Page 14 of Forever & Again
“I assure you, I was suffering.”
“You were flirting.”
“I was listening,” he countered. “There is a painful difference between the two.”
Grace turned and set off across the lawns. She didn’t know why he had such a profound effect on her. Grace was typically not one to let people get under her skin, but something about Oliver was like the thorn on a rose. There was no denying that he was beautiful to look at, but the feelings he stirred were not—like the prick on your finger you don’t notice until the sting sets in.
“Grace…” Oliver fell into step beside her. The man certainly was persistent.
Grace refused to slow down, though she hadn’t fully thought out where she was fleeing to. “Please stop following me.” She turned down the path towards the Rutherford’s stables, and Oliver stayed close behind. “I am under strict orders to guard you during the lawn games.”
“I am not playing any lawn games.”
“Then I shall guard you recreationally.”
Grace stopped abruptly, forcing Oliver to halt a few steps ahead of her. “You made me look like a fool!” she snapped. The words came out sharper than she’d intended, slicing through the air between them.
Oliver’s composure faltered, just slightly. “I wasn’t trying to,” he said quietly, his voice gentle in a way that caught her off guard.
Grace knew he was telling the truth, but for a moment, she wished that she didn’t believe him. It was much easier to push him away when he was playing the part of the heartless rogue, instead of looking at her with a softness that twisted her stomach in knots. “Stop inserting yourself where you do not belong.”
“I am trying to be your friend, Grace.” Oliver took a step closer, but Grace pulled back, instinctively putting more space between them than before.
“You are not my friend!” She knew she should lower her defenses, but it was something about the sincerity in his eyesthat made her walls rise even higher. “I am afraid you have mistaken proximity for intimacy, Lord Blackburn.”
She noticed the way his jaw tightened and his shoulders drew back, as if his armor had just settled back into place. “And you have mistaken distance for strength, Lady Rockwell.” His words hit like a blow she hadn’t been ready to take.
Strength?No.
Survival?Perhaps.
Grace folded her arms, no longer willing to simply defend herself. She took a breath as she launched her own attack. “At least I do not hide behind charm and mockery and pretend that I do not feel a thing.”
“No.” Oliver leaned in a fraction closer, his already dark blue eyes deepening with something she couldn’t read. “You just punish anyone who dares to make you feel anything at all.”
He was so close, she could feel his uneven breaths. She couldn’t tell if he was truly angry or if he was only trying to get a rise out of her.
Maybe she had become more guarded since losing Benjamin. But what else was one to do when they suffered a loss that great? She could admit that the thought of letting someone else into her life terrified her.She could. But she wouldn’t.
Grace took a step back and cleared her throat as she tried to clear her mind. “This isn’t meant to be a war, Oliver. We agreed to a truce.”
“I am not the one who started throwing punches.” Oliver’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Grace caught the slight hitch in his voice. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just shifted, but suddenly it felt as though neither one of them had the upper hand.
Grace lowered her gaze and turned to continue towards the path that led towards the long drive that came up to meet the Rutherford estate.
“Grace, where are you going?” Oliver called after her, though he made no move to follow her—and Grace made no effort to answer him.
Oliver watched as Grace walked towards the path that led to the long, winding drive that connected the Rutherford Estate to the main road. Surely she wouldn’t attempt the hour walk back to Somerton in this heat—would she?
He thought about following her to ensure she stayed safe, but at the moment, Grace Rockwell would most likely throw herself off the cliffs of Bath to get away from him, so it would probably be in everyone’s best interest if he kept his distance.
The sun was high, and the croquet game was in full chaotic swing—or as chaotic as a croquet game could be when it was being hosted by a Viscount and the daughter of a vicar.
Not a single soul was wanting for company, and every guest seemed to be happily engaged in a conversation or paired with a potential match—everyone except for Oliver.
He scanned the crowd for a familiar face and spotted Sarah sitting under the shade of a large tree; a half-empty glass of lemonade sitting on the small table beside her. She looked slightly pale, but she was smiling brightly at something Matthew whispered in her ear before he pressed a kiss to her cheek and returned to the game.
Oliver made his way to where Sarah now sat alone, and lowered himself onto the grass beside her chair with what he hoped was more dramatic flair than an unsophisticated flop.
