against…
“Indeed. So I shall treat you like the pesky little sister and tell you to shove off.”
She laughed at his grouchy statement, the sweet sound causing longing to rise within him. A longing he’d be able to stave off for all these torturous years.
But he couldn’t endure it any longer. Every time he was near Celia, the urge to tell her how he felt was too strong. He’d almost slipped numerous times since arriving two nights ago, clamping his lips shut before the words tumbled out.
To slip would be disastrous. An act he might never recover from. For surely she would refuse—or even worse, laugh. Call him silly, slap him on the arm like she usually did and tell him to stop fooling.
He wasn’t fooling. He was madly in love with her.
“You’d never behave in such a manner. You’ve always been so kind to me.” She curled her arm through his and squeezed, leaning her head against his shoulder. His eyes closed at the quick contact, and he savored the sensation of her touching him and the scent of her hair. She acted as if she cared.
His eyes flew open. Blast. He knew she cared. She just didn’t care for him in the manner he wanted her to.
His agonizing predicament was further exacerbated by his leaving. He’d expressed to the Earl of Urswick well over a year ago his interest in finding another position, preferably abroad. Within the last month, Urswick had made his wish come true. Damien was leaving England to work for a marquis with a rather grand estate inthe French countryside.
“You were my best friend’s wife.” His mouth dried at his reference to Lawrence. “Of course I’m kind to you. I promised him I would look after you.” While the man had lain dying on a makeshift cot in a tattered, dirty tent in the middle of a bloody battle, Lawrence had begged him to take care of his wife. And now not only did he lust for the woman, but he was leaving. Breaking his promise.
He was the most despicable of men.
She watched him with big, liquid eyes. The adoring glow in her gaze threw him.
“That was so long ago. He wouldn’t hold you to your word forever.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint.” The words came out a tad too quick, sounded a bit too firm, and he winced at her subtle withdrawal. She drew her arm from his and took a step back. The expression on her face almost…wounded. Guarded.
He frowned once more. What the deuce? Was he so enraptured with Celia he didn’t even know how to talk to her any longer?
“Oh, look. They’re standing under the mistletoe! Now you must kiss her!”
They both stopped at the excited proclamation made by Celia’s father-in-law. Damien glanced up and saw the offending bundle of greenery tied with a cheery red bow hanging above them. It was both an opportunity and a curse, the mistletoe. It offered him the chance to kiss the one woman he wanted.
If she turned away from him and refused his chaste advance under this silly holiday pretense, he would be crushed.
Forever.
“I believe this means you must kiss me.” There was a tremor in her sweet voice. Tipping her head back in offering, she pursed her lips. Her lids lowered, thick black lashes veiling her eyes. “I haven’t been kissed by a handsome man in so long I might not remember how.”
He stared at her. Had she called him handsome? He didn’t realize she even noticed him at all. He was a man with no family, no title and no tangible wealth, completely taken in by Lawrence’s family. And somehow he’d become one of their own. Hell, he even worked for the earl, though not for long. And Urswick certainly didn’t treat Damien like a servant.
Lawrence’s family adored him and treated him as if he were a long lost son. And yet he wanted Celia. Naked beneath him in his bed, her hair spread across his pillow. Her lips swollen and red from his kisses, her body ripe and yielding to his…
“Kiss me, Damien. They’re starting to chant.”
Her family—Lawrence’s family—was in the sitting
“Indeed. So I shall treat you like the pesky little sister and tell you to shove off.”
She laughed at his grouchy statement, the sweet sound causing longing to rise within him. A longing he’d be able to stave off for all these torturous years.
But he couldn’t endure it any longer. Every time he was near Celia, the urge to tell her how he felt was too strong. He’d almost slipped numerous times since arriving two nights ago, clamping his lips shut before the words tumbled out.
To slip would be disastrous. An act he might never recover from. For surely she would refuse—or even worse, laugh. Call him silly, slap him on the arm like she usually did and tell him to stop fooling.
He wasn’t fooling. He was madly in love with her.
“You’d never behave in such a manner. You’ve always been so kind to me.” She curled her arm through his and squeezed, leaning her head against his shoulder. His eyes closed at the quick contact, and he savored the sensation of her touching him and the scent of her hair. She acted as if she cared.
His eyes flew open. Blast. He knew she cared. She just didn’t care for him in the manner he wanted her to.
His agonizing predicament was further exacerbated by his leaving. He’d expressed to the Earl of Urswick well over a year ago his interest in finding another position, preferably abroad. Within the last month, Urswick had made his wish come true. Damien was leaving England to work for a marquis with a rather grand estate inthe French countryside.
“You were my best friend’s wife.” His mouth dried at his reference to Lawrence. “Of course I’m kind to you. I promised him I would look after you.” While the man had lain dying on a makeshift cot in a tattered, dirty tent in the middle of a bloody battle, Lawrence had begged him to take care of his wife. And now not only did he lust for the woman, but he was leaving. Breaking his promise.
He was the most despicable of men.
She watched him with big, liquid eyes. The adoring glow in her gaze threw him.
“That was so long ago. He wouldn’t hold you to your word forever.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint.” The words came out a tad too quick, sounded a bit too firm, and he winced at her subtle withdrawal. She drew her arm from his and took a step back. The expression on her face almost…wounded. Guarded.
He frowned once more. What the deuce? Was he so enraptured with Celia he didn’t even know how to talk to her any longer?
“Oh, look. They’re standing under the mistletoe! Now you must kiss her!”
They both stopped at the excited proclamation made by Celia’s father-in-law. Damien glanced up and saw the offending bundle of greenery tied with a cheery red bow hanging above them. It was both an opportunity and a curse, the mistletoe. It offered him the chance to kiss the one woman he wanted.
If she turned away from him and refused his chaste advance under this silly holiday pretense, he would be crushed.
Forever.
“I believe this means you must kiss me.” There was a tremor in her sweet voice. Tipping her head back in offering, she pursed her lips. Her lids lowered, thick black lashes veiling her eyes. “I haven’t been kissed by a handsome man in so long I might not remember how.”
He stared at her. Had she called him handsome? He didn’t realize she even noticed him at all. He was a man with no family, no title and no tangible wealth, completely taken in by Lawrence’s family. And somehow he’d become one of their own. Hell, he even worked for the earl, though not for long. And Urswick certainly didn’t treat Damien like a servant.
Lawrence’s family adored him and treated him as if he were a long lost son. And yet he wanted Celia. Naked beneath him in his bed, her hair spread across his pillow. Her lips swollen and red from his kisses, her body ripe and yielding to his…
“Kiss me, Damien. They’re starting to chant.”
Her family—Lawrence’s family—was in the sitting
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