Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

" C illian," Jenna softly moaned as he surged deep inside her body.

His lover slipped her hands to his shoulders and buried her face in the curve of his throat. She kissed his flesh there and arched her hips to meet his thrust. Cillian groaned. She was tight and hot, fitting him perfectly, gripping his cock like a silken glove. He wanted to make love to her every way he had ever done it before and try everything he had never experienced. They had returned to the manor where they shared a bath together, before he dried and placed her on the bed. Cillian then took more than an hour, slowly loving her with the tender care and passion she should have experienced for the first time.

This was the third time he was making love to her for the night, and still, Cillian felt it was not enough. His balls tightened with the need to make her scream his name again, and he rolled his hips, fucking her slowly and deeply. Jenna was a most responsive and passionate lover. Her short nails raked against his back, her body arched, and her pussy clamped on his cock so tightly as she released that he groaned.

He pulled his cock from her, flipped her onto her belly and kissed the lush globes of her buttocks. Reaching for one of the pillows, he shoved his under her belly, arching her rump into the air. Cillian widened her legs, smiling as her body pinkened. It fascinated him that she blushed with her entire body.

"I have seen this very pose in an erotic picture book," she murmured. "I wondered about it."

"I am now rethinking telling my sister about 48 Berkeley Square."

Jenna's soft laugh sank inside his body.

"You cannot be certain that is where I discovered that book."

"I am sure of it." He licked her buttocks and then down to her sex. God, she tasted so damn good.

Cillian teased her clitoris and plump folds until she was panting and arching against his mouth for more. His lover climaxed with a loud cry, her entire body shaking. He climbed over her, bringing his weight down onto her body and kissing her nape. Gently, for he knew in this position he would feel larger, and she was so damn tight, he started to push his cock inside.

Her fingers gripped his bed sheets, and she whimpered.

"Put one of your hands on your pussy, Jenna."

She gasped but complied.

"Now, stroke your clitoris. Work it however you want, fast and hard, or light and slowly."

To obey him, she had to arch her hips higher, pushing her buttocks into his groin and sliding his cock deeper. Her sweet moan of pleasure and her growing wetness were the signals he waited for. Cillian stroked his cock over and over, riding her harder than his previous loving. Jenna sobbed into the sheet as she climaxed once more. Moments later, he pulled from her, releasing his seed on her quivering buttocks.

Cillian frowned, recalling that the first time, he had not protected her against pregnancy. Hell . A part of him wanted to talk about it, but he sensed she would run away from him again. Jenna seemed to always run away whenever she felt too much, and he could not blame her, even though he wanted her to run into his arms. Not away.

He pushed off the bed, retrieved the warm washcloth, cleaned his release from her body, and cleaned himself. Once he was finished, he climbed into the bed. She had not moved from her position and seemed too exhausted to shift. He had been hard on her with his carnal appetites. When their gazes met, she smiled. Cillian's breath hitched. Any man would do anything for his woman who smiled at him that way—sweetly drowsy and satisfied.

She yawned, turned onto her right side, with her back to him, scooting closer to his body. He instinctively curved his body behind hers, pulling her closer, nestling her soft buttocks against his groin, cradling her thighs with his own. Cillian felt as if he breathed for the first time since losing her five years ago. He had never slept with a woman before Jenna. The feel of her in his arms grounded him in a way he had not anticipated, and it felt damn good—better than anything he had imagined.

"Should I send a footman to your aunt to deliver a note?" Cillian asked, his voice a low rumble as he held her close.

"My aunt knows I am incorrigible enough to spend the night with you."

How interesting . "Perhaps. However, it is raining, and she might worry that you had an accident."

"Thank you, Cillian," she murmured sleepily.

"Good. I will see to it," he replied, already planning the message in his mind he would send with a footman.

"Please let her know I am well and will return first thing in the morning."

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps first thing in the late evening."

She turned in the cage of his arms and peered at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "Late evening?"

"There is a fair in the village I would like you to attend with me," he said, his gaze locked onto hers, hoping she would agree.

Jenna smiled, her excitement lighting up her face. "A fair?"

"Yes."

"I would love to," she replied. "I have never attended a local fair."

Holding her close, he murmured, "I'll make sure the note is sent. And tomorrow, we'll enjoy the fair together."

As she settled against him, he felt the steady beat of her heart, a comforting rhythm that soothed his own.

"Cillian?"

"Hmm?"

"Did your mother love you?"

He stilled at the unexpected question. "She showed it after my father died."

Jenna slid her fingers through his so their palms fitted. "She was afraid to do so when he lived."

"Yes."

"I am glad she is showing it now," Jenna said softly before slipping into sleep.

The rain outside continued its gentle patter. The softness of her curves, the way her body seemed to relax into his, trusting and vulnerable, made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache. He realized then how much he craved this connection, this closeness, and how being with Jenna at this moment felt like something he could never let go of.

The very next day at noon, Jenna stood at the entrance of the village fair, her heart fluttering with excitement. The vibrant energy of the fair buzzed around them, filling the air with laughter, chatter, and the sounds of lively music. Aunt Bess had thoughtfully sent her fresh clothes, and Jenna now wore a soft yellow day dress that hugged her waist and flared gently at her hips, the delicate fabric swaying with each step she took. Her sturdy walking boots peeked out from beneath the hem. She wore no gloves, and she could not imagine what her mother would do should the countess see Jenna so carefree.

Earlier, she had sat before Cillian, feeling a wave of warmth and tenderness as he carefully untangled her hair, brushing it with such care that it gleamed. Instead of pinning it up, she decided to let her hair cascade freely over her shoulders, the loose waves rippling down her back. Jenna knew she looked lovely, but still, her breath caught in her throat every time he glanced up at her with that piercing gaze.

Cillian stood beside her, looking as handsome as ever in his casual attire. Each time their gazes met, she blushed, and he would only smile. Jenna did not understand how people in the ton engaged in discreet affairs. Whenever she felt Cillian's stare, she thought of the still tender ache between her thighs and all the wicked wantonness they had indulged in for the night.

"You will start a scandal if you do not stop blushing and staring at me in this lascivious manner, my lady," he drawled.

Jenna gasped, and he laughed.

She smiled as she looked around. The fair was bustling with activity, and it seemed as if the entire village had turned out for the event. "There are at least two hundred people here, I am certain of it."

"Ah, this summer fair is even more anticipated than our Maypole festivals. Even the squire and vicar should be here today with their wives."

The air was filled with the tantalizing scents of roasted pork, sweet buns, and freshly baked meat pies. People's laughter and chatter, the clinking of mugs filled with cider and ale, and the lively tambourines and violins were infectious.

Cillian's presence seemed to draw attention, and many people cast curious glances their way, whispering and nodding in approval. Jenna felt a surge of pride and happiness to be seen with him, even if it meant being the subject of speculation. Many waved, the familiarity in their actions so far different from what Jenna was used to. "They do not treat you as …"

"As a lord elevated above them?" he asked, humor dancing in his eyes.

She noted the many smiles and nods of respect and admiration, and awareness rushed through her. "The villagers are not deferential to you, but they respect you." Love you .

"I supposed they do."

As they walked through the fair, Jenna marveled at the variety of stalls. Vendors called out to them, offering samples of their wares. She couldn't resist the sweet aroma of a fresh meat pie and eagerly accepted a sample, savoring the rich flavor. Cillian chuckled at her enthusiasm and bought two more pies, handing one to her.

They continued to explore the fair, stopping at a stall selling cider and ale. Jenna accepted a mug of the crisp, refreshing cider, savoring the cool liquid as it washed away the rich taste of the meat pie she had just finished. Jenna's attention was drawn to a large stone circle where a group of ladies were dancing, their skirts swirling as they moved in time to a lively Irish reel played by a small group of musicians nearby. The cheerful notes of the fiddle, flute, and drum filled the air, beckoning her with their infectious rhythm. She found herself tapping her feet, humming along to the tune, her body instinctively responding to the music.

Unable to resist the pull of the dance, Jenna handed her mug to Cillian with a playful smile and joined the circle of dancers. As she took her place among them, the other ladies welcomed her with warm smiles and laughter. The dance began anew, and Jenna threw herself into it with joyous abandon, her yellow dress swirling around her legs as she twirled and spun with the other dancers.

Her feet moved swiftly, the steps of the reel coming naturally to her as she joined hands with one lady, then another, before spinning away in a flurry of movement. The lively pace filled her with a sense of exhilaration, her heart racing not just from the exertion but from the sheer delight of being part of something so vibrant and alive. The music seemed to flow through her, making her feel as though she were floating on air, every turn and leap lifting her spirit higher.

She could feel Cillian's eyes on her as she danced, his gaze burning into her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. Whenever she caught a glimpse of him standing at the edge of the circle, his broad shoulders and commanding presence unmistakable among the crowd, her breath would hitch in her throat. She knew he was watching her, and the knowledge sent a thrill through her that was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Jenna let herself be swept away by the music, her laughter ringing out as she lost herself in the dance. The world around her faded into a blur of color and sound, leaving only the music, the movement, and the heat of Cillian's gaze. She danced with a freedom and joy she had not known in years, feeling as if the constraints of her world had fallen away, leaving her light and untethered.

As the reel reached its crescendo, Jenna spun around one last time, her hair flying out around her, a radiant smile lighting up her face. When the music finally came to an end, she found herself breathless, exhilarated, and filled with a sense of accomplishment.

"That was wonderful, my lady," a few of the women praised her.

Jenna glanced at Cillian, who was still watching her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes alighted with something she could not quite name.

With a flushed face and a racing heart, Jenna curtsied to the other dancers and made her way back to Cillian, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She reached out for the mug of cider he still held, her fingers brushing against his as she took it from him. His touch, even that brief contact, sent a jolt of desire through her, and she wondered what it would be like to dance with him with such wild abandon.

Would it feel as wild and untamed as the loving they indulged in this morning against the door before they descended the stairs?

"Another wicked thought, my sweet?" he drawled.

As she sipped the cool cider, the refreshing liquid doing little to calm the heat that burned inside her, she peered at him over the rim of the mug. "I was recalling the way your cock felt inside me when you tupped me against the door earlier. It was wild and glorious."