Saving Grace (43 page)

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek then walked back through the hidden door, closing it behind him.

Grace stared at the door long minutes after Samuel had left. She needed only call out to him, and he would return. Or she could pull the latch herself and go to his side of the wall.

And be at his side.
Instead, at last, she squeezed her eyes shut against the agony of her loss and spun away, determined forevermore to never to walk this way again.

Tears tracked down her face as she opened her eyes and began walking the other garden paths. The afternoon was cold, but she could not yet return to the house, not until she had control of herself. As of late, Nicholas had become all too adept at reading her feelings, and she did not want him to discover the friendship she’d had with Samuel, nor the depth of her caring for him.

“I have made the right choice,” Grace told herself as she walked. It was the
only
course she could have taken after spending months at Sutherland Hall and owing Nicholas for both her care and for the money he had paid her father. But there was more to it than that. As she moved farther from the garden and closer to the looming tower of brick and stone that had become her home, Grace felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

No more would she worry over Nicholas discovering her meetings with Samuel. No more would she feel torn between the two, her feelings pulled to and fro, from one to the other.

Most importantly, no longer will I deny what I feel for Nicholas.

Grace’s heart beat faster with the realization and the freedom and possibility it brought. It had been increasingly difficult to protect her heart and remain at arm’s distance from Nicholas. She had not always been entirely successful, and when she thought on the moments when her guard had been down and her resolve had slipped, she realized she’d been at her happiest. Nicholas had won, not because of the constraints of their situation — Samuel had offered her a way around those — but because Nicholas had won her heart.

A fresh set of tears gathered in her eyes. For all her efforts to try to protect herself from falling in love, she had done exactly that, and with a man she was not certain could or would ever return her affection.

Feeling somber in every way, Grace stopped before the front doors of Sutherland Hall. She tilted her head back, looking up at the enormous structure, which still appeared cold and uninviting on the outside. But on the inside, she’d seen its potential for warmth. Her evenings in the library with Nicholas, the day he’d returned from London and she’d greeted him on the stairs, that ridiculous night in the salon when he’d teased her from her anger.

Anger because he had kissed me.

The moments preceding that kiss had been glorious. A beautiful and almost sacred thing had sprung up between them — completely unexpected by either of them, she was sure. She had hated him for ruining it. And though she had granted forgiveness they had yet to regain the intimacy of that day. Several times they had been on the brink, but one or the other had retreated.

The time for retreating is past.

Suddenly she wanted very much to be close to Nicholas, to feel as she had — for him to feel as she believed he had — that afternoon in the carriage. She needed those feelings, a reaffirmation of her decision in the wake of losing Samuel.

With resolute steps, Grace mounted the stairs and pushed open the front doors. Closing them quietly behind her, she paused in the foyer, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. This morning the house had been filled with tenants come for their pudding and presents, and she, Nicholas, Lady Sutherland, and Helen and Christopher had all had a grand time greeting their guests and handing out gifts. The hall was now deserted — dark and silent, as it had been on that first stormy night.

“The hour is late. I have been worried about you.”

Grace jumped and brought a hand to her heart. “You scared me.” She glanced up to find Nicholas staring down at her, his face shrouded in the late afternoon shadows. “I have been walking — and thinking,” she said.

“It is too cold to be out.” His voice was harsh, but Grace had learned to detect his concern for her beneath his outward severity.

“I am warm enough.”
More so now that you are here.
Her eyes had adjusted, so she could clearly see worry in the lines crinkling beside his eyes and in the downward slant of his mouth. “Fresh air is often best for clearing one’s head and making decisions.”

“You have been troubled.” He raised his hand toward her, as if he meant to touch the side of her cheek where her tears had fallen. Grace stood still, anticipating his gentle touch — aching for it — but as before when she had given in to the longing between them, Nicholas retreated. His hand dropped at his side.

“You have the uncanny ability to know my thoughts,” she said.
To know my heart.
For some reason, the admission filled her eyes anew, and Grace turned aside, blinking rapidly to hold back what was sure to be another flood of tears.

“Would that I did know them,” Nicholas said, his words quiet, the edge gone from his voice. “I have oft wondered — as I do this very moment — what it is you are thinking.”

Tell him.

“Hold me,” Grace whispered, her face still turned from his. “I would like you to hold me. I could use some comforting.”

“And you think I —”

She nodded.
Please
, she added silently. In answer, she felt his hands upon her arms, turning her to him.

“Your cloak is damp.” Scolding words, but as their eyes met, she saw something completely different in his serious expression. An understanding passed between them, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. They were about to cross a barrier and were both committing to the journey.

With utmost care, Nicholas untied her cloak strings. As he pushed the garment back, his hands brushed her shoulders, sending a delightful tingling coursing through her. He whisked the cloak away, and Grace shivered and hugged her arms to herself. Nicholas crossed the foyer to the banister and draped the cloak over the post. His eyes again sought hers, and he retraced his steps, coming to stand before her.

Neither moved. Grace swallowed back both her nervous anticipation and any pride she might have had left. She stepped forward, closing the narrow distance between them, giving herself into his care, and laid her head against Nicholas’s chest.

His shirt was soft, his heartbeat steady and reassuring, though faster than Grace would have supposed. He smelled faintly of expensive cologne but more so of the books in his study and of a fresh-laid fire. She found the combination dizzying in an utterly delightful way.

Nicholas’s movements were stiff and awkward as first one arm and then the other came around her. Grace closed her eyes and sighed, then felt him relax as he pulled her more firmly to him. One of his hands circled her waist while the other moved up her back, beginning feather-light strokes, soothing away the last of her doubts about her decision and promising comfort and caring in a way she had only dreamed of.

“Is this what you had in mind?” His voice was gruff, yet tender.

“Yes,” Grace said. “For quite some time, I have wished for you to hold me like this.”

“I had no idea.” His voice was full of wonder. “You see, I am not at all adept at reading your thoughts, after all.” He broke off as Grace shyly wrapped her arms around his waist. She dared not move her hands as he did, but she wanted him to know that she, too, could give.

“Not that one, the
blue
one.” The dowager’s harping tones echoed from the hall above.

“Mother,” Nicholas grumbled. “As always, her timing is impeccable.” He released Grace, then stepped back, taking her hand in his own. He pulled her out of sight of the stairs a second before his mother appeared. Grace ran on tiptoe beside him to the study doors. Once inside, Nicholas closed the door behind them and turned the lock.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said, handing her the key. “You may leave any time you wish. I only wanted to provide a moment of privacy — if that is what you desire.”

Desire ... privacy.
Dangerous words.
Grace closed her fingers around the key, thinking that what she most feared had already happened. She had lost her heart to Nicholas, and she did not yet know if he would treat it with care. In this very room, he had demonstrated how little care he could have for her. She hoped he had changed, that his heart had softened, but she could not be certain.

“Again your thoughts are a mystery,” Nicholas said. “With the way they are flitting across your lovely face, they reveal much, yet nothing.” He made no move toward her, did not attempt to resume the embrace they had shared in the foyer.

Grace wanted him to. She basked in the glow of his compliment but needed more than words.
Does he yearn for my touch as I yearn for his?
She wanted him to seek out her company and find value in it. Samuel had met her at the wall unfailingly; he had come several days when she had not. She wanted to see that kind of interest from Nicholas, to know he was not simply doing his duty or what was expected but that he, too, had come to care.

When she had not spoken but had only stared at him, lost in thought, Nicholas continued. “Were I to guess, I would say that you look as if you would like to be kissed. But then I have thought as much before and been wrong.” He turned away and stepped toward his desk.

Do not separate us.
The Nicholas she had oft found on the other side of that desk was not the one she wished for now. She moved in front of him, blocking his way. “I have wanted you to kiss me — I
do
want you to.”

Her whispered confession stopped him. Once more he looked at her, his eyes searching for the truth. With a sudden lurch to her heart, Grace saw the same uncertainty she felt reflected in his eyes.
He does not know my heart any more than I know his.

She stepped forward in the same moment he did and practically launched herself into his arms, which tightened around her at once. Grace buried her head in his chest as his chin came down upon her head.

“Grace.” He whispered her name with the same reverence he’d used that day in the carriage. Awash in joy, she clung to him. “Do you have any idea — do you realize?” Nicholas said gruffly.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head back to look up at him.

His gaze locked upon hers. “How very much I’ve wanted to hold you, to kiss you. Denying myself has been agony. If I’d thought there was any possibility you felt the same, had I known —”

She placed a finger over his lips. “Now you do.”

He kissed her fingertips then took her hand in his own and held it close to his heart.

But still he did not kiss her. He made no move to do anything but hold her tenderly. Confusion and hurt crowded her mind amidst the pleasure of being held by him.

Had she done something wrong?
What more
could
she have done? She’d all but begged Nicholas to kiss her again. His finger stroked her cheek. Grace closed her eyes, reveling in his touch.

Perhaps he is only taking his time. Perhaps he is as nervous as I am.

“If we cross this line, there is no going back,” Nicholas said in a tone of dire warning.

“What do you mean?” Grace asked without looking up to judge his expression. She could barely speak, entranced by his touch as she was.

“I have been investigating ways in which we may ... end our contract,” Nicholas explained. Grace stiffened in his arms. “Hear me out,” he said, moving his hand to soothe her back as he had earlier.

Grace nodded, though she felt her throat constricting with fear and hurt.

“I have given my word and will not go back on it,” Nicholas reassured her. “But some time ago, it came to my attention that it might be better for us both if I did. Of course, I would not just turn you out; there is another possibility. I have reason to believe that Mr. Preston may still have you.”

He knows.
Grace felt her breath catch.

“I have not spoken with him about it,” Nicholas continued, and Grace held back a sigh of considerable relief. “And I have not been blind to his attraction to you, either, at both his ball and our own.” He had a hint of irritation in his voice.

Our ball.
Grace clung to his choice of words, hoping he truly felt that it had been
their
ball, that he didn’t really believe that ending their engagement was best.

“Preston is a forgiving man and would, I am certain, take you back were the situation properly explained. Both of you would have to move far, far away to get beyond the scandal, but I suspect Preston would not be averse to that.” Nicholas drew in his breath slowly, as if pained. “I would be willing to speak to him, to explain — for you.”

His stunning admission equally warmed and hurt her. Grace wasn’t certain what to make of it. Was Nicholas so desperate to be free that he was willing to plead her case before his enemy?

Or does he care for me enough that he would do so to see me happy?

She wanted to believe the latter but could not. Though he held her tenderly now, she could not feel certain of his affection, not with the tumult of the previous weeks and the knowledge that he had been forced into his current position as her affianced. And not when he had just offered a means of escape.