Stalwood watched her emotions play over her face and sighed. “That certainly makes the risk I took in revealing my secret to you more worth it.”
“You did it to protect him, even though it put him in danger,” Celia said.
He jerked out a nod. “As I said, he is my son.” He looked at her long and hard. “If you could have him, Miss Fitzgilbert, would you want him?”
She nodded without hesitation. “I would. If I could see him, tell him what was in my heart, if I could get past those barriers he places between us…I would very much want him.”
“But you see the issues it would create,” Stalwood said evenly.
“Issues?” she repeated.
“Not only will John put up barriers to protect you from yourself, but he willneverbe able to return to Society. His role in this case was far too public—he would likely be recognized and that could cause problems. Even danger. If you choose him, you would lose your standing.”
She blinked. “Do you think I give a damn about standing?”
“I must think you do a little, based on your engagement to an earl and your courtship with what you thought was a duke.”
She glared at him. “I have been accused of being a title-hunter before, my lord. Please don’t insult me by doing it when you don’t know me, nor the circumstances that led to either of those decisions. I don’t give adamnabout titles. I don’t give adamnabout Society. I only care about John. If I could have him, I would walk through fire. I would give up all that I have and all that I am.”
Stalwood’s stern face slowly brightened with a smile. “Then you are worthy of him, it seems.” He sighed. “If you’d like, I’ll tell you where he is.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “You will?”
He nodded. “But I warn you, he won’t make it easy for you. He wants to protect you from what he thinks he is and what he believes he’ll always be. You’ll need something to help convince him to let go of the past, let go of what he thinks he should do, and turn to you. I’ll give it to you and the rest is up to you.”
She moved forward, catching Stalwood’s hand gently. He looked down at her in surprise and she smiled, the first glimmer of hope rising in her like a phoenix from a fire.
“I will fight for him, my lord.”
“Excellent,” he said, squeezing her hand. “He deserves nothing less, after all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Although it was only spring, the sun was still warm on John’s back as he swung the axe and split another log in two. Without a shirt, sweat crept down his back and stung what remained of the wounds on his shoulder and his arm, but he ignored it. The physical labor kept his mind too tired to think. To remember. So he exhausted himself during the day and prayed for the nights—and the dreams that came with them—to end swiftly.
It never worked. The emptiness inside of him was too vast, too deep. He thought every moment of Celia. Dreamed of Celia. Saw her everywhere he went.
“John.”
He froze. Now he was even hearing her on the wind. Except it didn’t seem like an illusion. It truly felt like her voice creeping over to him, wrapping around him like her warm fingers had once done.
“John.”
He turned, knowing now that the voice was not his imagination. There, standing out in the middle of the field, was Celia. She wore a pale blue gown that matched her eyes, and a bonnet dangled from her fingers so he could see the coiled beauty of her dark hair.
She dropped the hat and ran for him. And even though he knew he shouldn’t, he dropped the axe and moved toward her at equal speed. They met in the middle, mouths crushing together with no finesse, but all the passion that existed between them. She clawed at his bare flesh, lifting into him as she flattened her body to his.
He was ready to surrender, ready to let his heart take over from his head, but there was a small part of him that screamed at him to stop. To pull away because she was not his. She never could be.
It took everything in him to listen to that voice. To set her aside gently and back away.
“What are you doing here?” he panted, trying to stay upright when his knees threatened to buckle in the face of her beauty.
She smiled at him, actually smiled, as if there was nothing to stop her. “I came for you, John.”
It sounded so easy that he nearly moved toward her. Instead, he stepped farther away, holding up a hand to ward her off. “No, no. It’s not possible.”
She sighed, reaching for him still. “Let me come in. Let me talk to you. If you still feel it’s impossible, I’ll go.”
