Upon Your Return (16 page)

He groaned again, turning with her and forcing her into the soft cover of the carpet. He thrust himself inside of her, dipping to kiss her full mouth, and began the rhythm once more. Her body opened to him and she felt an urgency, a need to feel him infinitely. She surrendered to his kiss as he explored her mouth deeply and drove into her with an unstoppable rhythm. Their climaxes came in the same breath-catching moment. Grant groaned as he captured Fara's cry in his mouth. They both lay replete on the carpet, slick and naked as the day their mothers bore them.

Fara's lashes swept down. Her mind was pleasantly numb. At the edge of consciousness, she jerked when she felt a tickle on her breast. She opened her eyes slowly to see that she was aligned with Grant's body, and he bent to lick at her nipple, which shriveled to a peak at his touch. He stole a glance at her and she watched him intently now.

“Surely you cannot have enough stamina to go again,” she managed.

He raised his eyebrows. “Would it surprise you if I proved you wrong?”

Fara grinned. “Not at all.”

* * * *

Grant had been away on business for a day, getting supplies for
La Voyageur
, so Fara had time to herself once more. She wondered if Grant felt anything for her besides desire. Why had he wanted a vow of feeling from her without giving one in return? She remembered the argument...the fight she'd put up about the very lack of love, only it had been slightly cryptic on her part. Why had she pretended it mattered so much?

Mon Dieu
...because it
had
mattered. It still mattered and Fara couldn't understand it. Why had she gone on and on about love and what-ifs and allowed herself to become near hysterical about it? It made no sense. She'd never been the kind of woman to commit to flights of fancy, to do anything on a whim...and yet she had. She'd allowed Grant to make love to her when her body said yes and her reasoning had been forgotten. For those moments, she'd thought both her heart and mind had been in perfect accord. It made perfect sense, but it didn't. She couldn't see taking a lover without ever feeling strongly for the man, feeling some vestige of love.

She'd admitted to feeling some kind of affection for Grant, but it wasn't love. It could have been gratitude. Would love really cause a woman to forget her place in society for one night's time? Surely not, Fara thought.
I can't be in love. I can't love Grant
. But her heart was against her mind in this matter. It said all kinds of things which she'd like to deny but couldn't. It was too true and new for words. After she had spent two nights in the protection of Grant Hill's arms, she'd fallen for him. It wasn't infatuation...no, that stage was completely over. She could certainly be accused of developing a
tendre
for the man. Love was here and from the looks of it, it planned to stay. Now, she just had to worry about what her uncle had stated in his will and the fact that she would have to live with her aunt very soon.

That night, when Grant returned for dinner, she asked him about his plans for ridding
Monsieur
Bordeaux of his obligation to marry her.

“The man is only tied to you in writing. It is likely he has not protested the betrothal because he wants your dowry.”

“Perhaps you want me for my dowry as well?” She fiddled with the food on her plate nervously, lowering her eyes. “I wouldn't blame you for it.”

He frowned. “That wouldn't make you happy.”

She disregarded his words with a flick of the wrist. “It's not about my happiness.”

“Is it not? We've discussed this before. I thought we decided it would be mutual…”

“
Oui
,” she agreed reluctantly. “Yet you did not answer the question.”

“Fara, I desired you then. I saw you as a beautiful lady with a hell of a stubborn streak, but never did I care for that fact that you or your uncle had money. That is irrelevant regarding how much I still desire you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart rate increasing. His words never failed to send her emotions careening into mindless objectives. She closed her eyes briefly. He claimed to desire her. Desire, but never anything more. Never an ounce of affection. Only desire. Certainly he had to feel something in order to disregard her financial prospects. If money wasn't important to this man, what was? Honor? The
amende honorable
he had proposed at first certainly revealed he had that much honor.

What else was important? If he was willing to dismiss society's expectations on a whim, then was he only interested in wanting her and nothing else? Couldn't he care about her as well? She didn't know. The only thing she did know was that it was incredibly hard to figure the man out.

Chapter Twelve

Grant's obligations as a captain usually required him to be gone for several hours during the day. In turn, it left Fara plenty of time to reflect on her life. She couldn't remember when she'd needed this much. For so long, she'd had to repress or control certain urges. No, she had not really wanted a man until she'd met Grant, but even her need for love had been repressed. As time had passed, as her uncle grew more impassive toward her, she had withdrawn into herself. She'd learned to forget what she wanted in life. Her function in society was to learn the art of being a lady, next to find a husband. Once she was married, there would be dinners and balls, perhaps even children to care for.

For a long time, she could only focus on her role as a lady. Her uncle would allow nothing else. He controlled her plans, her social gatherings. But, she could never be controlled inside. She remembered her parents enough to know they had been fair people and probably would not have left her in her uncle's care, except there had been no choice.

She'd had to accept her fate, but she knew he would never take the freedom inside her heart. He could control her future if he liked, but he could not master her thoughts. She alone knew the way to her heart. If her uncle had ever uttered a sympathetic or sincere word, she could have truly cared for him. It was hard not to care about someone she spent time with, but she could not love him as a father figure. He could never replace her parents. That was too much to ask.

Her uncle never asked anything, just expected of her. He expected that she would plan the dinners and be escorted to the market three times a week. He expected she would be at his beck and call. He expected that she would retire after dinner and never leave the house unless escorted by him or a trusted servant. By controlling her life, he probably even thought he knew her.

That was the wrong assumption to make. She could appear obedient because it was expected. But, no one knew of her iron will. No one knew that each time she followed her uncle's orders, she just bit back the urge to make a retort. They did not know that each night she dreamed of a far away love, of meeting a man who might take her out of that obligation, away from the continuity of obedience. She dreamed of a man with no face, one in the shadows who had his own mysteries but was still strong enough to help her when she needed it. She dreamed of a wise yet kind man, one known for his strength but also capable of empathy. Wasn't this what she needed? Very much.

And what of Grant Hill, she wondered to herself that night after her nursemaid had left, after she lay in bed trying to sleep. Grant could very well be the man from her dreams. “
Mon Dieu
,” she moaned at the darkness. Yes, she needed much more than she once had. Not only had the man awakened fires in her blood, he had also opened her eyes to other things, especially to the truth. She could not stay alone in this house forever. More than anything, she needed to go to Lina Devereux, the last tie to her bloodline. She was still a lady and unfortunately had to worry about her reputation.

She needed a guardian and even though Grant
was good at it, he could not keep his word about having a strictly business relationship and she could not control herself with him either.
Madame
Devereux might be able to get her out of this fix. She might know how to tell a lover goodbye when the lady saying it means the exact opposite. Fara wanted Grant; she just could not tell him that he really confused her. She really needed him too much; if she didn't depend on him so often, then she wouldn't be in this Godforsaken position.

In the darkness, she blinked, her eyes still adjusting. Suddenly, she sensed something different about the room. A presence. Was that the slightest movement before the window? Could that have been a footstep heard on the carpeting? Her stomach muscles clenched into a tight knot of fear and she wondered if it could be Grant. No, she decided at once. He could be mysterious at times, but he would never enter a place unannounced. Well, at least he wouldn't come through the window if he wanted to be with her. “Rosalie?”

A chuckle could be heard a short distance from the mattress. “Your nursemaid has left for the night…”

The voice was masculine but unfamiliar. She rose on her elbows and felt vulnerable in only her nightgown. “Who are you? Reveal yourself or I will scream for help.”

“Relax,
Mademoiselle
. It is I, Nicholas Bordeaux.” He stepped forward into the moonlight that spilled through the window.

She recognized him as the man she'd seen in the club. A new kind of heat built inside her and it felt like a refreshing rage. Her fiancé? The man who had nearly killed Grant and was somehow still tied to her in writing had truly crossed the line this time. “Get out,” she ordered thickly.

“Please,
Mademoiselle
…” He sighed. “I realize the circumstances of our first meeting were less than acceptable, but--”

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She flung her feet over the side of the bed and rushed toward him. “Out!”

He caught her wrists as she fell against him, her fists balled. “
Mademoiselle
…” He sighed again. “You must listen. I had to see you.”

“No, get out of my house. You don't belong here!”

“Fara…
Mademoiselle
, you are overreacting.”

Pain shot through her wrists from his grip. “Am I? I will scream. Do you think I won't?”

“I believe you, but I needed to see you just once.” His eyes roamed over her transparent figure, lust lighting them.

Fear knotted in her stomach once more. “No!” she cried. “Get out of my house! I'll scream! Let go of me!” She jerked from his grasp, her hip slamming into the armoire. She drew in a breath of agony.

“You heard the lady,
Monsieur
. You are trespassing on certain property…and it seems to be a recurring theme with you, if you don't mind my saying it.” The reference to a past duel was not lost on Fara.

She swung to see Grant with his pistol trained on Nicholas. He did not often carry it, she knew, and it surprised her to see it in his hand. She had not heard the door open. The light streamed in from the corridor behind him. She was near hysterical from the fear of seeing Nicholas and Grant was the last person she thought would ever come to her rescue again. She had been told by messenger that he would be late tonight because of business.

“Fara?” he asked gently. “I assume this gentleman was bothering you.”

“
Oui
,” she agreed. “
Monsieur
Bordeaux was just leaving. Perhaps you might escort him?”

“With pleasure.
Monsieur
?” Grant gestured with the pistol.

“I am not threatened by you,
Capitaine
,” Nicholas replied with disgust.

“
Oui
, but I am not the one who is disadvantaged. Let's go.”

Nicholas grimaced. “I know the way.
Mademoiselle
, if I had known this English bulldog was to answer your cry for help, I might not have shown up. I see I have much to learn about you…” He turned away.

“Nicholas!”

He looked back at her. “
Oui, chère
?”

She gritted her teeth in revulsion at the endearment before answering, “It's over. This engagement is over.”

“You cannot do that,
Mademoiselle
. It was promised. Your uncle set this up in writing--”

“My uncle is dead,
Monsieur
. His will states that any indiscretion is grounds for annulment. It's over and you know it.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face grim, and then left the room.

“I do not think he will give up, Fara.”

She sighed, both from relief and exhaustion. “No, probably not.” She walked back to her mattress and sat down.

His gaze rested on her face, concern showing in his eyes. “I'm going to make sure he has truly gone. I'll return,” he promised. When he left the room, she despaired. But what was in a promise? With Grant, was it much at all?

She waited the long moments in silence. As soon as he returned, he set the pistol aside and lit a lamp. Then he went to her, sitting at her side.

“I'm going to do everything I can to be rid of your engagement with Nicholas. I know you do not want it. He seriously stepped out of line this time and that should be enough. I will contact your uncle's lawyer tomorrow. And then, I will take you to find your aunt.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. It was all she could manage. She couldn't help her trembling.

“Are you all right?” He lifted her chin toward him, cupping her cheek.

She shook her head. “He was watching me.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, pulling her close.

After her trembling ceased, she asked, “How did you get here?”

“I'm supposed to be your protector, remember? I got back from a meeting after you went to bed. I thought you wouldn't like it if you knew I was here and had free rein in your house without your knowledge. So I thought to remain downstairs, but then I heard you cry out.”

He was right. She wouldn't have liked it if she knew unless, of course, she had invited him. “
Merci
,” she said once more, grateful that she hadn't had to face Nicholas alone.

His gaze swept the length of her body. “Are you hurt? You fell into the armoire,
oui
?”

“
Oui
, there will be a bruise. Do not concern yourself.”

His hand gently kneaded the flesh beneath her nightgown. “That is a very difficult thing to ask of me, Fara. I came because I was concerned.”

Fara felt the onslaught of tears and she fought it. She lowered her head to his shoulder and he kissed her temple, gathering her close to him. She felt safe and warm in his embrace, a feeling she was sure she hadn't known since she was a child. She breathed deeply, trying to collect her thoughts. “I do not understand.”

“What, love?”

“Why did he call you English?”

A long silence fell between them. She pulled away, but stayed near him on the mattress, close enough to see his face. A range of emotions crossed his features, none of which she could read, but she thought one might be grief. Her heart strained for him.

“My father was English. This is my mother's country. I am a half-blood. Since I have been here, I have tried to hide my heritage because I know how people see it. It is not one of the stronger aspects of my character. And it doesn't do much for business.”

She had never entertained the idea that he might not be completely French, though his name suggested otherwise. But, she was learning something else about him, and she was grateful for it. “It's all right, Grant. I understand why you wouldn't disclose it. I won't tell anyone.”

He nodded. “I know that.”

“So…you were raised in England?”

“Partially. At least I was until my parents died.”

“And then?”

“And then I was thrust onto the streets. I ended up on a ship later so the crew became a sort of family to me.”

It was evident from his approach to the subject that he had lived a hard life and did not wish to reveal the harsher aspects of it. “What were your parents like?”

He attempted a smile, but there was pain behind it. “My mother was an angel, always supportive and loving. She loved to read to me. My father, on the other hand, was the opposite. Simply put, he was a military man, and that was all that was important to him.”

“I'm sorry.”

He simply nodded.

“You know, I'm not entirely French either.”

“No?”

“I can't be for sure, but I always thought my mother was from another place. She was so exotic. That probably seems silly.”

“No, not at all.”

Fara moved closer to him so that her head rested on his shoulder again. He received the gesture in kind, pulling her close to him. Though the circumstances were different, he had lived with the same indifference she had endured from her uncle. It was unfortunate, though, that he couldn't have had the support and love of both parents as she had. The rough times, however, had made him stronger and she appreciated that. The one thing that concerned her was that the indifference his father had had toward him might have outweighed the way he accepted his emotions; deep down, she was afraid he might never be able to love her in return.

* * * *

They were taking a carriage ride one day when Grant turned to Fara as if he had something important to say. “I've found your aunt,
chère
.”

Instantly, her mood tuned to this news. She gripped his shirtsleeves, leaning toward him. “Where?”

“She lives in Marseille. You knew that already, but it is some distance from here. About three days travel.”

“I must leave then. I will go to her.”

“You will not go alone, Fara. It isn't right. It is dangerous for a young woman to go alone, especially now when we are at war.”

“I will take Pierre then.”