Saving Grace (35 page)

Again such honesty.
Why did it affect him so? Every word that fell from her mouth, from the simplest
yes
to her insults, drove him closer to ...
madness
?
He could think of no other term for the loss of clarity in his mind and the wrenching in his gut.
She has no idea …

“Everything you do — even milking a cow —” He gave a half-hearted laugh. “Wherever did you learn to do that?” Nicholas allowed himself to be impressed with her skill — one he certainly did not possess.

“We owned a cow for a short while,” Grace said. “Father won her.”

Of course
. How else would they have had a cow, if not through her father’s
income
? “A short while? What happened to it?’

Grace scowled. “What do you think happened? Father gambled and lost. But oh, what a heavenly time while we had her! To have fresh milk every morn — how we all cried when they took her away.”

Nicholas frowned at the image of three children huddled together, crying their hearts out over a cow. He felt like punching something, preferably her father. The man had best not set foot on Sutherland property again.

“You never finished your thought about everything I do,” Grace reminded him. “Though I am somewhat fearful to hear its conclusion.”

She worries over what I think of her?
Yet another revelation.

“I was saying that everything about you, everything you do, bespeaks of
grace
.”

This time her smile bloomed slowly and lovely, lighting up her entire face. Their eyes met, and she looked at him with an intensity she hadn’t before. “Thank you ... Nicholas.”

Hearing his name from her lips pushed what was left of his sanity to the edge.

“I suppose,” she continued, “that if we are betrothed, and if there is truly no way out of it — if we are to spend the rest of our lives together — it is good that we call each other by our Christian names.”

The rest of our lives together ...
A month ago, the thought would have terrified him. It still did in a way, but he could not deny that the thought of Miss Thatcher’s — Grace’s — company for many years to come held a certain appeal.

As they approached the main road, the reins fell slack in his hands. He didn’t want to return home just yet. This morning he’d dreaded the tasks of the day and supposed that the hours would drag on. Now he could scarce believe that the sun was already sinking low on the horizon.

Is this how it will be? Might every day with Grace be as delightful as this?

She was still looking at him. This time her face held no expectation of response but a look of patience, as if she understood that he needed time alone with his thoughts. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she could read his mind, if she somehow knew of the conflict wrestling inside him.

He guided the team to a stop just before the main road.

“You are making me quite mad,” he said, echoing the complete honesty she’d given him.

“Am I?” This seemed to please her, as another smile formed, melting away yet more of the hard shell around his heart.

Nicholas reached for her hands, and this time she did not pull away or hide them behind her in shame. He turned her palm over, tracing the lines, feeling the calluses left by years of gripping a washboard. “Your hands are lovely. Like the rest of you.” He brought her fingers to his lips, wishing away all her sorrows with his kiss.

“That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me. I thank you, Nicholas.”

His name again. How could one word bring such torture? Nicholas suppressed a groan.
What has happened to me since this morning? No, not just this morning — since that fated night I discovered her in my bed?

As he looked at her face, he realized the change had come about gradually. She’d been stirring feelings in him since that very first night.

At Preston’s ball ... during the carriage ride home ... in the library ... at meals — at dinner last night, when she looked as ravishing as any woman I’ve ever known.

Her brave words, in the way she’d stepped forward that first night to defend Kingsley, had left a lasting impression. Her defiance at the ball had been irritating, but intriguing, too. Their constant sparring, her wittiness, the way she stood up to his mother, the obvious love Grace felt for her siblings.

This woman, who was completely unaffected by the world, was affecting him greatly. She’d disturbed his existence to the point that he wasn’t certain he could ever return to the way it had been before her most untimely arrival in his life.

He no longer wanted to.

Nicholas lifted his hand to her face, touching her cheek — something he’d longed to do again since that night in the carriage. Her skin was every bit as soft as he remembered, and when she leaned into his touch, he could no longer resist. He drew closer, intent on quenching this desire. Just one kiss, and he would be able to regain his sanity. Just once, and then he would be able to leave her alone.

His eyes never left hers as he lowered his face close, close, closer. Their lips touched briefly, then parted. He waited one heartbeat, and then another, half certain she would reject him. Instead she smiled, and in her eyes there seemed to be a desire that matched his own.

“Grace.” He whispered her name with all the reverence it deserved, then kissed her hands again, holding his lips there, savoring her nearness. He was the luckiest man in the world.

One kiss is not nearly enough
.

Behind him, Nicholas heard a carriage crest the hill, round the bend, and approach their crossing. Nicholas did not let go. He scooted closer, put one arm around her, and found holding her close to be nearly as sweet as kissing her had been.

He glanced up at the polished black carriage as the horses trotted past and glimpsed the Ellis crest on the side. A dark chuckle rose from his chest.

“What?” Grace lifted her face to his, and this time he was sure of her longing gaze, of the same burning desire he knew. She looked as overwhelmed as he felt. He kissed her once more, another light brush of his lips to hers, and then she pulled away, her breathing as ragged as his felt, though theirs had been the briefest touch.

Nicholas kept his arm around her. “We might be in a spot of trouble,” he said, not the least worried.

“Oh?” Grace smoothed her dress and glanced at him shyly as a lovely blush stained her cheeks.

“That was the Ellis carriage just now. No doubt it carries Mrs. Ellis, the biggest gossip this side of the shire.”

“Is that all?” Grace smiled, seemingly having recovered her composure rather quickly, he thought. It would be quite some time before
he
recovered.

“Is that
all
?” He shook his head in mock dismay. “By nine o’clock this evening, the entire county will know we were kissing at the crossroad.”

“Then I suppose ...” She took a deep breath, her words slowing. “The entire county will know that Miss Grace Thatcher cares for her betrothed, Lord Sutherland.”

Something shattered inside him at her confession. “Does she, now?”

How can she possibly —

Nicholas reached for her, closing the space between them once more. “Perhaps Lord Sutherland is not aware of this affection.” He used a teasing tone to be safe, lest she was doing the same.

“He’d best be aware,” Grace muttered, her lips turning down in a most inviting fashion. “It’s not as if I go around kissing —”

Another carriage came around the bend, and Grace broke off as she watched it approach. Nicholas turned to see who it might be, knowing that unless it was his mother, he had no care at all who saw them. The damage was done, and besides, he rather liked Grace’s assessment of the situation.

But it was the one other person who did matter. Preston’s carriage drew closer with its shiny, false crest — false because it hadn’t been traveling these roads for generations; it didn’t belong here.

Revenge flared to life inside of Nicholas, and for once, he knew he had the advantage. He had what Preston wanted and could make him suffer for it. Nicholas pulled Grace roughly to him, smothering her lips with his, kissing her — not gently as he had before, but in a way no one could mistake for anything but possession. She was his, and Preston would never have her.

She pushed against him, but he held her tightly until the carriage passed. Then he loosened his grip, and Grace pushed him away, her eyes blurred with tears.

“How dare you use me like that? I will not be a pawn between you.” She stood and practically jumped from the carriage.

He leaned toward her. “Grace —”

She cringed as he spoke her name but drew herself taller and glared at him. “I stand by what I said earlier. Inside of you there is a noble man, a good and caring man desperate to come out, but he can’t because you’ve locked him behind an iron cage of revenge.” She shook her head as the first tear fell. “Only you have the key that will open the bars and set him free. Yet you refuse.” She whirled away, stepped onto the main road, and hurried toward home.

And Preston’s halted carriage.

Nicholas snapped the reins and hustled the team up the road. Just a short way ahead, Preston’s carriage waited. The door had opened, and Preston was getting out, though both driver and footman remained in place.

He plans to rescue her
.
I cannot let Preston take her from me.

Yet is that not exactly what I did to him?

Nicholas’s thoughts tumbled one upon one another, but none mattered except the possibility of losing Grace. He’d only just found her, and now she might leave him.

She walked briskly toward the open vehicle. Nicholas longed to call out to her again, but his pride kept him silent.
Not in front of Preston.

Nicholas drove slowly, a hair behind her. She could rejoin him at any time. But she kept her pace — and did not stop when she reached Preston’s landau.

Relief swept through Nicholas. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if she’d have gone with Preston. There might have been a duel right there, right then.

Preston shouted to his driver and pulled the door closed. His carriage rolled forward, and he leaned out the window, speaking to Grace. She glanced at him but shook her head and continued walking. A snub to Preston, to be sure, but Nicholas couldn’t delight in it. He was too busy berating himself his rash decision and wishing Grace were still on the seat beside him.

She marched on, arms swinging resolutely, head held high, his carriage behind, and Preston’s rolling slowly beside her. She left the road at the path that would take her through the gardens and on toward the house. Nicholas was first surprised she knew of it and then frustrated that he couldn’t follow. But neither could Preston, who had withdrawn into his carriage while his driver was busy turning the vehicle around, as he’d passed his own drive some time ago.

Nicholas pulled up beside him. “Out of my way!” he shouted to the driver.

Preston’s head appeared at the window. “Stop,” he ordered his driver. The carriage door banged open. Preston unfolded himself from the seat and stood, leaning out, perilously close to Nicholas’s team. “If you ever treat Grace like that again, I’ll see that it’s the last thing your lips ever do.”

“Anytime you want to make good on your threat,” Nicholas said, his hands clenched around the reins.

“At Miss Thatcher’s word,” Preston said. “And you can bet I’ll find out if you’ve treated her poorly.”

“You dare to speak. The man who killed my sister — his own wife!”

“I loved your sister — an emotion you wouldn’t understand.” Preston’s chest heaved, and his fists clenched at his sides. “I honor Elizabeth’s name by doing you no harm — today. But I swear on her grave, if you treat Grace ill ever again —”

“Empty threats,” Nicholas spat. Preston needn’t have uttered them. Nicholas felt enough self-loathing for his own actions.

I shouldn’t have used Grace that way. I am the worst kind of rogue.
He flicked the reins, intent on driving around Preston’s skewed vehicle.

“You don’t deserve her,” Preston said.

I know.
The truth of his enemy’s words struck Nicholas at his core.

Preston’s gaze followed him as he drove past. “You don’t even realize what you have.”

Disaster was imminent. Grace dressed for dinner, dreading a confrontation with Lord Sutherland and knowing she likely wouldn’t make it through the evening without some improper display of emotion.

“Any jewelry tonight, miss?” the girl who’d been sent up to help her asked.

Jenny had been reassigned to another task, leaving Grace without a lady’s maid — an insult in itself and a good indication that neither Lord Sutherland —
Nicholas
, she thought with a pang — nor his mother expected her to remain at Sutherland Hall much longer. For all his noble words the night before, they were probably downstairs, deciding what to do with her.

“The pearls, please,” Grace said as pleasantly as possible.
No use in taking my frustrations out on the servants,
though that is what Lord Sutherland always does
.

She thought of the way he’d used her, how his antagonism toward Preston had been expressed in one passionate, overbearing kiss. Absently, she ran a finger over her lips. Instead of feeling bruised from the encounter, they seemed to ache, along with the rest of her, for the tender kisses that had come before.