Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

L ying in the bed, Jenna stared at the ceiling, unable to drift back to sleep. She had taken a light supper and read a book. Thankfully, she had fallen asleep, but something had jarred her awake several minutes ago. She stifled a yawn and frowned. Jenna did not feel rested. Her mind was restless, and her heart was still unsettled. The events of the evening replayed in her mind, mingling with the soft pitter-patter of rain on the windowpanes. The gentle rhythm of the raindrops created a soothing melody, each drop like a tiny whisper of calm. The rain's comforting sound offered a fleeting distraction, a lullaby from nature, but it was not enough to quiet the turmoil within her.

She turned onto her side, hoping to find a more comfortable position. After shifting several times, Jenna groaned in defeat. Sitting up in the center of the large, four-poster bed, she inhaled deeply, and then it rolled over her senses, quickening her heartbeat. The bedchamber smelled like the viscount—a warm, heady, and far too rousing masculine fragrance. It was a complex blend of cedarwood, leather, and a hint of something subtly spicy, creating an intoxicating aroma that lingered in the air. She grabbed a pillow and buried her face against it, the evocative scent enveloping her, making it impossible to escape thoughts of him.

Oh, God, why do I feel this need?

Rising from the bed, she walked to the window and drew the drapes aside. As she looked out, her breath caught in her throat. There, standing before the lake in the pouring rain, was a solitary figure. She pressed the flat of her palm against the cool glass, straining to see who it was. Recognition hit her like a bolt of lightning—it was Cillian.

Despite the deluge, he stripped off his shirt, revealing his muscular frame, and dove into the lake, his powerful strokes cutting through the water with a punishing pace. Jenna watched in awe and concern, her eyes following every movement. What demon drove him to swim at such an hour and in such conditions?

She glanced at the clock on the mantel—it was two in the morning. The servants would be abed, and no one would be around to see him. The rain poured relentlessly, drenching him as he swam with determined intensity. A deep ache burgeoned inside her. As Cillian finished his swim and started to walk back toward the house, dripping and shivering, Jenna grabbed a blanket from the chaise and hastened down the stairs, her heart pounding with urgency.

She met him in the entrance hall, where he stood dripping water onto the marble floor. His hair clung to his forehead, and his naked chest heaved from the exertion. His bright golden gaze glided over her in an encompassing look that was as physical as a caress. Jenna felt an intense awareness of his presence, each drop of water sliding down his chiseled chest accentuating his raw masculinity.

There was something in his eyes she could not quite place, a mixture of hunger and wariness, and Jenna drew a soft breath, trying to calm the wild pounding of her heart.

"Why are you here?" he said, his voice low and intense.

Jenna took a single step closer. "I could not sleep, and I saw you outside. You are cold." Her voice wavered slightly, and she cleared her throat. "I brought a blanket."

Suddenly, she felt silly. He did not reply, merely stared at her with that unfathomable gaze. Jenna walked to him and placed the blanket around his shoulders. She was distressingly aware of his closeness and state of undress. She hurriedly stepped back, her pulse racing. A deep part of her wanted to walk into his arms and feel his warmth and strength … feel his mouth pressed against hers.

"I shall return to my bedchamber. I hope you sleep well, Cillian," Jenna said, hastening away.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked with amusement in his tone. "There is a fire in the library. We could drink and play chess … or anything else of interest to you."

She gasped and glanced over her shoulder. "No, I—"

Cillian's mouth hitched in a small smile that was decidedly wicked and provoking. "Afraid?"

She held his mocking stare, and Jenna couldn't look away from him, arrested by the ruthless beauty of his face and the way the water trailed over the sharp blade of his jaw. Temptation beat at her senses, and her voice barely above a whisper as she said, "Yes. I can admit I am deeply afraid of myself at this moment."

Because I want to so badly walk into your arms and allow you to ravish me .

His eyes flared, and he took a simple step toward her before jerking to a halt.

Jenna turned and ran toward the stairs and to the bedchamber, her heart a pounding mess and a most peculiar exhilaration racing through her veins. Once inside, she leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath. The sight of him swimming in the lake and the way he looked at her left her feeling more alive than she had in years. That look in his eyes just now said he wanted to consume her.

Oh, God .

Jenna climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She could still feel the coolness of the window against her palm and the heat of Cillian's gaze. She knew sleep would not come easily, but for the first time in a long while, she didn't mind. As she lay there listening to the rain, for the first time, she wondered what spending the twenty days with Cillian would bring.

Jenna woke the next morning, irritated by the restless night she had endured. Despite her best efforts, sleep had evaded her, the temptation of the connecting door between her room and presumably Cillian's gnawing at her relentlessly. Whenever she closed her eyes, she imagined what lay beyond that door, the urge to open it almost overwhelming. She huffed in frustration, throwing the covers aside as the first light of dawn filtered through the heavy drapes.

Her lady's maid, Anne, entered quietly with a sympathetic smile. "Good morning, my lady. Shall I prepare your bath?"

"Yes, please, Anne," Jenna replied, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleeplessness.

Almost an hour later, Jenna felt refreshed and ready to start the day. Anne arranged her hair in a simple chignon and helped her into a pale yellow, high-waisted walking gown that flattered Jenna's figure. She started to leave the room, and the connecting door drew her gaze.

"I am going to explore," she announced suddenly, surprising herself.

"Very well, my lady," Anne replied.

Jenna walked to the connecting door, her heart pounding. With a determined tug, she wrenched it open. The room beyond was empty, covered with white sheets and a fine layer of dust. Dust motes danced in the beam of light filtering through the window, highlighting the long-neglected state of the space. She had been so certain that Cillian rested behind this door. Bemused, she ventured out into the hallway.

Jenna stared at the door before her, walked over to it, and opened it. She stilled. This room was also empty. Sheets covered the furniture, and the air was heavy with the scent of disuse. Astonished, she ventured further, opening a few more doors along the hallway. They were all the same—abandoned, forgotten, and unused. Some rooms had more dust motes swirling in the light, giving them an ethereal, almost ghostly quality, while others seemed recently cleaned, their sheets pristine and undisturbed.

She shook her head and decided to go downstairs to break her fast. As she descended the grand staircase, she noticed the sparse number of servants bustling about for the size of the manor. The vastness of the estate contrasted with the few figures moving silently through the hallways, adding to the sense of mystery surrounding the house.

In the dining room, she sat down to a simple breakfast of toast, strawberry preserves, and hot chocolate. Jenna spread the preserves on her toast, the sweet aroma mingling with the rich scent of the chocolate, but her mind was racing with questions.

As she sipped her hot chocolate, she overheard the butler instructing a servant. "Prepare a few baskets of food to take to where the viscount works."

Jenna's eyes widened, and her curiosity piqued. Worked? What did he mean? Where was Cillian working, and why would he need food baskets? She hastily finished her hot chocolate and went outside, lifting her face to the sun.

The world outside was a painting of natural beauty. The woodlands and grass seemed especially vibrant after the rains, with droplets clinging to leaves and blades, sparkling like tiny diamonds in the morning light. Birds sang melodiously, their songs a harmonious backdrop to the peaceful scene. Flowers, freshly washed by the rain, stood proudly, their colors more vivid than ever, and the air was filled with the invigorating scent of earth and blooming flora. Jenna took a deep breath, feeling the cool, crisp air fill her lungs, and her heart swelled with the serene beauty of the morning.

A few minutes later, she saw a footman with two large baskets. She discreetly followed the servant as he cut through the rolling fields and woodland surrounding the estate. Jenna grinned, feeling like a child playing a game, but her curiosity drove her forward. Just as she was about to turn back, feeling foolish for her clandestine pursuit, she saw him. Cillian was working alongside several farmers. Astonished, she watched for several minutes and discerned they were clearing the muddied areas to prevent the crops from being ruined. The deluge last night must have caused damage. The viscount was stripped to the waist, his skin bronzed from the sun and muscles rippling with each movement. Jenna leaned against a large oak tree, watching in awe.

He moved with a purpose, his actions efficient and confident. The farmers around him seemed to respect and admire him, their camaraderie evident in their laughter and easy conversation. When the servant arranged the food baskets on a stone table, Cillian sat with the workers, sharing the meal and engaging in lively banter. Cillian seemed so different—carefree and … happy; none of his usual elegance and cold hauteur was present.

Jenna wished she could hear their words. Why did he tip his head back and laugh so? Her heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. She had always known Cillian was different, but seeing him like this, working the land with his hands, mingling with those of a lower station, was something she had never imagined. It was as if she saw a side of him that few ever did.

As the afternoon sun climbed higher, Jenna continued to watch unnoticed. Cillian rose, stretching his back and wiping the sweat from his brow. Her curiosity gnawed at her as she watched the viscount working tirelessly in the fields. The sight of him, so at odds with the life of leisure expected of a viscount, stirred a deep sense of admiration and wonder within her.

Why was he doing this? What drove him to toil alongside his workers under the harsh sun?

Jenna was jolted as she realized she was desperate to understand Cillian. As he walked away from the workers with a water flask, he headed toward the woods. She hesitated for only a moment before deciding to follow him. Jenna kept her distance, her footsteps light on the forest floor.

"What do I say to him?" she whispered.

As Jenna drew closer, her steps faltered when she overheard his voice.

"I have a lady in my bedchamber, Lily. You cannot sleep with me until she leaves. Now, please do not give me that look. I know the sofa in the library was uncomfortable, but it does not warrant this attitude."

Shocked, Jenna pressed a hand to her chest. Cillian had given her his bedchamber and slept on the sofa. She realized then the master room was the only chamber that was possibly furnished.

"Are you truly insisting on keeping this attitude, you ungrateful wretch?"

The fondness in his tone raked against her heart like talons. Who was he speaking to? A painful sensation clutched at her chest, and she rushed forward, her intention to blister his ears fading into confusion as she reached the clearing. There, sprawled on the verdant grass under the shade of towering elms, was Cillian. A small baby goat lay atop his chest; its face turned away from his, appearing distinctly vexed.

A sound of surprise escaped Jenna, and Cillian snapped his head toward her, his eyes widening as if he were caught in the most compromising situation. The sheer absurdity of the scene struck her, and she started to laugh. The viscount's expression shifted to bemusement as he watched her approach. Jenna, still laughing, went to lie beside him on the damp grass, uncaring that her gown was getting wet.

"So," she said, her voice filled with mirth, "will you introduce me to Lily, or will you continue being rude?"

Cillian let out a deep chuckle. "Jenna, meet Lily. Lily, this is Lady Jenna, our unexpected guest who we are delighted to have."

As if on cue, the baby goat turned to face Jenna, giving a soft bleat.

Jenna reached out to gently stroke Lily's head, her fingers running through the soft, white fur. "She's adorable."

"Her mother died a couple of months ago," he murmured.

"And she has been sleeping with you?"

He scowled. "How long have you been eavesdropping?"

She smiled. "Long enough to learn you slept in the library."

Cillian stiffened, his expression smoothing into a blank mask.

"Do not do that, please," she whispered, her chest suddenly aching.

"Do what?"

"Hide what you are thinking."

His head jerked in surprise, and then he turned slightly on the grass so he could peer down at her face.

"Are you afraid to tell me?" she softly asked.

He gave her a dark, jaded smile. "Perhaps."

For a moment, Jenna was unable to speak past the knot of emotions tightening her throat. "Why? Do you think you will see mockery or something worse in my gaze?"

"Something worse."

She arched a brow. "What is worse than mockery?"

His eyes met hers, and there was something dark and dangerous flickering there. "Pity."

She met the mocking glint in his eyes evenly. "You are too indomitable to garner pity from anyone, especially me."

Jenna was riveted by the imperceptible color that suddenly flushed his cheekbones. "I want to know you, Cillian."

He looked up at the canopy of leaves above them. "The estate fell into disrepair under my father's stewardship. I discovered the depth of it after I inherited it. There was nothing in our accounts."

Her heart squeezed. "How long ago did you inherit?"

"Ten years ago, when I was nineteen."

Jenna could hardly breathe from the emotions tightening her throat. It must have been a heavy burden on his shoulders so young.

"There were debts, more than I could handle at first. I had to let most of the staff go and took on much of the work myself. It was the only way to keep things running. It has been hard."

His words were simple, but she knew the difficulties in running an estate that had dependents relying on you. The tenants, the workers, and his family. "Your sister …"

"Felicity is in Bath with our mother. I managed to retain the home we had in Camden Place."

Jenna had never met his mother or sister. Curiosity roiled through her. "Will your sister ever have a season?"

He was silent for several beats and then Cillian said, "Felicity will be twenty next year. It is her dream to have a season, and it is my duty to see it happen."

Jenna heard the pain and something darker in his tone. His head had a proud, aloof tilt, and somehow, she knew it gutted him to reveal so much to her. There was no talk about town regarding his impoverished estate. She could only imagine how hard he worked to keep his family afloat and their situation hidden from the ton . Another awareness scythed through her, and the sudden tremble in her heart was appalling.

"There are many heiresses in the ton, " Jenna whispered, her heart aching.

The silence that fell between them was fraught with intimate peril.

A dark, haunting flash in his eyes showed before his gaze hooded. He lifted his face to the canopy above and said, "Ask what you want, Jenna."

It was painful to ask the question, for the very thought of Cillian with someone else gutted her. "Once you are married to a lady with reputable connections, many of your burdens will ease. In so many ways, a marriage would open many doors to see your estates uplifted. Why are you unmarried?"

Their gazes collided, and his eyes glittered with something thoroughly possessive and a bit intimidating. Tension crackled in the air between them. A loud roaring sounded in her ears, but she did not break his gaze. He gently set Lily aside, and the baby goat pranced away. Before Jenna could guess his intention, Cillian dragged her closer underneath his body and came over her, resting his weight on his elbow.

Jenna's heart pounded a breathless rhythm. "Cillian …" she whispered, wanting to say so much more, but the words would not come.

A bleakness entered his eyes before his expression cleared. Her heart pounded even harder when he cupped her chin with his free hand. Her belly tightened as a shattering sense of awareness surged through her. The power of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, and his delicious scent wrapped themselves around her.

As she stared into his eyes, Jenna felt ensnared by the past. The hunger in his eyes stirred an almost painful ache deep inside her. Memories of his kisses flooded her mind, each one a ghostly echo of the passion they once shared. She recalled the possessive yet tender way he would clasp her waist, his touch a blend of strength and gentleness. The promises of a forever kind of love haunted her, lingering in the air between them, making it impossible to escape the hold of what once was.