Page 74 of The Untamed Duke
Nicholas was speechless.HisGrace? Weeping? For him? God, he couldn’t imagine the depths of her pain. Didn’t think he had it in him to even try, but for a wild, breathless moment, he wished she was in his arms. So he could comfort and console her. Take care of her as she’d cared for him.
“You won’t answer me, will you?” At his continued silence, Ivy stood, stretching her back. “Very well. The doctor indicated your bandages could be removed today, and as your valet arrived this morning, I’ll let him know you are awake. You should make yourself a bit more presentable before Grace returns.”
Nicholas understood Ivy was on his side where Grace was involved. For whatever reason, she’d decided the pair of them should continue on, so he chose his words carefully. “I cannot explain this arrangement between myself and Grace, Lady Ravenswood, only that it is for her benefit and at her insistence.”
Ivy laughed, murmuring mischievously, “Your Grace, you may call me by my Christian name. I assisted Sebastian with you after the fire, so I regard you now as one might a brother. You and my husband share many similarities.” She winked at him. “There’s no need for such formalities and I’ve a feeling you’ll be part of our family soon enough.” Cocking her head, she regarded him for a long moment, then said thoughtfully, “Come to Beaumont, should you feel well enough. Alan and Sara return from their honeymoon in three weeks and we are hosting a ball in their honor. Your mother is attending, if she arrives in time from Ireland. I think you should be there, too.”
Chapter 29
Ibecome envious of little things
The sun kissing her face
The breeze caressing her hair
The silk embracing her body
I am a man possessed
Wanting to become these things
~Nicholas August Harris March
Ninth Duke of Richeforte
His valet wasas efficient as ever, although slightly frazzled seeing the duke so terribly incapacitated. Within the hour, Strawn had assisted him with a bath, despite Nicholas’s persistent, dizzying headache, a much-needed shave, definitely difficult to accomplish one-handed, and carefully removed the bandages wrapping his head and hand. He’d also ordered a messenger travel immediately to London, with specific instructions on what to do.
The last task was helping Nicholas into a pair of sleeping pants designed specifically for him in London, based on garments he’d discovered in the Far East. Comfortable and loose, riding low on his hips and tied with a drawstring, the silk pants were an article of clothing he rarely wore but one Strawn now insisted upon.
“You are not well, Your Grace, a guest in this house, and with many people coming and going from this room.” Strawn’s thin, elegant face pulled tight with propriety. “Thesearea necessity. At least until you are back at Oakmont.”
Nicholas grumbled and agreed.
His bed sheets were changed out by a sympathetic and genial Mrs. Cooper and now, Nicholas examined the palm of his right hand. There was no mistaking the scarlet-red, square imprint of the halter buckle. The burn mark was already turning brown around the edges as it began healing. He closed his hand slowly, testing the level of pain. It twinged sharply in protest, but he would gain its full use within a day or two. The gash on his head was healing nicely as well. In a few days, the stitches would come out and he’d have only a thin white scar, trailing off into his hairline.
Strawn had brought along the travel chest containing his writing materials and journal. It sat on a bureau a few feet away, and Nicholas found it a more welcome sight than his own clothes. He anxiously awaited the moment he could put his feelings to paper once more.
The house grew quiet, at least in the corridor where his room was located. Nicholas sighed, tilting his head against the mound of pillows. As always, his thoughts were of Grace, the ache within him difficult to comprehend. He had never wanted a woman with such desperation. Her soothing touch. Her small capable hands and sweet voice. He needed all of her. Even if she only sat at his bedside. At least she would be near him.
It was foolish, hoping Grace would come this night. She was exhausted, after all...would likely sleep until morning, as long as no one disturbed her. Disappointment flooded Nicholas. He was a selfish, wicked man; no one knew better than he did. But he craved her with such intensity, he would settle for the cool touch of her hand on his forehead and nothing more.
When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of rainstorms and wild heather and how those things had thrown his life into utter chaos.
* * *
Grace gently closedthe door behind her. For a long moment, she merely stood there, looking at the man asleep in her guest bedroom, wondering if this was a dreadful mistake.
Nicholas’s eyes opened, pinning her in place and Grace choked back a sob.I almost lost you…
“Grace…”
He reached a hand out for her. She wondered how he knew it was her...the light didn't reach that far, pooling around the bed and going no further.
“Come here to me, little bee.”
She approached slowly, tears welling in her eyes. “I had a nightmare.”
“I know. Come here…”
