Page 34 of How to Tempt An Earl
‘Who said anything about fighting? Are we fighting?’ Kieran protested with false innocence. ‘You were the one who insisted we make a good impression, that’s all. People will expect us to put the Wrexham vault on display. They will think I am miserly if you show up in anything less.’ He grinned.
She felt her resistance start to slip. She ought not let him spoil her like this—like a husband spoiling a wife—especially after yesterday’s discussion. It might give him the wrong impression—that her resolve was wavering and that she was indeed reconsidering. She might give herself the wrong impression too—that the future he laid out was possible and that her reasons for resistance could be overcome. She must remain resolute; it was for the best.
‘I feel positively wanton wearing jewellery while I lie abed naked in the middle of the afternoon, like someone’s wicked mistress.’ She laughed softly.
‘Good.’ Kieran reached for the box. ‘Try the bracelet.’ He helped her with the clasp, his fingers skimming her skin in tiny strokes that set the want loose within her yet again. ‘The set is quite the heirloom. It’s part of the original estate, dating back to the fifteen-hundreds.’
He adjusted the bracelet and held up her wrist to the light, letting the stones dance and change from red to russet in their gold settings. They would look dazzling with her gown. ‘It’s made from Imperial Topaz, found in Brazil and acquired during some early exploration efforts. The first Earl of Wrexham had the stones cut into shapes of leaves as a wedding gift. He and his wife were married in the autumn, so it seemed appropriate.’
‘Sold.’ Celeste leaned back against her pillows with a laugh, studying the bracelet. ‘Have you ever thought of selling jewellery if dark diplomacy doesn’t work out? I’m sure Rundell’s would hire you. All you’d have to do is put a bracelet on a woman’s wrist, run your fingers over her skin and tell her a story. Husbands would hate you.’
He leaned close, gently screwing an earring onto each ear. They were long, slim dangling affairs and he turned her chin this way and that, smiling in satisfaction. ‘I wanted to see how they’d catch the light. Stunning…’ He breathed.
‘You should definitely not sell earrings.’ Every husband in London would call him out.
‘Well, I’d keep my clothes on, of course.’ He nuzzled her neck. ‘I only take them off for my special clients.’
‘I don’t think clothes would change your sales.’ She laughed. ‘You’re just as charming with them on.’
‘Is this your way of saying you like the set, or your way of saying you likeme?’ He drew her close, kissing her neck. Very soon, conversation would bede trop—again—not that she minded. There were worse ways to pass an afternoon and she did not want a repeat of yesterday.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up into his face, at those beautiful dark eyes and that thick, wavy hair that was always in disarray. ‘You’re shameless, fishing for compliments, Kieran Parkhurst. You know very well that I like you.’ She more than liked him. He’d shaken her world, forced her to test her assumptions about her future. If she wasn’t careful, he’d upend that world.
Enough to stay…?
The words lingered unspoken between them. She didn’t want them to come to life and wreck the peace of the afternoon. Celeste draped a leg over his hip and levered herself upright, catching him by surprise.
‘We’ve already done you on top this afternoon. This time, I’m on top.’ She lifted her hands to her hair and let it fall through her fingers, watching his eyes go wide, watching all thought recede until she had his full attention here and now. The afternoon was safe again, she was safe again, her priorities still intact. There would be no more talk of leaving or staying, or of the future that was quickly becoming the present.
Celeste moved over him, letting her breasts brush his chest, the topaz teardrop of the necklace dangling between them. ‘You will have to tell me,’ she whispered, ‘how the jewels look when I do this…’ She sat up and moved back, lowering herself onto him. She moved her hips with a coy smile, sensing she was in control for the moment. ‘Well?’
His Adam’s apple worked as he looked up at her. ‘They look good.’ His hands bracketed her hips as he caught on to her game. ‘Try moving up and down.’ He sucked in his breath as she moved on him. ‘Oh, yes, now they look even better.’ He levered himself up to steal a kiss, his abdomen muscles flexing. ‘Now, how about we make those jewels bounce?’
‘You are a wicked man.’ She laughed, fully enjoying herself as he became an active participant in the seduction.
He grabbed her around the waist and flipped her beneath him. ‘I am, and I am all yours.’
Her one thought as climax claimed her was: if only this could be true; if only this could be for ever, maybe then a compromise would be worth it. Or maybe, he was right—no compromise would be needed between true partners. Maybe, with Kieran, things could be different, but only if she could be different. Nothing would change unless she did, and he did. They would have to change together for it to work. That would take a leap of faith.
Chapter Eighteen
Dangerous thoughts grew, fed by the mind’s willingness to rationalise away opposition until there was nothing left to keep her from staying. The longer she was with Kieran, the less reason there was to cling to her arguments for leaving and the more powerful the ‘what if’ became. By the evening of the harvest assembly, her optimism was riding high as she sat before her dressing table, letting Enid do her hair.
Perhaps itwaspossible to stay and have this home, have this life—a life free from Roan, where everything she touched or did would not be tainted by corruption. Surely Roan would have come by now? The five weeks Kieran had theorised as a timeline had passed—albeit only by a few days. If Roan never came, no one need ever know who she really was. She need not be anyone but the Earl of Wrexham’s fiancée, and subsequently his countess.
If she was willing to belong to him. Her hand stilled on the leaf necklace at her throat. She’d been so excited about wearing it and about tonight, so caught up in the possibilities of her new thoughts, she’d not listened to the words in her own head: to beWrexham’sfiancée, to behiscountess. To be those things meant allowing her identity to be defined by the man at her side, which was the very thing she’d wanted to protect herself against, the very thing that threatened her freedom.
Do those things threaten your freedom, or is it Roan? Would Kieran Parkhurst be the same?
That was the new challenge: her thoughts had conjured support for the idea that perhaps Kieran would be different and that she could justify having what she wanted—Kieran and her freedom—when the law was clear that these two items were diametrically opposed.
‘Miss, are you all right? You’ve gone a bit pale,’ Enid observed. ‘Have I laced you too tight?’
Celeste put a steadying hand on her stomach and took a breath. ‘Just nerves about tonight.’ She smiled in the mirror to cover the half-truth.
‘It’s a big night, to be sure,’ Enid empathised. ‘You and the handsome Earl making your debut. You’re a wonderful couple, so beautiful together and so dedicated to this house.’ Enid squeezed her shoulder. ‘You will both do fine. Everyone is so glad the house is occupied again. It’s good for all of us. We’ll be even happier when you and the Earl set a date for the wedding.’
She gave a shy smile. ‘A Christmas wedding at the Hall would be lovely. Can you imagine yourself walking down the chapel aisle in a gown of winter velvet, the pews draped in evergreens with white ribbon and silver bows?’ Enid’s eyes lit up as her idea came to life. ‘The baker in town could do the cake.’
