Swan's Grace (19 page)

His expression grew troubled, his body suddenly tense. "But what if I need you to save me?"

Her breath caught, and confusion clouded her mind.

"Mercy sakes alive, we don't got all day."

With a start, Sophie and Grayson focused on the line of people. Then, before anyone could say another word, Grayson tossed her items in a box and secured it on his hip, his strong hand at her back as he guided her to the door.

"Hey, what about the change?" the clerk called after him.

"Keep it."

They came out into the brisk air, Grayson walking so fast it looked as if he were marching.

"Stop, please!" Sophie demanded, whisking away from him.

But he kept going, hitching the box under his arm. His mind churned, stunned that he had uttered those words out loud at all. In a store. In front of Sophie.

After a few seconds, he heard Sophie start after him. Seconds later she came up beside him, though neither of them stopped walking.

"What did you mean, save you?"

He gave a wry look that he didn't feel. "I was joking."

"I don't think you were."

He shrugged, never missing a step.

"Grayson, talk to me."

"Ah, now you want to talk, when it's about me rather than you."

She crooked a smile and looked like a little imp. "I've never claimed to be fair."

"You got me on that one."

"So you aren't going to tell me what you meant," she said.

"Ding, ding, ding, you win the prize."

He repeated her words from the night she arrived, making her laugh, the sound echoing against the new-fallen snow.

"Well, then," she began grudgingly, "I guess I have no choice but to move on to new topics and thank you for taking care of the grocery bill." Her smile melted away like snow beneath a spring sun.

"You're welcome."

"I could have paid."

He glanced over at her with a raised brow.

"I could have," she insisted.

He stepped off the curb to accommodate two women who were walking their way. He tipped his hat and nodded his head, and the ladies smiled and cooed at him.

Sophie groaned and rolled her eyes.

This time he laughed and seemed to relax. "Jealous?" he asked with a smile once he was back on the walkway.

"Not on your life."

"You used to be jealous when I was with other women."

She shot him a look. "I was eight."

He smiled appreciatively. "True."

"And a moron."

"You? Never."

She kept on going. "I was, and we both know it. But I've changed a lot since then."

"We've all changed, Sophie."

"You more than most, I'd say."

"Don't tell me we are back to that again."

She glanced over and studied him as they turned left, and she noticed his smile was no longer so smug.

"I'm not so different, Sophie."

But he was. They both knew it, too. After being kicked out of his home, he'd had something to prove. That he was successful. That he was perfect. She wondered if he understood that about himself.

She stopped at a hill that by afternoon's end would be covered with children coming out to play. She glanced between the snowy slope and Grayson. "Prove that you haven't changed."

His head whipped around. "I don't need to prove anything ," he said, his tone that of a lawyer in court.

Sophie smiled. "I'll save you, Grayson. I'll save you from a life of little more than drawing up contracts, acting proper, and doing the acceptable thing. And I'll do that by putting a little excitement in your life."

His jaw went tight.

"Slide down that hill."

"Which will prove little more than that I'm a fool."

"It will prove you know how to have fun."

"Even if I wanted to, which I don't, there is nothing to transport me."

" 'Transport me'?" she repeated, giving him an incredulous look. Then she shook her head and scanned the landscape, catching sight of a red-slatted sled. "You're in luck. Surely a sled is
transport
enough."

There it went, the tic in his jaw beating like the hall clock. She wasn't sure if the proof made her happy or sad.

But she was given no chance to think it through when Grayson dropped the box of goods on a bench with a clunk, and stormed over to snatch up the guide rope.

She stood stunned and watched his retreating back as he marched up the snowy hill, his ever so proper coattails flapping, snow no doubt filling his fine leather shoes, the brightly colored sled following along in his wake. She cringed for a second, then laughed up to the skies and raced after him.

At the top she panted from exertion. He stood very still, without looking at her, staring at the city that stretched out below. The sight of him took her breath away. The past disappeared. The future wasn't a thought. There were only the
two
of them on this hill, the beauty of him, as always, surprising her.

"Why did things have to change?" she whispered.

He turned to face her, his eyes solemn. "Do you really wish things had stayed the same?"

"I wish my mother were still here."

He sighed and reached out to hook his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. Amazingly she didn't feel the need to flee. She savored the warmth of him, the scent of male, warm despite the cold.

"True, but you've gained so much as an adult," he said. "Do you want to give all that back?"

"For my mother? In a heartbeat."

They stood in silence, an ease wrapping around her much like his arm. "I wouldn't go back," Grayson said so quietly she almost didn't hear. "I wouldn't be young again to save my life."

It had been horrible for him. Even she, so much younger than he was, had understood that. But just like her, he couldn't change the past. They could only move forward and make what they could of the future.

She savored the wonderful moment one last second, then she pushed away.

"Come on, Hawthorne, hop on that sled."

He straightened, coming back to himself. After a second he glanced at the red slats and grimaced, as if he wondered how he had gotten there. "Maybe another time."

He started away.

"Chicken."

His eyes narrowed and he turned to face her.

"Baaak, baaak," she taunted.

"I am not a child to be dared into action."

She folded her arms into wings and strutted in a circle.

"I am not a chicken."

"Of course not," she replied, pulling her knees up high beneath the long skirts of her gown and jutting her chin.

With a curse, he pointed the sled down the hill. "If I break my neck, it is nothing worse than I deserve," he grumbled, then lowered himself to the wood.

But he was a big man, no longer a boy, and his knees popped up like tents.

Sophie's eyes went wide before she couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks.

Glowering, he leaped up. "This is ridiculous."

"Baaak."

"Then you get on it with me."

That shut her up.

"I hardly think I have anything to prove when it comes to having fun."

A smile pulled on his lips. "Baaack," he mimicked, the sound drawn out in a taunt.

"Damn you, Grayson Hawthorne." After which she marched over and plopped down.

Seconds later Grayson mounted behind her. The feel of his arms around her was like a shock. But the shock gave way to unbridled joy as they set off down the hill.

The late-winter sun had turned the new snow to crusty ice, and they slid with growing speed, her boa blowing out behind them like a feathered flag. Wind caught in her hat, tugging it from her head. For half a second they each tried to snag it, but it flipped on the breeze and tumbled away.

Sophie laughed, relishing the moment of unencumbered freedom. Then suddenly they hit a bump and left the ground, before hitting with a crash, the sled tumbling out of control.

Landing on her back with a thud, Sophie stared up at the brilliant blue sky, too surprised to move. Puffs of white clouds drifted by, and she thought she could lie there forever. The peace, the sense of life not pressing in on her. The lack of worry.

Only seconds later Grayson leaned over her, blocking out the clouds and sun.

"Sophie," he stated, his eyes dark with concern, his brow knitted. But the effect was lost with the snow that frosted both his hair and his expensive cashmere coat. He looked more like a snowman than a proper Victorian solicitor.

"Sophie, are you all right?" he demanded, his voice growing hoarse with worry.

With that she laughed. She couldn't help it.

Grayson froze, then slowly leaned back on his haunches.

"I'm fine, but I'm not sure you are."

"This isn't funny. You could have been killed."

She raised herself up on her elbows and smiled. "But I wasn't. Though if looks could kill…"

His scowl deepened, then he started to push up. But he stopped when she caught him in the side of the head with a snowball. She nearly laughed again at the look on his face. Startled, amazed. Then slowly his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing.

Sophie silently cursed herself, knowing she should have quit while she was ahead. Slowly he started toward her.

"Grayson," she warned, scooting back.

But he caught her ankle, his fingers surprisingly gentle, but still like manacles against her thick wool stockings.

"Now, Grayson, really." She forced a smile.

"Now, Grayson, what?" he asked, his voice a rumble of sound as he slowly pulled her to him.

"You are acting irresponsibly."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

Yes
. "It hardly matters what I want. I'm simply thinking of your reputation," she reasoned. "We are in a public place, after all."

"You weren't too concerned about reputations and public places when you forced me to ride down this hill."

"Forced? I doubt I could force you to do anything you didn't want to do."

He shrugged, a crook of his lips beginning to show. "True." His smile widened. "You badgered me into doing it."

"I do not badger."

But the words trailed off when she found herself so close to him they nearly touched.

He had let go of her ankle, and he reached up to brush his gloved fingers down her cheek. "I've missed you," he said.

Self-conscious, she snorted. "You weren't missing me last week when I was advising your client."

He chuckled, his fingers still brushing against her cheek. Her heart beat hard and she told herself to flee, but she couldn't. She stared at him, her mind racing.

"That was last week," he said, before his face darkened. "You have a way of making me forget." He hesitated. "But I've never forgotten the baskets you sent me when I lived in Cambridge."

She felt the red that flushed her cheeks. He hadn't forgotten. "God, I was so silly. Sending those things like you needed me to help you with food."

"I did."

The words made her heart snag in her chest.

"You saved me from needing to steal during those first months when I didn't have any money."

"I can't imagine you without money."

"Imagine it. You should have seen the place I lived in."

"Oh, but I did see where you lived!"

This time it was Grayson who went still. "What are you talking about?"

Instantly she cursed herself for mentioning her nocturnal trip to Cambridge all those years ago. She did her best not to think about the night she had slipped inside that dismal garret and found him. The beauty of him, the naked, hard planes of his body held in the hands of someone else.

Shocked and devastated, she had backed out silently. To make matters worse, the next morning it had been announced that the Grand Debut solo had gone to Megan Robertson.

Sophie had fled for Europe on the first ship out of Boston Harbor, the document signed giving her father control of her affairs.

"It was nothing," she said, brushing snow away from her skirts to keep her hands busy. "I just happened to be in the neighborhood once."

"Good God, when?" He leaned away.

"Before I left for Europe," she said casually. Though she didn't feel casual at all. If only he had been alone, life would have been so different.

"I always wondered why you didn't say good-bye."

His words surprised her, since she hadn't gone there intending to say good-bye. At the time she hadn't known how wrong things were about to go.

But suddenly he was smiling broadly, making him look for all the world like an errant schoolboy. She realized he was inordinately pleased.

"I knew I couldn't have been so wrong about you," he said.

His joy was contagious. And the nighttime visit was suddenly in the past. She felt his joy, felt that old bond, as if they were connected. And before she knew what she was doing, she pelted him with another handful of snow.

This time he wasn't surprised. He grabbed up some himself, and when she tried to scramble away, he pinned her in the snow, then stared at her. His smile faded, that deep intensity filling his features.

She could only stare back. Then he tossed the snow aside and lowered himself until they lay face-to-face.

"I'm going to kiss you, Sophie."

Tell him no. Get away. Run as fast as you can.

Her fingers curled in his snowy lapels as he leaned close.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, and her heart soared. His lips tasted hers, brushing back and forth. He pulled back and met her gaze.

"Sophie."

The implacably hard, ruthless man had faded away, making it more difficult than ever to resist him. Making her feel safe. He looked at her, his dark eyes suddenly aching, desperate. In that moment he looked vulnerable as she never would have imagined this man could be. His strength drew her and repelled her in turn. She couldn't afford a strong man who would try to dominate her life. But this vulnerability of the soul drew her in a way that made pushing away seem impossible.

Her heart tightened with something she couldn't name. Panic? Perhaps. But it felt like something more. As though she wanted to give in. Despite everything.

With a start she turned her head away, pressing her cheek against the snow. But he cradled her chin and pulled her back. She could see the passion in his eyes.