Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I f Cillian had not witnessed the transformation himself, even if his beloved sister had told the tale, he would not have believed it. Jenna leaned against him, her body soft and pliant, her cheeks flushed a bright red, and her eyes slumberous. The lady was foxed. How the hell was that possible? He looked at the teacup she had dropped onto the carpet. Earlier, his butler had brought the tea with a fruit plate, and Cillian had liberally laced the tea with brandy. Still, surely that was not enough to make anyone tipsy.

But Jenna was. He peered down into her flushed face, jerking slightly when she pressed her nose into the curve of his throat. Her warm breath against his neck was sweet and alluring, prickling heat down his spine.

"You smell so warm and wonderful, Cillian," she murmured, her voice soft and dreamy. "Like rich sandalwood and a hint of something crisp, like the fresh air after a summer rain. It's so comforting, like a promise of safety and strength. I have always loved your scent, ever since the first time I stood close to you. It is uniquely you."

He closed his eyes, absorbing her words into his heart. Cillian groaned when the damn chit raked her teeth over his pulse. "Jenna!"

She whirled away from him, lifting her hands in the air and tipping her head back. She took off her shoes and removed a single pin that was keeping her hair up. Her raven locks fell to her waist in a silky waterfall. God, she was ravishing. It felt as if his heart pounded from somewhere outside of his body. She was … sensually beautiful and completely uninhibited. It was then he recalled she never drank champagne or wine.

Awareness scythed through him. Jenna could hold no form of liquor. Cillian was caught between amusement and bafflement.

"Is the food here?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "I am too hungry."

He rang a bell and sent his command to the butler when he appeared. Shortly after, a servant appeared with a tray of assorted foods—cheese, fruit, bread, pastries, and one fresh pot of tea on a tea trolley. Jenna's eyes lit up, and she eagerly sat on the single armchair before the trolley and reached for a piece of bread, slathering it with butter and strawberry preserves before taking a bite.

She didn't stop there. Jenna moved through the assortment with a ravenous appetite, piling cheese on slices of bread, devouring pastries with abandon, and nibbling on fruit between bites. Cillian watched in astonishment as she consumed far more than he had ever seen any lady eat in one sitting. He doubted he could have eaten it all in one sitting.

Between bites, Jenna would glance at him, her eyes bright with a mischievous gleam. "I forgot to share," she said around a mouthful of grapes. "I like it when you stare at me, but not now when I am being a glutton."

Her gluttony, while surprising, was inexplicably charming.

"Charming?"

It was then Cillian realized he spoke aloud. "Yes."

Her sigh of happiness pierced his chest. Seemingly satisfied, she made a cup of tea and drank the brew. Setting down the cup with a clink, she stood and walked over to him. Jenna reached out and ran her fingers along his jawline, her touch sending a dart of heat through him.

"Your jaw is so strong, and your eyes … they're like molten gold. So beautiful."

"Is that so?" Cillian was acutely aware that if she were sober, she would never speak like this. It felt like a peek into the hidden part of her mind, and he was delighted by what he found. Her compliments, though spurred by the alcohol, seemed sincere, and he dared to believe they gave him a glimpse of her true feelings.

"Hmm. You are so beautiful, my Cillian."

My Cillian? His damn heart stopped when she leaned forward and brushed her mouth across his.

"I am tempted to ravish you," she murmured.

Bloody hell . "A lady cannot ravish a gentleman."

She tapped the tip of his nose with a single finger, her eyes glittering with laughter. "That is where you are wrong, my sweet; what men have done … women can most certainly do. So, I know that I can push you to the floor and sit on your face."

Cillian fucking choked on the air. Sit on his face? Sit on his face? "You do not know what you are talking—"

"Oh, was I not provocative enough?" she drawled, trailing that finger down his nose and over his mouth. "Do you think I have no knowledge of the pleasures these lips can give me? Do you think I do not know you can bury this mouth against my pussy and devastate my senses?"

Shock, lust, and fury blasted through him in equal measure. "Who fucking dared to touch you?" he snarled.

She pushed her mouth against his and bit his lower lip hard … until he tasted blood before releasing him. This was a damn punishment, and the awareness of it shook his soul.

" I dared to know," she said, hooking her leg behind his and dropping him on his arse on the worn carpet. The breath rushed from Cillian; however, before he could react, the damn woman tumbled against his chest, and he willingly remained on the carpet and held her slender curves. The soft feel of her against his body was torture. Hunger roared through him. Cillian wanted to push her thighs apart, press his face against her pussy. Taste her there—push her to orgasm and listen to her scream, then do it all over again. Had he ever wanted a woman as swiftly, as heatedly as he did Jenna? Cillian doubted it. Surely, he would remember a hunger this desperate and powerful. "Jenna—"

"No," she snapped.

There was something dark and painful in her gaze when she said, "If I have a lover who taught me these things, what can you do about it?"

Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

"Jenna—"

"Did whatever we have between us stop you from tupping a lady on your desk only three months after we parted? No … then how dare you think to be angry that I might have had a lover in the last five years? Who gave you the right to anger?"

Cillian felt his soul freeze, and understanding dawned. The night he had returned to his townhouse with Lady Marion, was the night Lady Charity had broken into his home. The sensation that eyes were on him as he took the widow atop his desk had been real.

"We were three months parted, Jenna," he said softly, "with no hope of reconciliation. I can also vow to you that night …"

His damn throat closed over the words. Cillian had not attained pleasure with the widow, for only Jenna had crowded his thoughts. Disgusted with himself, he had ended the tryst only ensuring the lady found pleasure.

"Vow what?" she said.

"I have never taken another woman in my arms since," he said quietly.

Her eyes widened, then she laughed and pushed from his body.

"As if I would believe a known rake about town has been celibate for five years," she said with an indifferent shrug of a shoulder. "It has little to do with me."

She yawned, her eyes drooped, and to his utter astonishment, she rolled from his chest, stumbled to her feet, went over to the chaise, wilted atop it and promptly fell asleep. Cillian rose off the floor, his heart a beating mess. He went for his jacket and gently slipped it onto her, and not once did she stir. The carriage was brought around, and he lifted her into his arms and went outside.

Once he was seated and she was held securely, the carriage rumbled into motion. He peered at her face, still rosy in sleep, marveling at the evening's events. Jenna's uninhibited behavior had shown him a side of her he had never seen before, one that was carefree, affectionate, deeply honest, and furiously passionate.

Her inhibition also revealed that the deep wound in her heart might never be healed by him in this lifetime. Watching her sleep, he vowed to himself that he would cherish every moment they had and make sure she knew just how much she meant to him. Cillian knew of Jenna's will and knew that despite his feelings, she would eventually walk away from him.

There was a certainty inside his chest that if he got to experience the twenty days with her, it would not be so terrible when she eventually severed their connection. Cillian wanted to tightly hold her, even if it was just once, and kiss her until she was breathless with desire. Just once, he wanted to strip her naked and have her, and once would have to be enough because this woman would never allow him to get close again.

Maybe then I will excise you from my longings, Jenna, and hope you will never visit my dreams again.