Chapter 1

One

Yorkshire , England

November, 1819

M ercy, what the devil was he doing here? Celia stared, her mouth agape. She'd never imagined she would see him again—let alone in her family's drawing-room. He was supposed to be a secret—her secret. A long-ago memory never to be faced again. And a bad one at that!

"Collect yourself," Rosie whispered to Celia from behind her fan.

Realizing she was gaping, Celia snapped her mouth shut and inhaled a steadying breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she asked, "What is he doing here?"

"You act as if I should know," Rosie replied, her face pale. "It is a house party. Perhaps your brother invited him?" She averted her gaze and whispered, "We may be in trouble."

"I assure you Charles did not invite him. I know all of my brother's friends, and Lord Crawford is not among them," Celia said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. "And neither will we find ourselves in trouble. I will ensure we do not."

"How?" Rosie asked. "The duke may already know everything."

"Impossible, for if he had found out, he'd of already taken me to task." Celia pursed her lips in annoyance. She had to convince Lord Crawford to keep quiet.

His deep green eyes collided with hers, and in another heartbeat, he was heading toward her. Panic gripped her, and her hands shook. She could not allow him to corner her—could not allow for anyone to discover that she knew him.

"Good Lord! It seems he is coming toward us." Rosie stared in his direction, her eyes wide.

Celia spun on her heels and strode for the door. She would not allow him to control this situation. So far as her family knew, Lord Crawford was a stranger. Celia was certain Charles had never discovered the peril she'd placed herself in six months prior, and she did not mean for him to discover it now. Heart pounding, she strode toward the door, hoping Lord Crawford would soon follow.

If she could lure him away from the drawing room, maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to hold his tongue. He was no doubt a scoundrel, but surely he had no wish to face the parson's noose.

Almost there she increased her pace.

"Celia, dear."

A shiver ran through her at Charles's voice, and she froze. Celia plastered a forced smile on to her lips. Double drat! She was cornered. Celia made a slow turn to greet her brother. "Yes, Charles?" She asked sweetly.

"Come meet our guest." Charles glanced toward Lord Crawford while Celia's sister-in-law Julia threaded her arm through Celia's.

Celia did her best to force what she hoped was a welcoming grin as they approached Lord Crawford. She met his gaze. The devil had mischief in his eyes. As much as she did not want to react to him, she could not stop her traitorous body from warming all over. Ignoring the sensations he caused within her, she lifted a prayer that he would follow along with her charade.

She turned her attention to Charles. "I thought all the guests had arrived yesterday."

"All but one. Lord Crawford joined us this afternoon," Charles said, then turned his attention to the marquess. "It is a pleasure to introduce my sister, Lady Celia Kendal."

Celia hesitated for a heartbeat, then said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord." She dipped a customary curtsey, then allowed Lord Crawford to capture her hand. Staring into his eyes, she silently begging him not to reveal their prior acquaintance.

"I feel as though I already know you," he said, amusement dancing in his gaze. He gave a roguish grin, then kissed her hand. "I look forward to becoming better acquainted."

"Indeed, we shall," she said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. "If you will excuse me." She gave a quick grin, then pivoted toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Julia asked. "Perhaps I will join you."

Celia had no destination other than away from the drawing room, but she would not confess that fact. Instead, she looked back at Julia, then waved her fan toward the hall and franticly searched her mind for an excuse to leave. "There is no need to accompany me. I simply forgot something in my room. I will be back in a trice. I promise. You should stay and enjoy the guests."

"Very well." Julia nodded.

Celia met Lord Crawford's gaze and tried to convey her thoughts: follow me. She redirected her gaze and strode toward the hall with slow, measured steps. When she reached the threshold, she tossed another glance over her shoulder, first meeting his gaze, then nodding toward the entrance.

She stepped out of the drawing-room to wait a few paces down the corridor. Her heart pounded as the nearby ticking of a clock counted the seconds. Just as she was growing frustrated, Lord Crawford appeared. Celia turned and strode down the hall, her steps much faster this time. Reaching the music room, she stepped inside.

Lord Crawford followed, a grin lighting his deep green eyes. "No need for cat and mouse games, sweeting. A simple invitation would have sufficed."

Celia closed the door and leaned against it. "What are you doing here?" She peered at him.

"I was lured by an ethereal beauty with blond curls and the most captivating blue eyes." He drew closer to her. "A lady who adores mischief and sets my blood on fire."

Celia's cheeks warmed, a mixture of anger and longing fogging up her thoughts. She shook her head. "That is not what I mean, and you well know it."

He pushed a curl back from her cheek. "I'll wager not, but you enjoy the fact that you were able to entice me into following you. The victory has you feeling powerful… desirable."

"Do stop." She swatted his hand away and stepped to the side. "What are you doing at my home? And when will you be leaving?"

"When you caught sight of me in the drawing-room, I saw your eyes light up for a moment before fear darkened their shade. You were happy to see me." He leaned against the piano. "Go on, deny it."

"I… This is ridiculous." She heaved a sigh and took several steps back. "I was surprised to find you in my home. Nothing more."

He closed the distance between them. Caught her in his arms and pulled her against him. "You were elated."

Her blood turned molten, her heart beating rapidly. "I was not," she lied, though she did not attempt to leave his embrace.

"Tell me you have not thought of me since that day?" He stared into her eyes, searching.

Celia swallowed hard, memories of their time together scrolling through her mind. The way he had kissed her. The way her body had come alive in his arms. She'd wanted him then. She wanted him now. She bit her lip—hard. "I have not." The fallacy slid off her tongue.

"Lier," he whispered against her lips before pressing his mouth to hers.

She gave no resistance, her arms coming up to encircle his neck as their mouths melded together, hot and wet and hungry. Her entire body thrummed with desire as he kissed her, deep and hard—as she kissed him back. A small moan tore from deep within her.

He pulled his mouth from hers, smiled a roguish grin. "You missed me."

"Very well, I missed you. However, that does not mean that I am happy to see you." She moved her arms back to her sides. "In fact, I am the exact opposite of happy."

"You wound me." He said, a feigned look of hurt altering his expression. "And after I went to so much trouble."

She smirked up at him. "Tell me about that. How is it you have come to be here? In my home."

He nuzzled his face into her hair and said, "If you insist."

"I do." She stiffened her back and stepped from his embrace.

He released her and scrubbed his hand over his jaw. "I made a rather substantial donation to the Duchess's home for women. The sort that is too large to ignore."

"Scoundrel," Celia swatted his arm.

"I have never denied the fact." He caught her by the waist. "And you like that about me."

"I most certainly do not." She tried to look indignant. "I am a lady, Lord Crawford." Old anger swarmed through her. Anger she thought she'd thought she left in the past.

"Believe me when I say I am all too aware of the fact." He drew nearer.

She placed the palms of her hands against his hard, muscled chest. "Then why, pray tell, are you here?" If he took her back in his arms, she doubted her ability to resist. It had taken everything in her to deny herself—to deny them both that day. She simply did not have it in her to do it again.

"I could not stop thinking about you. It is the damndest thing, but I cannot get you out of my mind." He stroked a finger across her jaw. "I had to see you again."

She pulled away from his touch even as she wanted to lean in. "And now that you have?" Celia asked.

His green eyes smoldered as he caught her wrist and brought her arm around his neck. "I intend to taste you again."

Her resistance crumbled. Celia thought she would incinerate as his mouth took hers, his tongue plundering and claiming. Then all thoughts save for one fled her mind—she wanted him.