Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

" N ever accept a wager to kiss a rogue. There is the danger of winning. A dare to do so can be even more dangerous ," was a beloved caution Jenna and her friends joked about at 48 Berkeley Square.

It was a warning she always kept firmly inside her heart, so it made little sense that she was pressed against the chest of Viscount Sallis, a gentleman who long held a reputation as a notorious rogue in the ton , their gazes locked in a fierce clash of wills. This was the gentleman who had attempted to blackmail her with the love poems and letters she'd written him because he needed an heiress, and she was the fool who almost handed herself over to him with her infatuation.

Why am I not shoving him away? Where is my outrage?

Being so close to Lord Sallis again was more overwhelming than she had anticipated; that was the only explanation. How long had it been since they exchanged bows and curtsies? How long had it been since they danced or shared a secret smile across a crowded ballroom? How long had it been since she inhaled his rousing, masculine scent?

A lump grew in Jenna's throat as she recalled the many nights she wept against her pillows, his name an aching, unanswered cry in her bedchamber. The pain of those memories intertwined with the undeniable attraction she still felt for him, made her heart squeeze.

The cool night air wrapped around them, but Jenna felt an inexplicable warmth radiating from Cillian's body, seeping into her bones. His dark golden eyes were filled with an intensity that both frightened and fascinated Jenna. She tried to summon the anger and indignation she had felt moments ago, but it was difficult when he was so close, his breath mingling with hers.

"You have not changed, my lord," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of longing and resentment. "Still the same arrogant, charming rogue who owns all the mannerisms of a seasoned rake."

One dark eyebrow arched, his expression sardonic. "And you, Lady Jenna, are still the most captivating woman I have ever known," he replied, his tone softening. "The years have only made you more enchanting. How is it even possible?"

The memories of their wicked moments, the tender whispers, and the stolen kisses flooded her mind, and her heart raced in reaction.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why now, after all this time?"

"Because I cannot forget you, Jenna," he said, a single finger trailing over her cheek. "I've tried, but it's impossible. You are in my thoughts, my dreams … everywhere I turn. It is damn frustrating, but it is the truth of the matter."

"Empty flattery!" she snapped, arching away from him.

Something wicked and provocative gleamed in his gaze. "Flattery is what a scoundrel does, hmm? However, it is merely the truth wrapped in layers of sweetness, not something abominable for you to recoil so."

Cillian bent his dark head toward hers, and his warm breath caressed her lips. "Do you dare, Jenna?" he drawled.

She jutted her chin. "What reason do I have to accept such an outrageous dare from you ?"

"Never say you have not been longing to taste me again?"

Jenna stared at the viscount with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why is it that my heart pounds so much only with you? Why am I still so drawn to you, bloody rogue?

It frightened Jenna that he stirred her so easily despite the years and distance between them. Her conviction to always stay away from the viscount and never get entangled with him again wavered, shocking her. She placed her hand against his chest and pushed. He released her at once and stepped back.

"We have not spoken in years," she said, fisting her hands at her side. "Tell me why you have approached me this night." Jenna had to know so this wretch did not haunt her steps.

"Lord Peter means to propose marriage to you … the first such offer you will receive in years. Am I correct?"

Jenna's eyes widened in shock. " Marriage? Lord Peter? "

"Hmm, and I mean to disrupt his plans," he said, the small quirk of his mouth far too darkly amusing for comfort.

She took a step back. "I've only just met Lord Peter this season. How could he possibly consider marriage so soon? Surely you are mistaken in your information."

Cillian's expression darkened, his gaze intense and cunning. "There is no doubt of his intentions. He sees your beauty, your wit, and, of course, your dowry and wants you. However, he cannot have you."

A startled laugh ripped from her. "How audacious of you to presume who can woo me! Only I can determine—"

"I dare, Jenna," he hissed. "Do you wish to know why?"

Their gazes clashed and she trembled. The hunger in Cillian's gaze stole her breath, disposed her of all her wits and suddenly she understood him more than she wanted to—the viscount maddeningly still desired her and possibly her fortune. Jenna felt a mix of confusion and unease at the revelation. She was also aware of the silly, outrageous pounding of her heart.

Pushing aside all awareness of Cillian, she considered Lord Peter. Was her company so delightful that a man would propose marriage after such a brief acquaintance? Or was it, as Cillian suggested, merely her dowry that attracted Lord Peter?

She glanced at Cillian, another alarming awareness blossoming through her. "You mention Lord Peter's desire for my dowry so that I will lose any interest in him should I admit to having one."

A faint, disinterested smile touched his mouth. "Of course, I do. After all, your disdain for fortune hunters is well known. Except … you seem blinded to Lord Peter's greed. How can I not be a good friend and inform you?"

The simple truth was a brutal shock to her senses. Jenna realized that the viscount spoke to her differently now, as if he no longer hid parts of himself that had once been obscured under a charming veneer.

Who are you, Cillian? How much of you had I known then?

He stepped toward her, but Jenna quickly moved away, avoiding his touch. It was imperative that no part of her weakened toward this scoundrel. Even if five long years had passed, no forgiveness entered her heart for how he wounded her.

"I bid you a good evening, Lord Sallis," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please let our paths never cross again. If we do, I shall be discourteous and not acknowledge you."

I cannot fall under your spell again .

Without waiting for his response, she turned and hurried away, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed to escape his presence, to clear her mind and regain her composure. Jenna made her way back to the ballroom, discreetly weaving through the crowd. Her heart still quaked from the encounter with Cillian, and she needed to regain her composure. She approached her mother and cousin, who seemed to be having a grand time, laughing and chatting behind their fans as they observed the dance floor.

"Jenna?" her mother said sharply. "You seem quite pale."

Jenna tenderly rubbed a fingertip at the center of her forehead, soothing away the gathering headache. "A slight headache, Mama."

"Oh!" her cousin pouted, disappointment darkening her eyes. "Does this mean we have to leave, Jenna? So soon?"

"No. It is very early, not yet midnight. I shall return home and send back the carriage."

Her mother frowned, the concern in her gaze deepening. "I will not have you leave without a chaperone—"

Jenna's low, amused laugh cut off her mother, who glared at her. "Mama, I am aware Aunt Meredith asked me to accompany Elizabeth to act as her chaperone. I am no longer a debutante who needs someone to shadow my every step. I do not need the pretense of it."

Jenna had been quite aware that her mother, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Bess all seemed tentative whenever her spinster status was brought into sharp consideration.

Her mother's expression softened slightly, though she still looked worried. "Very well, but be careful, Jenna. The night can be unpredictable."

"I will, Mama," Jenna assured her.

She gave her mother and cousin a reassuring smile before turning away. As she walked from the ballroom, Jenna felt a sense of relief mingled with the residual tension from her encounter with Cillian. She needed the comfort of familiar faces and the strength of her friends at Berkeley Square to help her navigate the emotional storm raging within her. Once outside, the cool night air helped clear her mind. Jenna swiftly arranged for the carriage to take her away, then stepped inside, the sound of the ball fading behind her. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

Cillian crowded her thoughts. The mocking heat in his golden-brown eyes, so intense and piercing, seemed to strip away her defenses. His over-long hair, dark and wavy, curled atop his nape and forehead, lending him that dangerous, rakish air that had always set him apart. The sharp angles of his face, the strong jawline, and the confident set of his lips completed the image of a man who knew his power over others and reveled in it. The heat of his body as he stood so close to her and his scent—earthy with a hint of spice—lingered in her mind. She inhaled deeply, as if he were still close to her, her senses filled with the memory of him.

Though it was only several minutes, the journey seemed to stretch on endlessly. By the time she arrived at Berkeley Square, her heart was knotted with uncertainty and fear. She descended from the carriage and informed the coachman he could return to the ball to await her mother and cousin. She hastened up the cobbled steps, and their new underbutler opened the door and bowed.

"Lady Jenna," he greeted, taking her cloak.

"How is Gibbs, Henry?"

As the grandson of their fiercely loving and loyal butler, he understood how much they valued and loved his grandfather.

"He is rather enjoying married life and is speaking about taking his new bride on a honeymoon," he said, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "We had to remind him he is seventy, but he does not seem to care."

Jenna grinned, recalling Gibbs's own adventures in love a few months ago. She hastened down the hallway and made her way to the library, where a light shone under the door. It was slightly ajar, and she eased it open and delicately cleared her throat.

Charity, one of her dearest friends and her sister-in-law, glanced up from a ledger, her familiar smile offering a sense of comfort and safety. "Jenna! I did not expect you tonight."

"I knew you were here reviewing the new membership applications," she said softly. "I wanted to speak to you away from listening ears."

Charity arched a brow, for she knew Jenna spoke of her mother and cousin, who were all in town enjoying the season and all residing with Charity and Ethan at their townhouse.

Jenna cleared her throat. "I do not wish for Ethan to know of this, Charity. I know you do not keep secrets from him …" her throat closed over the words.

Charity lowered the quill, closed the ledger and pushed it aside. "Jenna, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

Jenna took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "It's Lord Sallis," she said softly, venturing into the library and closing the door behind her. "He … he approached me tonight."

"Lord Sallis?"

"Ye … yes," her voice cracked. She toed off her dancing shoes and strolled over to one of the large, plush sofas. Jenna removed the pins from her hair, allowing the raven tresses to tumble down her shoulders and back. She sat, curled her legs beneath her and hugged one of the small, oblong cushions to her chest.

"I believe we will need Theo's remedy for all woes," Charity said, rising from her seat gracefully.

She crossed the room to a small, elegantly adorned tea table. Carefully, she poured hot water into a teapot filled with fragrant tea leaves, her movements precise and calm. After letting it steep for a moment, she added a splash of whisky to the cup before pouring the steaming liquid inside. Returning to Jenna, Charity held out the cup with a comforting smile. "This should help," she said softly.

Jenna took it and inhaled before smiling. "It has a generous amount of whisky."

"I feel as if you need it." Charity sat on the chaise opposite her. "You do seem very out of sorts."

"You forget I have no tolerance for spirits."

Charity's eyes widened, and then she laughed, recalling how easily Jenna got foxed. Unable to speak, Jenna took a few sips of the brew, the whisky warming her body. She lowered the cup, knowing the danger of drinking more. Succinctly, she told her friend of the encounter in its entirety.

"Good heavens. He dared you?"

A weak laugh escaped Jenna. "Surely you can imagine my shock to learn that he knew of our club all these years and …"

"And he never made steps to use any sort of information about us to force your hand?"

"Yes," she whispered, wondering what had stayed his hand from acting the villain. "This feels so remarkably silly. He could have used our club to blackmail me."

"Perhaps he understood your character and sensed that would make you resent him more?"

"Nonsense, is the viscount a man who would hold my feelings in such high regard?" Jenna buried her face against her palms. She snapped her head up, took a steady breath and reached for her cup. "Why am I even thinking about him? Why am I not dismissing him from my thoughts?"

A rather mysterious smile played about Charity's mouth, and her hazel eyes gleamed. "Did you accept his dare and kiss him?"

Jenna choked on the small sip of tea she took. "Most certainly not!"

"Were you tempted?"

She curled her fingers around the cup, tempted to fib. However, they did not lie to each other, even to protect their vulnerabilities. Jenna met Charity's eyes and whispered, "Unbearably so and I hate it. No other gentleman has ever made me feel this desperate ache of want. It is frustrating and frightening!"

Her friend narrowed her gaze. "Then we can deduce Lord Sallis is very dangerous to you, and you must avoid him at all costs."

Jenna nodded, a slight smile touching her mouth. "Though I was tempted to indulge, my heart was not involved. I would never be so foolish as to allow myself to love that man twice."

"I know," Charity said, "but you can never be too careful."

Jenna took another sip, allowing its warmth to unknot the icy doubt spreading through her. She silently vowed that she would never allow Cillian the chance to hurt her again. She would avoid him at all costs, guarding her heart fiercely against the rogue who once held it captive. The vow Jenna had made as Charity destroyed the poems and letters she had written to the viscount rose in her thoughts.

I shall never be this silly again in believing this nonsense about love.

Jenna had declared it in the heat of the moment, and there had been a guarded wall around her heart these last few years. She had turned away from countless admirers, their declarations of love and promises of devotion falling on deaf ears. Each suitor, no matter how charming or sincere, only served to remind her of the one man who had shattered her faith and trust. The memories of burning those letters and what she had felt at that moment were vivid in her mind. The way the flames had licked at the pieces of paper, turning her heartfelt words to ash, had felt like purging, a necessary destruction to protect her from further pain.

Yet, despite her resolve, there was a lingering loneliness that nothing seemed to dispel. She smiled and laughed with her friends, celebrated their happiness, and supported their romances, but inside, she felt hollow. Whenever she looked at her friends' happiness with their husbands, yearning always stabbed deep inside her chest. Jenna wanted to feel that closeness with a lover and enjoy the partnership of marriage and a shared life.

The wall around her heart, while protective, also kept out the possibility of a tendre forming with a gentleman, leaving her isolated in her own fortress of safety. Jenna owned enough self-awareness to understand that about herself. Still, she would not lower her guard. No matter how charming or persuasive Cillian might be, she would remember the pain he had caused and steel herself against his advances. The bond of friendship and trust she shared with her friends at Berkeley Square would be her shield, and she would lean on them for strength whenever she felt her resolve waver.