Seduced By His Touch

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “I know.” She glanced away, unable to stand the regret shimmering in his eyes.

  “Are you happy, Grace? Is he really what you want?”

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice growing soft with emotion. “I’ve never been so happy. Some days I wonder if it’s all a dream, and then I see him again and I know it’s not.”

  “Then I’m glad,” he said. “For your sake, I’m glad.”

  She met his gaze, knowing this was another ending between them. A silent acknowledgement that they were both moving on to a new phase of their lives.

  “Well, I really ought to go,” he told her. “I have a business to run, you know.”

  “Of course you do. Write to me, Terrence. I should like to hear what you’re doing.”

  He gave her a genuine smile. “You may count upon it. And you are to take all the time you require with your painting. The flower folio will be waiting whenever you are ready to return to it.”

  “You are too kind.”

  “Not at all.” He strode to the doorway. When he reached the threshold, he paused and turned back. “Grace?”

  “Yes?” She arched a brow.

  “I meant it about being your friend. If there is ever anything you need, you have only to say.”

  “You as well.” Going to him, she kissed his cheek. “I wish you every happiness.”

  “I wish you more. Godspeed, dear Grace.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 15

  When Aunt Jane had long ago described Braebourne as one of the most elegant homes in all of England, with grounds and gardens beautiful enough to rival those held by the royal family itself, she hadn’t exaggerated in the least.

  From Grace’s first glimpse of the estate, she’d been alternately enchanted and intimidated. Lord have mercy, what have I gotten myself into? She’d thought, as the house had come into view at the end of a magnificent, two-mile-long, tree-lined drive.

  Nestled in the northern part of the Cotswold hills, the Byrons’ majestic ancestral home was perched atop a gently sloping rise. Fashioned from the rich, honey-coloured limestone so plentiful in the area, the grand edifice rose like a gleaming jewel set amid a vast forest of ancient trees, whose branches were now bared for winter.

  Before the trip, she’d fleetingly wondered if there would be enough room for all the guests the dowager duchess was inviting. But now she saw her error. Braebourne wasn’t merely grand; it was, for all intents and purposes, a palace.

  Nerves were jumping in her stomach when the coach-and-four rolled to a stop. But then Jack climbed out, reaching back to lift her down. The moment his arms closed around her, she knew everything would be all right.

  And so it continued to be, the ten days before Christmas passing by in a flurry of merrymaking and excitement. Each day brought a fresh influx of family and friends, the big house filling with so many aunts, uncles and cousins that they soon reached the proportions of a horde—just as the duke had once predicted.

  But they were a happy horde, everyone full of good spirits and holiday cheer. She met the rest of Jack’s siblings—brainy mathematician and inventor Drake; war hero Cade; irrepressible twins Leo and Lawrence; and precociously artistic ten-year-old Esme, for whom she had once suggested the purchase of watercolour paper and paints.

  Lord Cade’s new bride, Meg, was a welcoming presence, her face aglow with happiness from what she reported to have been a most satisfactory honeymoon sojourn. Grace took an immediate liking to her soon-to-be sister-in-law—bonding with her not only because of their similar ages but even more so because of their shared backgrounds. As commoners, they both knew what it was like being drawn into the glittering, whirlwind existence of the Byrons’ aristocratic fold.

  As for her own family, Papa and Aunt Jane arrived two days before Christmas, her aunt pausing to whisper her thanks in Grace’s ear for giving her “the most spectacular adventure of my life.”

  During the day, Grace helped the dowager duchess with the last of the wedding preparations. In the evenings everyone relaxed, gathering to dance and sing songs, or play charades and raucous games of hoodman’s bluff.

  But the best treat by far was her Christmas Eve sleigh ride with Jack. A slick coating of snow had fallen the night before, turning everything shimmering and white—perfect for a cold-weather outing. With twilight upon them, she’d ridden snuggled close against his side, his hands steady on the reins as he’d urged their horse to run as fast as it could manage.

  Seated now on the drawing room sofa, she smiled at the memory, the room abuzz with Christmas morning noise and laughter as everyone opened their presents. She’d already received a pair of lavender leather driving gloves from Mallory, a book of poetry from her aunt and the softest green cashmere shawl she’d ever touched from the dowager duchess—or Mama, as she kept gently reminding Grace to call her.

  Placing the wrap around her shoulders, she reached for another present.

  “I was starting to think you’d never open that one,” murmured a husky voice near her ear.

  Glancing up, she met Jack’s twinkling azure gaze. “I hope it’s not anise seed cookies,” she teased. “You know they make me sneeze.”

  He laughed and slipped into a narrow bit of space between the sofa arm and her right hip. “Not to worry. Considering the spectacle you put on a couple nights ago after dinner, I’ve had all the anise seed in the house locked away until after our departure. I want there to be no further mishaps.”

  “My thanks for interceding with the kitchen, my lord.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. I wander down there every once in a while to visit with Cook. She’s been with the family since I was about this high.” He held a hand three feet above the ground.

  “I suppose she stuffs you full of cream cakes and biscuits during these visits?”

  A grin spread over his face. “Can I help it if she wants new recipes tested? Now, are you going to open that present or not?”

  Glancing at the box, she studied its small size and square shape. Without further hesitation, she tugged open the green silk ribbon and pulled off the lid. A sparkling flash of purple and gold winked boldly back.

  Nestled into a bed of shiny cream satin lay a heart-shaped pendant on a simple gold chain. The heart itself was created from over a dozen delicate round amethyst stones, while the centre held a miniature painted on porcelain. Done in a series of fine, delicate strokes, the artist’s rendering depicted a tiny garden, alive with masses of yellow and white hollyhocks.

  Right away, they reminded her of the flowers she’d been drawing that long-ago day in Bath. The day of her and Jack’s very first kiss.

  Her gaze went to his, breath stilled in her chest. “Oh, Jack. It’s Sydney Gardens, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right, with those stalky, puffy-headed flowers.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “I chose amethyst, since you said it’s your favourite stone. I hope I remembered right?”

  “You did. It’s so lovely. Thank you. I’ll wear it each and every day,” she promised. “Your heart tucked against my own.”

  A peculiar shadow flickered momentarily across his eyes before he reached for the necklace. “Here, let me help you put it on.”

  “Yes. Please,” she said, relieved he’d offered. Her hands were trembling with so much emotion that she doubted she could have managed the task on her own.

  Turning slightly, she angled herself so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten the clasp. The slight weight of the gold and stones grew instantly warm against her skin. “There. How does it look?” she asked as she moved to face him again.

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  But when she glanced up, she realized he wasn’t looking at the pendant. Instead, he was looking at her.

  Her lips parted on a silent exhalation, the room and all its guests fading away. His eyelids dipped in a way she’d come to recognize, then his head did the same, his mouth seeking out her
own. The quiet majesty of his kiss rocked her down to her toes.

  “Here now, none of that, you two,” called her father in a sternly indulgent voice. “There are children present, if you’ll recall, not to mention a few adults who’d rather not be witness to such goings-on. You’ll be married soon enough. Have patience.”

  Slowly, Jack broke their kiss and raised his head to address the legion of onlookers. “Patience, as everyone in this room well knows, has never been my strong suit. Has it, Grace?” Then he winked and grinned, utterly unapologetic.

  The others laughed, good-natured over a chaste kiss between an engaged couple on Christmas Day. Grace joined in, but she soon stopped, lowering her gaze to her lap in an effort to will away her need to blush.

  She was actually winning the battle, when Jack put his lips against her ear. “We’ll continue this tonight. Be sure not to lock your door.”

  Hot roses blossomed across her cheeks, while barely repressed anticipation sparked in her blood.

  Despite the danger of being caught, tonight’s promised rendezvous wouldn’t be the first time Jack had stolen into her room. Both of them knew they were supposed to wait for their wedding night, but the days still remaining before the ceremony were simply too long for either of them to bear.

  Last night, in fact, had been particularly passionate, with Jack bringing her awake sometime well after midnight. She’d roused to find herself naked, Jack having slipped off her nightgown without her even being aware. But she’d barely thought anything of it at the time, desire burning in white-hot pulses through her aching body. Nearing desperate, she’d been thankful to let him put out the flames.

  Her cheeks grew hotter now as she shifted on the sofa with a sudden, highly inappropriate discomfort. Thankfully no one was watching them anymore; they were too busy tearing open the last of their presents and indulging in the myriad conversations taking place throughout the room.

  “Shall I bring you a hot milk punch?” Jack asked with a gentle, surprisingly knowing smile. “Or would you rather have something cool?”

  “Cool. And nonalcoholic, please. You’re causing me enough trouble without my being tipsy.”

  Chuckling, he stroked a cool finger over her warm cheek, then rose to obtain her drink.

  Barely a minute passed before Mallory appeared, sliding into the spot so recently inhabited by her brother. “So,” Mallory said without preamble. “What did he give you? I saw something sparkle from three seats down.”

  Smiling, Grace showed off her pendant.

  “Oh, how exquisite. I didn’t know my brother had such good taste. May I?” Mallory lifted her hand, clearly wanting to touch the piece in order to get a better view of the tiny miniature inside. But as she reached out, something shiny glittered on her left hand.

  “What is that!” Without stopping to think, Grace grabbed her friend’s hand and yanked it down to eye level. “Is that what I think it is? Mallory, are you engaged?”

  Mallory’s eyes brightened, her skin pinking a bit as she gave a little nod. “Yes. He asked last night.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! I knew the major wouldn’t make it through the holiday without a proposal.”

  “You’re right. He didn’t. But I promised we’d wait until later to say anything, since he has yet to speak to Edward. Drat, I know I shouldn’t have this on, but I couldn’t resist.”

  “Shouldn’t have what on?” interrupted Jack’s deep voice, a pair of filled glasses balanced in his hands. “What the devil’s that rock doing on your finger, Pell-Mell?”

  Quickly, Mallory buried her palm against her skirt. “Nothing. Mind your own business, Jack Byron.”

  “A stone like that on my little sister’s finger sounds exactly like my business. Good Lord, Hargreaves did it, didn’t he?” Jack set down the drinks on a nearby table.

  “Who did what?” inquired India Byron.

  Lithe and dark, she was one of the many cousins come to visit for the holiday. She held a small wrapped gift in her hand, the attached tag flipped around to display Grace’s name. “Did I hear something about an engagement? Oh, Mallory, are you getting married too?” India, who was only recently engaged herself, let out an excited whoop.

  Eyes turned her way from all corners of the room.

  The dowager duchess rose to her feet, her interest now obviously piqued. While not far distant stood the Duke of Weybridge—India’s tall, dark, enigmatic fiancé. Unconcealed amusement shown on his compelling face, as though he were well-used to such exuberant outbursts from his new betrothed.

  This situation, Grace realized, is rapidly getting out of control.

  Suddenly Major Hargreaves appeared at Mallory’s side. Reaching down a hand, he helped her to her feet. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep this to yourself,” Grace heard him whisper.

  “I’m sorry, Michael,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t have worn the ring, but I simply couldn’t resist.”

  “Not to worry. I just finished talking to your brother. All is well.”

  “You didn’t talk to this brother,” Jack said.

  Hargreaves met his gaze with a startled one of his own. “I didn’t realize I needed to.”

  Jack crossed his arms and stared.

  “However, in the interest of maintaining good family relations,” the major continued, “I shall be perfectly happy to oblige. My lord, may I have the honour of your sister’s hand in marriage?”

  “Do you love her?”

  Hargreaves cast a glance at Mallory. “Yes. Very much.”

  “And what if I said no? What would you do then?”

  The major’s blond brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “I’d be sorry for it, but I’d marry her regardless.”

  Moments passed, the two men locked in a silent battle of wills.

  Abruptly, Jack grinned. “If you’d said anything else, I’d have refused and told Edward to take back his consent as well.” He offered a hand. “Welcome to the family. I hope you know what you’re in for.”

  Hargreaves grinned back. “I believe I have a reasonable idea.”

  As though they’d been friends forever, the major slapped his palm into Jack’s for a hearty, good-natured handshake.

  Mallory rolled her eyes. “Men.”

  Grace met her gaze and gave a nod of agreement.

  Soon after, Ava Byron joined the fray, Edward arriving not long after.

  “Now, what is going on over here?” the dowager demanded, clearly determined to be let in on the secret. Once she was, Ava let out a cry of gladness at the news and hugged her daughter. “Well, it’s about time, young man,” she told the major once she eased away from Mallory. “I was beginning to wonder if you were just toying with my girl.”

  “Not at all, ma’am,” Hargreaves assured her. “No toying whatsoever.”

  Quickly realizing that everyone else in the room was curious as well, silence was called for so that the major and Mallory could publicly announce their happy news. The instant they did, the engaged couple found themselves surrounded by well-wishers.

  And Grace found herself squeezed out, forced to abandon her formally cozy seat rather than battle the sudden onslaught. Jack, she realized, had been forced out as well, and was lost somewhere in the mass of family and friends.

  From the safety of a less crowded section of the room, she was searching for Jack when she caught sight of Adam Gresham instead. Standing alone near the doorway, Gresham was watching the ongoing tableau. She’d had a chance to speak to him at length the other night at dinner and had found him immensely charming and cheerful. But there was nothing cheerful in his expression now. His face was solemn and a shade too pale, his eyes stark with desolation.

  Glancing back, she looked to see which of the ladies he was watching, telling herself he must be observing someone other than Mallory. She was considering and discarding possibilities when Jack came up behind her and slid an arm around her waist.

  “There you are,” he declared in a throaty murmur. “For a moment I thought
you’d disappeared.”

  She shook her head. “No. Just needed a bit more breathing room.”

  His lips turned up in a seductive grin. “It has grown impossibly crowded in here. What would you think if we went looking for even more breathing room somewhere else in the house. Unless you still want that milk punch, that is?”

  A pleasant shiver traced over her skin. “But what if someone notices we’re gone?”

  “In this crowd? I think we’re safe until nuncheon, which is a good three hours away.”

  “But it’s still morning. What if my maid comes in?”

  “Ah, sweetheart, you should have a bit more faith in my inventive nature. I grew up in this house, remember? I know all sorts of places where we will most definitely not be disturbed.”

  She gave him a severe look, even though her insides were turning to mush at the notion of trysting someplace besides the bedroom. “As I said once before, Jack Byron, you are a very wicked man.”

  A laugh rumbled in his throat, his eyes gleaming like a sunlit sea. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

  To her consternation, she realized he was right. Offering not the slightest resistance, she let him lead her to the door.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 16

  Five evenings later, Grace hummed a little tune under her breath as she slipped into a robe and tied the belt at her waist. She’d dismissed her maid a few minutes ago, sending the girl on her way with a pleasant good-night. Then she’d waited, counting the minutes until she figured it was safe to proceed with her plan.

  Or rather her surprise.

  Usually she climbed into bed to lie warm and snug beneath the covers while she waited for Jack to sneak down the hall and join her. But today was his birthday and she wanted to do something extra special to celebrate. What better way, she decided, than to be waiting for him in his room when he came up to bed?