Celine (33 page)

Dianah nodded. “An odd lot we are, but family he is since he has none of his own. After today, though, I might consider making him a kissing cousin.”

“You have wicked thoughts, Dianah.”

“And I've been known to act on a few without regret.” Dianah leaned to her left and gazed beyond Wolf. “It seems we have yet another early guest.”

At the sight of Cameron, Celine's heart kicked in her chest. “Guest? He's the groom, for heaven's sake. He shouldn't see me before the wedding.” She hurried toward the captain's quarters. “I've had enough bad luck to last a lifetime.”

She entered the captain's quarters and wandered around the elegant space, checking to see that everything had been readied. She spied a note on the bed with her name on it and picked it up. A long-stemmed red rose had been drawn around the
C
in her name. She opened the note.

“
Ma petite,
” was all it said. Tears clogged her throat. Oh, she could not bear to have Cameron use that endearment. “Trevor,” she whispered. Not a day went by that she didn't cradle her son and feel his father's presence. How could she expect to marry another man when not a moment passed when she wasn't aware of a vital part of her that remained hollow?

Was she doing the right thing? Was she being fair to Cameron? To herself? She should be excited, but instead there was a nauseating knot in her stomach that had tightened to the point of pain. This was her wedding day. But oh, how her heart ached.

She held the note for several moments. Trevor. Nothing she did dismissed him from her heart. Facing the truth would be painful, but living with a lie could prove devastating down the road.

She could not go through with the wedding.

Brandon would have to settle for an uncle helping to raise him, not a stepfather. She wasn't a weakling. After all she'd been through, she'd grown into a strong and capable woman. She could raise Brandon on her own and never marry another, because her love for Trevor simply refused to die. A sense of relief washed through her, cleansing her like a light summer's rain.

The door opened, and her breath caught. Cameron. His footsteps fell across the floorboards behind her. Odd how they sounded so different aboard ship. She kept her back to him, and eased the air from her lungs. He'd been so kind, so valorous, she couldn't bear to face him just yet. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. Fresh tears filled her throat as she spoke. “I . . . I cannot marry you, Cameron. I cannot go through with this—with us. You are a dear friend, and I love you like a brother. But that is all we can ever be to one another.”

When he said nothing, and the long silence wrenched her insides, she turned to face him.

“Oh!” Her hand came to her throat. She stared blankly, her thoughts scattering to the four corners of the earth.

Trevor stood before her, holding a handkerchief in his outstretched hand.

“I love you, Celine.” His words came from deep in his chest, husky and raw.

She tried to respond, but her voice wouldn't work. Her hand flailed behind her, searching for the bed before her knees gave out. Her back went up against the wall. How did she get so turned around? She stood there, staring into those hypnotic onyx eyes as though she'd fallen into another world.

“Before anything else is said,” he continued, “I wanted to be sure to say those words.”

He was so handsome, so wonderfully
there.
So alive! His gaze didn't budge from hers, and for a long moment, she thought she might just float to the ceiling. Think. She couldn't think. One hand pressed against her stomach as if to help release the air from her frozen lungs.

“I failed so miserably in the past, Celine. Dear God, but I love you. In fact, I don't think I can remember when I haven't loved you. I think I fell in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Oh, Lord. A kind of pain mingled with a bubble of joy, but it did nothing to help her speak.

In two steps he was in front of her, his heady masculinity engulfing her. He leaned one hand against the wall next to her ear and curled his finger under her chin, lifting it. “There you were, standing on the balcony peering down at me.” His words were soft but hoarse as they floated hot across her mouth. “I couldn't get to you fast enough to find out if you were real or not.” His thumb traced her ear, melting her bones.

He didn't ease closer, and the distance between them acted like a magnet. When she arched forward, her breasts touching his chest, he bent down and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

She opened to him, and accepted the sweep of his tongue across hers with a small moan. God, but she had missed him—missed that.

He pulled back, his eyes shimmering. “And whenever I was near you, I had the deepest longing to kiss you.” He pressed his lips to hers again.

He slid his arms around her and gently set her cheek to his warm chest. His heart thundered in her ear; his heat enveloped her. She had yet to speak—she could not. Was he here? Was this real? Yes, dear Lord, he was here, holding her, and she would never let him go.

She lifted her head and, gazing up at him, blinked. Tears splashed down her cheeks. He caught them with the handkerchief. “Can we pick up where we left off in New Orleans, my love? Will you marry me?”

Her trembling fingers found his cheek and she traced his jawline. “There are things you do not know. Things you
must
know. I have—”

He stopped her words with a kiss, dizzying her senses. “Cameron told me how you lived among the Indians, and that you dress as one every now and then to honor the man who saved you. I also remember that you are a widow. I imagine you will be twice widowed before your life is done, seeing as how you are younger than I, and I don't have a lick of sense when it comes to taking chances. Will you marry me anyway?”

She sucked in a breath through the tears clogging her throat. “There is one more thing. We have a—”

“And as for our son—”

“You know.” A sob broke loose.

“I have the utmost confidence you have cared for him in quite a respectable manner in my absence.” His lips touched her ear and she felt him grin. “Although those damnable feathers have to go when he's in public.”

“Oh!” His silly, wonderful words coursed clear through her bones and swam in her veins. Her arms swept under his jacket and her fingers traced up and down his spine, across his broad, muscled back. He pulled her in tighter until she was in a world filled only with him.

Celine pulled back a bit to gaze up at him. She shook her head, a smile breaking through the tears. “I love you. And yes, Trevor Brandon Andrews, I would very much like to marry you. Today if you are willing.”

His low laughter rumbled through his chest. “I do believe that's what this day is about,
ma petite.
I had no intention of letting you escape this room until you said yes.” And then his mouth was on hers again, this time hungry, filled with fire and purpose. He pressed fully against her length, parted her legs with his knee, his large hand cupping her breast, tracing circles.

She moaned and her fingers clutched his shirt. “We're not going to make it out of here, are we?”

He paused, pressed his forehead to hers, and sucked in a deep breath, the exhale falling sweet and warm against her mouth. “We should wait. At least a few bloody hours. I can hear too many footfalls on deck.”

Laughter, filled with more joy than she'd ever known, left her lips. “Indeed.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Have you seen Wolf in all his finery? He would never forgive us if we failed to show.”

“Nor would Dianah. Or rather her popinjay of a chef. He's probably cursing us now for all the food getting cold. Besides, I've one more thing that needs doing before we wed.”

“Really? Then kindly remove your hand from my bosom so we can get on with things. And on your way to whatever needs doing, will you tell Dianah to send in the maid to help me change?”

He stepped away from her, glanced forlornly at the bed, and headed for the door. “Give me twenty minutes to return before you make your entrance.”

The maid must have been right outside because the door had barely closed when it opened again and she slipped inside.

Celine was no help at all. Her fingers shook and she cursed at the tears that threatened to blotch her face. “Oh, do hurry. Has it been twenty minutes, do you suppose?”

At the maid's nod indicating she was finished, Celine stepped to the mirror. “Oh, dear, I hope I don't spend the day weeping.” The ring of fresh flowers in her hair with a short veil attached to the back had been Dianah's idea. A good one. And the simple white lace gown, one in which she could move easily about on deck, fit every curve.

She turned and made her way down a corridor that led to the small gathering. She took in small gulps of air as she went. As she stepped through the door, her gaze flitted among the guests. No matter how much time Celine had taken, and no matter how much composure she had mustered, tears stung her eyes again at the sight of Wolf waiting for her.

Wolf, so handsome and refined looking, stepped forward and offered his arm. “May I?”

She slipped her arm through the crook of his. “Has Trevor returned? Am I too early? I was so anxious.”

A grin curled one side of his mouth as he guided her between the rows of flowers that carved a path to the altar. “He's here, and he brought back what he went after. Take a look.”

Trevor stood at the altar with Brandon in his arms and with Cameron standing beside them. The love blazing in Trevor's eyes spanned the distance between him and Celine, so powerful that the air crackled and overwhelmed her senses.

She found her breath again and leaned into Wolf, her knees no more solid than water. “Oh, my God, I think I'm going to faint.”

Wolf gripped her tighter and led her to the altar.

Trevor, never taking his fiery gaze from Celine's, handed Brandon to Cameron, and extended a hand to her. “I decided my son ought to be present when I wed his mother. Come, my love, and marry me.”

Epilogue

 

“Mother?”

“Brandon, there you are. Come in.” Celine set her diary and pen down and motioned for him to join her by the crackling fire. “I was thinking of tea, would you care for a cup?”

He shook his head, and rather than sitting, leaned an elbow against the corner of the French mantel and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. “I am packed and need to get going, or I won't make San Francisco before nightfall.”

Celine rested her head against the back of her blue velvet chair and studied her son, who had yet to don his jacket. “You are so like your father. At times, I find the uncanny resemblance rather eerie. You even stand like him.” A honeyed warmth flowed through her. “What a fine figure of a man you turned out to be.”

Brandon snorted. “Speaking of Father, where is he?”

“He's not slept a wink. The mare foaled about three hours ago.” She stood and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Shall we go to him so you can say your good-byes?”

Brandon stepped forward. She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and together they moved onto the terrace running the length of the house, and then strolled along the wooded path toward the stable. Celine lifted her chin and drew in a long breath. “You are going to miss these wonderful pines back in the city.”

“I always do. But then, I never fail to return, do I?”

“Next time, I do hope it's with a wife.”

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “A pity I haven't found one to share your pedestal.”

“Oh, aren't you the clever one?” She squeezed his arm and then paused. “I need to ask you something before we reach your father.”

Brandon's brows knitted together. “I don't know that I care for the look in your eye, Mother. If this is about Nathan and Ethan, you are going to have to ask them. Brothers do not rat on brothers.”

Her stomach churned and she turned her gaze to the tips of her toes. “As if they are ever here to ask them anything.” She rubbed at her temples. “Please, Brandon. I must know. I am their mother, and they are so wild and reckless, they worry me sleepless. Twins feed off one another, and there is no telling what they've gotten themselves into.”

Brandon bent, picked up a pinecone, and sniffed at it. “They are not in any trouble if that's what you are getting at.”

She stamped a foot. “Oh, you are just as evasive as your father.” She fisted her hands on her hips, paced a few feet away, and then stomped back. “Are they privateers? Spies?”

Brandon leaned his back against a tree and for a long while regarded her through lazy lids. “And if I said yes to either of those, would you only worry more?”

Gazes locked, they stared at one another until laughter, a bubble of relief, slipped past her lips. She pressed her hands to her mouth. “That's what I needed to know. There's a letter on the entry table. Will you see they get it?”

He nodded, used the heel of his boot to lift himself off the tree, and escorted her to the stable.

Trevor turned from the stall holding the mare and her newborn, the shadows under his eyes diminished by his wide grin. “We've got another Panther in the making. This one's a beauty.”

Celine held back while Brandon stepped forward and peered into the stall. Seeing her husband and grown son side by side never failed to fill her with a satisfaction that bordered on overwhelming. She waited as they said their good-byes, and after a hug and kiss on the cheek, watched Brandon disappear into the house.

Trevor turned to her. “We have an anniversary.”

“Anniversary?”

He nodded toward the ladder leading to the loft. “Come.” Climbing up first, he lifted Celine from the top rung and onto a blanket spread out on the hay. Beside the blanket sat a basket filled with cheese, grapes, and wine.

Still puzzled, she shrugged.

He placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

And then understanding struck her—the hayloft back at Carlton Oaks. The fancy ball in her honor. “Oh, Trevor!”

He pulled her to the blanket and lay on his stomach. “Now, if you'll give Brandon a moment, you'll see him riding off down the road.”

She smiled. “And there he goes.” After he disappeared from view, she extended her arm and mischievously twisted her wrist about until the sun catching the gold of her bracelet glinted in Trevor's eyes. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He turned on his side, and, fitting his length against hers, breathed a warm kiss across her cheek. “I would rather you show me,
ma petite.
”