Vulnerability.
Yes, she knew he had felt vulnerable last night, when he had all but driven her from the room. Yet, why? Lots of people took ill. Just because he was getting a cold or wasn't feeling well was no reason to feel ashamed . . .
He was frowning in his sleep now, his breathing changing, his eyelids moving slightly as he dreamed. Celsie couldn't help herself. She reached up and tenderly smoothed the frown lines from his brow. His lashes fluttered, and sleepily, he opened his eyes.
Oh, Lord help me — I want to kiss him!
"Good morning," she whispered, smiling.
He blinked once, twice, before lifting a fist and knuckling his eyes. He looked warm and groggy and positively delicious. "Mmmmm . . . a good morning, indeed," he mumbled, yawning. "To stay inside, that is."
"Isn't it? My stomach's been growling for the past half hour but I was too comfortable to move."
"And here I feared I took up too much room in the bed . . ."
"Well, yes, you do take up a lot of room, but at least you don't snore — which is more than I can say for Freckles."
"Ah yes, that paragon of comparison again," he said dryly. "I'm delighted to find that I've emerged the victor in at least one contest with that matchless mutt."
"He's not a mutt, he's a Spanish pointer," she said, returning his own smile. And then: "Do
I
snore?"
"No, but you do steal all the covers. I awoke a while ago and I was bloody freezing." Reaching out, he caught the long, golden-brown fall of her hair, dragging his fingers through the silky tresses and admiring them in the faint gray light. The sensation of his fingers combing through her hair was wonderful; it was all Celsie could do not to purr, especially when they left her hair, skimmed the outside of her shoulder, and trailed down the curve of her upper arm and around toward her breast.
She tensed and caught his hand.
"You feel awfully damned good," he said. "Told you I wouldn't be able to just sleep, with you beside me all night."
"You did a good job, so far."
"I must have been too exhausted to do anything
but
sleep. But I'm not exhausted now, Celsie. I'm wide-awake.
All
of me is wide-awake. I think it's best if I beat a hasty retreat back to my own rooms before I start something we both regret."
She smiled sadly, knowing he was right but wishing he weren't.
"Yes. And I'd better sneak out and return to my own townhouse before anyone recognizes me." She gazed into his eyes, loving the way they sloped down at the outer corners, giving him a lazy, sleepy look that, combined with the dimple that appeared on those infrequent occasions when he chose to smile, was enough to make her heart melt all the way down into her toes.
Heaven help her, her heart was melting
now
.
And so was her resolve to leave.
Still comfortably lying against and on his chest, she began to lean down, toward his now-smiling lips, a farewell kiss, nothing more —
When the door opened.
Celsie's head jerked up. There, standing in the doorway, was Lady Brookhampton, whom she remembered from her charity ball. With her was a beautiful young woman with bright gold hair and blue, blue eyes that were widening in shocked surprise.
"
Nerissa!
" howled Andrew, yanking the covers over Celsie's head to protect both her modesty and his sister's eyes from the implications of what they'd been up to. "What the thundering blazes are you doing here?!"
Nerissa's chin snapped up. She put her hands on her hips and, equally flustered, glared at him. "Well, this
is
, after all, my bedroom! I might ask what the blazes
you're
doing here!"
"I daresay the answer is obvious, my dear," drawled Lucien, coming up behind them and regarding Andrew with a victorious, maddening little smile. "Lady Brookhampton? Why don't you wait for us in the parlor? We'll join you shortly."
"Of course," murmured the older woman, narrowing her eyes with gleeful malice as she cast a last, lingering look at the bed. She gave a little
hmph
, turned on her heel and left.
The duke shook his head slowly back and forth in a faintly chastising way. "Really, Andrew. The damage you're doing to the family name . . . Abducting a lady without concern for her reputation, ravishing her without benefit of wedlock, coupling in your sister's bed . . . Dear me. What
will
people think? What, I wonder, did Lady Brookhampton think?"
Andrew felt as though he was going to burst an artery. "
Why the devil was Lady Brookhampton even
up
here?!
" he roared.
"Because Lucien said that a package arrived last night for me!" interrupted Nerissa, turning furiously on her urbane, unruffled brother. "But there was no package, was there? You just used that as an excuse to get Lady Brookhampton up here, didn't you? You know she has the biggest mouth in all London! You
wanted
her to catch Andrew and Celsie together!"
"Dear me," murmured Lucien, grinning faintly and pulling at his chin. "Do you really think me capable of such a diabolical plan?"
"He's been engaged in diabolical plans since the ball!" shouted Celsie, flinging back the coverlet at last.
"Ah, there you are, my dear. I knew you were under there somewhere."
Andrew, still in bed, his blood pressure rising dangerously, could feel his muscles beginning to constrict with an emotion that went beyond fury. He shut his eyes, balled his fists, and began counting to ten. "Nerissa, please leave us," he said through clenched teeth.
"Why?"
"Because what I am about to say to our brother is not fit for your ears. And what I am about to
do
to him is going to mean years of cleaning in order to remove the bloodstains from the carpet. It will not be a pretty sight, I can assure you."
"Then in that case, I'm staying. After all Lucien has done to ruin your life, after all I'm sure he'll do in an attempt to ruin mine, I should dearly
love
to see you do something that will make such a satisfying mess. Would you like your sword? I'd be happy to get it for you."
"There's a pistol on the highboy that would do equally nicely," snapped Celsie, glaring at the duke.
"My bare hands will suffice," Andrew gritted, swinging from the bed.
"Now, now, children, enough is enough," said the duke with infuriating mildness. "You will have to think of creative ways to murder me later on, because right now, there are far more pressing matters that demand your attention. Nerissa, you may leave us now."
"I will not!"
"Don't argue with me, my dear."
Nerissa took one look at Lucien's face, tossed her head, and turning on her heel, stormed off.
Andrew sat there, his hard stare burning into Lucien's. "I know what this looks like, but I can assure you that nothing happened between Celsie and me. We only
slept
together, not
slept
."
"Yes, that's
all
we did!" added Celsie, her face quite an incriminating shade of pink.
"Yes, well, do try telling that to Lady Brookhampton," murmured Lucien with infuriating suaveness. "And everyone else who will soon know about your ruination, my dear." He moved into the room, arms crossed, looking like a king who had just won the last country he had yet to conquer. "Really, Andrew, I do hope you're going to do right by the girl. She did, after all, say that she would marry you. But things have happened so quickly, have they not? Hardly enough time to prepare for such a momentous event . . . Ah, well. I am" — he grinned — "as usual, here to help."
Still wearing that infuriating smile, he reached into his coat pocket, extracted a sheet of vellum, and with a casual flick of his wrist, snapped it open.
"What the hell is that?" snarled Andrew.
"Why, the special license that I've already procured for you, of course. I took the liberty of calling on an acquaintance of mine, whose bishopric he owes, most directly, to my influence. One good turn deserves another, don't you think?"
Andrew clenched his fists to keep them from swinging. He took deep breaths in a herculean effort to remain calm. "And I suppose you also took the liberty of having someone follow us from Lambourn to London, which is why, I suppose, you knew that Celsie and I were here?"
Lucien smiled thinly. "Ah, Andrew. You know me too well, I fear." He bowed. "I shall leave you now, so that you can make yourselves presentable. The rest of the family are downstairs, and they are all anxious to meet their sister-in-law-to-be."
Andrew exploded. He grabbed the nearest thing he could reach — the candlestick beside the bed — and flung it at his brother's smiling face.
Without even flinching, his expression never wavering, Lucien calmly reached out and caught it. With deliberate care, he put the candlestick down on the highboy that stood near the door, and turned his maddening smile on Celsie.
"I should warn you about your prospective husband, my dear," he murmured. "Temper goes with red hair."
And then, bowing once more, he turned and left them.
Chapter 19
Leaving the bed, Andrew stalked to the door and slammed it. There he stood, leaning his side against it, his brow bent to one hand. His shirt covered him down to midthigh. Celsie could see his mouth moving, could hear his soft tirade of profanity.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Yes, so am I. Plague take it, there's no way out of this now. Not with the bitch of Brookhampton armed with enough gossip to destroy your reputation forever. Bloody hell. Damn and thunderation. I am going to kill him, I swear it."
Celsie rose from the bed. She, too, still wore her linen shirt, though the hem covered her down to the knees. She walked slowly up to Andrew and tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder. He didn't shake her off but merely stood there, still leaning against the door, head bent and his hard, sullen eyes staring emptily at the floor. Her heart ached for him. What a horrible existence he must have had, with a monster like Lucien for a brother.
"I won't hold you to it," she murmured. "I could never force you or anyone else to do something you have no wish to do."
"And I could never face myself or anyone else if I were not to do right by you," he said, swallowing hard. "I should never have brought you here, should never have come into this room last night, should never have let you try that blasted potion —"
"Shhhh," she murmured, and then, knowing she was taking a huge chance, knowing she was going beyond the boundaries of friendship, she put her arms around him.
She expected him to violently recoil. She thought he might shove her away in disgust. Instead he did neither, just standing there stiffly, allowing her to hold him. He filled her arms, big and strong and hard beneath the softness of his shirt. She rested her cheek against the cup of his shoulder and held him.
Just held him.
"I guess I've got to ask you to marry me, then," he said a little shakily.
She stared at a nearby chair without really seeing it. "I guess I've got to accept."
He raised a hand to shove the hair out of his face — and suddenly he was returning her embrace, clinging to her as though she was the last anchor holding him against a storm-tossed sea. His head dipped towards hers and he claimed her lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth, his hand sliding behind her waist, splaying up her lower back and pulling her hard against him.
It was a kiss of desperation. Of comfort sought and comfort given. But both knew they could not put off the inevitable. After a few moments they reluctantly broke it, and just stood there in each other's embrace, her cheek against his chest, her arms around his waist.
"Since we've now got some news to share, I'd better present you to the rest of the family," he said quietly. "But if you're too embarrassed by recent events, if you wish to plead indisposition and remain up here, I will quite understand."
She took his hand and gazed deeply into his suffering eyes. "What, and leave you to the dragons all by yourself? No, Andrew. If we're going to be married, I will carry my own weight. And when need be, even yours."
He looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and despair and maybe even hope.
"Now come, let us at least get dressed," she said. "We might as well get this over with."
~~~~
They sat on the bed, discussing necessary arrangements. Then Andrew, seeing that Celsie had nothing to wear but the shocking breeches and shirt in which she'd arrived, sent for his sister. Nerissa came up, looking faintly uncomfortable but making a heroic effort to act as though nothing untoward had happened. Andrew noticed that Celsie kept her chin high, her eyes averted. His heart went out to her. How awkward she must feel, facing the woman who would soon be her sister-in-law. How mortified she must be, having been discovered in Nerissa's own bed. But Andrew knew that Nerissa was more than familiar with Lucien's cruel manipulations herself, and sure enough, his sister instantly took pity on Celsie, breaking the ice by making a disparaging remark about the brother they all wanted to strangle. He saw relief and gratitude flood Celsie's tight features. Then, satisfied that the two were warming to each other and trusting Nerissa to find some suitable clothes for Celsie, Andrew went downstairs to face his family.
Lady Brookhampton, thank God, had gone — no doubt bursting at her strained seams to spread what promised to be the year's juiciest gossip. Juliet and Amy were in the parlor, relaxing after their long journey. Only his brothers were in the library when Andrew entered, and with the exception of Lucien, they rose to greet him.
"I'm getting married," he said sullenly.
Charles and Gareth were full of surprise, confusion, and wary congratulations. And of course, questions. Too many questions. Andrew answered them as best he could, trying not to sound as resentful and volatile as he felt. He did not look at Lucien. He was afraid that if he did, one glance at that smug face would land him in gaol for murder. And now Charles was asking him another question. Andrew forced his mind back to the present. The wedding arrangements? Yes, the nuptials would take place immediately. No, her father, may he rest in peace, could not give her away, her mother was off in Italy with some new lover, and her brother, for whom she bore no love and even less respect, would not, if she had anything to say about it, give her away either.