When their lips parted, she reached for him. Her fingertips danced over his skin. A small smile played on her lips as she appeared to explore the contrasts between the male and female form. Her fingers grazed the line of his shoulders, gliding lower over his skin, lightly slipping through the hair on his chest. He held himself very still, allowing her time to learn the texture of his skin and the contours of his body.
Beneath the gauze-thin gown, her rounded breasts pressed against the cloth, her dusky rose nipples tempting him through the translucent cloth.
“I never realized a man could be so…hard,” she whispered, gliding over the flat plane of his abdomen. Mischief twinkled in her dark eyes.
Hard. The little minx knew full well what she was doing. If she intended to tempt him to the brink of restraint, she was doing a damned fine job of it. Fully erect and demanding, his cock rebelled against the fabric of his trousers.
“My nightdress…do you like it?” she murmured as she moved to stroke the edge of his collarbone.
“God, yes,” he blurted out, desire robbing him of any trace of eloquence, of any subtlety.
A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Good.”
Her fingertips seemed to dance over his skin, stirring his wanting to a fever pitch. She skimmed the length of his chest, slowing but not stopping when she came to his trousers. Her eyes sparkling with delight, she boldly slid her hand over the ridge of his erection.
She traced the length of his aroused cock with her fingers. “My, you do like it, don’t you?”
Much more of that, and he’d lose control. She seemed to read his thoughts again. Temptation flared in her dark eyes.
“I do want you, Harry,” she murmured against his ear. “I want this night with you. I want you so badly, words are utterly inadequate.”
“I understand that feeling all too well, darling.” he said, peeling the gown from her lovely body. He lifted her into the cradle of his arms.
“I’m quite capable of walking,” she said with a giggle.
“Indulge me,” he said, carrying her to the bed. Placing her on the mattress, he drank her in as he stripped off his trousers and pitched them onto a nearby chair.
“Good God, you’re beautiful,” he said, not caring that he repeated himself. No other word fit quite as well. Beautiful. She was a beauty—everything about her was lovely. Her face. Her hair. The lilt of her voice. The kindness in her heart. The way she cared about her daft aunt.
All of her was beautiful.
And he needed her in his arms. He needed to savor her touch tonight. And pray the memory would sustain him after they went their separate ways.
Prowling over her, he kissed her again, small feathery kisses over her throat and her breasts and the flat plane of her belly. He nibbled a teasing path along the curve of her hip, along the length of her leg, stirring her hunger for him until he found that delicate spot between her thighs. Treasuring every moan, every sigh, every whimper, he anointed her with tiny caresses until she writhed against him, utterly mad for him.
Mad for him.
He clasped her hips in a gentle hold as he brought her closer and closer to release.
When her climax came, she bucked against him, unrestrained. Hungry for every nuance of pleasure.
He held her close, flesh to flesh, heart to heart. When she was ready, he entered her.
Slowly. So very slowly. He wanted to etch every touch and every sensation into his memory.
Together, they sought another peak. Taking and giving. Surrendering and conquering.
They clung to one another as the rush of pleasure overtook them.
Breathless, he rolled onto his back, still holding her near, still savoring the heat of her body against his. Closing his eyes, he smiled to himself as Grace rested her head on his chest.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” she whispered. “I treasure every moment in your arms.”
Her words seemed a confession. He opened his eyes, meeting her warm gaze. And for the first time he could remember, he was undeniably content.
The words he’d searched for—the words that might explain what he’d been feeling, if only to himself—came to him.
I love her.
By thunder, that was it.
He loved her—a woman who’d soon be an ocean away.
A woman he wasn’t meant to have.
Bloody hell, I am a fool.
Curving an arm around her, he kissed her again. He needed that tender contact, that taste of passion.
He wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted anything in all his days.
He loved her.
But he’d have to let her go.
There was no other choice.
…
Grace awoke before the morning light, tucked against Harrison’s strong, warm body. He stirred gently in his sleep, but didn’t fully awaken as she slipped out of the bed and retrieved the gown from the side chair and the silk wrapper from the floor. She slipped into the dressing gown and cinched the tie at her waist before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He reached for her in his sleep, but she scooted away. She had to clear her head. She couldn’t afford to allow passion to get in the way of her thoughts. There was so much to think about. So much to decide.
She’d made love to Harrison with no intention of a future with the man. She’d expected no promises. No vows. Neither had pretended that their affair, tender and loving as it was, would lead to anything more.
But her heart ached at the thought of saying goodbye.
How could she leave for America and put all of this behind her? Could she go on with this longing in her heart, knowing it might never be fulfilled?
She had to be honest with him.
After the dawn, she’d tell him the truth.
All of it.
Soaking in the tub, Grace basked in the warmth and fragrance of the hot, lavender-scented water. She closed her eyes, considering what she’d say to Harrison after the morning meal.
If only her nerves wouldn’t wipe the entire little speech she’d composed in her head from her memory.
She indulged herself with a few more minutes in the luxurious water, then rose and dressed for the day, selecting an unembellished black skirt and a blouse in pale green silk trimmed with black lace at the collar and cuffs. After fiddling with her hair for a few minutes, she finished pinning it into place and checked her appearance in the mirror.
A knock at the door alerted her to Harrison’s presence. He’d come to escort her to breakfast. They took the meal in the elegant dining room, then she asked him to accompany her to their chamber.
“You seem upset. Is something wrong?” he asked as he closed the door behind them.
She shook her head, not quite a lie. In truth, nothing was wrong. Her nerves were stretched thin, but she had to confess what was in her heart. Such a pity she couldn’t ignore the voice in her head that urged her to bury the emotions in some dark place within her and go on with her life.
A life without Harrison.
The thought of it cut like a dagger’s edge. She pulled in a breath. She had to tell him the truth.
All of it.
“Harry, have you learned to trust me?”
“Of course.”
“There are some things…some things you need to know.”
A frown crumpled his brow. “What’s troubling you?”
“I’m not sure ‘troubling’ is the right word. Rather, I need to tell you the truth—I want you to understand why I’ve done these things…why I’ve been a thief.”
“I understand what you were facing. Anyone could see your parents’ deaths were a traumatic loss.”
“That’s part of it. But there’s something else…something I haven’t told you. I was afraid the truth might be used against me. Another bargaining chip, so to speak.” She rose and retrieved a small portrait she’d hidden between the pages of a book in her traveling case. “This is the reason I did what I did.”
She pressed
the photograph into his hand. He peered down at the image of a sweet-faced girl with golden-blond ringlets tied with black velvet ribbons.
“Her name is Claire. She is sixteen years of age, an accomplished student at a fine academy for young ladies—and she is my sister.”
“Your sister?” He examined the image more closely. A smile played on his lips. “Yes, I can see the resemblance.”
“She was not quite two when my parents died. Aunt Thelma took us in. She did her best to support us, but there was so little money. I was determined that Claire would have the advantages our parents would have given her. She intends to be a teacher. Someday, she’ll make a good marriage—she’ll have everything she deserves.”
He nodded his understanding. “You’ve financed her education.”
“Yes. My heart swells with pride every time I see her. She is a fine young lady.” Emotion swelled a lump in her throat. “She looks so very much like our mother.”
He continued to study the portrait. When he lifted his gaze, his expression was contemplative. “You’re eager to return to her.”
“I’ve tried to write to her every week. Of course, that hasn’t been possible since the incident in New York, the one when Mr. Jones dragged us into this investigation. I prayed he would not find out about Claire. I was terrified he would use her as leverage against me, just as he used Aunt Thelma.”
“I understand.” Harrison handed her the photograph. “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you return to her.”
“Thank you.” She placed the portrait on the side table. “There’s something else. Another truth I must confess.”
He turned to her. “You don’t have to do this. There’s no need to prove anything to me.”
“It’s nothing like that… It’s not a confession, if that’s what you thought.” She inhaled and let out a long exhale, as if that might calm her rampaging pulse. “Well, I suppose it really is a confession of sorts.”
He held her hand in his and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Whatever it is, I want to hear it.”
“Very well,” she said, summoning her courage. This shouldn’t be so difficult. This shouldn’t make her feel like a kite that had somehow lost the string that might bring it back down to earth. “It’s just that…when you said letting me go would be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it got me to thinking. Suppose I don’t want you to let me go? Suppose I want to be with you?”
He studied her for what seemed a long time, and then he plowed his long fingers through his hair. “I thought you wanted to return to America.”
“I do.” She looked away, glancing down at the pattern on the textured carpet. “But I’ve developed feelings for you.” Grace forced herself to lift her gaze to his. “I fear it’s rather hopeless, but you deserve to know—I’ve fallen in love with you.”
He pulled her to him, holding her tight. “I won’t lie to you. I have strong feelings for you.” Leaning closer, he kissed her again, the most tender of caresses. “You’re an incredible woman.”
Her heart stuttered with fresh hope. “I thought you might come with me to America…at least for a little while.”
Again, he studied her, as if she were some rare object he couldn’t quite puzzle out. He cupped her chin in his hand, his expression unreadable, as if he sought to memorize her features.
Grace’s eyes fluttered shut. She drank in his touch as his mouth claimed hers again. Passion blended with longing and regret in the kiss.
Without ever speaking the words, he was telling her goodbye.
Even as he caressed her, even as he explored her with his mouth and his hands, she understood the truth.
He would soon leave her.
A bitter pain burned in her heart. She wanted him so badly.
Not only for this moment.
Forever.
But fate would deny her that, the one man whose kiss she’d yearn for in the night, the one man she wanted above all others.
With what sounded like a sigh, he released her.
“I love you, Grace. You may not believe it, but I do.”
“Then stay with me…come to America.”
“Are you worried…” He hesitated, seeming to struggle for the right words. “Are you concerned that you might be with child?”
His calm, logical tone was like a dousing with icy water. She gave her head a brisk shake.
He caught her hands in his. “Grace, believe me when I say this—if you find yourself—”
Suddenly, his touch seared her to the bone. With a twist of her body, she pulled away, needing space. Needing air. How could he speak so coolly, so rationally, when her heart was aching for him? For the future she craved more with every breath?
“How very noble of you! So, you will do the honorable thing if I…if we…have conceived a child. But if not, you’ll see me sail off on a ship across the Atlantic and that will be that?”
“Grace, that’s not what I meant.”
“Don’t lie to me. That’s exactly what you meant. If you have fathered a babe, you will honor your responsibility. I suppose I should credit you for that. After all, many a man would not even acknowledge his obligation in that circumstance, much less with a woman like me.”
He plowed his fingers through his hair. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you long to return to America. And now, you tell me that you have a sister there, flesh and blood kin, a lass who needs family in her life. How could I possibly ask you to stay?”
Emotion scalded the back of her throat. “Then come with me, Harry. You’d love America.”
Very slowly, he shook his head. “My duty is here, Grace.” He reached for the portrait of Claire. “And yours is an ocean away.”
“I’m convinced you saved Belle’s life.” Dressed in a cheerful traveling dress in a hue that matched the midday sky, Mrs. Carmichael packed her case as they readied for departure. “That scoundrel she married deduced you were a threat to his scheme. I’m impressed with your courage.”
Courage. Grace nearly laughed aloud at the word. She’d been terrified throughout the ordeal. But she’d come through it unscathed, hadn’t she?
Unless one considered the gaping wound on her heart.
My duty is here, Grace.
The tears she’d fought to hold back had come so close to erupting when he’d uttered those words. He’d made it clear he would not follow her. He hadn’t been cruel. But the words had cut deeply nonetheless.
“Thank you for everything. I don’t think I would have succeeded without you.”
The matron smiled. “Nonsense. You’re clever, and you’re exceedingly resourceful. It was a pleasure working with you, my dear.”
“For me as well. Mrs. Carmichael, I have something to share with you. I think you’ll appreciate this.” Grace proudly showed her the portrait. “This is my sister, Claire. She’s studying to become a teacher. She’s a fine young lady.”
Mrs. Carmichael nodded thoughtfully. “Just like her sister.”
“Thank you.” Grace put the portrait back in it place and sat wearily upon the side of the bed. “It has been such a long morning, the kind of morning that feels as if it’s gone on for years.”
“I do understand.” Mrs. Carmichael regarded her silently, as if she’d deduced the cause of Grace’s sadness. “You may not believe this, but I do understand what you’re feeling. Don’t worry—it will get better. I have faith in the future—and in Harrison.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Three Months Later
Harrison brushed the back of his hand against his brow, wiping away the beads of sweat. The noonday sun was high in the sky, the heat more oppressive than usual. Squinting at a figure in the distance, he scowled. Why in blazes was Simon here? Didn’t he have better things to do than to survey Harrison’s progress at Raibert Castle?
Hiking up his shirtsleeves, he studied the map his team had recovered from Raibert’s papers. The crudely drawn document indicated the cur had hidden something beyond one of t
he small crofter’s cottages on the grounds. But what? Had Raibert buried the dagger to ensure no one could claim it? Or had he intended to conceal a purloined jewel or some other valuable relic from his partners in crime?
With any luck, Simon had gleaned something—anything—from Raibert they could use in their search. Since his arrest, the bastard had offered little more than rambling, infuriatingly vague testimony. With his neck firmly on the line, had he finally bartered the location of the MacKendrick dagger for his life?
“Damned shame I didn’t bring a photographer to document this moment,” Simon said coolly. “I never thought I’d see the day when you, of all people, would be up to his elbows in dirt.”
Harrison scowled at his brother. “Why are you here? I’d think you’d rather be in your office in the city.”
“Not much of a welcome.” Simon glanced down at his impeccably tailored suit, brushing a bit of dirt off his jacket.
“I take it this is not a social call,” Harrison replied. “If you’ve brought information regarding the dagger, just tell me what it is.”
“God above, it’s hot as Hades out here.” Simon fished a neatly folded rectangle of paper from his vest pocket. “I’ve come bearing news, but it has nothing to do with the dagger.”
“Has Raibert stashed another treasure in this place?”
“Probably, but that’s not what this is about. I received a telegram from Connor.”
“What’s going on? I can see from that smirk on your face that nothing is wrong.”
Simon unfolded the paper. A thin smile played on his mouth. “We’ve received an invitation. There is to be a wedding at Dunnhaven in little more than a week.”
“A blasted wedding? I’ve no time for something so trivial. You should know that.”
“Actually, it’s more of a command performance than an invitation. Connor implied there will be no living with our mother if we do not show our faces.”
“Did he say why this is so important to her?” Harrison pictured his younger sisters. “Surely Serena has not decided to marry. Or Maggie, for that matter. No one informed me of an engagement.”
“Serena is still in America, studying with the Egyptologist, Sara Yorke Stevenson. As for Maggie…well, she’s not interested in any of the young men who’ve been tripping over themselves to get her attention.”
Tempting the Highland Spy (Highland Hearts) Page 27
