Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

J enna woke and stretched. Her heart jolted upon realizing the bed was empty, and Cillian was not in his bedchamber. The room was bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the heavy drapes. She sat up in the center of the bed, the sheets pooling around her waist, and blushed as she recalled the entirety of yesterday. Drinking had been an impetuous decision as she struggled with the desire to kiss him and express all her longing for the past five years.

With a sigh, she hurriedly performed her ablutions and packed her small valise. Each motion was filled with a sense of urgency, a desire to escape before her emotions could overwhelm her again. Several minutes later, Anne and Jenna made their farewells to the few servants who were awake and bustling about the estate. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-covered grass and blooming flowers.

Cillian was still not at his estate, and Jenna debated leaving him a letter, then decided against it. Surely, she would see him again in town. Their repaired carriage was parked in the forecourt, and they entered the equipage. It rumbled into motion, the wheels crunching over the gravel drive, and her heart gave a frightful squeeze. She brushed aside the carriage curtain and looked outside at the manor and estate grounds, taking in the grand fa?ade of the house, the meticulously tended gardens, and the distant rolling hills.

As the carriage moved further away, the manor became a shrinking silhouette against the horizon until it was no longer discernible in the distance. The numbness which had surrounded her heart for so very long was easing. That it even did so felt frightening, but Jenna refused to dwell on the reason.

She traveled another couple of hours to Aunt Bess's estate, her thoughts still lingering on the sensual and tender moments she had shared with Cillian. The carriage ride was smooth, the countryside passing by in a blur of green fields and scattered cottages. As she approached her aunt's manor, a sense of anticipation filled her. It had been too long since she had visited Aunt Bess, and Jenna was eager to see her dear aunt again.

Upon arriving, Jenna was greeted warmly by the servants, who promptly informed her that her aunt was resting in her chambers. They guided her through the familiar halls to the cozy, sunlit room where Aunt Bess lay propped up on a pile of pillows, a teacup in hand.

"Jenna, my dear!" Aunt Bess exclaimed, her face lighting up with delight, her brown eyes gleaming. "What a wonderful surprise! Why are you here?"

Jenna rushed to her aunt's side, enveloping her in a gentle hug. After withdrawing, she ran a critical gaze over her aunt. Thankfully she did not look gaunt or terribly ill. In truth, her aunt seemed plumper than the last time Jenna visited her.

"Aunt Bess, it is so wonderful to see you. We received your letter that you were not feeling well, so I came as soon as I could."

Aunt Bess patted her hand affectionately. "Just a small cold, my dear. The physician assures me I will be right as rain in no time. But your visit is the best medicine."

Jenna smiled, feeling a wave of relief. "I am glad to hear that. I was worried about you."

"There is no need to worry," Aunt Bess said with a reassuring smile. "I will be ready to travel to town in a week. I feel up to it already, but the physician insists on a bit more rest."

"Then I'll stay with you for the week," Jenna declared, her tone resolute. "We can catch up and keep each other company. Mama and Cousin Elizabeth also send their regards."

Aunt Bess's eyes twinkled. "Oh, that would be lovely. I have missed our time together."

They spent the afternoon talking and playing cards, the conversation flowing easily as they shared stories and laughter. Aunt Bess, despite her slight cold, was as lively and spirited as ever, her wit and charm undiminished by illness.

The next day, Jenna spent her morning walking through the small manor gardens, delighting in the fresh air and beauty of the countryside. The vibrant colors of blooming flowers and the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle filled her senses, and she spread her blanket under a towering elm and opened the book she brought to read. Jenna tried her best not to think of Cillian and wondered about his day, envisioning him working diligently to restore his estates.

She sat with Aunt Bess, reading. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. Jenna tried to turn her thoughts away from Cillian, but it proved frustratingly challenging. With a groan, she set down the book, toed off her shoes, and curled her legs beneath her chin, seeking comfort in the familiar position.

Aunt Bess turned to Jenna with a knowing look. "You seem to have a lot on your mind, my dear. Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Jenna frowned. "It is ... complicated, Aunt Bess."

"I like complicated matters," she said, preparing two cups of tea. "I also like that you seem restless."

"Is it a good thing to be restless?"

Her aunt hesitated and then said, "Yes, because you have grown numb, and whatever is making you come alive again, I am grateful."

Shock scattered Jenna's thoughts, and she stared helplessly at her aunt. "I … numb?"

"Did you think we did not know it?"

"We?"

"Yes, your mother, your brother, your Aunt Margaret? That is the reason Maggie asked you to chaperone dear Elizabeth. We were all hoping it would pull you from your melancholy."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I am not unhappy, Aunt. How absurd for you to think so."

Her aunt finished preparing the tea and handed her one. Then she sat on the sofa facing Jenna. Aunt Bess stared at her with a thoughtful expression. "You might not be unhappy … but you are most definitely not happy. I think you have been numb for a very long time and were simply existing. That is no way for a young lady of your beauty and vibrancy to live."

There was a tightness across her chest that made it difficult to breathe. For so many years, she had done her best to never reveal to her family her aloneness. For almost a year, every night, she had dreamt about the past and Cillian. She had never shared that to protect herself from the ache of pain that tormented her; she learned to stop feeling so intensely, finding peace in her guardedness. Being with Cillian again, even if briefly, indeed threatened that numbness she used to protect herself. Even now, remembering their courtship and the happiness she had experienced falling in love with the viscount inevitably brought back the ache of loss, the pain of separation.

"If you do not wish to speak about it, my dear, I do understand," Aunt Bess said with a smile. "However, I beg you to tell me what has unsettled you. Indulge this old lady."

Clearing her throat, Jenna briefly explained the broken wheel and finding abode with Viscount Sallis.

Aunt Bess's gaze sharpened. "Ah, he made a public show of courting you a few years ago and then vanished. Your mother and I never fully understood what happened."

Flushing, she told her aunt what had happened five years ago. It took a few minutes, and at the end of her recount, Jenna said, "The pain of the past does not go away because we misunderstood each other. If there was genuine attachment and love, how did it all go so wrong, Aunt Bess?"

"You were rather young, Jenna."

"I loved him," she said softly. "It shattered me that he might want me for my fortune."

"Many people in the ton marry because of money. While it is crass to admit it, it is the truth."

"I know," Jenna whispered, toying with the handle of the teacup, ruthlessly suppressing the ache wanting to rise inside her heart. "That Lord Sallis did not confide his dire straits was proof to me that it was my fortune he needed when in truth … it was his pride that kept him from telling me. Instead of showing me his vulnerability when I accused him, he suggested he would blackmail me into marrying him, and that … that only proved to me his dastardly villainy, but I can see now that was not the reason the viscount courted me."

"Are you certain it was his pride that he kept the truth from you?"

She met her aunt's eyes. "Yes, or perhaps he did not trust me with the information."

"How can you be so certain he was not a fortune hunter? Recall back then you turned down at least seven offers of courtship for that very fear."

Jenna frowned. "Aunt Bess, you shall not repeat anything I confide in you today. Not even to mama."

Her aunt sniffed in affront. "I have never been a gossip, my dear. Now out with it."

"Lord Sallis is still in dire straits; however, he has not courted anyone else."

"Goodness. Are you certain?"

"Yes. He has not been in town for the last few seasons. At least I did not encounter him at any events. So many different rumors swirled about him. My friends and I even discussed a few at 48 Berkeley Square, but those gossips are different from the gentleman I encountered these last few days. It is so incredible how the years fell away, and I feel as if I know him well; then I look into his eyes and see a stranger and realize I barely scratched his surface five years ago."

Jenna looked away from her aunt, afraid her aunt would see the naked longing in her eyes, along with the fear of allowing him inside again only to suffer. Yet she ached so desperately for all the things she had denied herself with Cillian.

"Matters of the heart are not understood by us mere mortals. The heart leads, and we can only succumb to its coils," Aunt Bess said with a wistful sigh.

"Aunt, I ask for your discretion. I wish to visit the viscount."

"I think it quite permissible given your age," Aunt Bess said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Do you know what I wish to ask?"

"Yes, you plan to call upon the viscount."

Laughing, Jenna said, "Am I that transparent?"

Aunt Bess reached across the table, gently squeezing Jenna's hand. "I see a spark of willfulness in you I have not seen in a few years, and given how well I know you, it was an inevitable conclusion," her aunt said. "You are a woman of good sense, my dear, even if you can be rather … incorrigible, and I daresay I encourage it in this instance. Do promise me you will be cautious. Not only with your reputation but also with your heart."

Jenna felt a lump in her throat. "Thank you, Aunt Bess. I promise I'll be careful."

Jenna spent three days away from Cillian before she succumbed to the desire pulling her toward him. She dressed in boy's trousers, a loose shirt, and sturdy riding boots. It was liberating to wear clothes that allowed her to move freely and ride astride without worrying about decorum. There was a possibility he had departed for town, but she still called for a horse to be saddled and rode swiftly toward the viscount's manor, the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. The countryside sped by in a blur of green and gold, and Jenna felt a sense of joy she had not experienced in years.

Upon arriving at the manor, she grinned, for the butler seemed far too delighted that she had returned.

"Milord is in the woods hunting, Lady Jenna."

"Thank you, Williamson. I shall visit him."

He gave her a pleased nod. Hiding her smile, she trotted into the woodlands, listening to the sounds of the forest to determine where he was. The dense trees and undergrowth felt like a sanctuary, and Jenna took her time along the pathway. She wrinkled her nose because she was nervous about seeing him again.

Silly .

Jenna dismounted, loosely tied the reins, and started to walk. It took her several minutes, but she found Cillian by following the sound of shots and the occasional rustle of birds taking flight. He seemed to be finished, for he had his game bag in one hand and his hunting rifle in the other. Cillian was informally dressed in a loose white shirt, breeches tucked into knee-high boots, his hair windswept and tousled by the breeze. The sight of him, so rugged and effortlessly handsome, made her heart quicken and a flush mount in her cheeks.

"Cillian," she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried through the stillness of the woods.

He looked up, his gaze locking onto hers, and a myriad of emotions flickered across his face—surprise, heat, and something deeper, something that made her chest tighten. The sunlight filtering through the canopy above dappled his figure in golden light, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes as he regarded Jenna.

"Hullo," she murmured. "I … I …" Her throat closed over the words, and she helplessly stared at him. "Hullo."

Cillian dropped the bag of game and walked toward Jenna, his regard unwavering. Those wretched nerves cascaded through her, and she smoothed her gloved palms down the side of her trousers.

Jenna's heart was a drumbeat of longing and anticipation. When he was almost upon her, she said, "Cillian, I—"

Her words broke off on a gasp as he slipped a hand around her waist, hauled her against his chest and took her mouth in a kiss of violent tenderness and passion.

Oh God .