The Earl's Temptation

by Emma V. Leech

  "Come," he called, looking to see Henri walk in.

  "Lawrence is back," she said, the relief in her eyes only too evident. Alex hadn't told her much of what had happened but the sight of them both, filthy and battered and covered in blood, had spoken volumes. "And Céleste is asking for you."

  He looked down into his drink, watching the tawny liquid swirl in his glass as he tilted it before downing it one large swallow.

  "How is she?" he asked.

  "Exhausted, relieved to be back ... immensely proud of you."

  He snorted with disgust and shook his head, looking down at his hands. He had washed and changed but his hands showed evidence enough of what he had done. Not that he regretted it, not for a moment, the only pity was the bastard hadn't suffered for longer. But his hands were unclean still, and no matter they would heal, they would always have blood on them, and he knew he could never lay them on Céleste. She deserved so much more than that.

  "She said that ... that you killed him with your bare hands, the man that took her."

  "Yes," he replied. He looked up and met her eyes but found no condemnation there.

  "Good," she said with simple acceptance, and Henri turned and left him alone again.

  Alex finished his drink and climbed the stairs, knocking on Céleste's bedroom door. He was only too aware of the impropriety of entering her bedroom alone, but they had shared a bed for many nights and no one here would care, so propriety be damned. In all too short a time she would be gone from his life. He would see her now if she wanted him to come.

  He entered the room to find the curtains had been pulled halfway and a soft light filtered into the room. Céleste was sat in bed in a white cotton nightgown with a cashmere shawl around her shoulders. Propped against a mountain of pillows, her puppy, Bandit, sat curled against her side. Her eyes were closed and she looked younger than he had ever seen her, pale and fragile, the dark bruises against her alabaster skin an obscenity. He clenched his fists against the rage and sorrow that bloomed in his heart and wanted to kill Pelletier all over again. He must have made a sound as her eyes flicked open and she smiled with such pleasure that he felt his heart ache. How could she still look at him so? After everything, all the hateful things he'd said and must keep saying if she was to have a chance at happiness. She frowned as she saw the expression on his face and looked down at her hands.

  "Are you well, Alex?" she asked, her voice quiet.

  Alex gave a bitter laugh. "I think I am supposed to ask you that."

  "Bah!" she replied, waving a dismissive hand. "I 'ave been fussed over quite enough, merci beaucoup."

  He smiled at her then, pleased that she wasn't so very cowed by what had happened, though he felt perhaps she was performing for him, to reassure him. She held out her hand to him and he hesitated but found he couldn't refuse her. So he took it and sat down on the bed beside her. She looked at his bruised hands, her warm fingers tracing his skin with a delicate touch that made his body and heart ache with longing. She lifted his hand to her mouth and began to kiss the knuckles, one by one, her lips so very soft and tender against his bruised flesh.

  "Don't," he said, hearing the desperation in his own voice and pulling his hand from her grasp, before he gave in to his own violent desire to make her his own. And how he could even consider such a thing after everything she'd been through, he truly was an utter bastard. "I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Céleste, and as your guardian I bear the responsibility of it, but further than that nothing has changed."

  They sat in silence for he didn't know what to say and he couldn't meet her eyes. For when he looked at her, he was filled with the desperate need to protect her, to hold her to him and never let her go.

  "You will still send me away then," she whispered. It wasn't a question, there was resignation in her voice and he tried to tell himself he was relieved she wouldn't fight him anymore.

  "It's for the best," he said, staring down at his knuckles and seeing them covered in Pelletier's blood all over again.

  "Best for who, Alex?"

  "For you, dammit!" he snapped and then remembered himself, appalled at the way he'd spoken to her. "Forgive me," he said, his voice hoarse as he got to his feet, turning away from her.

  "There is nothing to forgive. I will go away, if that is truly what you want. But don't think it will change anything, for it will not."

  He let out a breath, knowing in this at least she was wrong. He would be forgotten, replaced by any number of handsome young men. "It will change everything, which is how it should be," he said, sounding desperately bored. He turned back to her, looking at her as though she meant nothing to him. "I am no fit husband for you, you foolish creature," he said, his voice disgusted, but then he carried on, knowing it was cruel but feeling there was kindness in the words even though they would hurt him to say them, and her more to hear them. "Surely by now you must know that I am a confirmed bachelor and happy to be so. My lovers are experienced women who neither want nor need anything more from me than I am willing to give. I grow bored easily, Céleste, and a green little girl would hardly afford me amusement for more than a few days. What then would I do with you, pray?" he demanded, a mocking smile on his lips.

  Her cheeks flamed and she looked away from him, clearly humiliated by his words.

  "I am sorry, mignonne," he said, though it sounded very much like he was laughing at her. "I am fond of you, but nothing more than that."

  She nodded and when she spoke her voice was tight and he could hear her struggling to keep the tears at bay. "You 'ave made yourself very clear, Alex, so you need not worry. I will go, and I will not trouble you again."

  Alex held himself very still, fighting the desperate need to go and take her in his arms and tell her it wasn't true, that every word was a lie and that he would love her until his last breath, but instead he turned and closed the door quietly behind him.

  He walked past Henri on the stairs, who took one look at his face and stopped in her tracks as he picked up his pace and strode for the front door. He had to get out, out of this damn house, away from Céleste, before he lost his mind entirely and ruined everything.

  ***

  Henri flattened herself against the wall as Alex came come down the stairs. There was such pain in his eyes that she almost reached out to him but didn't dare to, such was the turmoil she felt coming off of him in waves. Knowing that Céleste must somehow be at the heart of Alex’s torture, she ran the rest of the way to her room, to find the girl sobbing her heart out.

  Lawrence had told her a little of what had happened with the man that was responsible for taking Céleste, how Alex had lost control of himself and practically torn the man apart. Lawrence had said it was terrifying to watch, like he was possessed, and she wondered what on earth would happen to Alex without Céleste to stop that dark place in his soul from swallowing him up entirely and leading him to destruction.

  "Hush, now, it's alright," she crooned, pulling the distraught young woman into her arms. "Don't cry, Céleste, it will be alright."

  But Céleste shook her head. "Non, it will never be alright, 'e is sending me away and I will never see 'im again."

  "Of course you will," Henri said, keeping her voice gentle and reassuring. "My goodness if you think Alex can get away with never visiting his aunts then you greatly underestimate their intimidation value. He and Lawrence, they're both terrified of the old dears, well, not Aunt Dotty of course, she's a sweetheart, but Aunt Seymour ... Oh, you'll see him again."

  Céleste sniffed and wiped her eyes. "It does not matter though, even if I see him, he doesn't want me, he could never love me."

  "Oh, Céleste," Henri laughed and then put her hand to her mouth to smother her amusement. "He is so obviously in love with you it's painful."

  "What?" Céleste blinked at her in astonishment. "Why would you say that? He thinks I am a child, a stupid little girl, not ... not like his sophisticated lovers," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.


  Folding her arms and giving Céleste a hard look Henri gave a huff. "He's lying through his teeth."

  Céleste opened her mouth and closed it again. It was all too clear she wanted to believe Henri. "B-but 'e said ... just now, 'e stood there and said ..." she countered.

  Henri rolled her eyes. "Oh, what he said!" she repeated with a tut of annoyance. "I tell you, these damned Sinclair men are all the same. They think they know what's best for you, what the honourable thing to do is," she said in disgust. "As if they know! They're fools, both of them, honestly, the trouble I had getting Lawrence to the alter you simply wouldn't believe," she said, feeling really rather cross about it all over again.

  "Really?" Céleste asked, obviously disbelieving.

  "Really," Henri said with a smile. "But you must listen to me, because I'm afraid to say that I think Alex is far more stubborn than Lawrence ever was."

  Céleste sighed and nodded. "He is a very stubborn man, it's true, but ... but ... Oh, Henri, I can't believe it, after everything he just said. How can you be sure?"

  "He practically admitted as much to Lawrence," Henri said, feeling guilty for betraying both Alex and Lawrence's confidence but bolstered by the light in Céleste's eyes.

  "C'est vrai?" she demanded, clutching at Henri's hands.

  "Well of course it's true!" Henri exclaimed with a sniff. "As if I'd make a thing like that up. He's in love with you, I swear it."

  "Oh!" Céleste made as if she would leap out of the bed and follow after him in her nightgown.

  "Oh, no! Céleste, you must stay put and listen to me. I mean it!" she added, sounding really quite severe as Céleste returned a mutinous expression. "You mustn't let on that you know."

  Céleste settled back against the pillows with a huff of annoyance.

  "Now then," Henri said, mustering her own thoughts on the matter. "It appears that Alex believes he is too old and too wicked to marry someone as sweet and young and innocent as you."

  "Bah!" Céleste exclaimed in disgust.

  Henri nodded. "I quite agree, but like I said, the man's a fool." She sighed and made herself more comfortable. "I think you must go away to the aunts and, you know, I think you'll find them quite happy to help you. They've been desperate to see Alex married for years from what I hear and they've thrown every woman they could find in his path to no avail. If they discover he actually cares for you ..." She gave Céleste a mischievous grin. "Oh, yes, I think we can turn this around." But then she sighed and gave Céleste a stern look. "But you must be patient. You must do exactly what the aunt's say. They will teach you everything, show you how a countess ought to deal with men for one. And you must allow Alex to miss you." She sighed again as Céleste huffed. "Well do you want him or not?"

  "Oui," Céleste snapped, clearly aggravated. "Though I am beginning to wonder why!"

  Henri patted her hand and nodded. "I know just how you feel I assure you, but the thing is that it is far too late for you to come out this year. There's simply not enough time to prepare and have everything done to the aunt's satisfaction. Believe me I know, I only spent a little time with them before we returned to France but they are sticklers for etiquette." She smiled at the look of horror in Céleste's eyes. "Oh don't worry, I have no doubt you will be magnificent. And when you do come out, older and more sophisticated, and I have no doubt with dukes throwing themselves at your feet, well, just let him walk away from you then." Henri gave her a knowing smile and Céleste smiled in return, though it was a rather sorry effort.

  "Well, I 'ope you are right," she said and then gave a heartfelt sigh. "But oh, that is more than a year away! I will die before then."

  "Nonsense," Henri replied, shaking her head. "You will pass the time doing all the things you never before had the chance to, you will make friends and find ways to enjoy yourself without Alex and ..." With sudden inspiration Henri suddenly knew exactly how she should deal with Alex. "And you will write to him every week, and tell him everything you are doing!"

  She clapped her hands together and grinned at Céleste. "Oh, yes, and don't forget to drop an occasional mention of some handsome beau's name. Nothing obvious, just a repeat of the same gentleman caller having visited once again should do it."

  "But what if there isn't an 'andsome gentleman caller?"

  Henri gave her a pitying look. "There will be, don't trouble yourself on that score. Oh, and do not ... I repeat do not send him love letters telling him how desperately you miss him."

  Céleste pouted. "Right at this moment, I think I dislike 'im very much, so perhaps it won't be so hard."

  "That's the spirit!" Henri replied, beaming at her and pulling her into a hug. "Don't worry, Céleste, we'll be sisters yet. I'm sure of it."

  Chapter 18

  "Wherein the sea takes its toll, England's shores are reached, and the future is regarded as a miserable place to be."

  Céleste clung to Henri, both of them fighting back tears on the morning she was due to leave Longueville. The departure had been delayed by a week to give her time to recover and the bruises to fade. Indeed there was no physical mark left of her abduction, though she still awoke in the night crying in fear, and her previous dislike of being alone had become rather more of a terror. In that Henri had been a great comfort and had kept her company as much as was required. In fact the two young women did indeed consider themselves to be already sisters, no matter that one idiotic, pig-headed man would insist on making things difficult.

  "Promise me you will write to me often," Henri said, sniffing as Céleste nodded and embraced her again.

  "Je promets!" she said, wiping away tears. "And you write to me too, for I shall be very lonely."

  Henri winked at her and Céleste coloured, realising she was not to say such things in the future. But at this moment, leaving behind everyone she had come to love, it seemed a hard thing to be sent away to live with people she had never met before. Annie embraced her in turn.

  "Good luck, Comtesse," Annie said, surreptitiously pressing a small flask of something into her hand. "Keep ye warm on the journey," she whispered, winking at her and ignoring Alex's look of disapproval.

  Céleste tucked the little flask into her reticule and looked around one last time at Longueville and all the people who had made her so welcome.

  "Goodbye," she said, her voice heavy with sadness, but Henri grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed, looking her in the eyes.

  "Au revoir," she replied, her voice firm, and Céleste smiled at her and nodded.

  "Au revoir."

  Alex handed her into the carriage and then joined her. In one thing she had been successful at least. He had agreed not to hire some old busy body to chaperone her for the return voyage though he had insisted on hiring her an abigail at the very least, who would travel with her puppy, Bandit. After everything that had gone before it seemed utterly ridiculous, and as the ship was Alex's own, it wasn't like she would be about in public. Henri would have accompanied her, but there had been much celebration in the previous days as she had revealed she was expecting their first child.

  Lawrence, beaming and proud, had gone on to refuse point blank to allow her to travel at this delicate stage of her pregnancy. Henri had argued but to no avail, his mind was made up. As it was, the man was driving poor Henri insane, worrying and fussing over her until she confided to Céleste that many months of this would drive her to distraction. Céleste had smiled and sympathised, but secretly thought that Henri didn't know how lucky she was, for she would give anything to carry Alex's child and to have him dance attendance on her.

  She kept such thoughts to herself though, and as much as she was looking forward to having Alex to herself, she was careful to be quiet and still and not speak unless she was spoken to as she had agreed with Henri. He should be made to see he was making her thoroughly miserable at this stage, just in case his resolve broke and the next year of misery could be forgotten before it began. They both strongly doubted it would work, but it was not hard to appear sad and withd
rawn as it was entirely true. She was utterly miserable, and besides, it was so much easier than having to feign happiness.

  She'd hardly seen Alex since he had spoken so harshly to her, and the brief periods she had been in his company had given her no indication to suspect that what Henri had said was true. Yet she clutched the knowledge to her heart. Lawrence had said he'd all but spoken the words, that he loved her, and she knew Henri would never say such a thing if it wasn't true. But oh, how she longed for a sign of it, some tiny clue that would shine a light over the coming months without him, when it would be all she had to cling to.

  And so the journey to Alex's ship, The Revenge, was undertaken in almost total silence, which wore on Céleste's nerves and made her almost desperate to speak to him. She stole a glance at him on the other side of the carriage and admired the strong line of his profile as he stared with resolution out of the carriage window. His long legs were stretched out as far as the confines of the carriage would allow, and her eyes travelled over the wide expanse of his chest, those massive shoulders and strong muscular arms that had felt so wonderful when she had slept in their embrace. That seemed to be a lifetime ago, however, and the likelihood of it ever happening again seemed even more elusive.

  ***

  Alex kept his gaze fixed on the countryside as it slid past the carriage windows and did everything in his power to ignore the young woman opposite. He could feel her eyes on him, travelling over him like a caress. He gritted his teeth and ignored the insistent voice of his desires that had been tormenting him since the carriage door closed and Longueville disappeared from view. She wanted him. He knew it like he knew he was going straight to hell if he gave into desire. But he need only say the word and she was his for the taking. He could reach over now and pull her into his lap and discover the taste of her.

  And by God he wanted to know the taste of her. The idea of it tormented him, the longing to know ... to touch ... to taste. They could pass the time between now and reaching his ship in the most delicious manner imaginable. He closed his eyes and allowed himself, just for a moment, to imagine how she would feel in his arms, just how it would feel to envelope that slender body with his own and find his way beneath the layers of expensive cloth. He imagined loosening that pretty gown and revealing the lovely flesh beneath, his hands travelling over the silken expanse, his lips closing over first one breast, then the other, for both deserved equal attention. He took a moment to wonder if her nipples would be small and pink, the same shade as her mouth, and had to bite back a groan as his body ached with repressed need. Stop this, stop it now, he ordered himself. For the love of God he was an experienced man, not some callow youth who couldn't control his own desires.