Page 22 of How to Tempt An Earl
Some might say his imagination was running rampant, his reason dragged away by a beautiful woman like a coach drawn by wild horses incapable of self-control. Logic taunted him: how could he know so much in so few days? He’d been wrong once before. But the rebuttal came swift and fast: it was his job to know and to draw accurate, fast conclusions. He’d learned his lesson with Sofia. He and his brothers had lived and died on those insights, on the ability to read the details and nuances. He had to trust himself that he would not be wrong again. And yet doubt niggled:what if he was?
Celeste came to the coach as he finished setting up the bed. ‘The food is all packed away. I prepared enough for breakfast tomorrow. All we have to do is unpack it again,’ she explained, poking her head inside the coach, but not before he caught a glimpse in her eyes of the reluctance he felt.
‘Thank you for setting this up,’ she began, fanning herself a bit. ‘It was warm today. The coach is a little stuffy. I thought I might sit up a little while and let the night air do its job before I retire, if that’s all right? I don’t want to keep you up.’
Kieran laughed, his voice low, his words just for her. ‘Too late. You’ve been keeping me up all evening.’ A knowing light flickered in her eyes and he pressed his momentary advantage. ‘Come lie with me. It’s a beautiful night and we can keep each other company.’
Want and warning flashed in her eyes. ‘I will, but just company, Kieran. Anything else might be too much too soon.’
He nodded and brought her hand to his lips for a courtly kiss. ‘Come and keep company with me, my lady.’ This afternoon had got to her too, it seemed. It had been moving, pleasurable, but it had not ended there; it had not been a shallow, purely physical interlude for either of them. It had opened deep places within them and now those places, those ideas, had to be contemplated before anything further could happen—or perhaps, like him, she might decide anything further would be too much.
They settled on his blankets far enough from the others to have their privacy and he drew her against him as they looked up at the sky. That she’d come to him spoke of the growing trust between them. She trusted him enough to expect he’d keep his word—company only tonight, no lovemaking beneath the stars. She liked him enough to want to keep this intimate company where they might lie together, their bodies taking comfort from the closeness of one another. There were many reasons for seeking such comfort and he was no stranger to them. They’d faced death yesterday. It was entirely natural to want to counter such an experience with seeking proof of life through physical closeness with another.
He would give her that comfort because she needed it, even if she didn’t realise the deep-seated reason for it, and because it was all he could give her. He stroked her arm in a gentle caress, matching his breathing to hers as their bodies settled to one another. ‘My brothers and I used to camp out in the summers, at Willow Park or at Sandmore—my grandfather’s estate. There was a lake at Sandmore and Grandfather would set up tents for us. But we hardly ever slept in them. So, Grandfather would send our tutor out with us and make sure we learned the stars while we were at it.’
‘Your grandfather sounds like a very astute man,’ she murmured.
‘He is. He’s eighty-eight and I wonder how long we’ll have him. He doesn’t leave Sandmore anymore. He’s turned the Horsemen over to Caine entirely, although he’ll stay on to advise for a couple years—his words.’ Kieran laughed. ‘Grandfather’s been in the game too long to ever really leave it. He can’t quite let go.’ He was silent for a moment, pushing back against the emotion that rose in his throat unexpectedly. ‘I am not looking forward to the day when he’s not here.’
‘He’ll never leave you. He’ll be with you. You’ll carry him with you in ways you don’t expect and, when you need him, he’ll be there.’ She traced a soft circle around his heart with her fingertip. ‘Perhaps it’s silly, but I feel closer to my father now that he’s gone. I’ll be playing the piano and I’ll hear him in my head saying, “that’s a pretty tune…you play so well”. Or I’ll be reading a line from a book and think about how much he’d like a certain turn of phrase, or an author’s new novel, and it’s like sharing it with him as if he were really there.’
Kieran closed a hand over hers where it lay on his chest. ‘I like the thought of that.’ He played with her fingers, lacing his through them. ‘You play the piano?’
‘Yes!’ She laughed. ‘That wasn’t the point of the story, though.’
He raised his head up far enough to kiss her fingertips. ‘I know. But I like learning about you.’
She sighed against him and he thought this was what real contentment was, to lie here with someone and simplybe; not to worry about ‘the game’.
‘I like learning about you too. Tell me more about your camps. Was your tutor successful in imparting any knowledge?’
‘That sounds very much like a challenge. The late summer sky is one of my favourite times to look at the stars. The night air has a briskness to it, and the sky is bright. A lot of constellations are visible.’ Kieran raised an arm, his finger tracing the sky. ‘In the south, you have Cygnus, the swan. That bright star there, Deneb, is its tail.’ He moved his finger from star to star, outlining the form for her. ‘Cygnus has a long neck, like you—a beautiful, elegant neck.’
‘You are a shameless flatterer.’ But he noticed she snuggled closer. ‘What else is up there?’
‘Sagittarius in the southwest, just a bit to the left of Cygnus. Scorpio should be up there, too, but I can’t find all of it tonight.’ He moved his hand east. ‘Pegasus is out tonight.’ He reached for her hand and together they drew the shape. ‘I think I have a star next to me,’ he murmured. ‘It has occurred to me that your name, Celeste, comes from “celestial”. I believe the Latin for it iscaelestia: heavenly.’
‘You’re very good with your Latin, Kieran Parkhurst.’ She gave a throaty laugh that had him rousing.
‘I’m good at other things too,’ he murmured huskily.
‘Yes, you are.’
He might have kissed her then, but he heard the drowsiness in her tone, felt the lethargy of encroaching sleep in her body, and he’d given his word. Tonight was for comfort. He let her slip away beside him, watching the details of sleep: her green eyes closing, her breathing slowing, her body sagging against him. There was pleasure in that, too—pride that he could give her the gift of safe, deep sleep.
He played with the soft skeins of her hair, drawing his fingers through them. What a woman she was. How unfortunate that their circumstances would allow for only further physical exploration of the potential between them. And that could only be allowed if they didn’t let the fire consume them. There was no chance of exploring anything truly personal between them. That would require long-term association and they’d pledged themselves only in the short term. She would leave, and his circumstances did not permit him to offer a reason to stay.
Even when the threat of Roan had been exorcised and she was free of that bastard, he would not be free. He would still be a Horseman. He could not give her the fantasies that played in her mind, the fantasies she couldn’t disguise—fantasies of family and home, of security and permanence. It was not wrong of her to want those things or to hunger for them. But it was wrong for him to pretend he could give them to her.
Horsemen were not marrying men. He and his brothers had decided that a long time ago. Caine had decided that when a society miss had jilted him for lack of a title when he’d been younger. Kieran had decided that when he’d lay close to death from a knife wound delivered by a woman he’d thought he could trust. Yet Cainehadmarried. His grandfather had married, fathered three sons and managed to preside for decades as the patriarch of a large homegrown familial network. Horsemencouldmarry. If…and there were a lot of ifs…a wife was willing to live with danger, disruption and the possibility of being widowed or of being left behind to raise children on her own.
Thank goodness Stepan had not married. It seemed an unfair compromise to ask of a woman. Yet, Lady Mary had loved Caine enough to make the compromise. In the case of Mary and Caine, love had triumphed over worries and ‘what ifs.’ He laughed to himself. What an interesting, illogical exercise this was to lie here contemplating marriage to a woman he’d known less than a week.
Overhead, a shooting star crossed the sky and he tracked the trajectory with his eyes. That was all this was—he and Celeste were shooting stars, a moment of startling brilliance as their paths crossed. They would move on because that was how their lives worked and because the circumstance that had brought them together would be resolved. What did they have between them outside of Cabot Roan? A few days’ adventure on the road? That was hardly enough to build a life on.
The road built a false sense of intimacy, and he ought to know better. This wasn’t the first time he’d been with a woman on the road, surrounded by danger. He knew the nuances of these situations. This wasn’t love. This was what happened when a woman in danger sought solace from her bodyguard. It was what happened when that woman’s protector did his job. It was up to him to provide comfort in whatever form it might take. Yes, sometimes it felt more real than others. But then, when all was safe again, both parties quickly discovered there was nothing of substance between them. Nothing that would last.
He’d once escorted an ambassador’s wife to Vienna. It had been a harrowing journey, fraught with the hazards of cross-country travel, including an incident with highwaymen. She’d been rather grateful for his protection on the road. But when he’d encountered her two months later in Vienna, at a ball, she’d given him only the briefest of nods.
