He put his fingers to her temples. “I know I still have a piece of your heart. Your art says that too. That’s why you couldn’t finish the canvas of father and son.”
“I’m ashamed. Did I love him all along? Is that why you accused me of being unfaithful in December?”
“No. No, Cilia. That was pure jealousy, as a result of something Gladstone said, and my seeing you in Tramel’s arms.”
She took his hands into hers, kissed them, then left him and dashed a little ahead.
“Everything is now disclosed, Felton. We can part as friends. You have your family and I have . . . haven’t damaged things between us.”
He strode to her and put his arms about her. “That is what you said. But if Tramel is the reason for you wanting to end us—”
“I think we’re talked out tonight. Let’s enter the barn and I can show you my calf, the infamous Moomoo Lance. Hopefully, she will be more reserved in regard to your greatcoat. I’m sure the two of you will be fast friends.”
He didn’t move and kept his embrace strong, staying in her orbit like Orion or Cepheus. Something fixed, unmoving, that was what a shooting star needed to ground her. “I have your painting of Port Royal. It’s so different from your landscapes. I don’t understand its meaning.”
“It’s after our wedding. Everything is perfect. This gamble two strangers took seemed so wonderful. You were this funny stranger who seemed larger than life. Adventure and excitement seemed to be our destiny. I fell instantly in love and you took a shine to me and my dowry.”
“You, Cilia. Always you.”
“Well, our honeymoon adventure was happy and fun and dream worthy, like Port Royal. Neither one of us saw the shadows in the offing. Like the inhabitants of that harbor city in Jamaica, no one knew it would be destroyed.”
He kissed the crown of her head. “That’s utterly depressing. My friend Lady Ashbrook paints fruit. You might need to try that. Or maybe less coffee. Anything to keep your art from triumphantly calling for doom.”
She laughed and relaxed against him.
It was a shame how they let circumstances and people destroy them. Yet this easy way of standing beneath the stars had to mean there was still light for them.
“You have feelings for me. When you close your eyes, I want to be the one you see. You’ve never left my dreams. Never have you strayed from my heart.”
“You still want me, Felton? After what I’ve said?”
Words wouldn’t do. Not that he had the right ones. These months apart, he’d been searching his heart for why he couldn’t move forward.
The answer was always Cecilia.
A slow spin turned her from the barn’s doors to him. Felton bent and kissed her brow. Then the tip of her round nose. “I’m patient. All my training in intelligence tells me how this will end for us. I’ll win your love all over again.”
When she looked up, he dipped his head and sought her plump lip, the upper one. He tasted and suckled the tenderness until she opened for him. Like a key fitting the workings of a lock, he surged forward and took her mouth wholly, angling their faces until all was aligned.
With one arm slipping under her choice bottom, he lifted her high.
She wrapped her hands about his shoulders. “Felton, put me down. I’ve gained a bit. You could hurt—”
“You’re still perfect. Still soft and curvy, a ripe blueberry. And we’ve a barn threshold to cross. Us and doorways. I want to get this right.”
“Put me down, Felton.”
“Your Roman soldier could be made compliant with a kiss. It’s a sacrifice to allow more kisses as I haven’t a toga or torch.”
“You did feed me beefsteak. That should make up for no cheese.”
It took forever and a minute, before she uttered, “Yes, compliant.”
Then she sought Felton, leaning into him, and claimed his kiss and all he offered.
CHAPTER51
CECILIA—BARNFIRE
