Page 75 of The Untamed Duke
Reaching the side of the bed, she stood in nervous uncertainty. “You were inside the stables...at first I didn’t know where you were. You were lost in there...in the blackness. There was smoke and screaming. So much smoke. But, somehow, I found you. Helped you to the entrance, and we were almost safe. I turned for a moment, and you were gone. Then I was running through the smoke and everything was happening again. As if it were the beginning of the same nightmare. Over and over.”
Nicholas took her hand and pulled her closer.
“I’m so sorry, Grace…” he choked, her pain obviously affecting him. “So very sorry.”
It was as though his words unleashed a torrent inside her. She became vaguely aware of tears streaming down her cheeks as she hurtled into the circle of his arms.
Nicholas quickly arranged the bedcovers so their bodies were covered. Then he reclined on his side, facing her. “Let me hold you. Nothing else.”
Grace nodded, sobbing against his chest, breathing in the wonderful sandalwood, linen, and mint scent that was uniquely Nicholas. His skin was warm, the swirl of tawny gold hair on his chest tickling her nose. She was too upset to appreciate being held like this, her heart turned inside out and shattered, but his embrace was comforting. Safe. For a long time, she wept in his arms while he quietly consoled her.
The entire household lay draped in sorrow. The day following the fire, Hugh sought her out, catching her in the hallway outside Nicholas’s door. He blamed himself, although Grace reassured the stable master no one could be blamed for an act of God. The poor man sobbed like a child against her shoulder, as dazed and heartbroken as she was over the loss of the stallion.
“We buried him, we did,” Hugh had said, wiping his eyes with a small handkerchief he always kept on his person. “In the corner ‘neath that auld tree. Got his halter ‘anging from the marker there.” It was Llyr’s favorite pasture, the apple tree at least a century old and profuse with leaves. It was a beautiful resting place. Later, she would retrieve the halter and place it somewhere in the stables as a tribute.
Nicholas’s heart thumped steadily in her ear as she thought of what her loyal employees endured the morning after the event. They cleared away as much debris as possible, removing deceased horses and ruined tack. She could not bear watching as they removed the charred remains, aware her tenuous hold on sanity may have snapped at the sight. She’d not yet ventured to the grave, and her heart tightened with the thought of seeing the marker. Knowing her brave, beautiful Llyr was buried just below it broke her heart.
Never again would she ride her horse along the cliffs. Feel his warm breath as he quietly snuffled her hair, seeking her scent. Watch him mischievously stomp a massive hoof on the toes of an unsuspecting stable lad. Hear his eager whinny as Grace approached his paddock with an apple she’d selected just for him. Or the delighted nicker when he found the sugar cubes she’d hidden in her coat pockets.
Her grief poured out against Nicholas’s sculptured chest until she felt cleansed and somewhat sane again. The sadness lingered, it would be there in her heart for a long time, but Grace was pragmatic. Crying would not bring her dear stallion back. Now, she must focus on plans of recovering from the devastation.
Taking a deep breath, she thought of matters now at hand. Lurking in the back of her mind was the niggling worry Nicholas would abandon their agreement. He might consider her stables unworthy of the contract and withdraw or feel pity for her situation and refuse taking advantage of her. She wasn’t sure what she would do if that happened. When had the thought of losing him become more devastating than losing her home? Or her horses? Was it the time spent with him that night in this very room? Or did the fire and his heroic efforts force the realization she couldn't let him go? Afraid of a future without him in it.
Nicholas’s hands smoothed up and down her back. The injured hand must surely pain him, but he gave no indication of it as he murmured in her ear, pressing soft kisses in her hair and on her forehead. “I’ve got you, little bee. I’ve got you.”
For a long time, they lay in this manner until Grace was calmer. When she tried pulling away, Nicholas’s arms locked about her waist. His hands resting low in the small of her back, he traced small circles that burned her flesh through the pale-yellow silk of her nightgown.
“Don’t go. Stay with me. Stay all night. I’ll hold you in case your nightmares come back. I’ll keep them away.”
Grace relaxed. “What of your own nightmares, Nicholas?” She brushed a tawny lock of hair off his brow, careful of the wound snaking into his hairline.
Nicholas brought a hand around and grasped her wrist, dragging his mouth ever so lightly across the skin above the bracelet. She’d not removed it since the morning he gave it. Watching over him while he was unconscious and feverish, she’d rubbed the piece of jewelry with her index finger, counting the diamond bees and pearl flowers as if they were rosary beads.
“You’ll keep my nightmares at bay, Grace. Now, sleep. I’ve got you.”
“What if someone comes in? Sees us like this?” Drowsiness drifted through her bones. Her eyes were suddenly so heavy. It was warm in Nicholas’s embrace. Someday he would break her heart, but right now she was safe.
“Should anyone dare intrude, I’ll run them through myself. No one will begrudge you this after everything you’ve gone through.” A kiss brushed her forehead. “And I can’t let you go, so you may as well rest. I’ll wake you when it's time to be Lady Grace Willsdown again. Right now, you’re my honeybee, and you need me holding you as much as I need to hold you.”
* * *
Grace came awake much laterin varying degrees of awareness. The soft touch of lips feathered against her temple. His breath stirred her hair. The hard planes of his muscled chest warmed her back. She’d shifted onto her side, facing away from him during the night, and now Nicholas curled around her. The curve of her waist cradled his arm, one of her hands nestled in his. He was awake, lightly tracing the fine, superficial cuts on her palms.
“What are these?” His thumb gently rubbed over a tiny blister. “Were you injured?”
“From the bucket handles. When Ivy and I helped the others in putting out the fire.”
Nicholas raised her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing the injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Damn, I told Sebastian to hold on to you. To keep you safe.”
“No, I’m not hurt. Nicholas, you should know, Sebastian was beside himself when you were trapped,” Grace said, eyes closing at the sweetness of his actions. “Even more so while you’ve been ill. He’ll say it’s because his heroic act was wasted on you, but I know different.”
Nicholas did not respond, and Grace plunged forward. “You were quite talkative while sedated.” His entire body stiffened. He literally held his breath as she spoke. “A great deal of it was bits and pieces, phrases and nightmares come to life. Scenes lived again as if occurring anew. I watched over you, took care of you...and now I’ve become one of your secrets. Do you understand, Nicholas?”
He muttered low. “Apparently, I spoke of us. Did anyone else overhear?”
“I don’t believe so. If they did, I’m not sure they would even did understand. But there’s more, Nicholas. So much more. Do you wish to know? Everything I know?” Her fingers threaded with his, and she kissed his knuckles. “If you don’t, I promise I will keep your secrets as well as you do.” Her head twisted until she could look at him.
“Tell me.”
