Chapter 11 #2
He stepped closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. "The only consequence, Jaclyn, is whether or not we acknowledge what is already between us. We cannot deny it forever."
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. His eyes were dark, full of emotion, and the intensity with which he looked at her made her heart race. She couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to. “I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m near you,” she confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Kingston’s lips curled into a slow smile. "Then let me make it easier for you," he said softly. "Let me show you what this is between us. No more games, no more resistance."
Before she could respond, he cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up gently to meet his lips.
The kiss was soft at first, tender, as though he were testing the waters, and Jaclyn found herself leaning into it, her body responding to him in ways she had no control over.
The kiss deepened, and her hands, almost of their own accord, found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
Her heart raced, and her thoughts scattered as everything that had once felt so wrong between them seemed to disappear in that moment.
She could feel the intensity of his touch, his warmth, and it was as though everything she had tried to push aside came rushing back—his desire, her own.
The walls she had built around herself began to crumble, and she felt herself surrendering to him, to what he had always offered but she had refused to see.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Jaclyn’s fingers trembled as they rested on his chest. She looked up at him, her heart still pounding.
She could see it in his eyes—the same desire, the same need that had always been there.
"You were right," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"I cannot keep denying this." The problem was that she did not know how to define her feelings for this man before her.
He made her want things she had thought lost to her.
Kingston’s smile was slow, but it reached his eyes.
"Then let’s not deny it any longer," he said softly, before capturing her lips once more.
And this time, Jaclyn let herself fall into it completely, surrendering to the passion they both shared.
The kiss was no longer tentative, no longer filled with uncertainty—it was full of promise, of everything they had fought against but could not stop.
She had known for so long that there was no avoiding what was between them.
Now, there was only acceptance. Throughout the house party at Easton Abbey they had been at odds.
They would bicker whenever they were near each other.
She realized now that it was only a prelude.
They had been fighting the inevitable. Every moment they had shared had been leading to this pivotal one.
How had they gone this long without sharing such a tantalizing kiss?
She could not imagine never kissing him again either.
When the kiss broke again, this time with both of them gasping for air, Kingston held her against him. "I have waited for this moment far too long, love," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "And now that it’s finally here, I don’t want to let you go."
Jaclyn placed a hand over his heart, her own emotions running wild.
She had always known this was where it would lead.
She had known, even if she had fought it, that they would end up here.
But the fear, the fear that had held her back for so long, had melted away and in its place, she found something far more powerful—hope.
A hope that perhaps, this time, she could have it all.
Love, passion, and a future with him. Did she dare dream that all of this would lead to something she had not believed would be hers?
Could he love her? He claimed that this was more than lust, but she didn’t know he spoke the truth.
Though he could be speaking the truth as he saw it.
"Then don’t," she whispered, her eyes locked with his. "Don’t let me go."
“I wish it were that simple, darling,” he said hoarsely.
Kingston groaned and pulled her snugly into his arms. He brushed his fingers though the loose strands of her hair and pulled back to gaze into her eyes.
There was so much turmoil in those gray depths.
He leaned his head against hers. “I don’t want to do it, but I must… ”
“Why must you?” she asked. Jaclyn frowned.
How could he kiss her like he had and then tell her that he had to let her go?
Was he taking what he wanted from her and then setting her aside?
What if she had given herself fully to him?
What would he do after he had taken everything from her? Was she being a besotted fool?
“Because you have been so ill,” he told her. He stepped back and blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“I am not that weak,” she insisted. “I haven’t fell this good in days.” In fact, she felt the very bloom of health. One kiss from him was like a tonic that she should have sipped from the very moment she had taken ill. “Do not push me away. Not now.”
His gaze was filled with anguish, and she knew he was about to disappoint her.
It was like a bane to her soul. One that would slide over her like the illness she had been fighting for days.
Only this time she wasn’t so certain she would recover from it.
“I have to,” he told her. “I cannot add to your damaged reputation. Your brother…”
“Is an idiot,” she told him. “He is the reason I have a soiled reputation to begin with. You more than anyone know the reasons for it all. We both know that nothing ever happened between us.” She tilted her chin upward.
“At least not then. Now there is far more between us than there has ever been.” She laughed bitterly. “But even that isn’t enough, is it?”
“Jaclyn…”
“Don’t,” she warned him. “I do not need any platitudes from you.” She held out her hand to prevent him from moving closer to her.
“Do me a favor, Your Grace. Keep your distance. I cannot handle any more attempts at flirtation from you. My heart is already too bruised from your efforts.” She turned to leave and then decided she would still like the book of sonnets.
Jaclyn stepped to retrieve it and the duke’s hand wrapped around her wrist.
“Don’t go,” he said hoarsely. “Talk to me.”
“We’ve said all there is to say,” she told him.
“There is nothing left to discuss.” She wrenched her hand free and grabbed the book, then headed toward the library door.
Perhaps she should leave Easton Abbey with Barrett.
It would give her the distance she needed from the duke.
Kingston had broken her heart with his words.
That hope that had flared to life was like a distant memory now.
Jaclyn's heart pounded as she exited the library, the book of sonnets clutched tightly to her chest. Her steps were brisk, as if putting as much distance between herself and him would somehow quell the storm raging within her.
The echo of his voice, hoarse and laced with emotion, still hung in the air.
She had hoped—no, foolishly believed—that after everything, after the way they had shared moments of tenderness, he would see her as more than the weight of her family’s disgrace.
But the coldness in his words had stripped away any semblance of hope she had clung to.
He had backed away from her when she had needed him most. The tenderness of that single kiss, which had ignited something in her, had been extinguished by the reality of his indifference.
“Jaclyn,” his voice called from behind her, firm and urgent, but she could not bring herself to turn around. She refused to show him the vulnerability he had so effortlessly exploited.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the door, the simple act of walking away feeling more painful than it should have.
Was it not enough that she had endured so much already?
That her reputation had been soiled, not by her own doing but by the actions of others?
But no, the duke could not see past his own rigid sense of duty to allow her the possibility of happiness.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Jaclyn leaned against the cool wood for a moment, her breath shallow, her pulse a constant reminder of the ache in her chest. She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to prick at her eyes.
The finality of the moment, the utter rejection she had just experienced, was almost too much to bear.
Now she realized how foolish she had been.
She had allowed herself to hope, and in doing so, had only set herself up for heartbreak.
She felt the weight of the book in her hands, a reminder of that embarrassing moment. She should have left it where Kingston had set it. What had she been thinking...
With a deep sigh, Jaclyn pushed herself off the door and walked down the long corridor, each step echoing in the stillness.
She had been fighting for so long to find peace in her own heart, but the duke's rejection had shattered any illusion of that.
Not that she looked forward to going home and facing her father or a long carriage ride with her brother, but perhaps that was her fate.
Steeling herself, Jaclyn left the hallway and made her way toward the stairs.
But as she reached the top of the staircase, she froze.
The sudden realization that Kingston had broken her heart, and she had let him…
Her reality was clearer now. He was right to keep his distance.
If he could not offer her what she wanted—what she deserved—then she had no choice but to protect her heart.
And yet, the ache remained.