Page 58 of Romancing the Scot
“The responsibility for what happened to my wife and son is not yours to bear. And what you said to me in that nursery awakened me. I’ve been sleeping for a long time. I’m done blaming others—your father, the army I fought against, even Napoleon. I’m finished chasing after revenge when no one must bear the fault but I.”
His mouth was a whisper away from hers. She studied his piecing gray eyes and knew his words, ragged and rasping as they were, rose straight from his heart.
“And, if it’s possible, I’m done punishing myself. I know what I did wrong. I know the foolish young man I once was. I only pray that I can take what I’ve learned from my past and . . .”
Grace kissed him. Even as she pressed her lips to his, she told herself it was to seal the pardon that passed between the two of them. She had nothing to forgive, but he had forgiven her. She still knew sorrow lingered in his heart.
But in truth, as soon as their lips touched, she realized forgiveness had nothing to do with this. She needed to prove to herself that he was real, that this moment truly existed. She was in his arms. He cared for her. He had come after her.
If this kiss was intended to show her affection for him, it soon became something else, and the warmth of his touch became all-consuming.
Hugh’s fingers threaded into her hair, and he drew her body against him. The little restraint she had evaporated like drop of dew under a bright summer sun. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers curling into his hair. She couldn’t get enough of his taste. Hugh pressed his tongue past her lips, and in an instant he was devouring her. She couldn’t stop a groan of satisfaction from climbing into her throat. His mouth was warm, and Grace shook with excitement as his hand slid down her spine over her bottom bringing her even closer.
The feel of his body, hard where hers was soft, astonished her. Mind-numbing need raced through her as she tore her mouth free. Her lips moved over the roughness of his jaw, finding a spot at the base of his throat where she could taste the heat on his skin and hear the song of his heart.
He urged her lips back to his. His tongue began to explore the recesses of her mouth, thrilling her with the intimacy of the sensation, and then suddenly he pulled away.
“I’d love to take this further, but this is not the time or place.”
Grace snapped awake. For a moment nothing existed in the world except the two of them. Now, as he backed away a step, she looked around at the mist that continued to fill the glen, perhaps hiding dangers just beyond their sight. A chill breeze of reality swept through her. Those men could still be lurking in these woods. One person had already been injured trying to save her. She wanted to be far from here.
Darby was right. He believed those blackguards were waiting for her. Whatever lay behind their actions, their purpose had been to snatch her.
Hugh fetched his horse, and Grace tried to hide the pain when she put weight on her ankle.
“What did they do? You’re injured. Why didn’t you say something?”
Foolish of her to think he’d miss anything. Hugh started to crouch down to check her ankle, but she stopped him. “Not now. Please. It’s only a sprain. I’m fine.”
Hugh gazed at her with renewed concern, but then lifted her up into the saddle and swung up behind her. She nestled against the warmth of his chest, her eyes sweeping their surroundings for any sign of the three men.
“You’re shivering,” he murmured against her ear, gathering Grace more tightly against him as he nudged his horse up the lane toward Baronsford. “No one is going to hurt you.”
A few short hours ago, Grace had been drowning in a roiling sea of despair. Now she felt herself riding the crest of a wave, safe in Hugh’s arms.
“Does Jo know I left Baronsford?”
“Everyone does. They all went looking for you, searching everywhere we could think of.” His lips brushed against her ear. “We wereallworried about you.”
“It was thoughtless of me. I—”
“No more apologizing,” he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. He was silent for a moment. “I want you to tell me about the note you received from Nithsdale Hall.”
Grace was not surprised that he knew about it.
“Mrs. Douglas sent me the letter. She recognized me from a reception in Paris six years ago. It was part of the celebration of the baptism of the emperor’s son. From the tone of the letter, I gathered that she was not entirely sure about my loss of memory. At least, not certain enough to make a direct statement; her words were ambiguous. But the letter contained no threat. She even seemed to offer assistance.”
“Did she ask to meet with you in the village?”
She followed the direction of his thoughts. After the attack, those thoughts were not so far from her own. “You’re thinking she somehow knew about the diamond. You suspect she may have known that I had it with me when I arrived at Baronsford.”
“Suspicion is a hazard of my profession.” His arm tightened around her. “She appears to be the only person in the Borders who knows your identity. Those men tried to kidnap you. I have to assume that they were after Grace Ware, and that they knew you’d be traveling that road to Melrose Village.”
“She told me in her letter that she walked each morning in the village, and she’d enjoy my company if I cared to join her. But I didn’t send an answer. She had no way of knowing if I’d be walking to the village today, tomorrow, or ever. Or if I’d be coming in a carriage and bringing your sister with me.”
“But if you were hiding your identity and wanted help from her, she could have assumed you’d come alone.”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But the only valuable thing I have is the diamond. I think my father was killed for it in Antwerp.”
