“Go to your bedchamber, Cecilia.” Gideon nodded toward the staircase. “Unless the castle catches fire, I don’t expect you to leave itagain tonight.”
She gave him an uncharacteristically meek look and moved toward the stairs, her hand dropping away from his arm.“Yes, my lord.”
“Come with me, Duncan.” Gideon beckoned, and Duncan followed him down the corridor to Gideon’s study, dragging his feet with every step. It was some time before Gideon could persuade Duncan he wasn’t angry. Duncan wrung his hands and begged Gideon’s pardon a half-dozen times, but once he understood he wasn’t being dismissed, he composed himself and went off tohis bedchamber.
By then, Gideon was ready to drop where he stood, but he managed to drag himself to his bedchamber, where he tugged off his boots, stripped off his coat and shirt, and lay down on the bed. It made no sense he could be so exhausted in mind, body, and heart, yet be unable to sleep, but memories and regrets twisted inside him, and his eyes refused to close.
He couldn’t have said how long he’d been lying there with his arm over his face before he heard the soft scrape of a latch releasing. He dropped his arm and turned his head at the sound, his heart crowding into his throat.
The door opened slowly, maddeningly so, inch by torturous inch, until she was inside his bedchamber at last. Not a ghost, and not a dream, but real and alive, a woman of warm flesh andflowing blood.
Gideon took in the long, dark curls trailing over her shoulders and down her back as she hovered in the doorway of his bedchamber. She was still clad in her night rail with the thick shawl around her shoulders, which she was clutching to her neck. “What are you doinghere, Cecilia?”
“I came to…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze caught on the portrait of the dark-haired lady hanging in a recessed alcove opposite his bed. She drifted closer, just the barest outline of her visible in the darkness as she pausedby the window.
“Why did you come?” Gideon asked, his voice hoarse.
Cecilia remained still, staring up at the painted face. “I’ve been searching for her,” she whispered. “I looked through every portrait in the attics, searched in every room but this one.” She turned, her face half in shadow, the other half illuminated in the dim stream of moonlight coming through the window.
Gideon swallowed. “You thought I’d taken it. Hidden it, ordestroyed it?”
His words seemed to break the spell Cassandra’s face had cast over Cecilia. She turned, her dark eyes meeting his, and slowly shook her head. “No. I didn’t realize it until I saw her face, but I…I think I knew all along you hadn’t.”
Gideon’s heart leapt with hope at her words, but he said only, “Why did you come to my bedchamber tonight, Cecilia?”
Cecilia’s lips parted as he rose from the bed. Her gaze moved from the linen shirt he’d tossed over a chair to trail over his bare abdomen, his chest and his shoulders, until Gideon was forced to swallowback a groan.
Her eyes darkened as she took in the movement of his throat. Her teeth sank into her pink lower lip, worrying the plump flesh there until it turned a deep, distracting red.
“I asked you a question.” Gideon couldn’t stop himself from moving a step closer to her. “What are you doing inmy bedchamber?”
She was so close he could feel the warm drift of her breath over his neck, her scent of soap and clean linen teasing his nose. “I was worried about…Duncan. He didn’t do anything wrong. I misled himinto thinking—”
“You’ve no need to worry about Duncan. I’m aware you lied to him. Is that all, then? Or is there some other reason you enteredmy bedchamber?”
She jerked her gaze away from his body, her eyes finding his, but by then it was too late. He’d seen the flush in her cheeks, the catch of her breath, the way her pulse quickened in her throat. Her dark eyes moved over his skin like a caress, and God forgive him, but he wanted her eyes on him.
He wanted her to look at him, toseehim.
Wanted her to want him…
“I…I thought I should return your coat.” She held up her hand, the coat he’d draped over her shoulders earlier hanging from her fingers. “Just in caseyou were cold.”
He drew closer still, so close she might have touched him, her soft fingertips dragging over his bare skin, and took the coat from her hand. “I don’t sleep in mycoat, Cecilia.”
“No, of course not. Nor your shirt, either.” She flushed and backed toward the door, as if preparing to flee if he moved another step closer to her. “I-I shouldn’t have come. I’ll just…I beg your pardon, Lord Darlington.”
She turned away, but Gideon moved quickly, catching her wrist in his hand. “No. Don’t go. Please. Tell me the truth, Cecilia. Did you come here for Duncan, or…did you come for me?”
Her slight body was trembling, but she met his gaze bravely, her dark eyes burning. “For you. Icame foryou.”
Desire, passion, the last year of grief and loneliness, the fierce yearning he felt for this fragile, dark-haired woman with her sweet voice and sharp tongue all exploded inside him at once. He drew her against him, his breath catching at the drift of her hair over his skin, her curves against his body.
She settled her hands on his chest, her palms warming his bare skin, and Gideon caught his breath as that warmth flowed over him, through him, touching every part of him, inside and out. He went still, closing his eyes, savoring the feel of her soft hands on his chest, his shoulders, hisneck and face—
“Gideon. Look at me.”
Gideon’s stomach jumped at that sweet voice, a voice he’d come to crave, lower now than when she sang, with a hint of huskiness. He opened his eyes to find she’d risen to her tiptoes, and was gently urging his face down, closer to hers, her dark eyes on his lips…
