The Soldier's Dark Secret

What the hell? It was no consolation at all to see his own question reflected in her face. He couldn’t think of a damned thing to say. He could, unfortunately, think of a hundred things he wanted to do. Needed to do. Urgently. Jack swore long and hard under his breath. Breathe. Don’t think about it. But he couldn’t take his eyes of her. She hadn’t moved. Head and shoulders against the wall. Eyes closed. Breathing slowly. Measured breaths like his. Hands curled into fists like his. Cheeks flushed with desire, no doubt as his were. That long tendril of hair lying across her breast. He reached for it, caught himself, took a step back and tumbled against the leg of a table.

Celeste opened her eyes. Jack pushed his hair back from his face. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then she stood up, tucked the strand of hair behind her ears, straightened her shoulders. ‘Bien, at least now we know that it was not a product of circumstances, that kiss in the Topiary Garden.’ Her voice was shaky, but she made no attempt to avoid his gaze.

‘The one you insisted was just a kiss,’ he said.

‘As I recall, you agreed with me.’

‘Because I thought I had exaggerated its effect on me.’

‘And what about this time?’

He shook his head. ‘No. It would not be possible to exaggerate how that just felt. Frankly, it was almost too much.’

‘For both of us,’ Celeste said wryly.

Would another woman have denied it? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she did not. It made his own instinct to pretend nothing had happened, or to pretend nothing so—so— No, he would not try to quantify it, and he would not try to deny it. ‘Do you regret it?’ Jack asked as he self-consciously tucked his shirt back into his pantaloons.

She had been rearranging the neckline of her gown, but at that she looked up. ‘Why should I?’

There was an edge in her words that took him aback. He had asked her, he realised now, purely because it was the sort of thing he thought he ought to ask. He knew he ought to regret his actions, but he could not. He was too elated to have the proof that it had not been a fluke, his reaction to that first kiss. Elated to know that whatever was wrong with him, lack of desire was no longer an integral part of it. Frustrated—hell, yes, he was frustrated. But he was also— Yes, he was also still a little bit afraid of the reaction she had provoked in him. And more than a little afraid of the consequences if he had not stopped.

‘I have never been one of those women who pretend they have no desires of their own.’ Celeste’s voice cut into his thoughts. ‘Nor am I the kind of woman who pretends that such physical desires represent anything more significant, Jack.’

‘You’re warning me off. There’s no need, I assure you. At this moment in time, my only ambition is to get myself through the day—’ He broke off, realising too late what he’d admitted, remembering, suddenly, why he had kissed her in the first place. And now he’d given her the perfect opening to start again.

But to his surprise, her expression softened. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That is how I have felt since—since.’ She blinked rapidly, and forced a smile. ‘It is a good thing, this—this—between us, because now I know that I am recovering myself— No, that is not the correct expression.’

‘Slowly getting back to normal?’

‘Yes. That is it. That is what this is, yes? We are both adults. We are obviously well suited as regards—kissing,’ Celeste said, flushing. ‘We need not pretend it is anything else, no?’

He was most likely imagining the pleading note in her voice. It was most likely his male ego that wanted to believe she was much more confused by what had happened between them than she appeared. As confused as he was? ‘You’re right,’ Jack said with a conviction he was far from feeling.

Celeste nodded. ‘Yes. It makes sense, what I said.’

It did. Perfect sense. So it was pointless wondering why she sounded as unconvinced as he. ‘So,’ Jack said in a bracing voice that made him cringe, ‘talking of getting back to normal, perhaps we should concentrate on these questions your mother has raised. Do you have any other clues, save the letter?’

If she noticed anything odd in his voice, she chose not to comment on it. ‘A couple of things. There is this, for what it’s worth, which is not a lot.’ Celeste unclasped the locket from her neck and handed it to him. ‘It came with the letter. My mother always wore it. I don’t think I ever saw her without it.’

Jack turned the oval locket over in his hand, examining it carefully. The metal was slightly tarnished so it was difficult to tell, but it looked like it might be gold or, more likely rose-gold, a cheaper alloy. It was embellished with a fleur-de-lis design. Around the rim were laurel leaves set with clear stones and in the centre was set a larger blue one.

‘It’s just a trinket,’ Celeste said dismissively, ‘though a pretty one.’