With an oath, he jerked the drapes closed and turned away from the window. Books were scattered here and there on the floor along with a broken decanter. After unleashing his anger on the inanimate objects, he’d realized throwing things didn’t make him feel any better. He’d ordered the servants not to clean up the mess, hoping the reminder of his temper would keep him from going to Grace.
He’d come downstairs this morning with the intent of reviewing business matters but had yet to do so. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything.
The unexpected knock on the library door after he’d left strict orders not to be disturbed sent his blood boiling. Welcoming the irritation as it felt better than his misery, he strode toward the entrance. “I requested that I not be disturbed.”
He jerked open the door, prepared to give the footman a tongue lashing he’d never forget, only to see Grace standing there. His heart lurched at the sight and wouldn’t right itself.
“Grace.”
She studied him, her brown eyes seeming to bore into his soul.
No. He couldn’t allow her to see him like this, not when he felt so vulnerable and raw. When he’d gathered his wits, he intended to send her a message stating he couldn’t continue their relationship. He swallowed hard, wondering how to find the strength to tell her in person.
“You should go.” He glanced behind her to search for the blasted servant who’d let her into his home, but the hall stood empty.
“Tristan.” The concern in her voice had him turning away. “I told the footman I would take full responsibility for allowing me entrance. Now that I see you, I am so glad I did.”
He knew he looked like hell but certainly didn’t deserve her sympathy. It had been an unpleasant two days of not enough sleep and too much liquor.
Now the source of his problem was standing before him. No, that wasn’t fair. His problem was himself, not her. She only represented what he couldn’t have.
“Please go. I am not receiving.” He wasn’t even properly dressed as he’d shed his suit coat and cravat and wore only his shirt and vest.
“Are you ill?” She raised a gloved hand toward his cheek, but he caught it, not wanting her to touch him.
He shook his head as he released her and stepped back, before admitting, “Perhaps in some way.” Unfortunately, he didn’t think there was a cure for his ailment. “All the more reason you should go.”
She only drew nearer. “Allow me to help you.”
He moved back again. “I need you to go.”
She came even closer. Close enough that he caught her sweet scent. He drew in a deep breath, drinking in her essence that soothed something deep inside him. Though it had only been four days since he’d last seen her, he’d missed her and everything about her.
“Please,” he muttered, no longer sure if he was asking her to stay or go as he clenched his hands to keep them at his sides.
“You’ve done so much for me. Let me help.”
He closed his eyes, worried that his anger, which had bubbled so easily to the surface of late, would spill out onto her. To his surprise, he didn’t feel it or any of signs of it. But in its place were other feelings with which he had no idea what to do.
Again she reached for him, and this time, he didn’t have the strength to deny her. Her touch, despite her glove, felt wondrous. She seemed to ease his troubled soul, and it was difficult to deny himself the calming sensation.
His attention caught on the books and glass shards on the floor, reminding him of who he truly was, of his darkness. Somehow he had to find the strength to tell her he couldn’t see her anymore. The words burned in the back of his throat. “Grace.”
She smiled up at him. “I have missed you.”
He clenched his jaw to make sure he didn’t repeat the phrase back to her. She was making this even more difficult than he’d anticipated.
“Will you tell me what is wrong?” Her brow furrowed as she studied him.
This was his chance, the opening he needed to tell her they had to part ways. But the words wouldn’t come. How could he say them when she watched him with those wide eyes and that soft smile?
“No?” she asked. “Well then, I’ll move on to explain why I amm here.” Her words were muffled, his focus on drinking in her presence rather than what she was saying, as he watched her step around him, surveying the room, including the mess scattered across the floor. “It looks as though you have had a war in here.”
A war with himself, perhaps. She walked to the windows behind his desk and pulled back the drapes, allowing in the light. That was exactly what she did to his life—let in the light.
And hope.
Could it be possible? Did she change something in him that eased his anger and replaced it with happiness? Did she truly have the ability to calm his soul? Would that be enough to see them through a future?
Odd how he had always felt askew around her, off-balance. Now he realized it was quite the opposite. She righted him, keeping him on course.
“What do you think?” Her question caught him off guard as he had no idea what she’d just said.
“I’m sorry?”
She came back across the room and took his hands in hers, her gloves abandoned on his desk. Her expression filled with sympathy. “Are you certain all is well? Now you truly have me worried. You look quite befuddled.”
“I am. By you.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. She released his hands and placed hers on his chest. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks. Even that sight stirred him. He loved everything about her from those lashes to her hair to—
Loved?
Unwilling to think through what that word suggested, he stopped thinking and only felt. He claimed her mouth with his, slowly, gently, hoping to show her how much she meant to him.
The low moan in the back of her throat stirred him. She eased closer so her body was pressed against the length of his. Still it wasn’t enough. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight, reveling in the way her soft curves felt against his hard lines.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Confused, he drew away so he could look into her eyes. “For what?”
“For not marrying Lady Samantha.” She lifted to her toes and kissed him briefly before easing back. “For making me feel incredible.” She gave him another kiss, this one deeper, with a sweep of her tongue that hardened his body. “For allowing me to stay.” Again she kissed him, her mouth demanding more, which he was willing to give.
Heart pounding, he had to smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been thanked so thoroughly.”
She glanced up at him, eyes luminous, a delicate pink coating her cheeks. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you about my encounter with Charles and his wife the other night. I didn’t want to burden you when you have already helped so much.”
The tightness that had banded his chest loosened. “I will always be happy to help you. I—I care for you and Matthew. Surely you know that.” He nearly said more but had promised himself not to pressure her, and he meant to keep his word.
“I do. I thought I should be able to protect my son on my own. Charles’s behavior is so insidious that I no longer know if I can. I would welcome your help in determining how to keep him away.”
He stilled, filled with unease, but he had to be honest with her. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh?”
“I have already paid a visit to Stannus.” He waited, wondering what she’d think, hoping she wouldn’t ask for details. Now that he had her in his arms, he couldn’t bear to let go if she found out the whole truth.
“I thought you might have.” She bit down on her lip. “I saw him today. He looked terrible.”
The hot anger that flooded him took his breath. “He approached you?” Tristan stepped away, prepared to pay him another visit. “Apparently, I didn’t make myself clear.”
Grace grabbed his arms, holding him still. “I think you did. He was certainly more desperate than I�
�ve ever seen him before.”
Fury narrowed his vision. “I’m going to—”
“Tristan.” She took his hands in hers, squeezing until he looked at her. “I’d like us to resolve this together. You and I.”
His anger fell away under her regard. Did she think he could do anything other than agree with her when she looked at him like that? “You and I.” The words felt like a promise.
She smiled. “Yes. Together.”
“There’s something else I’d like us to do together.” He caressed the softness of her cheek. “If you are willing.”
“Of course,” she said. He wasn’t certain what was going through her mind as her color heightened. “What is it?”
He drew in a deep breath, reminding himself to thank Nathaniel for planting the idea in his mind. “I am trying something new—happiness. You and Matthew make me happy. I am not used to placing importance on it, but I would like to investigate it further. You and I.”
Grace grinned, winding her arms around his neck. “That would be my pleasure.”
He kissed her again, loving the feel of her as his hands explored her curves. Anxious to touch her, skin-to-skin, he trailed a finger along her jawline, then to her neck and along the top of her gown.
She pulled back to meet his gaze, biting her lip. “When you say ‘explore,’ do you by chance mean...in a physical sense?”
His body tightened as he pictured her lying naked on his couch.
Or in his bed.
Or— He stopped before he got carried away. What would she say if he said yes? Was he pressuring her somehow when he had just promised himself again not to?
She frowned at his delayed response. “Or perhaps you meant—”
“Yes.” He wanted her so badly he ached. How else could he possibly answer when she was the one asking? In truth, he’d been on fire for her since she’d entered his life. That fire had grown to an inferno of late and refused to be ignored.
“Oh.” She blinked as though processing his answer. “Very well then.” She stepped out of his arms, and the cool air of the room took her place. She strode to the door, causing alarm to fill him.
When she shut the door and turned the lock, the distinct click sent desire humming through his body. Did he dare hope she intended what he thought she did?
She reached up to her beribboned grey hat and pulled the pin free, setting them on the side table near the fire.
“Your turn.”
“What?” His mind was blank. She’d cleared all his thoughts by merely removing her hat. What might happen if they took this further?
“I removed something. It’s only fair you do the same. You and I, remember?”
“Very well.” Her words filled him with a warm glow that came from somewhere near his heart. Feigning patience he was far from feeling, he unbuttoned his vest and tossed it aside.
With a low hum of approval, she stepped closer to run her hands along the front of his shirt, doing a little exploring of her own. His stomach dipped low at her touch. He reined in his desire, wanting this moment, this game they played, to last.
She nibbled her lower lip as though uncertain of her next move. Slowly she raised her hands to her hair and found the pins holding it in place, allowing the long, dark waves to tumble down her back. Then she raised a brow, as though to say it was his turn.
He removed his shoes as if he had all the time in the world, and need wasn’t pulsing through his veins. In truth, he wanted to rush so he could see what she did next. Watching her was an exotic sight, arousing him further.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I might need assistance with the next piece.” The mix of shyness and boldness she exhibited was driving him mad.
“I’d be pleased to help.”
With a provocative smile, she presented her back to him.
His fingers trembled as he touched her shoulders, massaging them. He traced the curve of her back to where the bodice of her gown fastened. After loosening the ties, he removed it, setting it next to her hat. He ran his hands along her back, well aware of the layers still separating them.
“I think I’m going to be at the losing end of this game,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck from behind. “I am wearing far fewer items than you.”
She turned in the circle of his arms and wrapped her own around his neck. “Why don’t you help me catch up?”
Grateful for her suggestion, he kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing. Her response matched his own, tugging at the reins of control that were slipping from his grasp.
Together, they removed her layers until she stood in her chemise. The taut pink of her nipples showed through the thin linen. Unable to resist, he touched them, watching her responsive face as he did so.
“Oh, Tristan.” She tipped her head back, and he took advantage of the opportunity, pressing kisses down the curve of her neck then licking her nipple through the fabric. Wanting more, he drew the tip into his mouth, tugging and pulling gently while he caressed her other breast.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, running along the nape of his neck, causing another dip low in his belly.
He shifted to give her other breast equal attention, her soft moans urging him on, making him grow harder with desire.
When he lifted his head to watch her, the sight of her eyes dark with passion had him swallowing. He wanted to take this slow, to make the moment last, but his body was greedy and urged him to move faster.
The feel of her fingers at his shirt front had him glancing down to see she’d made quick work of unfastening the buttons. She pushed it off then ran her hands along his chest. His breath came out in a hiss as she lightly pinched his nipples.
With less patience, he tugged at the ribbon holding her chemise in place and drew it over her head. The feel of her warm breasts against his bare chest made his knees buckle, warning him that his control continued to slip.
Her clever fingers sought the fastening of his trousers, and his body surged in response. Before she could finish, he lifted her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the couch that sat before the cheerful flames of the fire. Between the open drapes at the far end of the room, the fire, and the woman in his arms, the room was full of light. Or was that merely his heart that beamed so brightly?
“You are so beautiful. I want you so much.” He drew back to drink in the sight of her. Her dark hair fanned out on the cushions, her pale curves enticed him further. Eager to explore, he started at her shoulders, so much stronger than she realized. They’d overcome all that life had thrown her way. He moved down to her rose-tipped breasts, discovering them again with his fingers and mouth now that they were bare to his touch.
On he went, to the indent of her waist, the flare of her hips, not wanting to miss an inch of her body. Shifting his hands to her bottom, he squeezed and caressed the soft globes as he laid beside her. Her body shifted against his, brushing against his male hardness through his trousers.
He drew back with a groan as his body demanded release. He’d never felt like this. Never been so close to losing control. Never wanted a woman as desperately as he did in this moment.
“Grace?” She’d started this game but it had quickly become so much more to him. He needed her as much as he needed air. Had she been with anyone since her husband?
Despite all his promises to himself not to rush things, here they were, nearly to the point of no return. He needed her to be sure this was what she wanted.
Worried at her lack of response, he said, “It would be normal if you’re feeling some trepidation about—”
When her fingers unfastened his trousers, all he’d been trying to say vanished. Helpless beneath her touch, he moaned as she pushed his trousers down over his hips, freeing his manhood.
“Oh, my.” Grace stared at the length of Tristan. She’d had no idea that men could be so different. Daniel had looked nothing like this. With a cautious finger, she reached out to touch his hard member, shocked at the size, smiling when
it moved.
“Grace.” He gripped her wrist tight, his nostrils flaring as he drew a deep breath. “Wait.”
“For what?” As far as she was concerned, the time had come for them to make love. She cared for him deeply—perhaps even something more than that. Her desire for him had grown with each day since she’d met him until it made what she felt for Daniel pale in comparison. She hadn’t realized she was capable of such passion, such desire.
“You are so beautiful.” He eased his grip on her, shifting to hold her hand as though she were precious. “So perfect. While I...I am unworthy of you. There are things you should know about me.” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her again. “You deserve someone better.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The ‘dodges’ to which an individual resolved on a vagrant life will resort are almost past reckoning; and, as a natural consequence, the quality of the imposture in modern practice is superior to that which served to delude our grandfathers.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Grace studied Tristan’s expression, wondering what—or who—had wounded him so deeply to make him blind to his own goodness. If she had to guess, she’d say his father was to blame. Perhaps this was where she could help make a difference for him as he had for her in so many ways. If she could make him see how she saw him, maybe his doubt would ease. That would be a reward in itself.
“Tristan.” She reached out to touch his cheek, his grey eyes dark, reflecting the storm inside. “You are a wonderful, extraordinary man, and you are perfect for me.” Those eyes drifted closed as he leaned into her hand, her heart squeezing. “I want to make love with you. Here. Now.”
His eyes opened, lighter now, as if the storm was subsiding. The vulnerability in their depths made the emotions flowing through her bloom even more.
“Grace, I—”
“Shh. I’m not yet done.” She trailed her hand down his neck, to his broad shoulder. “You are strong. You are handsome. So handsome that it steals my breath. But it is what’s inside that I find irresistible. Kind. Protective. Honorable. You are a wonderful man.” Her gaze followed her fingers as she moved to his firm chest, loving the feel of him, continuing to the flat, rippled planes of his stomach. “I want you so much.”
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 25
