Page 20 of The Untamed Duke
His scowl intensified. “I fail to see how that will help—”
Celia waved her hand. “Once we’re close enough, I’ll inform Tristan our mother needs him, that she’s feeling ill. Mother would not wish to make a fuss so he’ll believe me. And you’ll continue the waltz with Grace.”
Nicholas stared, a single eyebrow lifting. “And what shall you do? Stay and supervise?”
“That would not be helpful at all. I’ll accompany Tristan.” Celia’s dark brown eyes were guileless, a resolute determination shimmering in their lovely depths. No coyness lurked there as she admitted softly, “I’ve seen it, Your Grace. Last night at dinner, this afternoon at tea. Tonight, even. You looking at her—I’ve never seen anyone gaze at another person the way you do her. As if you have a secret and only she holds the key to unlock it. I admit a bit of envy, but I’m glad as well. Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you too.”
“Is that so?”
“It might seem contrary, but I have my reasons for doing this. You must know my brother wants to marry her. An impossible desire. And a foolish one. Grace will never marry Tristan. I hope he realizes the futility of his pursuit and understands how serious she is in her refusals. I can think of no other way of opening his eyes other than to see you courting her. He may believe he no longer stands a chance if she is interested in you and you are just as interested in her. Which you seem to be. It’s most fascinating to watch.”
“I’ve never wasted my time wooing a woman,” Nicholas scoffed. “Especially an innocent.”
Celia squared her shoulders, holding his gaze with a steady intensity. “I am well aware of your reputation, Your Grace. Tristan and my mother have beat it into my brain. But, I trust you will not conduct yourself in a manner that will hurt Grace in any way. As you say, she is an innocent, and very dear to our family. As well as others, such as the Earl and Countess of Ravenswood, and the Earl and Countess of Bentley. Ravenswood will be particularly incensed if she is harmed. Now, shall we dance or not?”
Nicholas could not refute the wisdom of Celia’s plan, although her motivations were questionable. But if humoring this girl resulted in Grace ending up in his arms, even if only for the moment, he’d dance on hot coals. Giving a sharp nod, he whirled her onto the parquet floor.
Tristan scowled in irritated concern when Celia delivered her news. Grace eyed them all with suspicion. She could have departed with the brother and sister, but indecision sealed her fate. Just like that, Nicholas had her. And possessing her was a little bit of heaven come to earth even as he realized this could all end badly. He would want more than one dance. Much more.
As they moved through the motions of a new waltz, Grace’s eyes sparkled with caution and Nicholas realized something. She was different. As if a transformation had taken place since their encounter in the library that afternoon. She was cool, ignoring him all evening, almost as well as he ignored her. There was a reason for it, although he could not guess its basis.
“Are you truly venturing out with Longleigh tomorrow?” Nicholas finally barked, disconcerted by her unwavering silence. “Have you forgotten my warning of being alone with him?”
“I invited you along, my lord, knowing the high value you’ve placed on my reputation. You might have served as chaperone. Yet, you refused.”
Nicholas silently groaned. Chaperone? Hell, he would more likely find a low tree branch capable of knocking Tristan from his horse if it meant having this girl all alone with himself.
“I return to Oakmont tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Her manner was polite. “Then your concern hardly matters, does it?”
“It matters,” Nicholas bit out, “when he wants you so much, he’s willing—” He abruptly swallowed his next words as the puzzle of Grace’s hostility simmered in the air. What the devil was the matter with her?
“When he’s willing to do what, my lord?” Grace breathed, eyes narrowed. “Compromise me? Take what doesn’t belong to him?”
“Something happened.” His sharp gaze caught the slight pinkening of her cheeks with his blunt statement. “What is it?” he demanded, the roughness of his voice drawing questioning glances from nearby couples. “Tell me now.”
“It is inconsequential.” Grace’s hand unfurled from his. “Excuse me, my lord. I’ve grown weary of dancing.”
He recaptured possession of her fingers and, using the hand still cupped in the small of her back, jerked her back against him. Grace’s tiny gasp almost destroyed him. Her breasts grazing his chest nearly dropped him to his knees.
“I’m hardly done with you, Grace. I’ll have my answer.”
Her internal struggle was clear. A secret lurked inside her, one she would not reveal unless he forced it. Nicholas’s grip tightened unconsciously, and her eyes widened with startled awareness.
The waltz ended, other guests clapping in appreciation for the musicians. Grace took advantage of Nicholas’s moment of inattention and tugged free. Dropping a curtsy hid the fact she evaded his grasp a second time. It was a mocking, pretty movement that ignited his imagination. Grace on her knees before him, head bowed, eyes flashing. Submissive, yet resistant. Dear God, the things he could do with her if given the chance.
“Good evening, my lord.”
She darted out of reach in expert evasion, melting into the midst of the other chattering couples now ambling off the ballroom floor.
* * *
The Duke of Richefortedeparted the next morning, much to Lady Calmont’s dismay. Helene Ralston was none too pleased either. She was surly, snapping at everyone from housemaids to their hosts. Grace couldn't help a tiny smile knowing the duke left the baroness behind.
Even better, a steady rain began just before lunch, forcing the cancellation of her ride with Tristan. Grace spent that rainy, quiet afternoon considering what must be done. How she would stop the theft of her home. And her horses. The decision was made. She would not involve her dearest cousin, nor his wife. No need for Sebastian or Ivy to rescue her...this was something she could accomplish on her own.
She could save herself.
