Blinded by Grace: Book Five of the Cotillion Ball series (Crimson Romance)

by Lower, Becky

  He had a difficult time dismounting from the carriage, and was a bit winded as a result. They stood on the sidewalk outside his new home for a few minutes until he recovered. He put one arm around his mother’s shoulders and the other around Grace’s waist. She rested her head on his broad shoulder for a moment as he gazed up at the house.

  “Does it suit you, Grace?”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. What she wanted, or didn’t, in a house, should have no bearing on his choice.

  “Yes, of course, Halwyn. You chose well. The house suits you.”

  “But does it suit you? After all, you’ll be living here too.”

  She turned her head away from him. “For a year. I can be quite comfortable here. It’s only going to be twelve months, after all.”

  Tears smarted in her eyes, but she quickly blinked the wetness away. Crying in front of Halwyn was happening all too often, and it was unacceptable. He was a most generous man, and was saving her from a life of poverty. She had asked for the one-year marriage, and by all that was holy, she was going to put on a good face during those twelve months. Living under the same roof as him would be hard on her, since she longed for his touch, and counted the time between each as wasted moments. But he would be a perfect gentleman with her, and not ask her for more than their agreed-upon partnership, despite the fact the two of them would be under the same roof, and unchaperoned. Which was what she expected from a man as virtuous as Halwyn. Wasn’t his virtue the very reason why she’d presented her proposal to him in the first place? But what she expected and what she wanted were at opposite ends of the spectrum and she had no idea how to bring the two into alignment.

  Instead of crying, she pasted a smile onto her face, blinked her eyes, and turned to him. “Are you ready to go inside?”

  “Yes, Grace, let’s go see our home.”

  Our home. She repeated his words in her head. If only the house could be theirs together. There was a room in the home that would make a lovely nursery. Mrs. Fitzpatrick had suggested it be outfitted as such, to give Halwyn the idea, but Grace declined. It would be difficult enough to be under the same roof as him without having a daily reminder of what might be if this were a real marriage. Grace had turned it into a game room, where their guests could retreat after dinner to play cards, the piano, charades, or other parlor games.

  As the trio moved through the rooms of the house, Grace and Charlotte pointed out pieces of furniture or odd trinkets they had discovered and purchased to make the home comfortable and unique to Halwyn’s tastes. After treading up and down the four flights of stairs, he was ready for a respite, so each tried out a new chair in the front parlor for a few moments.

  “All we need is to hire a staff and the house will be ready.” Grace smoothed out the gray muslin skirt of her day dress as she sat next to him on the loveseat.

  “You and Mother know better than I do what type of staff to hire. I don’t want a great deal of people running around the house each day and night, though. I rather enjoy the thought of quiet.”

  “But after the hustle and bustle of the home you grew up in, I think you’ll miss the activity after a few weeks.”

  He stilled her hand, covering it with his own. “I’m counting on you, Grace, to keep me entertained.”

  She stared up at him for a long moment. Surely his thoughts on how to keep him entertained weren’t anywhere close to her ideas? No, of course not. Her thoughts were naughty and wanton. He probably wanted nothing more from her than to read poetry aloud to him in the evening. Blast and damn.

  • • •

  The ride back to the Fitzpatrick brownstone was quiet, as Halwyn brooded. His mother and Grace kept a low buzz of conversation going, but his thoughts were rioting out of control. What should have been a joyous occasion was marred by several things. First, his mother had accompanied them. He’d kissed Grace in front of his mother once and his mother had made such a grand show of it, he was hesitant to do it again. Even though he wanted to … badly.

  Second, Grace had set up a separate bedroom for herself. True, it was the accepted practice of the day for the wife to have her own room, connected by a doorway to her husband’s. It had been discussed as they were working out the details of their marriage. But talking about it and actually seeing it were two entirely different things. Could he resist going through the doorway every night for an entire year? Knowing her lips and her breasts, not to mention that delightful arch in her feet, were so close, yet so far away? His control was about to be tested, and he harbored no illusions that he would do daily battle with himself.

  Third, and most heartbreaking of all, was the game room. What was the woman thinking, turning what should be the nursery into a game room? He had ideas on who should fill the room, and it wasn’t nightly company for a riotous bout of charades. All he wanted at the house in the evening was himself and Grace, where the long nights would be spent making love to each other, and working toward the goal of stuffing the nursery with their offspring.

  At each room in the house, which Grace and his mother so capably furnished, he stopped at the threshold. Not to take in the placement of the furniture, but to chase away the vision running through his mind of him and Grace alone in this room, divesting themselves of clothing one piece at a time, and making love on the couch, or on the large oriental rug, in front of the fireplace. His ideas of what should be going on once their door was shut on society and it was just the two of them were rioting out of control. Obviously, Grace had a completely different idea on how to fill up their evenings, if the game room was any indication. She wanted to fill the house with fawning guests.

  Halwyn was not happy.

  He had to take matters, and Grace, into his own hands.

  After the tour of his new home, they returned to the Fitzpatrick brownstone. When he dismounted from the carriage, he pretended to falter, and she reached out to him, setting him upright again. Perfect. He decided to use only one crutch, and lean on Grace for the other. She might think she was helping him regain his footing, when all along his ambition was to tip her off her balance instead. She assisted him up the flights of stairs to his room, and his hold on her never faltered until he sat down on his bed. She took the crutches from him and propped them at the foot of the bed. Then she moved back to his side, and helped him swing his cast leg up onto the mattress. He grabbed her hands as his leg hit the bed.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  He stared at her for a long minute, holding her wrists in his hands. “Not yet.” He pulled her down on top of him.

  She squeaked her surprise. He loved it when she squeaked.

  “What are you doing, Halwyn?”

  “What I should have done at the house, but Mother was there.” He moved his hand to her jaw and positioned her head so he could reach her lips. “Have I told you lately how much I love your mouth?”

  His kiss began gently, but he had been holding himself in check for days now. Ever since he revealed his memory had completely returned. He may have entered into this marriage idea as a favor to Grace, but during his confinement, he found her kisses a comfort, and his nightly visions of a naked Grace, writhing under him as she had one orgasm after another, turned him from a recalcitrant groom into one with a raging desire for his soon to be wife. In seconds, the kiss evolved to one of passion, possession, and primitive need. Her lilac scent was clouding his senses, making him pant with desire for her. Grace’s quick intake of breath was followed by a low moan of matching emotion on her part, as she opened her lips to him.

  And he took, greedily, of everything Grace was giving. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. Surely, she could feel his hard, ready shaft up against her sensitive core. His tongue dipped and dived into her mouth, dueling with hers as their breathing became ragged.

  The knock outside the open door took them both by surprise, as they broke apart from each other, and Halwyn stared into the amused eyes of the upstairs maid. Grace jumped up from the bed, blushing furious
ly as she attempted to straighten her skirts.

  “Your mother ordered a pot o’tea for the two of you. She said you’d undoubtedly have a lot to discuss.”

  This was the very reason why Halwyn didn’t want a ton of servants running around his house. Their house. He wanted Grace all to himself. He’d actually thought he was making some headway until the maid interrupted him. His window of opportunity was now closed. For today, at any rate. Damnation. Or, as Grace would say, blast and damn!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Good Lord, what had she been thinking? Grace was certain she and Halwyn had been the subject of some ribald conversation among the Fitzpatrick staff once the upstairs maid ran back to the kitchen. And why not? She had been behaving in a most scandalous fashion, lying on top of him, with not a care given to his bad leg. Yes, he had been the one who pulled her toward him to begin with, but she was the one who melted into him. She had missed his kisses over the past several days, and somehow the tour of his new house made him want to kiss her. How could she have refused?

  And although his kisses started off gently enough, they quickly escalated to passion, until he was sucking her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and wrapping her body with his arms. She should have refused his advances, but instead her traitorous body begged for more and she moaned with desire. She could feel his hard shaft pressing against her, and it made her crazy with desire. She’d been on the verge of crawling under the covers with him to discover what came next in their lovemaking when the maid interrupted the scene. Thank goodness.

  She ran a finger over her lips now, as she pondered the path she had set for herself. How could she survive one entire year of being in close proximity with him, and pretend he didn’t affect her? Especially if he kissed her again in such a manner? Her heart was betraying her. She must keep uppermost in her mind he was doing her a favor, nothing more. If she chose to interpret the facts differently and think he was beginning to actually care for her, she was only setting herself up for a disastrous fall.

  Which led her back to her initial question. Could she survive one entire year of being in his company without ending up having her heart in tatters when their agreement culminated? Could she resist the urge to brush back his hair from his brow? Smell his manly scent of starch and tobacco and not be tempted to nuzzle his neck? Would her father’s money be worth a broken heart? But her mind kept asking the niggling question: Would he really treat a friend as he had Grace? Pull a friend into a fiery embrace and heat her body with kisses, pressing his hard shaft up against her? Perhaps the feelings weren’t as one sided as she assumed.

  She straightened in her chair. No, Halwyn had never had feelings for her, and if he was reacting differently now, the reason was merely because he’d been cooped up with her for weeks now, and she was the only female he’d come into contact with. Once the cast was removed and he could move about more freely, any attention he paid her would be at an end. If a broken heart was to be the outcome, a broken heart she’d have and live with. Going in, she feared this might be the outcome of her plan.

  If she gave up her right to the trust by backing out of her deal with Halwyn, Simon would lay claim to the money before the sun set on her birthday. Despite the vastness of the fortune, he would throw it away within a year, using the money to fuel his gambling and drinking habits. Then where would her mother be? However, if Grace gained control of the estate, Simon would eventually leave her mother, since the lure of money had been his whole purpose in marrying her in the first place. Then Grace could buy a new home for herself and her mother to reside in, once her year with Halwyn was at an end. Her mother would be removed from Simon’s clutches, and safe.

  Yes, her plan was for the best. For all. She’d set the course for her life with one desperate decision. Halwyn had proved to be the man she always thought he was. He truly did possess the qualities she had foolishly bestowed upon him when she was only thirteen and thought he was her knight in shining armor. He was the most wonderful man she had ever met and, in her young eyes, she’d decided he was perfect. That was entirely the problem now. He had proven he was perfect. But he could never be hers. She might as well go forward with her plan, since her heart was already broken.

  She’d remind herself every day that Halwyn could never be hers, for the next year. She’d outfit his house with so many servants, they’d be tripping over themselves. That way, if she did succumb to his kisses again, odds would be good they’d be interrupted, as had been the case earlier today. Yes, that’s what she’d do. And keep the door between their two bedrooms locked tightly for the next twelve months. Her heart would mend, eventually.

  • • •

  Halwyn dreamed of finishing the scene. The one that had been interrupted by the blasted maid and her pot of tea. In his dream, he unclothed Grace, a bit at a time, unveiling her body for the first time with agonizing slowness. He feasted on her mouth, then kissed the lids of her beautiful blue eyes, took the pins from her shiny, dark hair, and ran his fingers through it. As her blouse opened under his fingers, he wrapped his hand around her breast, feeling its weight for the first time. He leaned over and took the tip of it into his mouth, sucking on it through her chemise, and bringing a startled gasp to her lips. His own moan of delight rumbled up from the depths of his body …

  He woke, groaning, hard and ready to plumb the depths of Grace. Merely thinking about penetrating her, and having her wrapped tightly around his sheath, made his hard shaft swell even more in anticipation. His memories of Grace in the bank, laying out her business proposition to him, and him agreeing to her well-balanced idea of them going through with a sham of a marriage was, as it turned out, only the beginning. Her idea had appealed to him from a business standpoint. He could see the value in approaching marriage as a strategic business decision. So his feelings hadn’t been compromised then. When had this happened?

  Perhaps when his memories evaded him for a week or so? He’d had no knowledge of their agreement during that time, and Grace was in his parents’ home, waiting on his every need, as would be expected of a woman about to marry him. Admittedly, Grace was a beautiful young woman, with her porcelain skin and dark as night hair, and she had finally grown into those big blue eyes of hers. She was the type of woman he would have selected on his own—quiet, soft-spoken, well-educated. He could envision long evenings in the library with her, discussing books, poetry, and current events.

  So how had this match, well-thought out and sound from a business perspective, morphed into one eminently spicier? His vision of long evenings in the library changed into one where their respective books were tossed aside and they ended up naked and rolling around in front of the fire. In his wildest dreams, he never could have imagined such a scenario. Yet here he was, being woken up by dreams of just such content. Such unbridled passion was not something he had ever experienced, or even thought about, before. Before Grace.

  What was the time, anyway? He took his pocket watch out of his vest and flicked the cover open. A scant bit of light from the street pierced the bedroom, and he was able to make out the hands on the watch. Only a little past ten. He must have fallen asleep shortly after his love scene with Grace was so rudely interrupted by the maid. He’d missed dinner completely, and was starving.

  He rose from the bed and clumped down the stairs as quietly as he could. Surprised to find a light on in the parlor, he walked toward the room. His mother was sitting there, with her embroidery. Almost as if she were waiting for him. Well, he had some questions for her, too.

  “Hello, Mother.” Halwyn’s words were clipped as he came into the room and sat down opposite her.

  “I thought you might have trouble sleeping and be down sooner or later. I’ll ring for Cook to heat up your dinner for you.” She rang for a servant to deliver the message to the cook, and then glanced at him, with a smirk on her face. Damn, she had been made aware of the situation with Grace already.

  “I see you’ve been informed. But the actual events weren’t w
hat you probably have been led to believe.”

  “I have no reason to doubt Helen. She’s been with us for years, and, as the upstairs maid, she is aware of what goes on in one’s bedroom.”

  “All right, then. Let’s discuss what Helen believes she walked in on. And how such a situation could possibly have happened in the first place. Your fingers have been in the middle of my relationship with Grace from the outset anyway.”

  His mother’s amused expression became a carefully crafted one of innocence. He’d seen it many times before. Maybe his father could be taken in by her behavior, but Halwyn was not.

  “How did it happen, Mother?”

  “Well, I suppose in the same way it’s been happening for thousands of years. Man meets woman, the pair spend time together, decide they care for each other well enough to spend the rest of their lives together, marry, and have a family.”

  Halwyn controlled his desire to growl at her. “Except for the fact we didn’t decide we cared for each other and want to spend the rest of our days together. Of course, I didn’t have that little nugget of information when I came out of my medically-induced fog. You made certain Grace was assigned to take care of me, and you and she led me to believe we were a couple.”

  His mother raised an eyebrow. Her trademark expression reinforced the message she was not happy with the tone of what he was saying. She’d used it since he was little, to control a sassy tongue from him and his brothers and sisters. Well, this time a mere eyebrow raise was not going to do the trick. He was angry, and rightfully so.