Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

J onathan wanted to make that perfectly clear. Their lives would be separate, joined only by a piece of paper that deemed them husband and wife. But that would only happen once he had his fill of her, of course. And have his fill of her he would.

"I am used to living a separate life," Ciara said somehow wistfully. "So, that won't be anything new for me."

"Yes, your life in the nunnery. "What was it like?" he asked curiously.

He had never known an oblate, let alone in the way that he wanted to know her. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her, but one look in her direction assured him that now was not the moment for any of them.

"I would rather not talk about it if you don't mind," she said defensively, looking away from him. There was deep sadness in her voice, sadness he wanted to kiss away and make her forget about anything other than himself.

"I don't," he assured her. He knew that feeling well when someone was urging him to talk and all he wanted was to be quiet. "We don't have to talk about it. In fact, we don't have to talk about anything, my dear."

"Is that why you came here?" she asked, tilting her head a little, as if to take a closer look at him, wanting to drink in the sight of him. "To be silent with me?"

"No, siren," he grinned. "I wanted to see you in silk and lace."

Her cheeks blushed fervently at his words, a sight that made his manhood awaken with roaring desire. She was there by his side. All he had to do was reach for her, and she would give herself to him. He was absolutely aware of that fact. But he liked playing games. He liked them a little too much, and playing games with this woman was proving to be one of the most wonderful things he had ever experienced. He didn't want it all to end. Not yet, at least.

"You are a sinful man," she said once she had regained her composure.

"I've been called worse things," he agreed through the onslaught of laughter. "But I have never been called that by an oblate."

Their eyes locked, and he could see all the fire burning underneath. She was a vixen, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was awakening an insane desire in him. It was impossible that she didn't know that. All she had to do was look at him with those doe eyes, and he was mad with lust, teetering on the edge of the abyss that would drag them both down.

Even if that happened, he didn't care. He had two months to see whether he could corrupt her with his sinful ways.

"I may be a maiden, but I am not na?ve," she reminded him, pulling him back to the present moment.

"Oh, I didn't doubt that for a moment," he smirked. "That is why, when you come begging me to take you, I will… and I will satisfy your deepest desires, even the ones you didn't know you had."

Her eyes widened in shock at his words, titillating him even more. He downed his drink hastily, slamming the glass onto the table before him.

He locked eyes with her one more time then he left her, hopefully in the same state of mind as he himself was.

Over the next week, Ciara found herself gradually adjusting to her new life as the Duchess of Silverbrook. The grandeur of the estate, with its sprawling gardens and lavish rooms, was both awe-inspiring and a bit overwhelming. Having only recently returned to society after years of seclusion, she was still getting used to the expectations and responsibilities that came with her new title.

Her days were filled with a flurry of activities: meeting with the household staff to understand their duties, overseeing the preparation of meals, and attending to the social obligations that came with her position.

Despite her initial nervousness, she found herself growing more confident and capable with each passing day although she felt that it was still too early to expect to be accepted into the household by the servants, especially the housekeeper, Mrs. Dawson.

One morning, as she was reviewing the household accounts in the garden and enjoying the morning sun, Frances appeared with a tray of tea. "You are becoming quite the adept mistress, Your Grace," she said with a smile, setting the tray down on a small table amid the lush greenery.

"Thank you, Frances," she returned the smile. "It is all very new to me, but I am trying my best."

Frances poured the tea and handed Ciara a cup. "Everyone can see that you are, Your Grace."

"I do have a feeling that Mrs. Dawson doesn't like me all that much," Ciara admitted.

Frances chuckled. "Pardon me for saying so, but I don't think she likes herself, that woman."

Ciara couldn't help but chuckle as well. "She just seems so serious and strict all the time."

"She is," Frances noted. "It is simply how she is. And just like with His Grace, there is more to her than meets the eye. She is very hardworking and loyal to the family. She has been with them ever since His Grace was born."

"I see," Ciara nodded. "That is why it is so important to me that she accepts me."

That was when Ciara remembered Jonathan's words. Two months. Separate lives. The thought rang inside her mind like a million church bells, reminding her that she might not be living there at all, after the expiration of those two months. Jonathan would be able to send her away to any part of his estate, and she would not have any say in it. The thought saddened her.

"Is everything all right, Your Grace?" Frances asked softly. Her voice brought Ciara back to the present moment.

"Yes, of course," she smiled with reassurance. "I was just thinking of all the things I still need to do today."

Frances nodded approvingly. "You do all your work diligently. You ensure that everyone feels valued and respected. Though, I must say, Your Grace, you should not forget to take some time for yourself. You deserve a moment of peace as well."

Ciara sighed softly, sipping her tea. "You are right, Frances. This past week has been a whirlwind. I have been so focused on my duties that I have hardly had a moment to relax." She thought about it for a moment then she smiled. "You know what? I shall do exactly that now. Frances, would you be so kind as to bring me a few scones with strawberry jam? I wish to enjoy them with my tea."

"Of course, Your Grace." Frances smiled in agreement.

As she turned around, her foot caught on a nearby, protruding root, and she stumbled. She leaned to the side, pushing the table, sending the teapot, cup, and plate tumbling to the ground with a clatter.

"Oh, no!" Frances exclaimed, dropping to her knees in dismay. "I am so sorry, Your Grace. I didn't mean to?—"

Before Frances could finish her sentence, Ciara was already beside her, kneeling on the grass and reaching out to help. "It is quite all right, Frances. Accidents happen," she said reassuringly, picking up the teapot and setting it upright.

Frances looked up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "But Your Grace, you shouldn't trouble yourself with this. It is my mistake to rectify."

"Nonsense," Ciara replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It isn't so hard to pick up a few dishes and put them back on the table. Besides, a little spill cannot do anything to ruin my peaceful morning." She picked up the tray and the teacup with the plate. "Now, why don't you go fetch us some more tea and don't forget about those scones, Frances. I would like you to join me for a moment here, so we can enjoy this moment together."

Frances nodded gratefully, her eyes shining with appreciation. "Thank you, Your Grace. You are very kind."

"Kindness is the least I can offer, Frances," she assured the girl. "You have been such a great help to me, and I value your company."

Frances lingered for a moment, completely taken aback by the words, when she fumbled with the tray, nodding and turning around to fulfill her task. Ciara smiled as she watched Frances disappear back into the house, then she closed her eyes.

Frances had become an unexpected ally in this house, and Ciara hoped that there would be more. However, she knew that she had to prove herself to them first. Especially to Mrs. Dawson.