“I am quite capable of protecting myself, thank you.” But the tremor in her voice claimed otherwise. “Just go away. Please.”
The unmistakable sound of tears in her request moved him to rise and silently steal up the stairs. “I am not going away. I made a promise to the duchess and refuse to go back on my word.” As he reached the top, light from the round, ornate window in the arch above the bookcases revealed Celia huddling on the floor in front of the shelves, hugging her legs with her chin tucked to her chest and her forehead propped on her knees.
He sat down beside her, stretched out his legs, and pulled her into his lap, holding her close as he had ached to do for so very long.
She twisted and buried her face in his chest, curling tighter into his embrace like a child terrified of the dark. Every breath she drew in became a hitching shudder that she exhaled with a keening sigh. His heart broke for her as she lost the battle with her tears.
“I hate crying!” She thumped his chest with her fist and sobbed even harder.
He stroked her hair and held her, both thankful for the opportunity to do so and amazed at the dowager’s knowing that Celia needed him to survive this moment. He pressed a kiss into her silky, jasmine-scented hair and closed his eyes. “There is no shame in tears,” he said softly. “Let them flow, dear one, and ease your heart.”
“You…do not…understand,” she hiccupped, then released another long, high-pitched cry.
“Then make me understand. I am not leaving, remember?”
She didn’t answer, just remained silent except for her weeping. But she stayed in his arms, curled on his lap, and for that, he was glad. He hoped neither Lady Sophie nor Lady Ardsmere came searching for her. Calming Celia was his honor alone, and he would guard that honor fiercely.
After a while, she resettled herself until her head rested on his shoulder. He enjoyed sitting like this and hoped it lasted quite some time. Eventually, she hitched in several quick sniffs, then slowly pushed herself upright, but kept her gaze downcast as if ashamed to look him in the eyes. She swiped at his chest as though trying to brush away nonexistent crumbs. “I fear I have completely dampened your shirt. Please forgive me.”
He reached up and touched her face, running his thumb across her cheek to wipe away the trails of her tears. “Will you forgive me for our misunderstanding in the park?”
A corner of her mouth quivered upward as though she wanted to smile but wasn’t quite ready. “Yes, my lord. I forgive you.”
“Elias,” he reminded her softly, while gently pulling her closer.
“Elias,” she repeated, as though entranced. Her lips parted as her gaze lowered to his mouth, and she pulled in a shaking breath. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“If you will allow it.”
“I will,” she whispered, then leaned in and hesitantly touched her lips to his. She halted and drew back the slightest bit. “But be warned—I have only read about kissing. Never have I put it into practice.”
“Then let us test your comprehension of the literature you studied.” He slid his fingers up into her thick, loosely bound hair and cradled her head as he tilted her back. Starting slowly, so as not to frighten her, he nibbled gently across the soft suppleness of her mouth and tasted her with teasing flicks of his tongue. She surprised him by sliding her arms around his neck and opening to him, pulling him in as if starving, to commit fully to the union.
He tightened his embrace and poured every ounce of his yearning into it. She tasted of wonderment, need, and passion, waiting to be unleashed. The soft weight of her on his lap combined with her mouth against his made him groan, then stop himself before doing something rash. This was not the proper time for anything more than a heated kiss. To take advantage of the lovely Celia now, when she was at her most vulnerable, would be an unforgivable disgrace and make him appear to be a rakehell of the worst sort. His Celia deserved better.
“Why did you stop, my lord?” Her breathy whisper almost made him groan again. “Did I botch the kiss?”
“Absolutely not.” He cupped her cheek and tenderly stroked his thumb across the plump swell of her bottom lip. “Your kissing is beyond compare.” He gently but firmly eased her upright and sat her on the floor beside him. “But I fear, my precious lioness, that if we continue enjoying such forbidden pleasure, we might lose all reason and do something we might later regret.”
She gave him a look that hovered somewhere between frustrated, perplexed, and pleased. “Precious lioness?”
A soft, huffing laugh escaped him. “Forgive me, but from our first meeting, I have always thought of you as a fiercely beautiful, green-eyed lioness.”
“Indeed?” She cocked a brow to a stern slant but then smiled. “And what would you say if I told you that you reminded me of a great, golden-eyed panther I once saw at a menagerie in Hamburg?”
“I would say that we are two well-matched members of thePantheragenus.” He reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. The need to touch her, to remain connected even in the slightest way, raged through him like an unquenchable blaze. “Will you let me protect you, Celia?” he asked softly. “Draw closer and share every secret so you might finally let down your guard and enjoy all that life offers?”
She shifted with a heavy sigh and drew her hand away, but at least she remained sitting on the floor beside him. “You have no idea what you ask.” She drew her knees up again and hugged them, returning to the unhappy position in which he had found her. “You have no idea,” she repeated so softly that he almost didn’t hear.
“I could have an idea,” he gently chided, knowing he risked pushing her farther away rather than closer. “All you need do is trust me. Tell me what troubles you, dear lady. Let me chase your demons away.”
Celia pushed herself up from the floor and shook the wrinkles from her dress. “Please excuse me, Lord Raines. It is high time I cease my sulking and return to Her Grace.” She paused and took a deep breath, her bottom lip quivering. “She is not well today. Not well at all.”
“Lord Raines?” His heart sank even though her tone suggested she did not like using that form of address any more than he enjoyed hearing it. He stood and moved closer, determined to make her see.
She stared up into his eyes, then sadly touched his face and cradled his cheek in her palm. “I am sorry, Elias,” she whispered. “It must beLord Rainesfrom now on. For your sake as well as mine.” She let her hand drop and moved past him to go to the stairs.
Elias turned and caught her, then gently but firmly pulled her back. “Why, Celia? Tell me why, I beg you.”
