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Because Sesily had been waiting two years to kiss Caleb Calhoun and in all the dozens of hundreds of ways she’d imagined his response to such a thing, she’d never once imagined that he’d be unmoved by it.
She was too far away for noticing. He shouldn’t have been able to see her dark hair, gleaming in the orange light of the pub as she turned to face him. He shouldn’t have been able to detect the stain of red on her lips or the low dip of the line of the dress she wore that had clearly been purchased from the devil himself. Not that Caleb should have been able to see the sinful garment, nor the way it framed the rise of her breasts, the swell of her hips. Nor should he have been able to hear her laugh over the scores of others, or smell her, warm and rich like almond tarts. But he did.
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“Do you see something?” Always. If she was there, he saw her.
“Mr. Calhoun. If you don’t mind?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I do mind, in fact. I’m not in the mood to be strangled.” “Oh, is strangulation an option? If only I’d brought my garrote.” “After seeing what you can do to men, I’m surprised you don’t keep it on your person at all times.”
“I know precisely what you want. But I am willing to wait for you to discover it yourself.” “And what is it?” She smiled, a cat with cream, and though she didn’t reply, he could hear it nonetheless. Me. Forthright. Arrogant. Bold and perfect and true. Because he did want her. He’d wanted her for long enough to know that he’d likely never not want her.
“Hesitation in battle is for dramatic novels and play fighting,”
“That may be true, but there’s no question you’d be much safer if your parents bolted the doors and windows to ensure you remain out of trouble.” “I’m not a child, Caleb.” “You think I don’t see that?” She continued as though he had not spoken. “I’m a fully grown woman. I think it’s amusing you believe a little thing like a lock would keep me from living my life.” “I believe a little thing like a lock would keep you living. Full stop.” “You’re being dramatic,” she said. His eyes went wide. “You were unconscious!” “And now I’m perfectly fine!”
“The Place is safety. It is a gift to those of us who don’t have the life my sisters have. The one they chose. And when men came for it, I did what any decent person would do—what you did, I might add—I fought.”
But Sesily was pure emotion. She was joy and anger and delight and sadness and frustration and a dozen others at any given moment, and that made her equal parts tempting and terrifying, like an inferno.
Don’t look. A gentleman wouldn’t look. A dark shadow that made his mouth water. She shrugged. “I hope you’re right.” What was she talking about? “Hmm?” he replied, the sound like wheels on rough cobblestones. Pull yourself together, man. “That no one will enter,” she replied, approaching. “I’m sure I look absurd.” She looked like land after a month at sea.
She laughed, close enough for the sound to feel like a secret, and he liked it too much. He couldn’t like her laugh. That way lay danger. That way, and all the other ways, it seemed. Her eyes, a rich, beautiful blue, ringed in black. Her heart-shaped face and her pink cheeks and her wide mouth and full lips that were all the more dangerous now that he knew the taste of them.
He remembered every minute he’d ever spent in her company, unfortunately.
“You know, you really are so droll, Caleb. I never tire at your endless amusement at the expense of my title.” “It’s not your title I mock. It’s the world it comes with.”
“Let’s be honest . . . if you did succumb . . . you’d be ruined.” His brows snapped together and he turned to face her, finally, discovering that she was closer than he’d expected. “Don’t you mean she’d be ruined?” She shot him an honest look. “No, Caleb. If the two of you had an affair, it might end with her heartsick . . . but it would end with you destroyed.”
“In my experience, I have found it best to begin all conversations with men with severe mistrust.”
“Alright then. Tell me the rest. You were in his bed. What happened?” “Nothing happened.” Sadly.
“Tell me more about this beast.” Adelaide smiled. “You’ve turned men beastly before.” Not men like Caleb. Not men she wished to be beastly.
If Caleb were there, he’d no doubt involve himself in their well-laid plans and do something nonsensical, like toss her over his shoulder and remove her from the building. And not for any of the reasons she’d be willing to be tossed over his shoulder.
But he couldn’t stay away from her. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Had been, since the beginning.
On the Atlantic . . . six weeks at sea with nothing but a private cabin to entertain them. The things he would do to her in a private cabin.
“Sesily . . . The reasons I should stop have nothing to do with our location.” Before she could ask him to elaborate, he licked over her skin to the lobe of her ear, sucking at it until she shivered her pleasure. “I should stop because you feel fucking glorious. Like a treasure to be thieved.” Oh. Oh. She liked that. “I should stop, because you make me feel like a thief. Stealing your touch, your scent, your kiss—” He did just that, taking her mouth like a marauder, deep and thorough. Except he wasn’t stealing. She gave it freely. When he released her from his caress, he said, soft and hot at
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“If I’m only ever going to have this—a handful of stolen minutes . . . a smattering of kisses . . . a cupboard-full of pleasure—” She shivered as his fingers slipped beneath the silk of her bodice. “It seems special torture that I cannot see it.”
“Now I would say you are not being naughty enough.”
But in the fifteen years since her first kiss and the decade since the first time she’d found pleasure with another, she’d never experienced one wildly satisfying orgasm only to be treated to another, instantly.
He was so playful here in the darkness. What would happen when they returned to the light?
“Strange place for croquet, no?”
“Girls, tell your aunt Sesily that she is clever,” she said, standing up with more effort than appeared healthy. “You’re clever,” the girls said in unison. “It’s not the same if you have to be told to say it, my loves.”
“Lord deliver me from spoiled children,” Seline said to the ceiling. “I’m not spoiled!” Lorna proclaimed with the braggadocio of someone who absolutely was, running a stick of kohl well past Sesily’s eyelid. “Ash gets everything.” “I beg your pardon, young lady,” Sophie said, warning in her tone. “What does your brother get that you do not?” Lorna looked directly at her mother and said, “A title.” Sesily chuckled in the dead silence that fell. “A palpable hit, Lorna-roo.”
“You are very right, Lorna. You don’t get a title. And that is not at all fair.” Lorna’s gaze narrowed. Good girl, thought Sesily. That will serve you well in the future. “Because I’m a girl.” “Because you are a girl. And it’s terrible, and if we could, your father and I would give you all titles. We’d give you kingdoms.”
“But look at all of us.” She waved to the collection of women in the room. “Your aunt Seraphina and I both own businesses, your aunt Seline rides horses like she was born one, your aunt Seleste speaks more languages than most people can name. And we don’t have titles, but we have ourselves, and we have each other. And that’s better than any title, if you ask me.”
He promised himself he’d sort out his return to London, just as soon as he was able to tear his attention from Sesily’s laugh. It was big and bold and perfect—the kind of laugh that welcomed all comers, making you feel like you’d been offered a glimpse at the sun after a voyage through the darkness. If only you were willing to take it.
He didn’t want to be cordial. He wanted to strip her naked in her sister’s foyer. That was the problem.
“Lady Sesily.” She stilled at the honorific—one he never used, but she’d asked for cordial, had she not? Then she turned, just enough to look over her shoulder, covered by a little pelisse that he could dispatch with in an instant if the opportunity presented itself. “Do you have a coat?” What was he doing? She turned to face him fully. “A coat?” “They’re traditionally worn out of doors to keep one warm,” he said, ignoring the thrum of pleasure he received when one corner of her mouth tilted upward. “Do you have one?” “I do.” “When you return, wear it. We’re taking a walk.” Fuck cordial.
“Did you have a destination in mind?” “Some people believe the journey is the destination.” “Those people don’t have things to do.”
“Why does it feel like you’ve just won a battle?” “Because you view everything as a battle,” he said, simply.
“I’m tired of wanting you, Caleb. I’m tired of thinking maybe you want me. Of thinking that our kisses are as heady for you as they are for me. Of thinking that my touch singes you the way yours does me. Of imagining that the pleasure we find together is something out of the ordinary.”
“You’re right. I don’t go to the Sparrow anymore. Because I am tired of it. I am tired of the memory of you there. I’m tired of the way my heart races every time I think of you. Here is the truth. I stopped going to the Sparrow because I stopped begging for scraps from people who could not see me.”
“You think I don’t see you? You think you don’t shine like the fucking sun every time you’re in a room?”
“I don’t regret it, Sesily. I want it again. I want more. I want it all. And if I take it, it won’t be cordial.”
She kissed him like the rain was all part of the plan.
“That kiss was so perfect, I could swear I heard thunder.” He laughed. He knew he shouldn’t. Shouldn’t let himself be amused by her. Shouldn’t let himself be any more drawn to her than he already was. Shouldn’t risk being any closer to her. But she was everything Caleb had always refused himself. She was bright where his world was dark, beautiful where it was ugly, welcome where he’d never found it. And that made her more tempting than anything he’d ever experienced. She was the treat in the shop window, the coin in the rich man’s purse. She was better. So he let himself laugh.
It sounded like she liked it. Which made Caleb want to kick in another dozen or so.
He wanted that. To spoil her. To give her everything she wished. Forever.
Of course, he hadn’t been able to stop it an hour earlier, either. Or a day earlier. Or a year earlier. They’d been on this path since the first time they’d met. And now, they’d arrived at the cottage in the woods. And it would have to be enough.
“You may do whatever you wish. You may have whatever you wish.” I am yours.
“You are the prettiest present I’ve ever received . . .” He pressed a soft row of kisses along the edge of the dress as he untied the bow. “I’m going to take my time unwrapping you.”
“I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. From the moment you looked at me with those beautiful, teasing eyes, and flashed me that smile that makes promises I want you to absolutely keep.”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything. I shall never regret this. I shall never regret kissing you in the rain, and unwrapping you here, before the fire.” Her hands spread over the ridged plane of his stomach, tight and muscled, and he sucked in a breath at her touch. “I shall never regret you above me, your hair like mahogany fire. I shall never regret the taste of you, the feel of you.” He kissed her again, and finished his vow. “I shall never regret you. This. Us. Here.”
If she wasn’t careful, she would love this man, this man who saw her the way no one else did. Who understood her the way few could. Who kissed her the way no one else had.
“I’ve seen you looking.” “I’m sorry,” she said, not feeling at all sorry. “I couldn’t help it.” Another thrust. A scrape of his teeth at her neck. “I’ve tried so hard not to look in return.” She turned her head, met his eyes. Tightened her grip, loving the way the muscle in his jaw worked through his pleasure. “Why?” “Because I don’t deserve to look at you,” he said, softly. “Because if I look at you, just once, just for a moment . . . I will want more.”
