Case and Hawk left soon after, opting to stay the night at the inn. It was imperative that they be seen without Jillian should they have been followed. They promised to return early the next morning to say their goodbyes. No one mentioned that they had to come back in case Jillian would be leaving with them.
Justin eased into the bedroom and was surprised to see Jillian curled into a chair before the fire. “You should be abed, sweetheart,” he admonished.
She raised up to stare at him and the flames of the fire reflected brilliantly in her eyes. She held out a hand to him and he went over to her, taking it in his. He knelt in front of her and she framed his face in her palms. Soft lips moved over his and he groaned deep in his throat. “Stop. Jillian, we can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Ignoring him completely, she kissed him more forcefully, opening her lips and darting forth her tongue. She began a slow exploration of his mouth, her fingers moving deeper into his hair. He opened his mouth to protest again but she laid a finger over his lips. “Make me forget,” she whispered.
His arms went around her, and he pulled her from the chair. Gently, he lowered her to the thick sheepskin rug in front of the fire. No words were necessary as their bodies came together, two souls long separated, two halves making up a whole.
Breathless, passionate kisses, bared skin, gentle caresses. Their soft cries mingled with the sounds of the waves in the distance and carried out on the tender ocean breezes.
Not content to play a passive role, Jillian became the aggressor, rolling over on top of Justin. She stared down into his passion-filled eyes and dipped her head, nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck.
Their shadows danced on the ceiling, perfect replicas of their undulating bodies, outlined by the flickering flames.
Rising above him, she took him into her body, throwing back her head as they became one. In perfect unison they performed a ritual as old as time, their fevered caresses like velvet on their bare skin.
When at last their bodies met in perfect pitch, their release came crashing around them like a rising tide.
Jillian slumped forward on Justin’s chest and held tightly to him as if afraid he would be gone in the next breath. Pulling a nearby blanket up over them, Justin wrapped his arms around her and turned her over so that she was nestled in the crook of his arm. She sighed deeply and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Justin awoke and reached for Jillian. His hand felt an empty space beside him and opened his eyes in surprise. He sat up looking around the empty room. A sense of foreboding tightened his chest and he got up and hurried into his clothing. Seconds later he walked into the living room.
Edward came hurrying in, carrying a load of wood to restart the fire. “Her ladyship is already awake.” He gestured over his shoulder. “She took a walk to the cliffs.”
Justin pulled on his overcoat and stepped out into the crisp morning air. He followed the well-worn path up the hill and towards the cliff’s edge. It was a path he had taken many times over the last few days.
He stopped when he saw her up ahead, staring out over the ocean, her shawl wrapped tightly around her body. How beautiful she was, her hair blowing slightly in the breeze. She must have sensed his presence, because she turned around and looked at him.
He walked the rest of the way to her and came to a stop at her side. “It’s very beautiful here,” she said, looking out over the great expanse of water.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face.
She ducked her head in shame. “I’m not so beautiful,” she murmured.
He tilted her chin up with his fingers. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. A few bruises cannot hide that fact.”
She looked away, not trusting herself to look at him. The moment had come for her to tell him she was leaving, no matter that she was dying on the inside at the thought of being without him. “Justin, we need to talk,” she said sadly. “I can’t let you make this kind of sacrifice, live this kind of life. You are a duke and your name is above reproach. You must be able to marry and produce an heir.
“You have a home you love, and you deserve none of this.” She gestured back to the cottage. “I could never ask you to live this kind of life away from everything you hold dear.” She turned away from him, her back to him.
“Hawk promised me he would take me wherever I wished if I would but come here first, and I plan to leave with him.”
“Is that what you want?” Justin asked, an odd note of pain to his voice.
She closed her eyes, tears seeping from the corners. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What I want, I can never have.”
“And what did you want?”
She didn’t speak for a moment, too absorbed with the agony she was feeling. She had come so close to confessing her true feelings and her wish to marry him at the engagement ball, but fate had decided otherwise. And now it didn’t matter. But she was leaving, and he at least deserved to hear the truth.
“I wanted a life with you,” she finally whispered. “I never got to tell you—I planned to tell you after the ball.”
“Tell me what, Jillian?” A note of urgency marked his voice as he turned her to look back at him.
She looked up at him, directly into his eyes. “That I loved you and wanted to marry you, that I wanted to make our engagement real.”
He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly against him, his heart beating wildly against hers. “If you only knew how I longed for you to say those words,” he said, emotion choking his voice.
