by Lauren Smith
“Translating novels?” Carter asked. “That’s brilliant.”
She blushed. “Thank you. It is rather fun, I admit. But I wish I could help Celia…though I doubt she’d be willing to take any support from me.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. “She feels the need to be the one to acquire the money and not owe anyone. She sees her agreement with Callum as a fair trade.”
“So the two of you finally admitted your feelings and are going to spend what time you can together before she martyrs herself.” Holly picked up the photo of her and Stefano, one that showed them posing beside an African bungalow where they’d gone on their honeymoon. She brushed her thumb over their faces, sighing. “We have so little time with the ones we love. How can she put a limit on that so willingly?”
“She feels she’s the only one who can help Matthew. She might be right.”
Holly set the photo back down and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Carter said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, give her, but money is the one thing I don’t have. Tristan and I are trying to get the Pembroke estate noticed as a filming location by Hollywood producers, but it’s a long process. It might never pay off.”
“She doesn’t need your money, Carter. I saw the way she looked at you tonight. She just wants you.”
“If only it were that simple.”
Holly shrugged. “Who knows? A lot can happen in a month.”
“I suppose.” The problem was, it would take a miracle to rescue her from this.
“I know you only have a month, but if you want my advice? Why don’t you two watch a movie and relax tonight? I’ve got work to do, and there’s no need for me to be in the way.” Holly winked at him. “Oh, you can take one of my cars into Siena tomorrow. Show her the city. You know how much she loves history.”
“Thank you, Holly.” He meant it. Holly had given him and Celia a place of refuge to enjoy their time together.
After Holly left, he headed to his room to change, then knocked on Celia’s door.
“Your aunt suggested we watch a movie. Interested?” he said through the closed door. It opened, and Celia smiled at him.
“Sure. I’ll meet you there.” She shut her door, and Carter headed back to the living room. He scanned the rows of movies on one of the bookshelves and smiled as he pulled one out. Gone with the Wind. He remembered Celia had had a framed poster of Rhett and Scarlett framed in her room for years when she’d been younger.
He turned on the TV and queued up the movie just as Celia joined him. She had changed out of her green dress and into a pair of shorts and a loose red short-sleeved blouse that she left untucked. Damn, the woman could make such a simple outfit seem like the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. She was barefoot, and he had to work to control his sudden arousal at the sight of those long, curvy legs. Somehow she looked even sexier now than she had out by the pool in that teasing red bikini.
He cleared his throat, noting that she was just as carefully studying him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She glanced at the TV. “Gone with the Wind? I love this movie!” She almost bounced as she hopped onto the couch, sinking back into the beige cushions and throwing her arms behind her head in a mock pose of relaxation. He couldn’t help but laugh.
Her face turned pink with an adorable blush. “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Relaxed.” He had seen her tense and on edge most of her life. Only fleeting moments in their childhood came to mind where he’d seen Celia as she should be, relaxed and carefree. He remembered twelve-year-old Celia sitting on the branch of an old oak tree, her legs swinging as she talked about pirate ships in the history book she was reading for a school paper. He could have listened to her talk for hours.
“I have to try, don’t I? Besides, if I can’t relax here of all places, then I have problems.” She patted the space on the couch next to her. “Sit, or you will block my view of Clark Gable, and I simply cannot allow that.” She declared this with such sweet determination that he had to physically stop himself from going over to the couch and kissing her straight away.
“Yes, ma’am.” He did his best courtly southern American accent as the movie began to play.
He took a seat next to Celia and pulled up the footrest so they could prop their feet up together. Celia reached for a light throw blanket and spread it over their legs. He leaned back into the cushions, holding his breath, wondering what Celia would do next. A few minutes into the movie, she shifted closer, though still not touching him. Another few minutes passed, and she moved another inch. He let her sidle closer two more times before he curled his arm around her shoulders and slid her against him.
“You were taking too long,” he said when she looked at him in surprise.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so…” She didn’t seem to know what to say. “I know what I said before about taking it slow, but could you…take control sometimes?”
He raised his brows. “By control you mean…?”
“I’m afraid if I go too slow I’ll end up in reverse. If I don’t go about this right, I want you to take control. I feel so nervous about this, but I want it so much. I trust your judgment.”
He cupped her face, brushing the pad of his thumb over her lips.
“Thank you for being honest. And don’t worry, I’ll be happy to, as long as you promise to tell me if I go too fast.” He offered her his hand. “Deal?”
“Deal.” She shook his hand, and then she wrapped an arm around his waist and put her head on his chest.
Carter was filled with an intense sense of warmth. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t been so in love with her. And now here he was. With her. He laid his head back on the couch and sighed in contentment.
They reached the intermission, and the sweeping musical score surrounded them. “Why do you love this movie?” he asked her.
Celia rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Because Scarlett meets the man of her dreams, a scoundrel, a man who takes what he wants with no regrets and yet loves deeply and passionately.”
“But she loses him in the end. She drives him away.” Carter went quiet as he realized the eerie parallel of Rhett and Scarlett to him and Celia.
“She does,” Celia admitted. “Foolishly so. But, you know, tomorrow is another day.”
For an instant he pictured Celia in the late 1800s, wearing a torn gown, leaning against an open doorway, searching not for Rhett but for him, vowing she would find a way to win him back.
When the movie continued, Celia rubbed her hand on his stomach in slow strokes, in an almost absentminded way. But her touch set him on fire, and he had to think of every dull thing in his life to try to control his body’s reactions.
Was it time to speed things up? He caught her hand on his stomach and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the back of her knuckles and then turned her hand over so he could press a light kiss to her wrist. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle, and he wanted to ask her how women did that, especially her. It was as though she knew his weakness. Honeysuckle was like a drug to him. When he and Celia were fourteen, they had stolen a moment together in the gardens beneath a trellis covered in wisteria, surrounded by honeysuckle.
So many times he had closed his eyes over the years, smelling that scent and remembering the feel of her soft lips against his. It had been hotter than any fantasy he’d ever had, to remember that moment and wonder what other kisses with her over the years could’ve been like. Now he had the chance to make up for a lifetime of missed kisses.
Carter cupped her face again as he lowered his head toward hers. His mind, his body, even his soul belonged to this woman, and he wanted her to feel that on his lips. Years of longing for each other had simmered between them. He nestled her in a protective embrace as their lips finally met. Heat settled in his groin, reminding him how much he craved her. She sighed against him and wrap
ped her arms around his neck.
She wasn’t as experienced as he was, but she exhibited a raw sensuality that bewitched him like no woman ever had. He let his hands explore the slopes of her breasts, the valley of her hips, and the gossamer feel of her honey-blonde hair between his fingers. He wanted to spend forever kissing her long, elegant throat until he found the spot that made her body ignite with unquenchable desire.
Her legs were smooth satin under his hands, and he groaned in delight as she moved to straddle him, her knees sliding onto either side of his hips. Her body molded to his, fire racing between them as the sensation of being so close threatened to overwhelm them both. His cock hardened, and she pulled herself into him, kissing him like she wanted to brand herself into his skin. Her breath whispered over his lips, and he cupped her bottom, squeezing hard as she whimpered with desperate need. Their kiss was hard, then soft, then hard again as they explored each other’s mouths, committing each and every moment to memory.
“I want you so much,” she moaned against his mouth.
He gripped her bottom, urging her to grind herself against him, knowing it would be sweet torture for him, but he wanted to see her come, see if he could affect her strongly enough that she climaxed from kisses and stimulation alone. It would take the edge off her hunger and still keep things slow enough that he wouldn’t feel guilty for rushing things. At least, that was what he hoped, but when she bit his bottom lip and dragged her nails along his scalp at the back of his head, he couldn’t stop himself. He urged her to move faster, to rub herself against him, because he wasn’t going to last.
Celia gasped, stiffening against him, and he dug his hands into her bottom as his body went rigid and he came in his jeans like a randy teenager.
“Oh my…God,” Celia panted. She clutched him as she buried her face in his neck, as though embarrassed.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “You okay, love?” He cupped the back of her neck, breathing hard, his body flushing with heat and shame. He should have kept control, but there was no way he could have given what he felt with Celia.
She cupped his face. “Carter, I’m fine. But are you?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he promised as he gently removed her from his lap. “I just need to shower.” He looked at the TV, which was now in the final stages of the ending of the movie.
“Shower?” Celia looked hurt. He leaned over to steal a swift kiss.
“You were so hot that I lost control. I need to tend to that. You know…” He couldn’t say more.
“Oh?” She covered her mouth, eyes widening. “Oh! Really?” She started to giggle, but she stopped when she noticed his frown.
“It happens to the best of us, you know.” He knew his tone was a bit too curt, but he didn’t like being embarrassed. Was this how they were going to start their month together? He turned and left the living room. He was going to take a cold-as-fuck shower and try to remind his body who was in charge.
Celia knew she’d acted shamelessly, riding Carter like a stallion, and now she had paid the price. They’d both gotten off while still fully clothed. How was that even possible? That was something her teenage self would have done, if she’d ever had the chance. And she’d embarrassed Carter in the process. Men had fragile egos, especially when it came to sex. She threw her head back on the couch and sighed. This was not how she wanted this month to go, but what had she expected? Thirty perfect days? That wasn’t possible.
She watched the last few minutes of Gone with the Wind, hoping Carter might return, but he didn’t. She turned off the TV and headed back to her room. She paused in her doorway and looked over her shoulder at Carter’s closed door. Her heart twinged with regret. She’d been so happy, lost in those kisses, and when she’d climaxed, it had filled her with an almost otherworldly joy. She’d been relieved to know she wasn’t the only one affected.
She changed into her silk short-sleeved pajamas and removed the pins from her hair, then sat down on her bed and pulled her laptop toward her. She had talked to Matthew earlier, and he had been excited to tell her about receiving his enrollment package for Ravenswood Academy. It was a boarding school, and she was glad Matthew was excited about the move. Being stuck in a small cottage with their parents would have been impossible in the long run. She would have a month when she got home to see him before he left. Celia picked up her phone and texted Callum.
Matthew received his enrollment package today. He’s excited to go. Thank you.
She put the phone down and opened her laptop. She scanned her inbox and saw an email with a project in the subject line. She clicked it open and saw it was from one of the firm’s top partners, Christopher Ridings.
She read through the email slowly, making mental notes. The firm was being hired by a Scottish lord named Garrick Kincade, who had a fifteenth-century castle that desperately needed a remodel. Parts of it even had to be rebuilt.
Rather than simply hire a construction crew, he wanted an architectural firm that could return his home to its former medieval glory. Lord Kincade was a member of the Scottish Parliament, and as such, he was very influential. If they could please him, it would be excellent for business.
Her boss, Mr. Ridings, was interested in having his new hires, like Celia, take a stab at the remodel. Celia replied back immediately that she would like to participate, and she asked for photos of the castle’s exterior and interior, both of the current living residence and the crumbling parts that needed remodeling. Ridings was giving everyone two weeks to craft a proposal for the exterior design as well as an interior remodeling concept.
Celia smiled as she closed her laptop. She knew she was supposed to be relaxing, spending her time with Carter, but this could be a huge opportunity. A chance to prove that she wasn’t just an aristocrat with the right connections. She could show her firm she had real talent.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she checked it. Callum had texted back.
Callum: Excellent. How are you doing?
She hesitated before replying.
Celia: I’m good. I’m glad we both took a month to sort things out.
Callum: Me too. Bryson is upset, but he’s glad we have at least a little time.
Celia’s throat tightened as she replied.
Celia: I know how he feels. But what else can we do?
Callum: I don’t know.
She waited a moment again before texting him one last time.
Celia: Enjoy every minute.
Callum: I will. You too.
Celia’s gaze drifted toward the fresco opposite her bed. She hadn’t noticed it before. A pair of lovers were in a passionate embrace, their colorful robes gleamed in the lamplight. The small tiles were freshly painted, but the style was old, as though the artist wanted to channel two-thousand-year-old frescoes from the Roman Empire. Strangely, it made her think of Carter.
She closed her laptop and climbed off her bed. She didn’t want to sleep alone, not one night. If he was upset about what had happened, she would convince him not to be.
She turned off the lights in her room and walked across the hall to his. She was about to knock, but then she thought better of it. He could turn her way easier if she knocked. Celia opened the door. Carter was sitting up in bed, a book in his hands. She stared at him, surprised to see a pair of rimless glasses on his face. She hadn’t known he wore glasses. But of course, she’d never seen him at night in bed.
They stared at each other for a long second before he crooked his finger at her, beckoning her to come. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She tiptoed over—for whose benefit she had no idea—and he pulled back the covers on the side closest to her.
She slid in beside him. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
Carter chuckled, touching the rims self-consciously. “Just for reading. The doctor prescribed me contacts for daytime. It’s probably because I squint so much at my computer when I’m working. Eyestrain or some such.”
She leaned against his arm, smiling at him.
“I like them. Very sexy.”
He chuckled sarcastically. “I’ll bet.”
“I’m serious!” she insisted. “I really do like them.” She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He wore a gray T-shirt and pajama pants. Perfectly ordinary, and yet right now it was the sexiest outfit ever. She pulled the book from his hands and looked at the cover.
“Lady Viola and the Dashing Duke? Romance?” Carter was reading a steamy romance novel? It seemed so unlike him. But then, perhaps that was where he’d picked up his moves that made her melt into a puddle whenever she was in his arms.
“It’s an English copy of one of the books your aunt translated into Italian. According to the foreword, it’s a reprint of a book written in the early 1800s. Gothic romance. A bit edgy for its day, I imagine. I thought it might hold my interest. I left my paperbacks at home, and my e-reader is still charging.” He nodded at the nightstand, where his reader was plugged into the wall.
“Would you read to me?”
Carter looked at her in surprise.
“If you wish.”
She nodded eagerly, settling more comfortably against him.
He started to read. Celia closed her eyes, letting his deep, seductive voice sweep her away.
Before she knew it, she was falling asleep, truly relaxed, truly content for perhaps the first time in her entire life.
7
Celia woke slowly, sunlight coloring the backs of her eyelids gold. She was warm, safe, and happy. A dozen other softer, sweeter emotions ran beneath her skin like rivers of heat and light. She nuzzled deeper into her pillow, and her pillow grunted.
She opened one eye. Her pillow was actually Carter’s chest. She froze. She was in bed beside him, her body twined with his, clutching his chest like a favorite stuffed animal. After the initial shock, that thought made her smile.
