by Sahara Kelly
“The whole business of lineage strikes me as somewhat absurd. After all, were we to be brutally honest, half the great houses of our country are riddled with madness, illegitimacy and other dreadful things we can’t even imagine. And yet we title ourselves aristocrats.”
Grace thought about that. “Well…yes. You’re quite right. But sometimes, it’s pleasant to look around and see a home you know your great-great whatevers lived in. To touch a fireplace that has warmed rooms for centuries…that sort of thing.”
“Mowbray House?”
She nodded. “Yes…and other places too, of course.”
“So tell me,” He shifted his position so that he could look at her. “Are the fires warmer because they are contained within an ancient hearth? Are the stairs easier to climb because thousands of feet have used them before?”
“Umm,” she frowned. “No. No, of course not. Not physically, anyway.”
“So it’s the sense of history you find appealing?”
“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “I can’t help but wonder whose hands dusted the Mowbray House mantelpiece five hundred years ago. Or whose feet first trod up the steps of the great staircase. What amazing or terrible secrets do the walls hold?”
She looked at him, her eyes flashing with the ardency of her argument, so beautiful in that moment she took his breath away.
“It’s all there, Perry. Can you imagine? Centuries of living absorbed into the woodwork.”
“Along with mice, woodworm, the smell of smoke from ancient siege fires—not to mention buckets of blood from the many more unpleasant incidents…”
“You’re a cynic, Sir Peregrine. A confirmed cynic.” Her eyes softened into a smile. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
He took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips, dropping a light kiss on her knuckles. “Keep looking at me like that, and I will be.”
She blinked, blushed and then jerked forward as the carriage came to a halt. “Oh.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a breath. “We’ve arrived.”
Just in time, too.
*~~*~~*
Pulling her errant emotions back together, Grace welcomed their arrival. It distracted her from the unexpectedly sharp pangs of curiosity that Perry’s simple words had engendered. Places low in her body she had thought long-dead proved they had only been dormant…warming, sending out tendrils of excitement that might have transformed into a shiver of sensual interest had she not been busy stepping out of the carriage.
She’d known him for some time, and always enjoyed his company. Now perhaps her body was letting her know exactly how much—and why.
Mentally rebuking herself, she let the postilion assist her to the ground as she tugged her muffler up around her face, hiding her scars. It was a reflex action; one she barely realised she made.
Mounds of snow covered the edges of the steps and some of the shrubs were no more than white lumps in the landscape. She glanced up at the sky as tiny pellets peppered her bonnet and shoulders. With a grimace she recognised icy sleet, frozen bits of rain that boded for a rough period of weather, and she gave thanks they’d arrived before the worst of it.
It was hard to see the roof and exterior design of the house from where they stood; her eyes roamed over the warm brick and the few vines of ivy that were still green. There were other climbing branches here and there, bare at the moment, but she wondered if they might be wisteria, one of her favourite flowers. Overall, the aspect of the house, from this angle, was attractive.
She said as much to Perry when he arrived at her side. “It has a lot of charm,” she volunteered, glancing at the tall windows and the clearly defined stonework surrounding them.
“Hmm.”
It was difficult to decide if that was an agreement or not, so she let it pass. He took her arm and together they walked in to be greeted by a young man in servant’s clothing.
“Good morning, sir, madam,” he bowed correctly. “I’m Edward, the first footman.”
“No butler?” asked Perry, handing the lad their outer garments.
“Not at the moment, sir. It was felt that the new owners would wish to fill that position with someone of their choosing.”
“So who is keeping the house in order?” Grace was curious.
“We have a few servants here at present, Ma’am. There is a cook, a limited kitchen staff, two maids and one under-footman. Plus myself.”
“You have supplies? Food and firewood? That sort of thing?”
Grace appreciated Perry’s question. It would not do for anyone to go without at this time of year.
“We do, sir. The previous residents left us well provisioned, and we have a small account funded from the estate income. Although I will mention that this year the monies have dwindled, since the farms barely made enough to survive.”
“That makes sense,” nodded Perry. “It’s been hard everywhere. I’m impressed, Edward. Thank you for your precise explanation.”
“If you’d care to step into the Rose Room, sir, madam. There is a fire lit, and you might want to begin your tour of the house there.” He gestured across the spacious hall to a door where the welcome flicker of firelight beckoned.
“It seems quite clean,” observed Grace, noting the lack of dust.
“Our maids try and keep this floor as clean as possible. I will confess that the rooms not used are not cleaned as frequently, but it’s a lot of work for two girls if there is nobody using them.”
“I can well understand,” she answered.
“You have stables, Edward?” Perry tossed the question out as he crossed the parquet flooring.
“Yes sir, we do.”
“I’d be pleased if they could shelter the carriage and horses while we’re here.” They entered the Rose Room to hear the rattle of the ice against the windowpanes. “This is not good weather to be standing around outside. And I’m sure our lads would appreciate a warm place to sit for a while.”
“Yes, sir. I will see that it’s done. Please ring if you need me at all. That will reach someone below stairs who will summon me.” He gestured to the bell pull, bowed and left them in front of the fire.
“He is very efficient, isn’t he?” Grace held out her hands to the blaze, welcoming the warmth.
“Indeed,” answered Perry. “He’d make an excellent butler.”
“Which would save you the trouble of hiring one should you decide to purchase,” she grinned at him.
He grinned back. “Of course.”
Refusing to linger on the charm of his smile, Grace turned her attention to the room. “This is quite delightful,” she said, turning around and surveying the space. “It shows signs of wear, but nothing out of the ordinary, I’d say. A new carpet, draperies and perhaps re-upholstering the furniture and you’d have an ideal parlour. Especially for days like this.”
She crossed the threadbare rug and stood at the window, staring out at the bleak prospect. The ground was disappearing, but not beneath a covering of snow. The ice storm was beginning to coat everything it touched with a colourless glaze that reflected the grey clouds above.
A slight sound and she knew Perry stood behind her. His warmth touched the bare skin of her neck beneath her hair, and she repressed a tiny unexpected shiver of awareness.
“Beautiful in its own way, isn’t it?” He leaned close and put his hand on her shoulder.
“I expect the view is excellent during the summer months,” she replied noncommittally.
“I like the unique. The unusual. An ice storm is not something we see too often. It fascinates me.”
His warmth surrounded her and she had a very difficult time preventing herself from leaning back into it. “Does it?” Even to herself, her voice sounded…different, husky, perhaps even sensual.
“Yes, it does. As I said, I’m intrigued by fascinating things.” He paused. “Which doubtless explains my attraction to you, Grace.”
Oh dear Lord.
Chapter Three
He he
ld back a satisfied smile as he watched the colour rise in her cheeks.
She wasn’t expecting his comment, although he had sensed she was aware of him on a level that surpassed friendship.
He just didn’t know how far that awareness extended.
Thus this convenient trip out of London, away from the scrutiny of others, and to a place where she could drop her worries about her scars and simply be herself.
Perry was nothing if not inventive, and he had every intention of snapping up this property, since a house out of town was becoming a necessity. The heat and stench of summer, the ever-increasing rumble of carriage traffic outside his residence in Mayfair—it was making his peaceful life more of a challenge and he found himself ready to explore the possibilities offered by a country home.
“You are being most ridiculous, Perry.” Grace turned to him with a tranquil smile. “But naturally I appreciate your gentlemanly charm.”
He blinked. “My what?”
“Your charm.” She moved to a chair, urged it a little nearer to the fire, then sat. “That wonderfully natural way you have of making sure everyone around you is comfortable.”
“Is that what you think it is?” He strode to the matching chair and sat, unsure of whether he was angry or amused. Whatever he was, he did not appreciate Grace’s nonchalance in the face of his statement.
“What else could it be?” Her grey eyes met his steadily.
“It might be just what I said, you know,” he kept his eyes on her. “I am attracted to you. You’re a beautiful woman, with a brain to match. I find much pleasure in your company.”
“As I do in yours, dear Perry.” She smiled and nodded. A Dowager Duchess of eighty summers would do no better.
His gaze drifted to her neck and the lace surrounding her gown. There was a flutter; her pulse, it would seem, was giving the lady away.
He smiled. “I’d take even more pleasure in your company if we were naked, dear Grace.”
Her jaw dropped and her simulated composure shattered. He could almost hear it.
“Uh…”
His smile broadened. “As I thought. You do share my interest.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand.
“Don’t even try. Your body betrays you. Your pulse is beating fast at the thought of us, skin to skin, perhaps…” he looked down, “well, not here in front of the fire, since that carpet is full of holes and the floor damned hard. But the couch…or even this chair.” He let his thighs part. “Can you imagine sitting here, on my lap?” He tapped one firm thigh. “Facing me, my sweet. Your legs straddling mine, your body flushed with desire, your bosom…” His gaze deliberately dropped to her breasts.
“Perry,” she gasped. “Stop this insanity at once.”
“Intriguing, isn’t it?” He grinned again, although it was becoming more difficult to maintain, since he had aroused himself with his own damn words. Hoist by my own petard, he thought ruefully.
She rose, flustered, her cheeks rosy, her hands twisting together as if she wasn’t sure where to put them. He rather hoped she might want to put them on him.
But alas, she turned once again to the window. “You mock me, sir.”
“I do not,” he replied most emphatically. “I would never, ever, mock a lady.”
As he stood, he saw her lift a hand and touch her face. Those damn scars. She could not understand that they did not define who she was, or what others thought of her.
Perry made it his mission to change her perspective.
He rose and crossed the room quickly, stepping behind her, touching her shoulders, and noting the slight tremor that traversed her body as he did so. “Grace. Stop worrying about things that don’t matter.” He lifted one hand and stroked her soft cheek, aware that she had leaned back toward him a little. It was a start.
“What really matters,” he continued, “is what’s in your heart. In your mind. What matters is the sort of woman you are—and what sort of man I am. We’re not children; neither of us needs to make decisions based on anything other than what we desire. We have families who are settled, and we’re not scratching empty pantries for food or selling off our ancestor’s jewellry to pay our debts.”
He waited for a response, letting his palm rest on the skin of her neck, gentling her.
“I’m…I’m…”
“You’re what, my dear?”
Her spine touched him, and heat flowered between their bodies, licking its way up from his kneecaps to his ears. Dear God, he wanted this woman.
“I’m—damaged, Perry. I’m ugly.” She sighed out the words.
Silent for a moment, he fought to find the right response. Then he surrendered to his own need.
He turned her to face him, and looked into the saddest pair of eyes he’d seen in—well, ever. This would not do at all. “Are you?” he asked. “Are you really?”
She swallowed and nodded, but did not stop him from putting an arm around her and drawing her into his embrace.
“If you were as ugly as you seem to think, Grace, would I want to do this?”
His free hand slipped beneath her chin and raised it so that his lips could claim hers. Which they did.
Enthusiastically.
And the next moment, his body ignited into an inferno, the likes of which he’d never experienced before.
*~~*~~*
Stars whirled behind Grace’s closed eyelids as Perry’s lips touched hers, lightly at first, then more forcefully, demanding she open her mouth to him.
How could she refuse?
She wanted this, wanted his arms, wanted his tongue plunging within, learning her, tasting her. It granted her licence to do the very same thing.
Her arms slid around him, beneath his jacket, feeling his warmth through his shirt and waistcoat. Her breasts squeezed against him, teased by his clothing as he moved to deepen their kiss.
Yes, she wanted this. He tasted sweet, a tang of masculinity and power flooding into her mouth. Her fingers curled, digging into his back as she felt his hardness rise between them. Someone moaned as he adjusted their position to fit himself between her thighs.
It might well have been her, since his movement unlocked something deep within her belly, liquefying things that had lain dormant for so long.
“God, Grace,” he tore himself free, his face a wonder, eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. “You’re…irresistible.” He returned to her mouth, this time insisting she open wide so he could share her breaths, thrust his tongue deep—moves designed to arouse a need she’d kept hidden.
His hands slid down and found her buttocks, squeezing the mounds firmly, lifting her to her toes and rocking her against his arousal.
She moaned again, leaning back to catch her breath, gasping for air yet unwilling to step away.
One of his hands reached for the shoulder of her gown and pulled it down, down almost to her elbow.
“Yes, dear God. Yes…” he muttered, easing the neckline from her breast. “Jesus above, Grace. Such beauteous bounty. Why have you kept these hidden?”
He managed to slid a hand beneath the bared globe and she arched in his grasp, wanting his touch, his mouth on her.
His thumb grazed her nipple, and she cried out, thrusting herself toward him.
“That’s it, love. Let me give you pleasure.” He bent his head and licked—then suckled, darts of lightning flying from his tongue to between her legs where an incessant ache was making itself known. Her hips forced themselves forward against him, desperate for the touch she needed.
“Perry,” she whispered, losing herself in the exquisite sensuality of his mouth nibbling such sensitive flesh.
“I know, Grace. God, I can feel your fire…”
Another gasp as he reached down, grabbing handfuls of her gown, tugging the crumpled fabric out of his way and reaching for her thigh…and then upward.
She cried out when he found her, cupping her sex, squeezing and learning her damp folds with increasing urgency. Her legs
spread apart, offering him access to everything she wanted him to touch.
And he accepted her invitation, finding her tender flesh, the place that made her whimper and pressing a finger deep inside her tight passage.
It had been so long. Longer than she could remember—and never quite like this.
He was moving his hand and his fingers, licking her nipple, kissing her, then rubbing that thumb of his over a spot that took her breath away and sent her on an upward climb to…to…
“Perry,” she gasped. “Perry…”
Her body shattered, she choked back a scream, and nearly collapsed in his arms as she rode the spasms of pleasure to their conclusion. All while standing in the almost-empty living room of a house she’d never visited before today.
It was the most appalling lapse in behaviour she could ever have imagined.
And the most exciting and wonderfully erotic moment of her life.
The lights behind her eyelids faded as breath re-entered her starving lungs. The modest and well-behaved Grace Chaney awoke and embarrassment replaced the sexual glow with red cheeks and a gaze that couldn’t meet his.
She felt him readjust her clothing, and brush a stray curl from her face. “You are amazing, my dear. And yes, irresistible.”
“I…” She moved away from him. “I should be ashamed, Perry. That was not…not acceptable behaviour.” She turned. “But thank you for your kindness.”
“Kindness? You think that was just kindness?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but a loud noise from outside made them both jump. Two carriages had appeared in front of the house, and it seemed as if they’d collided.
Even as the two of them moved to the window, there was more clatter and a couple of shrieks along with frantic whinnying. The horses couldn’t hold their footing on the ice.
“Damn,” murmured Perry. “This isn’t good.”
Grace sighed, putting away all thoughts of her sensual interlude. “It would seem you’re about to entertain guests.”
“In a house that’s not mine.” He rolled his eyes.
She shrugged. “Nobody said life was simple.”