by Kresley Cole
"Do you miss the sea?"
"I miss the tides."
Tori turned to Nicole, surprise plain on her face. "I do too! I didn't think anyone would understand it. I miss their pull and their steadfastness. I lived my life by the tides, and now they're gone."
Nicole patted her arm. "I feel the same way. But you know what helps? I look over the fields and see the hills and valleys like waves. In the spring when the grass and leaves grow green, you'll want to weep from how dazzling it is. It'll be as green as the waters around your island."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Plus, we'll take you to the coast in the summer. I get just what I need from the sea and then I return here feeling full." She smiled at some memory.
"I would love to go. It sounds wonderful."
"Amanda used to take the boys to the seaside when they were little." Nicole dug into her own bag and popped some candy into her mouth, but it stuck to her woolen mitten and she had to nibble it off.
A thought occurred to Tori. "Grant must get his gravity from his father. Lady Stanhope's so easygoing."
Nicole laughed and said, "In the past, she wasn't that way...."
Tori almost heard the at all omitted from the end of that sentence. If Lady Stanhope could change, perhaps Grant could?
Nicole's expression turned serious. "So have you talked, really talked, to Grant?"
Tori shook her head. "He's never around."
"He's got to work through this one on his own, I'm afraid. With a man who takes his commitments as seriously as Grant does, he'll take his time jumping in. But then it's forever."
"What if it shouldn't be forever?" Tori wondered.
Nicole's brows shot up.
"I mean, what if we shouldn't even be together? We're so different, and he wanted me to change. I determined today that not only couldn't I change, I didn't want to," she said fiercely. "Shoes will always be an optional accessory. Whenever I play with children, which I hope will be often, I will return as dirty as they are. I will never be able to partake in a ladylike stroll--I'll more likely need to range over miles." When a bird pecked close to her boot, Tori showered him with food for his bravery. "And Grant. Do you know I've never heard him laugh? Ever. I thought I could fix that, because I would never dream of marrying someone so grim."
She wanted Nicole to say that Grant would ease up and be less dismal, but she didn't. Was Tori growing wiser? Realizing her love wasn't strong enough for two and shouldn't have to be? "I can't imagine life without laughter." Tori sighed. "And today. I thought his face would freeze into that scowl. Still, I miss him. Isn't that odd?"
"It's not odd since you love him," Nicole insisted. "And you'd be surprised how love can smooth out the rough spots in a relationship."
"Doesn't it have to come from both sides?"
"It already does, even if he doesn't realize it yet. Take my father, for instance. After my mother's death, it took him years to figure out he might love again. He finally saw he was in love with Maria. She waited for him, and now they're married."
"How long did she wait?"
The birds captured Nicole's rapt attention.
"Nicole..."
"About sixteen years," she muttered.
Tori's face tightened. "I won't wait the week out. If he doesn't come around, I'll put him in my past, and once I do that, he'll be gone from my mind forever."
Twenty-three
Grant, do you think I'm doing a good job as the new countess?" Nicole asked sweetly before he could flee the breakfast parlor with his coffee.
"Excellent. You're doing a fine job." He pulled at his collar, wishing someone else were in the room. He suspected this conversation was going somewhere he mightn't want it to go. It was alarming, like being in a runaway coach and having no idea of the destination.
"Do you think I'm a gracious hostess?"
"Most gracious."
"You wouldn't expect a gracious hostess to allow one of her guests to be rude to the others?"
Aha. I can see it--the edge of the cliff draws near for the doomed coach.
"So this hostess will tell you to stop being an ass and behave like the gentleman you profess to be. It's insufferably rude of you, the way you're treating Victoria. For someone who's always displayed such faultless manners, this lapse is puzzling. Very puzzling."
"I've been busy." He sounded like a scolded schoolboy. He had an impulse to tell her to mind her own business, but knew that if he did, Derek would be cleaning his clock within the hour.
"The family will expect your presence. Especially today."
"What's so God all important about today?"
"It's New Year's!" When she stomped off, he heard her mumble that he was a clod.
He'd been so close to escape. Tomorrow they planned to leave for Belmont. Being near Victoria was hell for Grant, knowing she didn't want him, had bedded him and chosen the possibility of another over marriage to him. He'd avoided her, but thoughts of her still plagued his mind. Now he would be forced to interact with her.
Yet when he joined everyone that evening, his gaze immediately lit on Victoria, and he grew mystified by why he'd sought to avoid her in the first place. She wore a satin gown the color of claret, which he hadn't remarked much when he bought it because it didn't shine as it did when she wore it. It made her lips look red, sensually red. He noticed she was in stocking feet, her shoes discarded somewhere. With a glance around the room, Grant spied them tucked behind a curtain fold.
He regarded the unconscious skimming of her fingers over the facets of crystal on her glass as she laughed at Nicole's stories. Captivated, he thought he'd never seen anyone so desirable or so alive. No wonder the biddies envied Victoria. Yesterday, he'd been surprised to discover that their censorious looks barely masked their jealousy. The encounter had brought a hard question to mind. Did he criticize Ian's easy ways because he envied them?
The dinner bell interrupted his thoughts. For New Year's, the family dined on a traditional feast. They began with asparagus soup and dressed salad, omitted the fish course, then enjoyed creams, sauces, duckling with gooseberry, braised venison, and roast goose--all of which Grant thought should have been placed directly in front of Camellia for her lone consumption.
She devoured every entree, then made short work of the hothouse grapes, pineapple, and puddings. He knew she probably subscribed to the belief that ladies shouldn't have such large appetites, so for her to put away the food she did...He couldn't imagine the hunger driving her. But something here was working for her health. Apparently, her walks in the snow and piled plates of food were pushing her to turn the corner.
Victoria nearly preened, she was so happy about Camellia, and he liked to see that. He did not like to see everyone catching him looking at Victoria.
When they'd finished dinner, they all returned to the sitting room and visited with Geoffrey until Nanny insisted it was his bedtime, "holiday or no." Afterward, Nicole, Amanda, and Camellia played cards, laughing at Geoffrey's earlier antics. Already, the boy was a favorite with the ladies.
Victoria excused herself to go to sleep shortly after, so Grant deemed his presence no longer mandatory and made his way to the nursery to look in on Geoffrey. He hadn't thought he particularly liked children, but after he'd held the boy and seen him look up as though in recognition, something inside him shifted.
He found Victoria in the rocking chair singing softly to the baby.
"Grant!" she whispered, startled.
"I didn't mean to disturb you."
"You weren't. I just wanted to say good-bye. I don't know when I'll see him again." She pointed to a nearby chair. "Why don't you sit?"
"I, well, I don't--"
"This is silly, Grant. We're both adults. After all we've been through, I would hope that we could be friends."
His voice low, he said, "I can't be friends with you."
"What?" Geoff curled sleepily in her arms, so she walked to the crib and tenderly placed him back in.
"Forg
et I said anything."
"You can't make a statement like that and not explain."
"I refuse to argue with you in my nephew's nursery," he said over his shoulder as he strode out.
She followed, closed the door, and was right behind him, nearly running into him when he stopped abruptly and turned to her. "You are not going to do this to me." She poked his chest. "Tell me we can't be friends and not explain why."
Grant's temper was boiling. How to explain that he couldn't be friends with her because he simply couldn't be near her? Not when all he wanted to do was kiss her and stroke her luscious little body, and not when he was so bloody tired of denying himself. When she went to poke him again, he snatched her hand and laid it on his chest, trapping it there. Don't explain. Show her.
He grasped the back of her head, hands tangling in her hair, bringing her roughly to him.
His lips on hers. His memories of touching her were vivid, but had her lips always been so lush? How had he possibly kept himself from doing this earlier?
She moaned--from the mere contact of their lips--and hunger shot through him, too burning to deny. Without thought, he pinned her arms over her head against the hallway wall, and lowered his mouth to the swells above her bodice. The feel of her breasts beneath his lips, so plump, shaking with her trembling and panting breaths...He rasped against her flesh, "You make me crazed."
His mouth grew wet as he set to them, nipping the tips through the cloth of her dress, reveling in her response as her gasp turned into a low cry. She rolled her hips to him, pushing against his rigid shaft, and with each sweep of his tongue or nip of his teeth, she writhed against him more wildly. He had to have her, here against the wall, or surely he'd die from this. "You introduced me to something, Victoria, and I want more." He claimed her mouth again to stifle her cries, and his erection pulsed harder with each lap of her tongue against his. Freeing her hands, he seized a fistful of silk, hiking it up.
She grasped at him, urgently petting and clutching his chest and hips.
All at once, she froze. "Wait," she mumbled, breaking away from his lips. "I hear something."
"No, love, there's nothing." He kissed her again, bunching up her skirts.
But out of the corner of his eye and only dimly comprehended over the pleasure of Victoria's body molding to his, Grant saw his brother enter the hallway. Derek shielded his eyes as though struck by a bright light. "Hell, I'm sorry. Grant, I'm going! Sorry."
Grant could hear Derek smiling.
Tori's head fell back against the wall. "Is there a cliff nearby I can hurl myself from?"
"I'm just pleased he didn't see us two minutes later." His voice was low and rumbling.
"Oh, and you're just sure I would've continued with this?"
"Wouldn't you have?"
She pursed her lips. "That's not what's at issue. Just because I feel a certain way doesn't mean I have to like feeling that way. And why do you even desire to kiss me? You made your feelings about me clear."
"And you made yours equally clear." He frowned. "Wait a moment, when did I make my feelings clear?"
"Let's see.... You said making love to me was a mistake"--she began ticking off points on her fingers--"that I would always be a liability. And that you shuddered to think how I would behave in England."
His face tightened. "Ian told you that? I'm going to smash--"
"I overheard the conversation."
"All of it?" He flushed, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.
What else was said? She searched his face, but his eyes were shuttered. "I heard enough to know that you were going to ask me to marry you because you would own up to your mistakes."
He flinched.
"And then when you informed me we had to be married, you confirmed everything that had been said." She shook her head. "How could something I saw as so wonderful be a mistake to you?"
"Because it was. By doing that, I abused your grandfather's trust. And that's something I swore I wouldn't do. I wanted you so badly that I turned my back on my promise, my honor."
"You wanted me...badly?"
"You couldn't tell when I completely lost control?" His voice grew low. "Or when I grew hard in you immediately after?"
Her face heated, remembering. "I didn't know if I was just another woman for you," she whispered. "How could I have known it was different for you when I'd never experienced it before?" But she had thought it was special, exquisitely so.
"Victoria, no woman could have tempted me, has ever tempted me, like you."
A rush of pleasure sped through her at his words. Then her face fell. "That doesn't change the other things you said."
"Since I've seen you with my family, I've realized you did a lot of brazen things on the ship just to irritate me. Even if I was still hung up on your behavior, which I'm not, I know now why you acted as you did."
"Oh." There was that. She had done much to needle him then. "And those women this morning? You saw the way they looked at me."
"They looked at you like that because you look tumbled and breathless and alive. More than they've ever dreamed of being." His brows knitted as a thought occurred. "Wait, you knew I was going to ask you to marry me?"
She examined the hem of her skirt.
"Is that why you said those things to me? About finding someone else?"
"Yes." She looked directly into his eyes. "You hurt my pride. You hurt me so much. There was no way I was going to marry you."
She thought he would be furious, but he just seemed lost in thought. "You couldn't have said anything that would have unsettled me more. You played on a fear of mine."
"You'd brought it up in the past and seemed bothered by it."
"You didn't feel that way? You would have been content with me?"
She thumped his chest with the back of her hand. "Just how many more ways could I have shown you that?"
He caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. "We have to marry. I can't be lifting up your skirts and taking you in the hall."
"We have to marry? Because then you can?"
"Then I wouldn't need to." His lips curled into a lazy, seductive smile that made her chest feel too small for her heart. "We'd be sated by morning if we shared a bed." As soon as he said it, he frowned and muttered to himself, "I don't think I'll ever be sated of you."
Words bubbled up in response, words she was helpless to contain. "I love you."
He made a low sound, then kissed her deeply, lovingly, but he hadn't said the words back. She pushed him away.
"I told you I loved you. Those words deserve some answer just as if they were a question."
He ran a hand through his hair.
Like a slap, she recognized he did not feel the same way. Well, she'd thought that. But she'd also expected he might say that the feelings would grow. That he could love her. Just give me something more to hold on to, her mind cried. The absence of those words was like a blow so sharp, she wondered if she could remain standing. "It's obvious you don't feel the same way."
"I admire you. I respect you."
Just give me something more than that! She envisioned a lifetime of being compelled by feeling to say "I love you" and his reply of "Uh-huh." She shuddered. "Both those declarations sound wide of the mark in response to mine."
"Why are you seizing on this?"
"Because we are mismatched. Oil and water." Just as Nicole had said--nothing smoothed out the differences like love. Without it, their relationship wouldn't survive the clash between their disparate personalities.
He waited for her to explain.
"I'm fun-loving--you're not. I'm optimistic--you're pessimistic. I'm impulsive--you're...predictable." She caught his gaze. "I welcomed and accepted that I want you so badly, and you've fought it with everything you are."
He shook his head, but he didn't deny it.
"There's no ease between us, no affection."
Realization showed on his face. "You've been studying Derek and Nicole."
She p
ut her chin up.
"They're an anomaly. They had to go through hell to get what they have."
"Well, I would as well. All we've got between us is lust. You can't build a marriage with just that."
"It's a bloody good start."
She shook her head. "There has to be love between a pair like us."
"Love?" He skewered the word.
"Yes. I won't compromise on that."
"Goddamn it, Victoria, you can't have everything."
"Why not?" she asked, sounding baffled even to herself. "Besides, I've missed out on a lot of things in life, and I won't forfeit that."
"You can't have everything your way. I asked you after Cape Town, and I'm asking you now. But if you say no, I'm not asking you again."
"So, it's to be marriage your way or nothing?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation.
"I say it's to be marriage my way or nothing," she retorted.
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. "We've blundered and scraped our way through this, and now you choose to raise the stakes." She'd never seen him so enraged. "Never again, Victoria."
As he strode away from her, he hit the wall with his fist, crushing the plaster.
We finally get on the same page and she throws the bloody book out.
Grant had never felt such frustration. He was embarrassed for her. For saying those things that he couldn't answer. What compelled people to profess love?
She was going to deny them over a petty word, a driveling sentiment. Damn it, love was an untidy emotion.
Furious with her, Grant had stormed away, but as the hours dragged by, he had nowhere to go in the quiet house. With everyone asleep, it sounded hollow, like he felt. He nursed the anger. Anger was better than emptiness.
Since the day he'd met her, Grant had not had one single restful night's sleep. Tonight was the worst. He didn't even go through the motions, but sat in a chair, drinking brandy, remembering times on the island and analyzing. Always analyzing. When dawn rose, he did nothing but wash, then change his clothes.
Bleary-eyed and still fuming, he made his way downstairs, planning to guzzle coffee. Surprisingly, Derek was already up reading the paper. The paper drooped to reveal Nicole in his lap, her hand ensconced in Derek's shirt by way of a loosened button, drawing lazy circles on his chest as they read together. Fresh irritation simmered. "Must you two?"
