The Soldier's Dark Secret

Slide and stroke. Slide and stroke. His gaze holding hers. She had never been so tight. And then he kissed her, and the thrust of his tongue and the stroke of his fingers was too much. She cried out, jerking underneath him, yanked into a hard, fast climax, shuddering as it took her, wave after wave, clinging to Jack, as if he would save her, her hand clutching at his shoulder, her fingers curled around his shaft.

Panting. And tears. Tears? He kissed her again, hard. She closed her eyes. Her lashes were wet. Tears? Her lips clung to his. She wriggled under him, trying to shift sufficiently to free him from his breeches. To give him what he had given her.

Jack shifted, gently removing her hand. ‘Celeste, it’s not—it’s not that I don’t want you.’ His voice was harsh. The effort it took him to stop her was obvious. ‘It’s quite apparent that I do. More than I have ever—ever. But I can’t. No, not can’t. Dare not.’

He sat up, adjusting himself, fastening his buttons, helping her to her feet, taking her hands, sitting down beside her on the window seat, stroking her hair back from her face. Then kissing her, so deeply and with such regret, she could not doubt the depth of his feeling. ‘Dare not?’

Jack stared down at his hands. ‘I haven’t wanted to. Not since— Not for a long time. I told you that, I think. I thought that aspect of my life was over. And then I saw you.’ He kissed her again. ‘This, the way we are together, it is so much more than anything I’ve ever felt before. I’m afraid that I would want so much more from you than I’ve ever wanted from any woman before and I know...’ He kissed her again to stop her speaking. ‘I know you’ve made it very clear that your independence means everything to you, so I’m not presuming—’

He broke off, staring out the window, his jaw working. ‘Even if you did,’ he said finally, turning back to her, his face stricken, ‘it wouldn’t be possible. What happened two years ago makes it impossible for me to even contemplate— I don’t deserve you, Celeste, and I’m afraid that if I gave in, if I allowed myself to—to make love to you, I would find it almost impossible to walk away, whether you wanted me or not. I have enough on my conscience without that.’

His smile was a grimace. His eyes were darkly troubled. ‘There, I had not meant to say as much. You will think me presumptuous...’

‘Jack, I think—I don’t know what to think. It is the same for me—this, between us. You must know that. It frightens me. It makes me think—want—I don’t know what.’ She touched his cheek with her fingers. ‘You seem changed. You seem— I can see a little of the soldier in you, I think,’ she said with a lopsided smile, ‘ready to go into battle.’

‘It’s what I’m doing, I suppose.’

‘Won’t you tell me what happened, Jack?’

He pulled his hands free, his expression set. ‘No,’ he said, ‘absolutely not. No one knows, and I intend to keep it that way.’

She contemplated pressing him, but his tone made it clear it would be pointless, and she couldn’t bear to be at odds with him again after this. He had changed. He was still vulnerable, and he was still in torment but he was, as he said, fighting back, though the cause of his torment remained buried, a festering sore. She shuddered at this stark imagery. She was learning herself that such sores needed to excised.

‘I almost forgot.’ Jack pulled her locket from the velvet pouch. ‘Here. I had the jewellers clean it.’

The stones sparkled. ‘I can’t believe I ever thought it mere trumpery.’ Jack fastened it around her neck. Her fingers closed over it. ‘I have missed it.’

He kissed the nape of her neck. ‘Celeste?’

‘I do understand. I do.’ She got to her feet, blushing. ‘I don’t know what I think, but I understand. And I am—I am very honoured that you have confided in me this much. It must have taken a great deal— We neither of us are very good at it.’

‘We’re both of us getting better, though.’ Jack took her hand again, and kissed the palm. ‘Don’t mention anything about the dinner. I’m going to spring it on Charlie at breakfast so he’ll have no option but to agree. Do you have a gown? I never thought to ask.’

Celeste smiled saucily. ‘I am a Frenchwoman. Of course I have a gown.’

Jack laughed. ‘I missed you,’ he said, then turned away before she could answer. ‘I’ll see you at breakfast.’

‘And I missed you too,’ Celeste said as the door closed behind him.

* * *

‘So the invite is from the Great Man himself? I thought Wellington was holed up in Paris.’ Charlie pushed his empty breakfast plate to one side. His brother, as Jack had anticipated, looked suitably awestruck.

‘He is only in England on a brief visit.’

‘Ah. Did you hear that, Eleanor?’ Charlie said, turning to his wife. ‘Wellington himself has invited Jack to a dinner.’

‘Jack and a partner,’ Eleanor said, pouring herself a cup of tea. ‘It is exceeding short notice to receive such an invitation.’