Celine (19 page)

A surge of erotic dominance and confidence tore through her veins. At once she understood why he smiled or laughed after performing such maneuvers on her, for those reactions were the heady result of controlling power.

Her own aroused half-murmur, half-chuckle escaped through mischievous lips. She knew he fought to control himself, barely hanging on to the brink of reason. His heavy-lidded eyes glowed with a primitive blaze, pulled her into their hypnotic depths.

Heightened senses magnified details, scents, in a peculiar way she had never before experienced, almost as though events were unfolding in dizzying slow motion, yet with crystalline clarity.

Boldly, she inched her hand downward, across the ripples of his stomach, until she paused under the tip of his hard manhood. With the back of her fingers, she barely brushed against his arousal, taunting him.

He moaned and she caught the feral shift of his energy.

Had she just forced him off the edge? Had she just cast them both into the depths of some erotic, carnal abyss?

Instinctively, she knew he would reclaim his dominance over her, would lead her on this journey that was beyond her understanding.

His strength expanded, intensified. Muscles in his arms quivered, and his iron-hard body began its conquest. One swift, aggressive movement of his leg, and he engulfed her, poised above her on his knees and hands. She stared into diamond-black eyes flashing with passion.

His nostrils flared, and his whisper was little more than a rasp in his throat. “You are a quick study,
mon amour.
”

Between murmurs that were both commanding yet mild, he smothered her face, her ears, her throat, with kisses that sent her into insatiable need.

“Let yourself go now,
ma petite.
And we shall go wherever your passion leads us. I'll be so careful with you, my sweet, ever so careful.”

Tenderly, he brought his mouth to hers, tasting her with his tongue. Kitten-soft noises erupted from her throat. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tried to pull him down onto her, as she eagerly returned his kisses. The urgent, involuntary thrust of her hips searched for his. Her flesh connected with his, ignited every cell in her body, as if she were gunpowder set alight.

She had moved into that place where no such thing as logic existed—totally vulnerable and completely free to be guided by the natural forces that would direct whatever destiny had brought them together.

 

 

Trevor bent his head back and opened his throat for more air. Unbearable pleasure washed over him. His heart ached once again with that frightening, mysterious desire, a need that transcended mere lust, a craving that filled his every pore.

The last thread of logic slipped away. He was not himself. Had he slid into some vague dream state?

Sweet Jesus, what was happening to him?

He traced a finger along the pulse at her throat, trailed his languid caress around and between her breasts, then down, stroking the naked skin of her stomach. He went slowly, his fingers feeding the flames deep within him.

He moved his hand ever farther until it came to rest over the soft mound of curls cloaking a part of her that had caused him so many sleepless nights. He bent until his lips captured her breast, sweet and delicious, and sucked the tip into his mouth. He slipped his fingers inside her and caressed her with the same, erotic deliberateness as when he'd tugged at her nipple.

Slowly, he began to move his mouth downward. “You feel so good, so sweet.” Releasing his hold, he cradled her hips in his hands. He closed his teeth over the flesh just below her waist, swirled his tongue as his mouth swept from hip to hip.

And lower.

Her breath exploded from her lungs. “No!”

“Let me,
mon amour,
” he murmured.

And she did.

When she surrendered, he clasped her wrists, held them captive as he placed a tender kiss on that throbbing, sensitive place that begged for release.

She cried out in pained ecstasy as he tasted her velvet softness, pressed his tongue rhythmically into her warm recesses, over and over again.

Then he released her and brought his full weight over her, pressing her into the pallet, overwhelming her with his body.

 

 

He wrapped himself close around her and brought his mouth to hers once again. He tasted of the earth and the sea and of their seductive concert. She found this strangely enticing, for it allowed her to once again know what he had experienced of her in their lovemaking. His lithe body molded itself to hers—fervent heat enveloped her, dizzied her senses.

His breath came intense and quick as he planted kisses all over her face, her mouth, her eyes, all the while uttering deep, unintelligible groans.

Celine's own will leapt up to meet his as Trevor shifted his body and drew her leg around his hip until her parted thighs cradled him intimately.

“Open your eyes, Celine.” His insistent command, the timbre of his voice, sent a renewed fever through her veins, stealing her breath away. “I want you to look at me when I enter you.”

The silver shimmer of desire, of senses in full bloom, lay in his luminous dark gaze, beckoning her into the depths of his very soul. The sheer strength and power he emanated was all around her, overwhelming her will as though it were a tangible coercion.

The earth beneath her disintegrated.

He tightened his hold on the swell of her hip and slowly eased himself into her. Her tight, hot flesh closed around him. Exquisite ardor rushed through her. Unmerciful ecstasy slammed the core of her being.

She cried out in rapture with his tender entry. She exploded with the unspent passion held in reserve all her years. Thrusting her hips up to meet his, she slid her hands down either side of him, feeling his body move in unison with hers.

“Keep looking at me, sweetheart.” His demand for full possession released a deep hunger in her far beyond any surface yearnings. “And tell me what you feel while I make love to you. Tell me, Celine. I crave to hear it.”

Slowly, rhythmically, he moved inside her, sending thousands upon thousands of tiny sparks exploding within her. And she responded as he demanded, telling him how wonderful he felt inside her, moving with him. He murmured of her sweetness, of how exciting she was to him, all the while the tender, unspoken core of her confused heart cried out from somewhere deep within—
I love you. Please love me back.

He paused for a moment, pulled the pillow from beneath her head, and tucked it under her hips. He thrust down again, this time harder. And again. And again.

She gasped, as each new level of arousal deepened with every thrust of his hips.

Suddenly, a quickening radiated from the center of her. She whimpered, her breath coming in shallow pants as her body gave itself over in final submission to whatever he wanted, totally subservient to the passions that had engulfed her.

She was drowning, going down for the last time.

“Please, Trevor, please!” she begged, not knowing why or for what she was begging. The quickening increased until a tingling radiated from deep within. She could only whimper his name as millions of sparks ignited flames that swirled from her loins and exploded throughout her body.

Trevor buried his head in her shoulder, whispering to her in his ecstasy. “Come for me,
ma petite,
give all of yourself to me now.”

The stars from the heavens rained down around them, the earth opened up, and the universe became theirs for the taking. Two souls, blended into one for but a timeless moment.

Her body arched up, she pulled his hips hard into hers and she cried out as her climactic response quivered uncontrollably through her.

He groaned, ground his hips into her and stilled as his own flashpoint washed over him. A shudder, and then he collapsed onto his side, rolling her with him, holding her tight against him. She reveled in knowing that he, too, had exploded into a thousand fragmented pieces.

 

 

Firelight danced around them as they lay, still entwined. Trevor marveled at Celine's strength. Her small body nestled against his, while one arm, wrapped around Trevor's back, held him in a tight grip.

He tried to gently withdraw from her.

“No,” was all she said, and pulled his hips even closer to hers.

He understood. If she felt anywhere near to what he was experiencing, she could not bear to release herself from their physical union.

Relaxed, he reached to her wrist and touched the gold bracelet, turned it slightly to catch a glint of firelight. “Ah
, ma petite,
I'm afraid if you refuse to release me, you will experience a very long, very sleepless night.”

He reveled in the smooth contours of her face. Already his lust was stirring again. He'd imagined that once he'd sated himself with her, there would be a complete release from such burning desire. Instead, his heart beat with her very life spirit. He lay with her, somewhere between fantasy and reality, yearning to safeguard and pleasure and worship her with even greater dedication.

He'd never felt such comfort lying next to a woman. He wished the night would never end, that he could hold her in his arms forever.

She rubbed her cheek against his naked chest. “Is it wicked to want you again?”

Chapter Thirteen

Celine slowly awoke. A lazy sense of contentment held her suspended somewhere between nocturnal shadows and drowsy consciousness. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled her senses. Pushing up on one arm, she swept a veil of tangled locks from her eyes and looked around. She was alone.

He made coffee and then left?

No, she heard him out front just then, speaking to . . . to whom? She laughed under her breath. He was talking to his horse. Panther had not spooked in the storm and turned back to the barn, after all. Lord, what a night! Her cheeks heated. She ran the tip of a finger over her bottom lip at the memory of his kisses. His hands, his body, they'd been all over her—in her. The aftermath of their night sent a delicious shiver through her. He knew every inch of her better than she knew herself. Her heart raced in her chest and she took in gulps of air. What could he be thinking this morning?

Trevor opened the door and leaned a shoulder against the jamb. He regarded her in that sensuous way that was his alone. “Celine.”

Waves of desire washed through her. Oh dear, she could easily invite him to her bed again—right this minute. Embarrassed, she gathered the blankets around her and lifted her gaze.

Trevor chuckled. “How quaint, Celine. After what we've been through together?”

She had to grin. “Ridiculous of me, I suppose.”

“I suppose.” His smile disarmed her as he crossed the room and poured a cup of coffee. “Get dressed and let's get out of here before I ravish you one last time.” He raised an eyebrow to punctuate the order.

Her eyes widened. She caught a sharp breath and pulled the bedding to her chin.

Trevor chuckled and blew across the cup to cool its contents. “At least you saw fit to store some coffee in this place—pathetically old as it is.”

When she didn't respond, his voice softened. “Lighten your mood a bit,
ma petite.
” The more quietly he spoke, the more commanding he seemed. “Let me know when you want me to help with your buttons, or whatever else needs doing, because those blankets up to your chin are ridiculous.”

“Oh, ridiculous, am I?” Her heart danced.

“A bit.”

“Do you intend to watch me dress?” Another shiver went through her at the idea. This one going straight to her womb.

“You do know that's a challenge to every ounce of discipline I possess?” His voice turned husky. “However, we'd never make it back to the house today, and since the storm has passed, someone's sure to come looking for us if we remain much longer.”

She rose, and with Trevor's back to her, dressed as much as she was able. When it came time to ask for his help with the buttons on the back of her gown, he came to her with the cup of coffee in his hand.

He offered it to her. She sipped and made a face. “You're right, it is old.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Shall we beg a fresh cup off Zola?”

She pulled back. He was so close she couldn't help it—she touched her lips to his. “I don't know that I want to appear in public just yet.”

“Turn around and let me see to your buttons,” he groaned. “Or you know what will happen.” He took the cup from her hand, but before he turned her around, he pressed her hand to the front of his breeches.

She gave a soft moan as her hunger announced itself again. She squeezed.

His breath hitched, and he took her by the shoulders and turned her about. “Enough. We need to be getting these buttons done up.”

They made their way back to the big house on Panther with her sitting in front of Trevor. Melancholy crept in at the idea of never seeing him again once she left for San Francisco. Had the mere dawning of a new day slanted her perspective?

Should she confess that she had never known two people could make love in such erotic splendor? How would he react if she were to confess how utterly magical their night was, and that she would never forget it or the love she felt for him? No, the beautiful memories she'd made last night were hers alone.

A man like Trevor was used to this kind of encounter. To him, their affair was most likely no different from any of his other numerous trysts—perhaps worse, thanks to her naiveté. He probably never gave his liaisons an ounce of attention once they were over.

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch at the idea that what she considered an intense union might have been mere sport to him.

No matter how she twisted and turned her thoughts to arrive at one conclusion or another, one realization crystallized from the gray mists of her consciousness—she was on the brink of falling in love with him.

 

 

Trevor controlled a strong impulse to slide his hands over her breasts, willed his flesh away from impending hardness. He enjoyed the comfortable manner in which she'd relaxed against him, welcomed the silence.

But what was he supposed to do now? He needed time to himself, time to think things through. He fought the urge to bury his face in the sweet-smelling softness of her hair.

The morning hadn't given him enough time to collect his thoughts—they kept getting scattered by raw emotion. Earlier, he'd experienced a moment of regret, for her sake, coupled with a vague misgiving that he didn't want to leave Carlton Oaks if it meant never seeing her again. He'd even entertained a maverick thought of taking her with him to China. After all, she'd told him she wanted to sail around the world.

What the devil was wrong with him? He would be sailing for months on end, and she was headed to a life in San Francisco. They'd go their separate ways and that would be that.

Wouldn't it?

Oh, devil take it. The last thing someone like Celine needed was him in her life.

The plantation house came into view, and Celine stiffened. “Why do I feel like a child getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar? We're both adults and I'm a widow, for heaven's sake.”

He pulled her tighter against him. “Remember what I told you about handling Madame Charmontès. This situation isn't any different now than when you left the hayloft. If she is still on the premises, then walk in with dignity, and let me handle everything.”

“Thank you.” She slid her hand to her stomach, covered his splayed fingers and squeezed.

The stable master hurried to the rear of the house when they approached. Trevor handed the reins to the man, helped Celine off the horse, and carried her onto the veranda. Somehow during the storm, she'd lost her shoes.

The house seemed unusually quiet, bereft of its usual sounds. Only the loud ticking of the great clock in the front hall gave any indication there was life inside. Trevor guided Celine to her quarters and opened the door.

Marie stood just inside, balancing a stack of folded linens on her forearms. At the sight of Trevor and Celine, she quickly deposited the laundry on the window seat, and sped through the French doors.

Trevor placed a hand at the small of Celine's back and nudged her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. “Marie, get back here.”

Marie stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn around.

“If I have to come after you, there's going to be hell to pay.”

Celine openly winced at his sharp tone.

Marie returned, her face filled with dread. “I don't want any trouble, Monsieur Trevor. I only wish to do my job.”

He walked over to the wingback chair by the fireplace and leaned his forearms against the wings for support. “Close the door, Marie, and tell me what's going on around this morgue.”

Marie eyed Celine's tattered dress and bare feet, and then cast Trevor a scathing look.

He deliberately ignored her rudeness. “Celine's all right, Marie. You don't have to protect her. Where is everyone, and what's going on?”

Marie's spine stiffened. “Everybody's gone, that's where they is.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Gone by the first boat downriver this mornin'.”

“Everyone?” He cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “Including my father?”

He'd get Marie to talk, but he would have to go slow. He knew her well, knew how to get whatever information he wanted from her, and how much patience it would take.

Marie leaned on one hip and tapped her foot on the floor in irritation. “No, not Mister Andrews.”

Trevor figured she couldn't keep her silence much longer, so he waited.

She shifted her weight and huffed. “He's holed up in his office. The guests were gone before the storm hit, but your relatives left this morning, including that Madame Charmontès who likes to think she's family.”

“Cameron and my siblings?”

Marie nodded her head. “Gone. Mister Andrews told your uncle to see the family to N'awlins, until things blow over. Besides, there is a family shipping business down there, which you are supposed to be running, in case you haven't heard.”

“Marie!” Celine cried.

Trevor raised a hand, signaling her to silence. “I told you, Celine is fine.”

“Oh, we all know Celine is
just fine.
” Marie huffed, and her eyes narrowed.

Good, Trevor thought, the floodgates are opening. “Why did my father send the entire family away?”

Marie went to tapping her foot again. “As you well know, that Madame Charmontès claims to have the sight. Seems she got a vision of just how
fine
you were takin' care of Miss Celine, if'n you git my meanin'.” She changed her stance and planted one hand firmly on each hip.

Celine's cheeks flushed.

“Christ.” Right or wrong, Madame would have given every detail she thought she perceived to anyone who would listen—ten times over.

“Well, Mister Andrews was so worried about Miss Celine, he let that mad woman tell him what she saw. They were locked in the study for the longest time, and then they got into a shouting match, which is when I ceased being privy to anythin' more.”

“Why is that?”

Marie looked sheepish. “Madame Charmontès did her shouting with her hand on the door's handle, so the parlor maid had to jump away in case the door opened, that's why. I don't know what happened after the argument started. I only know she left madder than a bull what got no breedin' time.”

Celine covered her mouth with both hands.

“I told Celine that woman was born under a black moon,” Marie said. “Caused nuthin' but trouble, giving Mister Andrews outlandish information. Even told him a wild story about you taking something of Miss Celine's to a brothel.”

Good God!

Celine tilted her head at Trevor quizzically.

Marie shifted her stance in defiance. “Even if it was all true, I can't—”

“It's not Madame Charmontès's fault.” Trevor brought his hand to his heart. “All the fault lies here.”

The maid stood there, her mouth agape.

“Thank you, Marie, you may go.” He'd spoken to Marie, but his focus was on Celine. “You might want to bring something for Celine. She hasn't eaten in a while.”

Marie looked from one to the other, and then back again before she made a hasty retreat out the French doors. “I'll see to it Miss Celine is fed.”

Trevor moved from where he leaned against the back of the chair. He lifted Celine's chin with a curled finger and regarded her for a long while. Whatever transpired next, he had to protect her. “It would be best if you remained in your quarters while I take care of matters. I'll come to you this evening.” He nodded toward the closet and its secret passage.

“I understand,” she said. “At any rate, I wouldn't care to see a soul anyway.”

He turned to take his leave, then hesitated and returned to stand before her once again. He touched her cheek, brushed his thumb across the skin beneath her earlobe. For a long moment he stood there, remembering what they had shared.

She stared at him in silent trust.

What incredible eyes. He'd never seen anything remotely like them. His throat tightened, suppressing what he had to say. He wanted to hold her, to cradle her and shut the world away. He fought to put his feelings into words. He had to speak. He had to tell her.

“For what it's worth,
ma petite,
I want you to know that whatever price I may be forced to pay for my indiscretion, it will never destroy the memory of what we shared last night. And if it is at all within my power, I shall see to it that your honor remains intact, that you do not suffer because of my uncontrolled desire for you.”

 

 

He was gone before she could speak, but not before tears filled her eyes and splashed over her cheeks. She paced the floor for what seemed like hours. But the mantel clock showed only twenty minutes had passed.
I'll come to you this evening
. She heard his words in her mind over and over, savoring them, tasting their sweetness. Their union had meant something to him, after all.

She thought she heard muffled sounds and stopped to listen. She couldn't be certain. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she flung open the door, determined to face Justin. What was wrong with him? A widow wasn't expected to live by the same standards as a girl who'd never married. And why try to control her life, for heaven's sake?

When angry voices boomed from Justin's office, she paused midway down the stairs. Her heart leapt into her throat as she tiptoed down the stairs and over to the office door.

Trevor and Justin hurled savage words at each other. Justin tore viscerally at his son, and Trevor fought back. “You made a mockery of the word
family,
the way you kept your children from their own mother.”