Celine (6 page)

“Does the lady care for anything else this evening?” Trevor offered softly. “Dessert perhaps?”

Celine's cheeks burned with the shame of being caught staring.

That was the last straw.

She jumped up, regained her composure, and shot Trevor one final glare of disgust before striding from the room. “I'm out for a walk before I go to my room, Zola,” she said, and stepped over the threshold. “It's stifling in here.”

“What do you mean,
your
room?” Trevor called out.

Celine was barely out the door when Zola lit into him. “Best you don't go gettin' no ideas about dat girl.”

Didn't she realize Celine could hear her?
For God's sake.
Nonetheless, Celine paused in the darkness.

“She ain't like those good-for-nuthin' womens you be takin' up with,” Zola said. “Your papa gonna skin you alive if'n you touch her.”

Trevor's soft laughter trailed behind Celine as she disappeared around the corner of the house and found the garden. She wandered along the floral-scented paths, confused, and still trembling.

What was happening? Everything about Carlton Oaks had been so quiet, so peaceful—until that scoundrel showed up. Finding a bench, she sat. For how long, she didn't have a clue, but when the horizon over the trees took on a shifting light, she slipped back into her room. A fire burned low in the fireplace. She had hoped she wouldn't rouse Marie—again. But the maid had instincts whenever Celine wandered about at odd hours
.
She would be sure to thank her maid for lighting the fire when Marie delivered breakfast.

Celine removed her robe, threw it on the floor beside the bed, and separated the mosquito netting. A rose and note lay on her pillow. She opened the note.

“Dormez bien, mon amour.”
Sleep well, my love.

Trevor's bold signature trailed beneath the words.

She regarded the blazing fire, the neatly made bed, one corner of the covers pulled back to receive her. So this was all
his
doing, not Marie's. Heaving a great, tired sigh, she walked over to the door and locked it before making her way to the wingback chair angled before the fire. She curled up with the note in her lap and stared into the flames.

She'd wanted to surrender to Trevor tonight, plain and simple. Could mere desire actually be so stunning as to completely tangle the mind? Could temptation be so powerful as to make a person want to sink to the floor with someone they'd barely met and give in to wantonness for the sheer pleasure of touching and being touched?

Here she'd thought she'd experienced true desire reading those erotic books, but now she knew what she'd experienced had been without substance. She finally knew what fantasy was—it was the idea that she could be in control with a man like Trevor.

What an unexpected twist to her life.

If she'd been overwhelmed when she'd caught sight of him climbing out of the carriage, this was devastation. In the instant he touched her, reality left her and pieces of her scattered like leaves in the wind. What would have happened if she hadn't come to her senses? Mercy, but the two of them lived in such different worlds—and he was only passing through hers. What would she have sacrificed had she succumbed? No need to try and ponder—some things were better left alone.

But what about tomorrow? How would she react if he approached her again? She knew full well what could happen. He was temptation, that's what he was.

And sweet deceit.

Well, whatever measures she had to take, there would be no repeating tonight. If only she could somehow disappear into the ethers, magically transport herself to the next waiting ship bound for San Francisco. Well, she couldn't do that, could she? But what she could do was show him she took no interest in him. Not a speck. She would seek Cameron out in the morning, take him up on his offer to spend the day riding.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and surveyed the room. Trevor's power was everywhere—in the note, in the bedding he'd straightened for her, in the flames dancing in the fire he'd lit. He'd done it all for her.

Tears welled.

The last thing she needed was a glimpse of tenderness in a man who was most likely the most dangerous person she had ever met.

Chapter Five

Celine slid off her horse and into Cameron's outstretched arms. He set her gently to the ground, waited for her to straighten her skirts, and then offered his arm. She was glad she'd approached him at breakfast before Trevor arrived. In the far reaches of the plantation, away from the beehive of activity at the house, she could think clearly again. And here, surrounded by oak trees and silence, Trevor did not exist.

“Come,” Cameron said. “There's a marvelous tree over here I'd like to show you. It was my favorite as a child.”

She placed her hand about his elbow and allowed him to escort her off the path. “How in the world did you find this place? You seem to know every inch of Carlton Oaks. Did you visit often?”

His mouth hitched into a grin. “Indeed. We were a close family. My mother and Trevor's mother were sisters as well as our fathers being brothers.”

“No wonder your resemblance to one another is so remarkable. Trevor is your senior by how many years?”

“Two. He and I were inseparable most of our lives. Ah, here we are, what do you think?”

A majestic old oak rose high into the sky, gnarled and weathered with age, its massive branches an umbrella. Hazy shafts of sunlight filtered through the velvet green leaves. Moss, like the gray beards of old wise men, hung heavy from the branches.

“Oh, my. I doubt I've ever seen anything quite so grand. And to think you grew up with it.” Her lips formed a smile. No doubt Trevor had played here as well.

One massive branch curved so low to the ground, a part of it provided a wide bench before curving upward again. “We used to sit here oftentimes to regroup, and to eat whatever we managed to snatch from the cookhouse. Have a seat.”

Celine shifted about on the limb until she found a comfortable position leaning against the upswing of the tree's grand bough. Cameron rested a bent leg across the branch and his arm across his knee.

“Comfortable?”

“Quite.” She relaxed her head against the bark. Cameron was so easy to be around—and certainly kind to one's eyes. The same fondness she treasured for Justin crept into her heart.

“I'm curious, Cameron. If you and Trevor were so close, how is it you went off to school in England?”

“Our fathers separated us.”

“Oh yes, that was mentioned over dinner.” She dared not ask why, but hoped he'd say.

He touched his thumb and forefinger to the middle of his upper lip, smoothing his moustache to the corners.

“We both lost our mothers two years apart, nearly to the month. We were each aged fifteen when it happened. Trevor had already become a handful by the time my mother died, and it didn't take long for me to catch up. We joined forces in raising holy you-know-what in New Orleans.”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked—”

He raised a hand to stop her words. “Actually, we had quite a jolly time of it until things got out of hand.”

“Meaning you were rascals?”

He shrugged. “We got into some rather nasty altercations.” He grinned. “Among other things.”

“Other things?”

He laughed. “Suffice it to say, we . . . ah . . . celebrated the gods of wine and ecstasy to our fullest potential. Things escalated until one night our overindulgence resulted in Madame Olympée's establishment requiring a rather extensive overhaul.”

Celine's hands shot to her mouth. Everyone knew what went on at
that
particular gentlemen's club. “Oh, dear. The Madame allowed young boys inside?”

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. “The night of which I speak was my seventeenth birthday. I'll have you know, I was very much a man—at least in my own eyes. However, before I knew what had happened, I was on the next Andrews Company ship bound for England.”

“And you didn't set eyes on Trevor again until two years ago? But you were so close.”

He shrugged, picked up a fallen leaf, and then tossed it aside.

“Tell me,” she said.

He studied her for a moment. “I was only in school a couple of months when I became sick as a dog. The doctors surmised that losing a mother and being sent away from the rest of my family was too much for me. So, my father, who was born and raised in England, returned. He brought Trevor along.”

He chuckled again. “But Trevor's stay barely lasted a few weeks before my father shipped him back to New Orleans.”

“Oh, dear. You must have done quite a bit of making up for lost time once Trevor returned to England permanently.”

Cameron curled his fingers and studied them in mock boredom. “The Parisians revoked our keys to the city that first month. And the whole of Italy won't have a thing to do with us.” He shrugged. “I suppose if it weren't for the wealth we provided to some well-placed Asians, a few ports in the Orient wouldn't have us either.”

“Oh, and aren't you full of yourself though.”

He grew quiet, merriment lingering in his eyes.

She settled a smile on him. “You're a good man, sir. A lady would be fortunate to have you, should you ever decide to settle down.”

Cameron leaned forward over his knee and took her hand in his. “Then marry me, Celine. We'll sail the world over. My wealth shall be yours, my wishes your command.”

He flipped his hand in the air. “Or is it your wish would be my command? Oh, some such drivel.”

Celine laughed softly. “Why, Cameron, you've only recently met me.”

“Who cares?” He winked playfully. “Think of the interesting time we'd have getting to know one another.” He leaned over and planted a gentleman's kiss on her forehead.

“Sweet. Real sweet, Cousin,” Trevor said dryly.

Celine jumped and twisted around to catch Trevor's indolent gaze. “How in the world did you find us clear out here?” Her heart skipped beats at the sight of him sitting casually on that magnificent horse she'd spied earlier in the barn. It was a European Friesian, the stable master had said, and its name was Panther. What a stunning creature with its black coat shimmering in the sun, and a thick curling mane that fell nearly to its knees. Leave it to Trevor to own a horse so striking it turned heads. He sat with one leg hitched over the front of the saddle. He appeared bored, but his dark eyes held fire.

Cameron simply tilted his head backward, peering at his cousin. “Greetings, Trev, old boy. Didn't hear you approach, I was so busy. On your way home from the Widow Beaudrée's?”

Trevor snorted as he swung down from the huge black beast he rode with the same ease and grace as when he'd climbed out of the carriage the day before. He removed his coat and tossed it over the saddle. He was left wearing a white lawn shirt open at the neck and tan buckskin breeches tucked into his boots. A quick glance at his jacket and Celine caught sight of a white stock tie peeking out of the pocket.

Dear Lord, no waistcoat? He didn't even have the decency to finish dressing.

She was appalled at her body's crude response to the thick muscles rippling beneath his thin cambric shirt. She willed herself not to glance at his tight breeches, her stomach knotting. The roar of blood in her ears sounded more like a howling wind. She didn't know if what was happening to her was from the sight of him, and the ever-present sensuousness that clung to him like a musky fog, or if it was because of where she was sure he'd just been. She tried not to think of him and Mrs. Beaudrée wrapped in each other's arms.

Cameron lifted his legs over the branch and switched positions so he faced Trevor. Celine walked around rather than climb over. She moved closer to Cameron, which did little to ease her discomfort. Drat.

Trevor picked up a blade of grass and slipped it between those lush lips of his before he sat down in front of them. He rested an arm on one cocked knee.

Cameron broke into a thick British accent. “I do say, Celine, I think the old boy is about to rudely impose upon us.”

“Just keeping an eye on you, Cam.” Trevor cocked his head toward Celine. “Has no one told you he has a terrible reputation with regard to young women? One takes quite the risk being alone with him.”

Celine set her jaw. As if Trevor were a winged angel. Cornering a lady in the dead of night was more the devil's work. His gaze ran the length of her. Blast it all, a fishing line cast her way could not have hooked her any better than his sultry regard.

Something new and forbidden stirred in her. Damn her unruly emotions.

She blinked, and swore she heard a soft chuckle. Lord, she only hoped she appeared a little more composed than she felt.

A silly schoolgirl, that's what she was. No, schoolgirls didn't get their senses roused at the mere sight of a man. Damnation, he'd just been with another woman. If she were any closer, she could probably smell the other woman's perfume. His musk. Her mouth went dry and an odd misery settled in the pit of her stomach.

Trevor shifted his attention from Celine back to Cameron. “By the way, don't you have anything better to do, Cousin, than sit around in a tree?”

“Such as?”

“Such as perform a bit of work?”

“Egads. You know what they say, Trev, the meek shall inherit the work.”

They both laughed easily.

Celine sat quiet and aloof, feeling left out of the camaraderie the cousins shared as they playfully bantered back and forth. Still, she wasn't able to shake the image of what Trevor had so recently been doing with Mrs. Beaudrée, her imagination lowering her previous fine spirits.

“You weren't at the Beaudrées' very long, Trev. What's the matter, somebody beat you there?” Cameron taunted.

“Her barrister came to call. Guess I'll pay my . . . ah . . . respects later.”

Celine's heart gave a leap. She heard a rustle in the bushes to her left. “Shh. A rabbit.” The animal was gone as fast as she had seen it. She glanced toward the men to see if they, too, had caught a glimpse, but Trevor's cheek rested on his knee and his head was bent in her direction. He studied her as if he held secret thoughts. A corner of his mouth curled upward.

He was thinking of last night, she just knew he was. Well, she would ignore him and his silent messages. After spending most of the night in contemplation, she had decided not to acknowledge what had occurred
.
She was determined to keep some measure of control. Nonetheless, a light-headedness crept in as she regarded those dark, almost midnight-black eyes.

Trevor leaned back. Arms crossed behind his head as a pillow, he stretched his long sinewy legs out in front of him, and crossed them at the ankles. His magnificent body lay before her like a banquet
.
He certainly was well made. Longing, dark as sin, threatened to break through her years of repressed emotions.

He smiled—a knowing smile.

Enough of being toyed with! Lord, but she wanted to bolt. Climb on her horse and ride away from both of them. No, from
him.
She rose and brushed at her skirts. “I need to be on my way, Cameron. I am to meet with Justin to finalize my trip to San Francisco,” she lied.

True, she intended to meet with him regarding her plans to leave Carlton Oaks, but it would be his first knowledge that her plans were imminent.

Cameron stood, but Trevor was already on his feet and beside her horse. “I'll help you mount.”

There was little she could do to refuse without being rude, but when she placed her booted foot in his cupped hands and touched his shoulder, her pulse tripped.

She nearly laughed out loud when she spied Cameron on his horse and ready to ride. Once beside her gelding, Cameron nudged Trevor out of the way. “Sorry, old chap,” he jested.

Trevor only grunted and made for his own horse. The three of them headed back down the narrow ribbon of road to the plantation house, with Trevor forced to ride slightly behind Celine and Cameron.

Justin handed a pink camellia to Celine and continued to stroll silently along the garden walkway, a slight twitch in his jaw the only indication of his distress.

She wished he would say something—anything.

The silence wore on her. The cloying scent of the flowers grew heavier by the moment until she wondered if she could manage another breath. “Justin, please—”

A deep frown hooded his brow. “Why now, Celine? I hoped you might wait a year, if you went at all. Now I realize when the discussion came up over dinner that you meant sooner. Does Trevor have anything to do with your sudden decision?”

“Yes, and no.” Celine decided to be as honest with Justin as she could. He deserved that much. “Elizabeth, Miles, Cameron, Trevor—what does it matter who is involved in my decision? The point is, I've lived quietly, mending slowly. I'll be forever grateful to you for giving me the time to do so in such peaceful surroundings. But I cannot carry on this way. Perhaps your family's arrival hastened my awakening, I don't know, but we both knew from the outset I would leave.”