Page 69 of Romancing the Scot
Hugh had thought of Grace at least a thousand times over the course of the morning. When he returned, his clerks told him that she’d been working her way through the case books, and she’d kept them busy recording the information she was finding. The lucky bastards, he thought.
“I’m near fit as a fiddle, m’lord,” Darby told him. “And I know you’re eager to get that balloon aloft before your family arrives. Expect me at the carriage barn on Monday. I think we can finish rigging the lines as you wanted them.”
“Two days of recovery might be somewhat ambitious,” Hugh replied, shaking his head in disagreement. “I don’t want you thinking of work right now, be it smithing or ballooning. You need to mend.”
“Beg pardon, m’lord,” Darby said in a voice intended only for Hugh. “You must save me from all this mollycoddling. That blade of his did little damage, as the doctor will tell you himself. You’re a fighting man. You know. I’m not comfortable lying here while the ladies bother themselves looking after me.”
Hugh shot a look at Grace and his sister. “Bear with it until tomorrow,” he whispered. “And we’ll see how you’re feeling then. And I’ll talk to my sister about it. Lady Jo is quite experienced when it comes to looking after the sick and injured. She’ll know when it’s time for you to be up and about.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Darby grudgingly agreed. “But would you at least have a talk with Mistress Grace? I feel a fool at how little I did and how many times she’s thanked me. If you only saw her, how brave she was facing those blackguards. She needed no rescue. Here I tell her to hide behind me, and instead she stands forward and takes the fight right to them. She’s got pluck, let me tell you. She was something to behold.”
Brave Mistress Grace. Beautiful Mistress Grace. Brilliant Mistress Grace. From Darby to Jo to his blasted law clerks, they were all singing her praises. Hugh’s gaze moved to the object of their conversation as she reached up to put a stack of folded cloths on a shelf. If they only knew how far short of the truth their admiring words fell.
In his thirty-six years, he’d never met any woman who consumed him—mind and body and heart—the way she did. Thoughts of last night pushed into his mind. In those hours after the Truscotts left, he’d tried to talk himself out of going to her room, but it was impossible. Whatever other people saw of Grace’s virtues, Hugh knew more. Her fiery passion, her flawless and responsive body. He had to escape her room or he would have made love to her.
Darby continued to talk, but Hugh’s attention was mainly on Grace. She couldn’t reach high enough to fetch a jar off a shelf. Excusing himself, he went to her. Her dress brushed against his coat. They were so close that he could almost hear the pulse beating wildly on her throat, feel the flush of heat rising into her face. He wanted to whisper in her ear. Tell her the secrets of his heart, how last night the truth had come to him.
He was in love with her.
Hugh fetched the jar and handed it to her. Her gaze lifted, and he was lost, sinking into the blue depths of her eyes until the urge to kiss her lips was overwhelming.
A knock on the cottage door saved him. Anna entered with another basket, and Hugh moved back to the injured man.
Behind her, one of the grooms who’d gone off with Truscott this morning stopped in the doorway. Hugh stepped outside to talk to him.
“We brought back three of them, m’lord. Mr. Truscott says he’s certain we got them that did it. He asks if you’d be kind enough to go into the village. The bailiff is waiting there with him and the rest.”
“I’d like to accompany you, m’lord.” Grace stood in the open door. She’d heard everything that was said.
Hugh turned to his man. “We’ll be taking the curricle. Have it brought around to the front. And have my valet bring out my pistols.”
The groom ran off to do as he was told. Jo came to the door too, and Grace told her what they were doing. “I hate to leave you alone, but I should go to the village.”
“I’m not alone. Anna is here, and if I’m not mistaken, Darby may be happy to be rid of us for the afternoon.”
“He probably could use some time alone,” Hugh agreed. “To rest.”
She gave Grace a hug. “I understand that it’s important for you to know that the right people have been caught.” She turned to Hugh. “And youwilltake good care of her.”
Jo was warning him about his intentions regarding Grace.
They were less than a year apart. Of all their siblings, she was closest to him and understood his moods best. But she was already a friend to Grace. Hugh wished he could tell his sister that there was no need to worry, that he would do everything in his power to make her a part of his life, part of everyone’s life at Baronsford. And whatever business needed to be concluded in Brussels with regard to the diamond and the Bonapartes, he’d see to that too.
Grace went inside to fetch her bonnet and he followed her in. After telling Darby what had transpired, Hugh ushered her out of the cottage.
The two walked in silence to the carriage. His valet was waiting for him with his hat and gloves. His pistols had been stored beneath the seat, and he helped her up before climbing in and taking the reins.
Their shoulders bumped as the horses turned out onto the lane, and she discreetly adjusted her seat, trying to keep a proper distance between them. Hugh looked at the blush in her cheeks, at the way her hands gripped the edge of the seat to keep herself securely positioned. He gazed at her beautiful profile, and she turned her face away toward the flowering meadow.
“Say what’s on your mind, Grace.”
“Last night . . .”
“Last night was inevitable. It’s been coming since the first time we kissed each other.” As Hugh hurried to talk, his words tumbled out on top of each other. He had so much that he wanted to tell her. “Everything about you thrills me. When I’m with you, all my honorable intentions just fly out beyond my reach.”
“Please stop.” Her hands pressed against her cheeks. “I’m so embarrassed by what happened. I don’t know what came over me. I was sleeping. And then you were outside of my door, and it all seemed like . . . like . . .”
“Like what?” he asked, resting his hand on her knee.
