by Lauren Smith
Carter couldn’t offer her a future that would give her any of that, not even if all of Hollywood came clamoring at his door. He’d always known that, but it had never stopped him from loving her. Maybe it was time to let her go. Perhaps his father’s attack was a sign. He couldn’t win this fight, and another two weeks would only make things worse.
He let go of her hand as she rushed to speak with a groundskeeper about the manicured garden. Kincade drifted back until the men were side by side.
“So, how long have you and Miss Lynton been together?” he asked, meeting Carter’s surprised gaze.
“We haven’t… We aren’t…” Although, he’d been playing the part of an assistant, but it seemed Garrick had seen right through that.
“Because I heard from a friend that she’s been seen with Callum Radcliffe. Rather officially seen, if you follow me. Rumor has it an announcement isn’t far off.”
Carter shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, trying to figure out what he could say.
“I know Callum—I know him very well. Well enough that I’m guessing something rather unthinkable. It’s merely for show, isn’t it?”
Carter finally met Kincade’s gaze again, expecting judgment or disapproval, but he saw only compassion and understanding from a man who was a stranger to him.
“I’ve loved her since we were children,” he confessed. “Since before a boy even knows what love really is.” The words sounded foolish to his ears, but they were true, and he refused to be ashamed of them.
“The rumor is that she’s engaged to Callum…what happened?”
“Her family lost everything and had to be rescued by her uncle.”
“Lord Pembroke,” Kincade said matter-of-factly.
Carter nodded. “Celia’s brother, Matthew, has been diagnosed with autism and severe dyslexia. He got into a fight in Eton with some boys who bullied him and was asked to leave. He’s been accepted to Ravenswood which has a focused program for math and science, but they don’t take financial aid from the National Health Service. Celia is doing her best to provide for him and the expensive tuition they’ll need to pay.”
“And Callum?”
Carter didn’t feel comfortable revealing too much. “They have an understanding,” he said. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“I see.”
Kincade and Carter walked farther down the path, not speaking for a time.
“But you would provide for her if you could?” Kincade asked.
Carter smiled wryly. “I’d give my life, but she needs money, and that’s the one thing I don’t have. I’ve been desperately trying to make things work. Lord Pembroke’s son, Tristan, and I have been pitching the estate as a filming location. We want it to be like Highclere was for Downton Abbey.”
“But you’ve had no luck?”
“None. There are dozens of other places to film aside from our estate. The competition is fierce. I don’t know what else to do. Celia needs me, and I’m powerless to help her.” He raked a hand through his hair as they entered the gardens. Ahead of them, Celia was still talking to the groundskeeper.
“I understand that all too well,” Kincade said, his gaze solemn and his face reflected an unspoken pain of his own.
“I’m afraid I have to leave early tomorrow morning. My father is in the hospital. I don’t want to tell Celia tonight. She’ll only worry, and I want her to be happy so she keeps focused on this project. She’s worked so hard for this.” Carter wanted Kincade to see Celia’s value, to see her work and respect her for it as any man should.
“To be honest, she presented the only project that I could consider. She understood that I didn’t want the castle changed, only improved and modernized where necessary. All the other proposals were unacceptable.”
“Would you tell her boss that? She’s new to the firm, and they aren’t paying her nearly what she’s worth.”
Surprise colored Kincade’s eyes. “Is that so? Yes, I absolutely will put in a call to Mr. Ridings.”
“Thank you.” Carter continued to watch Celia, his heart tightening as though invisible bands of steel were crushing it bit by bit.
Tonight would be his last night with her. He would have to make it count.
12
Something was wrong. Celia kept looking at Carter across the dinner table, but he was avoiding her gaze. Even when she spoke to him, he would respond briefly and then return the conversation back to Garrick. Carter was smiling and talking, perfectly charming as always, but when he thought no one was watching, he changed. A shadow flashed across his face, and sorrow deepened his eyes. It followed him, barely visible under the surface, through the conversations at dinner and the brandy they shared in the library with Garrick afterward.
Was he thinking about them returning to London? Why? They still had fourteen more days. But his mood made her feel as though she was watching each grain of sand in their invisible hourglass drop, a constant reminder of what would happen on the last day.
She and Carter bid Garrick good night and returned to their rooms. Carter paused at the doorway, his back to her, and she could see the tension in his lean, strong form. She drew closer to him, wishing that neither of them was thinking about when all this would end. But that wasn’t what he needed. She pressed a hand to his shoulder.
“Carter. What is it?”
He grasped her face in his hands and slanted his mouth over hers in a wild, desperate kiss. It stung with a bittersweet ache, a kiss that warned of goodbyes and cold beds. Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes, fighting off a rush of tears. She curled her arms around his neck as he pushed the door behind him open and carried her into his room. He pushed her back against the closed bedroom door as he kissed her deeply, delving between her lips.
Hunger spiraled through her, and she reached for his trousers, unfastening the belt and unzipping him. He groaned against her as she slipped her hand inside.
“I need you,” she whispered, stroking him. “Please, Carter.”
He stole another heady kiss from her and let her go, turning her body so she faced the heavy wooden door.
“Hands on the wall.”
Celia placed her palms on the ancient oak and gasped as he shoved her skirt up to her waist and tugged her panties down to her knees.
“Spread for me.” Carter’s low growl was so intense she swore her entire body would catch fire. She had never seen this side of him—dominating, aggressive, commanding. She had never been with a man like that before, but Lord, she liked it. Liked him. He was reduced down to animal instincts and need, and a woman liked to know when she made a man lose control like that.
Carter’s mouth caressed her neck as he brushed her hair back over one shoulder. She shivered as he stroked a hand over her bare ass before he gave it a playful slap. They shared a moan as he nudged her folds with the head of his shaft.
“Ready for me?” he asked in a dark whisper.
She managed to nod, and he rammed in hard. The fullness of him inside her, their connection so deep and overwhelming, all of it made her pant. He took her slow, hard, owning her with every thrust as she dug her nails into the wood.
No words were needed. They didn’t need to pretend in this moment that they were civilized. This was raw passion, pure and simple. When she came, her vision was blanketed with an explosion of stars. He shouted her name, and she felt his release inside her. With a pang of sorrow, she wished for a moment she wasn’t on birth control. She wanted his child, not Callum’s.
“You okay, love?” Carter asked as he withdrew from her. She turned on shaky legs, kicking off her panties and fixing her skirt. She wasn’t going anywhere but his bed tonight. Whatever shadows had darkened his eyes over dinner, she wanted to erase them between the sheets with the passion that burned between them.
“I’m wonderful.” She reached for the zipper on her dress and tugged it down. Then she let the dress fall to the floor. He leaned back against the bed’s mattress as he removed his shirt
and then opened his arms to her.
They fell back into bed, cuddling close between the sheets and kissing. It was the sort of lazy, seductive making out she’d always wanted to have with a man, one that followed an intense amount of sex. Lord, the man knew how to kiss as though that was the only thing that mattered. He fisted one hand in her hair at the nape of her neck and rolled her beneath him so he could fully capture her lips. She raked her nails lightly along his back, rocking her hips up against his and surrendered to him in every way. This man was her dream, the life she’d always wanted and right now she was desperate to pretend that they had forever to be just like this.
She wasn’t sure how many times they made love that night. Five? Six? By the end she was so exhausted she didn’t think she could come again, but he managed to coax one last sweet, lingering, rippling climax out of her. Now she lay in his arms, not caring that the floor was littered with their clothes and the smell of sex filled the air, mixed with those of the garden from the partially open windows. Carter was still awake, tracing patterns on her back with one hand. The world outside had faded to a dim memory, and she let this single moment become a cocoon for them. Whenever she touched him, her heart seemed to be surrounded by a blaze of light and love that could fight any darkness that came her way.
She could picture the future with him in her mind’s eye. A quiet life in a small, cozy cottage on the Pembroke estate. The smell of roasted coffee in the morning, the rustle of newspapers as they shared muffins and marmalade. And someday a baby in a cradle, with lovely eyes and a toothless smile as it reached for them with tiny little hands.
And someday, that child would race through the meadows just as they had done as children. She would curl her arm through Carter’s as they took an evening stroll together, his hair and hers streaked with gray, while she looked back on their years together and found that she had been deliriously happy, never wanting anything or anyone but him.
And cruelly, she was reminded that that future, the one she wanted more than anything, was the one she could never have. She couldn’t stop the flood of tears that followed, nor the sobs that shook her body. It wasn’t fair. None of this was.
“Celia?” Carter’s arms tightened around her. “What’s the matter?”
“I…don’t want this to end.” It was all she could say. If she dared say more, it would crush her.
He shushed her, pressing his lips to hers in a burning, tender kiss that seemed to go on forever. “I don’t either.”
She would always remember him this way—strong, beautiful, loving, and full of passion. It would have to be enough to get her through the days to come.
* * *
***
* * *
Carter slipped out of bed a few hours before dawn and dressed. He turned to look at Celia asleep, her hair spread out across the pillows in waves of muted gold. Her limbs were partially entwined in the blankets, and he caught a glimpse of a bare calf, a peek of a delicate elbow. He would never see this again, and it crushed him, broke his soul apart like waves against a rocky shore. But it was the right thing to do. Make a clean break. If he didn’t go now, he’d never be able to leave.
He leaned over the bed and kissed her lightly on the forehead, then set the folded note on the empty pillow beside her. He retrieved his suitcase and slipped out of the room.
Mr. Dean was downstairs, waiting for him.
“The cab is waiting. It will take you to Edinburgh and from there a train back to London. Are you certain you don’t wish to use Lord Kincade’s plane? He is happy to offer it to you.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Dean. The train is fine.” The train was all he could afford. He knew Kincade wouldn’t charge him for the plane, but it was the principal of the matter, just like Italy. He didn’t want to feel like he owed anyone.
“Very well, sir.” Mr. Dean escorted him to the cab. Carter leaned out of the passenger side of the cab and took one last look at the towering stones of Castle Kincade, then shut the door.
He reached Edinburgh and boarded his train. A number of long-distance commuters and travelers joined him on his car from the towns and cities along the way. With each mile, he moved farther and farther from the woman who owned his heart. It became harder for him to breathe. She would be waking up soon, reaching for him in bed and finding…nothing. Just a note. It would hurt her, being left alone after everything they’d shared. He knew that because he was feeling cut open himself. She deserved a goodbye face-to-face, but that would have been just too hard for him.
I’m a bastard, but if I’d stayed, it would only have delayed the inevitable.
He’d never wanted to hurt Celia, but this was the one hurt he’d known was be unavoidable. He had to leave her in Scotland where her future lay. He wouldn’t let her jeopardize her career because his father was ill.
Carter watched the endless cycle of people boarding and disembarking over and over. A cold numbness slithered through him, stealing the last vestiges of joy left inside him. By the time the train reached London several hours later, that feeling had become his constant companion.
He went straight to Tristan’s flat and left his suitcase in the spare bedroom before heading to the hospital. He found Tristan and Kat waiting outside his father’s hospital room.
“Carter! You’re here!” Tristan leapt up from his chair and hugged him tight before letting him go to allow Kat to do the same.
“How is he?” Carter asked.
“Good. The doctors are running some tests,” said Kat. “If the results are good they think he can go home by this evening.”
As if on cue, a doctor and nurse left, giving them a nod. “We’re done for now. You can go in. The results are good and we can release him today.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“But,” The doctor hesitated, meeting Carter’s gaze. “His stress levels are too high for a man his age. I recommend he relaxes more, perhaps he could go on a holiday before returning for work.”
“I think we can manage that,” Carter said. He’d known he would soon be taking over for his father and now seemed like a the perfect time.
“Good, forced rest is difficult, but he will be better for it.”
Carter thanked the doctor. Inside the room, his father was propped up in his bed with a number of pillows behind him. He looked frail and weak. Carter was used to seeing his father as a strong, fit robust presence, a man who had slightly windburned cheeks from touring the grounds daily with the groundskeeper at the estate and a merry twinkle in his eyes behind his silver wire-rimmed glassless. But now his father’s face was pale, and the glint in his eyes were slightly dimmed.
Carter swallowed hard. “Father.” He was careful as he embraced his father, like he was made of glass.
“Carter, what are you doing here? You had another two weeks in Italy, didn’t you? I hope you didn’t come home because of me.”
Carter nodded, his heart clenching. “It’s all right. It was time to come home.”
“Son…” Somehow that single word was filled with understanding. Carter swallowed thickly and faced the window in the room, looking out over the London streets below, wishing he could stop feeling altogether. He looked back and forced a smile on his face.
“So, you’re coming home tonight?”
His father nodded. “The doctor said I need to focus on relaxing more. He recommended I go on a holiday. Can you imagine? Leaving the estate? Not possible. There’d be too many things to handle while I’m gone.” His father said this with his usual bluster and pride. He did love his job, but it had taken a grave toll on him over the years.
“You should go, Father. Speak to Lord Pembroke about it.”
“Speak to me about what?” Lord Pembroke asked as he walked into the room. He smiled as he saw Carter. “Glad to see you home, Carter. How was Italy?”
“Good, my lord,” Carter replied carefully, not wanting to remind his lordship that he’d been sleeping with the man’s niece.
“Well, John, are yo
u ready? I’ve spoken to the doctor, and they agreed to let you leave now if you feel up to it.”
“Yes. I suppose I do,” John said.
“My lord,” Carter said. The earl turned to him. “The doctor recommended my father take a break from his duties and go on holiday. Would that be possible? I would be willing to take over his work immediately.”
“And I’ll be helping as well, Father,” Tristan added.
“Carter,” John admonished him. He turned toward Pembroke. “Don’t listen to him. I’m quite fine. I’d go mad if I had to spend a few weeks sitting about.”
The earl frowned at John, then looked to Carter. “The doctor recommended it?”
“Strongly,” Carter replied at the same time his father protested.
“Hush, John. If the doctor recommends it, by God you’ll do it. Full paid leave for a month. End of discussion. I have some friends in Wales who run one of those bed-and-breakfasts on their estate. You’ll like it. They have an excellent river. I’ll call them tomorrow. You and I can go fly-fishing, lord knows I haven’t done enough fishing lately.”
John’s eyes widened. “You’ll come with me?”
The earl chuckled, a rare thing. “Of course. If I’m not there to watch over you, you’ll try to be the steward of that estate too. Besides, our sons have a handle on things?”
Carter nodded in open relief. If his father would listen to anyone, it was Lord Pembroke.
“It’s settled, then. We’ll let you rest a few days at home, and then we’re off to Wales.”
“Fly-fishing,” Carter’s father said with a sigh like a young boy.
Carter smiled. He hadn’t seen his father so relaxed in a long time. It reminded him that it was time for him to take over for his father. Permanently. Time to leave his foolish dreams behind and take his place as steward. He stepped out into the hall and found Tristan waiting for him.
