Russell scowled. “I cannot think of anyone who would betray us.”
“Nor can I but how else would we have been tracked?”
Nash curled a fist. “When I get my hands on them...”
“I’ll join you,” Russell said.
Guy held up a hand. “Worry about how we’ll protect Miss Beaumont first. Then we’ll worry about who has given us away.”
Nash stiffened. “Do you really think I have been worrying about anything else?”
Russell twisted his head to eye him. “You’re being awfully uptight about this woman, Nash.”
“He is,” Guy agreed.
“Can you blame me?” He gestured with his fingers. “We were this close to her being caught.”
Russell cocked his head. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
“There is,” Guy agreed.
“Damn it, you two don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“See?” Russell said to Guy. “When was the last time you ever saw him so defensive? I knew something was different the moment I handed her over to him.”
“He’s definitely changed.” Guy finished off the brandy and set the glass on the small table next to his chair. “Don’t tell me you finally gave in to temptation.”
“Temptation?” Nash spluttered. “What do you take me for?”
Guy shrugged. “A rake.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He certainly had been. But he had never, ever touched any of the vulnerable women in their care.
Until now.
“Something has happened between you,” Russell said. “I can tell.” He narrowed his gaze at him.
“It better not have done.” Guy clenched his jaw.
Nash opened his mouth then closed it, fighting through the mess that was his mind for some kind of denial.
A feminine squeal smashed through his thoughts and his heart leapt against this chest. All three of them shot to their feet as a bundle of fur ripped into the room and scrabbled up the arm of Guy’s chair and Grace dashed into the room in nothing more than her chemise. She froze in front of them, her eyes wide.
“Oh. Um. Good evening.”
GRACE COULD NOT decide if the parlor room of the cottage was particularly small or if the three men staring at her were especially big. She suspected she could do some calculations and figure it out, but it would involve measuring them and that wouldn’t be especially appropriate.
Not that it would make this situation any more uncomfortable.
They’d been speaking of her. If Claude had not squeezed out of her arms, she might have heard more too. Their conversation was muffled by the half-closed door, but she was certain they’d been quizzing Nash about his relationship with her.
So much of her wanted to speak up and declare that it had been all her fault, that she had demanded he take her to bed, but that would completely give them away then, would it not? Besides, at this point she was not even certain it would happen again.
Stupid. Of course it would not. She was under a week away from her birthday and then she would be free to do whatever she wished with her life. That thought should have made her happy but instead it made her stomach sink. How could she go back to a normal life after being in Nash’s arms?
She scurried over and tried to pry Claude off the armchair. The poor creature had suffered a terrible time being trapped in a basket, riding in a carriage, then having to settle in yet another new place. No wonder he’d wanted to escape her room. She never had any intention of eavesdropping and only wanted to take the cat back upstairs, but she couldn’t help herself when she’d heard the three men talking.
Of her.
Of her and Nash.
Now she wholly regretted her decision. She should have taken Claude straight upstairs once she’d grabbed him. Even looking at Nash, she was certain she was giving away all the feelings that were threatening to burst out of her chest, as though it were some beacon of light, pulsing away inside her, visible to everyone.
When she looked at him, it was hard to see a collection of features—a handsome jaw, a muscular body, piercing eyes. She saw him as simply Nash—the man who made her feel things that were entirely illogical.
She pulled again on Claude, aware of each man watching her. They were all tall, all strong. The earl had the regal bearing of a nobleman, but he had a slightly weathered look, as though life had done him some grave wrong. Creases were permanently on his brow and gray tinged his sideburns.
Though she had met Russell before, it had all been in such a flurry that she had hardly had time to study him. He was slightly leaner but there was something dangerous behind his tense jaw and steely gaze. Of all the men, he was the most threatening.
Claude finally retracted his claws and she was able to pry him away from the chair and bundle him against her chest. “Sorry,” she murmured. “He is feeling a little aggravated.”
As were they all, she suspected. She moved through the center of the trio, awareness prickling the hairs on her arms. She really, really regretted trying to eavesdrop now. The masculine aura of the room was enough to make even the boldest of women wish to flee and she was certainly not the boldest. She forced herself to move slowly toward the door rather than scurrying away like a little mouse as she so wished to do. Before she left the room, she offered a cautious smile. “Goodnight.”
All three of them eyed her for a moment before jerking into action. Various versions of goodnight echoed back.
The earl cleared his throat. “I’ll be keeping watch should you need anything.”
Grace did not miss Nash glowering at the earl.
Russell nodded. “And Nash and I will be in the room next to yours.”
Nash’s glower deepened.
“Of course. Goodnight,” she repeated. She turned, feeling their gazes upon her back. She stepped out into the hallway and heard hasty footsteps behind her. She didn’t dare turn for fear of disappointment until he called her name.
Nash rushed over to her, putting a hand to her arm before she could make her way upstairs. “Grace, I—” He blew out a breath. “I am not certain what you heard but—”
“I was just trying to get Claude,” she said, holding up the dejected-looking animal.
“I know but—”
“You should get some sleep. It has been such a long day.”
“It has,” he agreed.
“I will do the same.”
“Grace—” he started again.
“Goodnight, Nash. Rest well.”
He glanced at his feet. She wasn’t daft. He had more to say but she could not bring herself to hear it. Maybe it was an apology for allowing her to seduce him. Maybe he was going to beg her to keep their liaison quiet. Whatever it was, she could not bear to endure it. The memories of their one night and morning together would stay with her until she was old and gray, of that she was certain, and her heart throbbed painfully at the idea that he might regret it—especially now his friends had them almost figured out.
Or, of course, he wanted to tell her that they were being preposterous. That he could never love someone like her. She knew that but she didn’t want to hear it said aloud. They were the least logical couple in existence—she’d known that from the very beginning.
Apparently though, her logical mind refused to function when it came to Nash because the mere mention of the word love had sent her heart fluttering all over the place like a bird trying to fly free.
Well, if she was going to survive the next few days in Nash’s company, she would have to keep it locked firmly away.
“Goodnight,” he finally said softly and turned away.
Heart lodged firmly in her throat, she headed upstairs, cradling Claude close. “Love is a silly thing,” she told the cat in a whisper. “It’s only a feeling to ensure men and women wish to procreate.”
And she would certainly not be fool enough to think she could feel such a thing for Nash.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Where is she?
” Nash demanded.
Russell paused cleaning his gun. “She is safe, Nash.” He shook his head and laid his hands flat on the kitchen table. “Keep worrying like this and you’ll end up in an early grave.”
“Are you not worried?”
Russell lifted a shoulder. “I’ve faced danger before.”
“Yes, but you are not the one facing it,” he pointed out. “She is.”
“She seems to be handling it quite well. Many other women would have spent the time weeping and wailing.”
Nash couldn’t deny Grace was managing this whole ‘on the run’ scenario terrifically well. She had almost seemed chirpy this morning, so he had to assume she had slept well. The rest of the day, they had avoided each other—or at least he had avoided her. Had she overheard what had been said last night? He had to assume yes by her awkward behavior when he’d spoken with her. Which meant the idea that he might...feel something for her, terrified her.
It terrified him too. Even if Guy hadn’t said anything, the inkling was there—this little voice that kept whispering something just out of hearing. Something he had no right to hear. Hell, the woman didn’t even known the full truth about him and he couldn’t say that he hadn’t had the chance to talk to her about it or they were only acquaintances so what was the point, but there had been opportunities, he knew that.
And he knew one thing for certain about Grace. She hated greedy men. The way she had spoken of her uncle told him enough. She would hate him for his past too, of that he was certain.
“She’s on the balcony,” Russell offered. “She asked if there was any paper and a pencil and went up there about an hour ago.” Russell rubbed his nose. “Does she like to draw or something?”
Nash shook his head. “She takes notes.”
“Notes? What the devil for?”
“I couldn’t say. It’s just something she seems to do.”
Russell shook his head and picked up his gun and cloth. “She’s certainly unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
“That she is,” he agreed before heading upstairs.
He stepped through the bedroom to the open doors. The balcony offered a perfect view of the lake at sunset, spread out like an orange splash of paint against darker orange and black hills. The sun spread its fingers of light low across the land, reflected in the water.
Grace had ignored the metal chair in favor of sitting on the floor, her legs curled up beside her whilst she scribbled furiously away on a scrap of paper. He tried to make out some of the words, but her handwriting was a wild mess.
He eased down beside her, but she didn’t stop writing so he waited until she had finished before speaking. “It’s a beautiful spot.” He gestured out through the wrought iron bars that lined the balcony.
She nodded. “I never much liked big swathes of water but this is quite lovely.”
“Why do you do that?”
She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and Nash regretted he had not been the one to do that. Her hair had been wild since they’d left Guildham House. He rather liked it that way, pulled out of her rigid style and curling around her face. He especially liked how she looked in the sunset, the warm light touching her skin, making him itch with the need to lean in and kiss her. Russell wasn’t wrong about her being unlike any woman he’d ever met. Grace was the most unusual creature he’d ever known. And he really, really liked her for that.
“It helps me understand the world.”
“Writing does?”
She bit down on her lip and nodded. “It’s something I’ve done since I was a child.” She lowered the notes to her lap. “I never really understood people, but I understood writing and books. Sometimes, if I just get my thoughts out onto paper, I can link a chain of evidence and understand what is occurring around me.” She glanced up at him. “I know it sounds odd.”
“It makes sense to me.”
“I do not suppose you have ever struggled to understand the world and the people in it.”
“There are certainly people in the world I do not understand.”
At least, he thought there was. For many years, he had not understood his father’s behavior toward him. How could a man practically disown his son? Force him to be cut off from his family? Prevent him from doing the one thing he wished to do? But he was beginning to grasp it now. Everyone had to make difficult decisions, and if Nash wrote notes about his younger self, saw himself through Grace’s eyes, would he see the evidence behind his father’s decision?
Unfortunately, he was beginning to think yes. Nash had been selfish, greedy, and reckless. And potentially, his father had done the only thing he could think of.
“What are you making notes about?” he asked.
She hesitated and her gaze locked with his. “You mostly.”
He leaned in and gave into the desire to shove that stubborn strand of hair back behind her ear. “What do you need to understand about me?”
Her throat bobbed. “So many things,” she murmured.
“Like what?”
“Like…why do you make my tummy feel all strange? Why can I think of nothing else but you? Why—” Her voice cracked.
Nash could swear his heart must have doubled in size upon hearing her words. He slid a hand across her cheek and cupped her face. “You do the same to me.”
“I try to make sense of it, but I cannot.”
“Perhaps you do not always have to make sense of everything.”
“But I do.” She frowned. “It is what I have always done.”
He leaned in. “Turn that mind off for one moment, what do you want to do?”
“Kiss you.”
“Then I think you should follow your instinct and kiss me.”
“But instincts are not always—”
He pressed his lips to hers, unwilling to wait a moment longer to taste her. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she moaned. He drew in a shuddering breath through his nostrils and pressed the kiss deep and hard, slipping his tongue into her mouth and tasting her. His body responded instantly, growing harder by the second when she curled her fingers into his arms. The slight bite of fingernails combined with the fresh breeze coming in off the lake kept his senses sharp, able to feel every little thing about the kiss.
He shifted closer, moving his hands down to her rear. She shifted with him, straddling his lap and looping her arms around his neck. He groaned at the feel of her delicate body nestled just so against him. She wriggled to get comfy and stars lit behind his eyelids.
Trailing kisses away from her mouth, he nibbled her jawline, her neck, her lobe. She arched into his touches and her nipples pressed against his chest, like tiny pebbles. He used one hand to palm a breast and moved back up to her mouth. She rocked into him and kissed him furiously.
“I’m not meant to touch you,” he reminded her.
Or was he reminding himself?
“It is a little too late for that.”
It was far, far too late for that. He was lost to this woman, drowning in his need for her. Russell and Guy could be standing in the damned doorway and he still did not think he would be able to deny her. Grace prided herself on being rational, but he couldn’t even grasp a single thread of ration whilst he had her in his arms.
GRACE HAD TRIED. So hard. But it was no good. There was no discovering the reason behind her attraction to Nash. No fathoming why their relationship did not boil down to simply two people unable to ignore their basic instinct to procreate. It was so, so much more than that and no matter what she did to try to understand it, there was no understanding to be had.
All she knew was that she needed his touch, needed him nearby. When she woke alone, she missed him. She had known few men, but she didn’t need to know many to understand there were few like Nash.
Using her hold on him as leverage, she rocked against him. Sensations sparked in her body and she leaned back and closed her eyes again. He continued to trail kisses down her neck and nibbled her earlobe, sending tiny trails of pleasu
re down her spine. None of this felt like a simple need to follow what human nature desired. It felt more complex and far less rational.
She could not regret it, though. Being in Nash’s arms made her feel so many things. Not just pleasure but strength and boldness. The Grace who had arrived at Guildham would never have rubbed herself against a man’s cock for goodness sakes.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her as she rode him. Their gazes locked and she struggled to draw breath. So much raw desire lingered behind his eyes, his pupils wide and dark. A sure sign of arousal, she knew that, but it was more than that. Under that gaze, she was sensuous and beautiful and far from being the boyish creature she had always thought she was. He watched her as though she were a drop of rain in the middle of a drought and he needed to lap her up.
Sweet Lord, she hoped he did.
They had hardly any time left together, and she wanted it all.
“Yes,” he moaned as she moved harder. He palmed one breast then the other, encouraging her on with a hand to her back.
She rocked and rocked until it became too much. The pleasure splintered, a sweet little pulse that turned into a wave and washed through her. She stiffened, allowing it to overtake her, then collapsed against Nash’s chest.
He rubbed a hand up and down her back, murmuring sweet words in her ear—talk of her beauty, of her passion. Nash had unlocked a woman she did not know existed and she had little idea how to return to normal.
Finally, she lifted her head.
He kissed her mouth gently. “Did that help you understand?”
She shook her head. “Not one jot.”
He stilled and cocked his head. “Damn, that was Guy.”
Grace froze too and heard Guy calling Nash’s name. He eased her away with a grip on her arms and hastily stood. “I shouldn’t have come to you,” he muttered.
“Nash—”
“I had better go. Get some sleep,” he ordered.
“But, Nash—”
“Sleep.”
He twisted, nearly stumbling over Claude in his haste to escape. Grace stared at the door once he’d closed it then glanced at her notes. She understood a few things now at least. She was falling for him. Or perhaps she had already fallen for him. But he continued to fight it. She did not begrudge him his honor, but this was bigger than some vow and she was getting tired of him denying it.
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