed by the memories he had roused in her. How good he made her feel. How much more she needed from him.
When he’d given her the last climax, she’d felt a euphoric wave of utter, unending pleasure that had sunk her into deep sleep the moment her head had hit the pillow.
She reached for Cassian’s pillow and hugged it to herself, a habit she found she’d started doing whenever they did share a bed.
“Your Grace,” Joan, the housekeeper, knocked. “His Grace asked me to rouse you before the afternoon. Shall I send up a bath?”
Rising, Cecilia rubbed her eyes, “Yes, Mrs. Joan, thank you.”
Half an hour later, she found herself dressed in a soft day gown and seated in her study, sifting through letters. She’d opened all of the letters, finding them to be invitations to balls and soirees, even someone asking her to patronize a young woman with few opportunities. With Cassian’s departure looming, she would likely be attending them alone now—and the thought planted a cold, unwelcome knot in her stomach, one she forced herself to push aside for now.
“I’ll look into this one,” she told herself.
The next letter was from Pru, the local friend she had made at the Harvest Festival, and a wide smile crossed her face.
I feel myself at a loss on how to navigate balls and gentlemen and the coy flirting other ladies have mastered,Pru wrote.Please be my companion at the upcoming balls and help me to not embarrass myself. I am chronically all fingers and thumbs,and I am prone to tripping, falling and spilling something on myself or others.
A smile crossed her face. “Don’t worry, Pru. I will be your buffer.”
She had promised Pru she would help her find a suitor—if not Lord Rothbury himself. That could occupy her life in the short term at the very least.
