Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

J enna sat up in the large bed, fragments of memories of the evening before rolling through her—the fair, swimming in the lake, tumbling into sleep and then waking Cillian before dawn to make love with her. Her skin felt hot and sensitive, and a low, deep throb tormented the secret places of her body. Even now, she still wanted him. When would this ache ever stop? She blushed, recalling their sexual excess, then laughed.

Jenna slipped out of bed, gasping when she realized it was well into the afternoon. How had she slept so long? And why hadn't he woken her? Aunt Bess would surely find her recent behavior scandalous. Jenna quickly dressed as best she could without a servant's help and made her way downstairs, her thoughts racing.

The manor was unusually quiet. As she searched the rooms, she found no sign of the servants or Cillian. Even the library, which she thought would be occupied, was empty. It occurred to her that he might be working with his tenant farmers or out hunting. Jenna bit her lower lip, her mind whirling. Though tempted to stay, she knew she needed to return to her aunt's home.

Deciding to leave him a note, she hurried to the large desk and sat down. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a sheaf of paper and smoothed it onto the table. But as she stared at the blank page, uncertainty gripped her. What could she possibly say? Should she thank him for the wonderful time and hope to see him soon in town? Should she confess that the joy she felt with him had been absent from her life for far too long?

"Oh, Jenna, what are you thinking?" she murmured. "Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be."

She reached for the quill but noticed the inkwell was empty. Frustrated, she rummaged through the desk drawers, searching for a grinding stone or pestle, but found none. In the bottom drawer, a large ornate box caught her eye. She retrieved it and carefully opened the latch. Inside was an envelope that looked startlingly familiar.

Her fingers hovered, and her heart started to pound. Jenna took the letter, opened it, and lowered her eyes to the words.

Dearest Cillian,

I am writing to confess that I am falling in love with you. There, I've said it, and I feel no fear because whenever I look into your eyes, I sense the answer to the question that haunts me during sleepless nights. Do you hold any tendre for me?

As I write this, I am smiling, imagining the alarm my forwardness might cause you. I was not so bold a few months ago, but then I met the most wonderful friends who taught me that there is no shame in being imperfect. With them, I can laugh without worrying if I am too loud, walk barefoot, run down hallways, and skip without expectations of ladylike behavior. With my friends, we speak aloud the thoughts in our hearts and confess our admiration for the gentlemen in the ton.

Parents and governesses led us to believe that even thinking such thoughts was degrading, improper, and scandalous. I daresay perhaps those who devised such ridiculous rules for us ladies merely feared our greatness. What men have done, women can most certainly do, and it does not make us any less.

You make me feel the same way my friends do—as if you cherish the person I am and not the biddable creature I am expected to pretend to be. I like you. So very much. I like your kisses so very much. I like you, Lord Sallis, most ardently.

Meet me outside in the gardens at Lady M's midnight ball. I eagerly await dancing with you under the stars and feeling your arms around me again.

Yours sincerely,

Jenna

The world fell from beneath Jenna's feet, her throat burned, and her eyes filled with tears. This was the most intimate and damning letter she had written to Cillian when she had been caught in the throes of love. He had not burned it. Her hands shook as she read it again and again.

Cillian had owned the means to blackmail her into marriage then, and he had not. Every moment spent together, the past and the present, blended. She allowed herself to recall every moment that she had shut from her heart because of the pain and agony the recollection brought.

She recalled her conversation with Prue and the shock of realizing he might be a fortune hunter. Jenna remembered seeing the other lady in his arms and feeling so certain he had betrayed her, given his reputation as a libertine. Though he had threatened to blackmail her into marriage, something she believed he would do for he wanted her fortune and connections, Cillian had stayed his hand. Instead of marrying another, he returned to his home and worked tirelessly to fix what his father had given him in a broken state.

For me, everything for me. Five years of endless pushing and toiling to save his estate, never marrying another, eschewing female companionship … all to hold onto the thought of me … of us.

The enormity of it struck her anew. Every tear, sleepless night, moment of doubt she had endured, thinking he was like every other man—yet he had proven different. He had chosen to protect her honor despite his desperate circumstances.

A harsh sob of grief and pain ripped from Jenna's throat, and tears splashed down her cheeks.

"Five years wasted ," she whispered, her voice trembling with regret.

She stared down at the letter in her hands, the paper now symbolized lost time and misplaced distrust. Her fingers loosened, and she let it fall, watching as it fluttered gently to the carpeted floor, a silent witness to the depth of her sorrow and the weight of her regret. Jenna stood abruptly, the turmoil in her chest too much to bear. She fled the library, desperate to escape the chaos of her emotions. Her steps were frantic as she hurried down the hallway, her thoughts spinning wildly.

Suddenly, Cillian appeared, walking toward her with a stack of ledgers balanced in his arms.

"Jenna?" he called, his voice sharp with concern. "What's wrong? You look pale, and you're shaking."

"I … I need to leave," she stammered, raising her hands to ward him off when he reached for her. "I must return to my aunt. I can't stay here another minute."

He stilled, the tension between them palpable. "Will you come back?"

"Not for a while … I … I need to think … please …" Her voice broke, and she saw the flicker of pain in his eyes as he cursed under his breath, a low, rough sound of bleak acceptance. Realizing he would let her go, she felt a bittersweet relief wash over her. Jenna rushed past him without another word, bolting outside toward the stables.

Her emotions were a tangled mess—sorrow, pain, and something else she couldn't quite name. She reached the stables, her hands trembling as she saddled her horse with swift efficiency. Mounting in one fluid motion, she spurred the horse into a gallop, the rolling countryside blurring past her as she fled. The ache in her chest grew heavier, a crushing weight that tightened with every breath.

Harsh sobs tore from her throat as she leaned over the horse's neck, urging it onward. Once again, memories assaulted her, relentless in their vividness—her first dance with Cillian, their first kiss, the agony of discovering his secrets, the sight of another woman in his arms, the shock of his blackmail. These painful recollections clashed with the joy she'd felt upon seeing him again, the tenderness in his touch, the passion in his gaze, and the way he had made love to her with such care and intensity. The love that had once filled her heart now mingled with a profound sense of loss and grief.

"Is this my fault?" Jenna sobbed, her chest heaving with the effort of holding back the tears.

She couldn't understand why the pain cleaved her so deeply. "Because I love him … and I let him down! I let us down," she screamed, her voice carried away by the wind.

She slowed her horse, drawing on the reins, the realization hitting her like a physical blow—she had to go back. Jenna turned around, her heart pounding, when she heard her name carried on the wind. Looking up, she saw another rider approaching in the distance. Even without hearing a shout, she knew it was Cillian.

The numbness that had enveloped her shattered, leaving her raw with too many chaotic emotions. She waited, tears streaming down her face, uncaring that Cillian would see her so vulnerable. She had hidden her grief and pain from everyone for years, hating the idea of being seen as weak. But now, she didn't care. Let him see her broken; she no longer had the strength to hide it.

He was upon her instantly, leaping from his horse before it stopped fully.

"Cillian," she cried, alarm and relief warring in her chest.

"Don't run from me, Jenna," he said desperately, striding toward her with rapid, determined steps. His tension was palpable, his eyes dark with a dangerous heat.

She flung herself from the saddle without thinking, instinctively knowing he would catch her. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly to his chest. Jenna buried her face against him, inhaling his familiar, comforting scent deeply. It was only then that she noticed the tremors running through his body, and a wave of awe whispered through her.

He cupped her cheeks, lifting her face to meet his gaze. The wild, raw emotions in his eyes almost frightened her. "Cillian," she gasped, struggling to find the right words. "I …"

"Once, you ran from me, and I didn't chase you," he snarled, his voice rough with regret. "I've regretted it every damn day since. Never again, Jenna. Do you hear me? Never again."

At that moment, she realized he would always come for her, even when she couldn't see clearly and was running from her fears.

"Wherever you run, I'll damn well chase you down—"

His words were cut off as she slammed her mouth against his, kissing him fiercely, a sob of wild grief, pain, and love tearing from her heart.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged against her lips. "Do you not know that I love you?" he whispered, his voice filled with agonized need.

"Cillian—"

"I love you," he hissed, his expression of raw emotion. His eyes blazed with intensity, and tension radiated from him. "I've loved you since the first night we met. I never stopped. Even with all the distance between us, my longing for you grew. I don't know why you ran from me, but I promise you, whatever it is—"

"I was wrong ," she sobbed, feeling as if a flame were burning through her soul, consuming her regret and leaving only a painful clarity. "I ran from you and never gave you a chance … and it crushed me, Cillian. But I never stopped loving you; now it feels like five years were wasted. So much we could have done. I am so sorry I let you down."

"Jenna, please don't cry," he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. "We won't dwell on the past. It happened, but we're still here together. I've felt like a fool, too, wondering what if I had chased you then? What if I came to you two years ago instead of this year?"

His expression hardened with determination. "Stay with me," Cillian said firmly. "Write your aunt a letter. You haven't given me the agreed twenty days yet, and by God, I will have them all. We'll start them now and see where we go from there."

"I … I don't want to give you twenty days," she whispered.

Cillian froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Jenna?" he asked gruffly.

"I want a lifetime with you," she choked out, tears streaming down her face. "No more wasted moments. I love you, and I never want to run from you again. The only place I want to be is here, in your arms. I love you so much, Cillian."

He seemed to stop breathing for a moment, his eyes glittering with an intense light. "I'll never let you take this back," he vowed, his voice trembling with emotion.

"I don't want to take it back," she said, nodding, her heart pounding. "I want to stay, to be with you, always."

He dipped his head, pressing his mouth to her hair before kissing her again, over and over, as if he couldn't get enough of her. "I'm sending a letter to the vicar, and we're calling the banns. You're staying with me until we're married."

Jenna laughed, a sound of pure joy blossoming from her heart.

She laughed and cried at the same time, unable to stop. He kissed her wet cheeks, running his hands over her shaking shoulders. "Yes, Cillian, I will marry you."