* * *
Nicholas heard the door open.He’d already decided on leaving Grace be. To keep himself from her. She was consuming him, and each attempt at placing a distance between them failed. He could not allow himself the pleasure of drowning in her again so soon. This last night together and the exercise of his restraint was more for his sanity than her safety.
One long braid of hair tumbled over her shoulder. He’d be damned if she wasn’t clad in anything more than a thin, ivory-hued chemise. The lace-trimmed garment barely edged the upper part of her thighs, dipping in the bodice to skim the tips of her breasts. Lust flared inside him, and every intention of keeping himself from her disintegrated like paper tossed into fire.
“Come here, Grace.”
His voice was hoarse, scratchy with need, his hand stretching toward her.
Grace obeyed, and when she was standing before him, eyes blazing with temper and tears, she reared back, striking him across the cheek with such force, Nicholas rocked on his heels.
His eyes closed, quelling the instantaneous response of snatching her up and kissing her with a matching fury. God knew he deserved that slap, and so much more. He’d hurt her earlier. With his words. His animosity. The inability to reconcile these bewildering feelings for her. Something was happening inside him, unraveling him, unfreezing him, and he didn’t know what to do other than lash out.
When he finally opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, the silence stretched, the air snapping taut with electricity. Nicholas did not move. Not even to rub the sting of her handprint from his cheek.
As it had earlier, Grace’s chin trembled. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting until he thought it might bleed. With a low sigh, Nicholas cautiously opened his arms, and after a second of hesitation, she flew into them, burrowing against his chest as if she’d always belonged there.
Holding her, something inside him cracked. Scary and overwhelming enough that he was breathless from it. He embraced her tighter, frightened by what swirled inside him. In two days’ time she’d swept through his defenses and destroyed his icy fortress. It would be madness acknowledging it aloud or giving any indication of the power she held over him, but it was there.
He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Surely, she thought he would descend upon her, ravaging her as before. Taking liberties, using his mouth, lips, and hands, those dangerous methods causing far more dangerous consequences. Instead, he merely held her, lying on his side with his front to her back, one arm encircling her midriff, the other placed beneath her head. She seemed content, wrapped in his embrace, a hard bicep partially serving as her pillow.
When Grace attempted to speak, Nicholas squeezed her waist in gentle warning.
“Sshhh,” was all he said, and she relaxed against him, her breath exhaling in a tiny rush of relief.
She appeared just as reluctant in addressing matters between them. Yes, it all needed working out, but it was best such things were undertaken in the sober light of morning. When heartache could be managed more efficiently and with an absence of emotion.
Nicholas drifted asleep imagining the bleakness of an existence without Grace Willsdown, breathing in the clean heather and lemon sunshine scent of her hair, tracing intricate patterns on her skin with a forefinger. Invisible evidence of his need for her. A secret branding as permanent as one laid by hot iron.
His name.
His name and hers. Together.
She is mine…
Mine.
* * *
Nicholas wokethe next morning with sunlight streaming through a wide crack in the drapes, instantly aware of three separate facts.
One, he’d not dreamed during the night. No nightmares, no bloody recollections of horrors suffered or friends betrayed. For the first time in five years he slept deeply, without conscious or unconscious thoughts of anything. Just deep, black, numbing slumber.
Second, he was alone in his bed.
And third...his heart stuttered with panic and regret. With loss.
Third...
Grace was gone.
Chapter 21
Two weeks passed since the morning Grace hastily dressed and departed Oakmont.
Fourteen days of wondering. Would Nicholas suddenly appear on her doorstep, demanding an explanation for why she fled? She almost hoped he would, the letter she left behind an indication of her feelings. She’d taken five books from his extensive library. The note essentially instructed Nicholas to come get them. If he dared.
Her own boldness shocked her. Now, Grace wished she’d been a bit more subtle.