“About you?”
He nodded gravely and her stomach tightened further. She’d known he was holding back, of course she did. He hated talking of his family and it had only been through her observations and persistence that she knew what she did but, for some reason, not having the full information had ceased bothering her. How foolish. One should never draw a conclusion on half the information. She knew that well.
He motioned for her to sit and she did so while he rested his elbow on the mantelpiece and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.
“By your posture, I would say it is some grim thing and you would be better off telling it to me simply and without hesitation.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “I will try my best, but, Grace, it is not so easy to be rational and logical around you sometimes. This is no excuse but only a reason as to why I did not tell you all of this before.”
She waited, hands folded in her lap.
He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “I am the heir to a viscountcy.”
She nodded.
“After Cambridge, I had little with which to keep me occupied.” He held up a hand. “Again, no excuse, I realize that now.”
She nodded again.
“I lived a typical rakish lifestyle for a while but found it full and boring. Eventually, I started frequenting the gaming hells. There I found I had a knack for cards.”
“Gaming seems to be a typical sort of an occupation for a nobleman.”
“It is. But I took it to the extreme.”
“Extreme?”
He sighed. “I ended up in a lot of debt. Ridiculous amounts of it. I couldn’t stop gambling and my father was forced to sell off land to cover my debts. Unfortunately, that did not stop me, and I accrued more debt. Even my way of living ensured that the amount owed continued to mount. I ate the best, dressed the best, lived the best, all the while gambling away more.”
“Like my uncle,” she said softly. Grace swallowed hard and observed his harrowed expression.
“Indeed.” He blew out a heavy breath. “There is more unfortunately. When it was clear I would not change my ways, my father cut me off. Thanks to my ego, this meant me never seeing the rest of my family again.” He turned and stared into the fire, his fingers blanching where he grasped them so tightly behind his back. “I hated him for it. I thought he had taken my sisters and mother from me and worst of all, broken a promise.”
“What promise was that?”
“I was to have the funds to fix Guildham House. I was to make it my home once it was done.” He smiled sadly. “It was one of my ambitions as a young man. I’d always loved staying there as a child and...I don’t know...it represented a sort of independence I suppose. So when my father cut me off, I decided to make my home there—as if to make some sort of stubborn point. Of course, I had nowhere else to go either.”
“I see.”
“It was a fine job Guy came along really. He offered me work and I’ve been able to support myself and slowly repair the house. It will take a lot more than I have, naturally, but it’s enough to ensure it doesn’t completely crumble.”
“And your father made no attempt to contact you?”
“Even if he did, I would not have accepted it.” He turned to face her. “My pride was wounded, and I am a shallow man it seems.”
“Why did you not tell me this?”
“I thought it irrelevant to begin with. Then I realized you might well hate me for being like your uncle.” He grimaced. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you hating me.” He stepped over to her and dropped to his knees in front of her. “You might well hate me now and I would not blame you.”
She eyed him, taking in his pained expression. She shook her head slowly. “As if I could hate you,” she whispered.
“Then you forgive me?”
“I understand why you kept quiet about it.” She pursed her lips. “I am not certain of anything else.”
His shoulders dropped. “I understand.”
“I need some time to think on the situation.”
He nodded dejectedly. “Of course you do.” Nash strode out of the room suddenly, barely giving her a moment to utter his name.
She blew out a breath. He had hidden things from her—deliberately. But did that change how she felt about him?
Chapter Twenty-Six
“We’ll find him, I promise,” Russell muttered as Nash entered the kitchen.
He looked between Russell and Grace, his gut tightening. “Find who?”
Russell glanced at the floor and kicked aside a dry leaf from the stone floor. “The damned cat.”
“Claude?” Nash turned his attention to Grace. He’d not spoken to her properly since yesterday and he had no idea if she had forgiven him yet. She needed time to think but about what? About him being a liar? Or a gambler? Or a stubborn ass who should have made his peace with his father long ago?
Part of him feared if she thought too hard, she’d realize she was too damned good for him.
Grace nodded, lifting her chin. Arms folded, she faced down the long-limbed Russell, and if it wasn’t for how Nash felt at present, he would find it quite amusing that such a small woman was capable of making the man’s shoulders drop. Russell looked guilty as hell.
“What happened?”
“Russell left the window open and Claude escaped,” she explained.
“Only for a moment,” Russell protested.
“One moment too long.” She shook her head. “He is out there all alone now, probably scared and lost.”
Russell made a face. “He’s been gone for no more than a minute.” He pressed fingers to either side of his head. “I tried to grab him as he went but the blighter scratched me.” He revealed claw marks on his arm to Nash.
“Looks like you got what you deserve,” Nash said with a slight smile.
“Well, thank you for your sympathy,” he muttered.
“You did let the cat loose. It was the one thing Grace asked you not to do.”
“You are hardly a paragon.” Russell glared at him. “Haven’t you broken a promise a time or two?”
Nash groaned inwardly. Russell knew how to strike him deep. He turned his attention to Grace. “Any idea where he might have gone?”
“Oh yes, he told me he might take a little wander around the lake...”
He blinked at Grace.
“Of course, I do not know. He’s a cat, Nash.” Her eyes shimmered and Nash took a step forward and curled his fingers around her arms, forcing her to look at him.
“We’ll find him,” he vowed.
“I hope so.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “He might have been wild once but he’s...he’s too pampered now. He needs me.”
Claude wasn’t the only one. Nash sympathized with the cat. One night apart from her and he already missed her.
“Let us make haste and hunt him down. He can’t have gone far.”
She gave him a look. “Cats are fast, you know.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Claude do anything fast. I’m certain we shall find him straight away,” he assured her, despite having little idea if they’d ever find the cat again. He prayed they did, though. He wouldn’t want to see Grace upset for the world and he’d already done enough of that. Losing her cat on top of everything else would be horrible for her. And, well, he had to admit, he had a little bit of admiration for Claude himself. When he curled up on a chair, he was rather pettable and Claude had taken to nuzzling Nash’s hand when he wanted a fuss. It was quite sweet really.
He groaned inwardly. What the devil had happened to him? Thinking cats were sweet and fearing the opinion of a woman?
Not just any woman, though. Grace. The woman had tied him up in some strange knot and he wasn’t certain he’d ever free himself from it.
He wasn’t certain he wanted to be free from it.
“Come, let us find him.” He pointed to Russell. “Why don’t you start searching the grounds?”
Russell rolled his
eyes. “I can’t pick him up if I find him. The cat hates me.”
“Cats are very sensitive,” Grace said. “If he hates you, there’s a reason for it.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he mumbled. He walked past Nash and murmured to him, “She looks sweet, but she has a vicious tongue when she wants to.”
Nash chuckled. He couldn’t help be proud of Grace for giving Russell a scolding. God knew, every man needed a scolding occasionally and it was quite a sight to see her standing up to the giant that was Russell.
He slipped on his coat and waited for Grace to put on hers then they headed outside. “At least it’s not raining,” he said. “Claude will stay warm and dry.”
“Wherever he is.” She peered around the front garden, ducking down to look under a bush before straightening. “Nash, what if we do not find him?”
“We shall.” He offered out a hand and his heart did a foolish dance when she took it. It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean she had forgiven him, he told himself. She simply needed comfort at present.
They moved briskly through the front garden, pausing every now and then to check out some shadowy spot where the cat could be hiding, but with no luck. He pushed open the gate and they followed a path worn in the grass that wound its way down to the lake. The rain had decided to let up today and there were even a few spots of blue in the sky, releasing the occasional flickers of bright, warm sunlight. It would at least make it easier to hunt for Claude, though he had little idea how far a cat could go in minutes or where they were inclined to go.
“Should we be searching anywhere in particular?”
“It’s hard to say. Cats are curious creatures. He could be anywhere.”
He squeezed her fingers and they continued down the path. The lake glittered in the sunlight, spread wide across the valley. On the opposite side, trees lined the edge of the water and a small island sat in the center of it, dotted with some bare-looking trees. He rather regretted they were not taking this walk for nice reasons.
He also rather regretted he couldn’t stop and take her in his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless. He caught her glaring at him and turned his attention back to looking for the cat. It seemed she had certainly not forgiven him yet.
GRACE SCOWLED. NASH did not seem to be concentrating on looking for Claude at all. He kept getting some odd, faraway look in his eyes as though he were imagining being somewhere else. She might have put it down to not wishing to be with her a few weeks ago but after his confession yesterday, she wasn’t convinced of that. He had spoken to her in a way no one ever had, and she could not deny it had touched her.
But that touched her heart. Not her head. She needed to think seriously about this. About him. Weigh everything up and come to a conclusion.
The trouble was, she suspected she had already come to one—she just didn’t know what to do with it. So many years spent under the control of a man and she was so near her freedom. How could she give that chance up?
A sound caught her attention and she tugged Nash to a standstill and pressed a finger to her lips. She scanned the grass around them but there was no sign of a black, furry thing skulking about. “Did you hear that?”
He shook his head.
“There.” It was definitely a meow—a rather plaintive one at that. “That has to be Claude.”
“I heard it then.” He released her hand and moved in the direction of the sound.
She followed, pausing between meows to listen intently. “He sounds distressed.”
“At least it seems to be coming from one place.” Nash pointed to a mound of grass. “From there, I think.”
Grace hastened over. “Claude? Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she cooed.
Claude meowed in response, a long, drawn out sound that made her bottom lip quiver.
“Claude, where are you?”
Nash clambered up the slight mound and grimaced. “In here by the looks of it.”
“Oh no.” Using her hands, she scrabbled her way up to join Nash. Not far from where he was standing was a burrow dug into the dirt. She just made out the glint of Claude’s eyes in the darkness. Getting down onto her knees, she put her hand into the hole. “Come here, Claude. Mama is here.”
She pushed her hand all the way down to her shoulder but felt nothing, no brush of fur or even a swipe of claws. Withdrawing her arm, she looked up at Nash. “He’s either stuck or too scared to move.”
He tugged off his jacket, undid his cufflinks, and shoved them in his pockets, then rolled up his shirt sleeves. “I have longer arms than you.”
She tried to force her attention away from his arms, where sinew and veins threaded along his sunkissed skin. Now was most certainly not the time to be thinking about his arms—or the things he could be doing to her with them. Like holding her, caressing her, touching her...
No. She was here for Claude, not to obsess over Nash’s arms.
He got to his knees and shoved his arm all the way in. “Still can’t reach him,” he grunted. He moved back and used his hands to dig away some of the dirt. Grace dropped down to help him, using her fingers to help.
“Let me try again.” He pressed his arm in the hole again and Claude made a sound of protest which Grace could only assume meant Nash had him. “He’s stuck I think.”
They dug some more until they could see that Claude had wedged himself tight into the hole. Nash shook his head. “Claude, I thought you were a good boy.”
“He is normally.”
“I know,” he said. “We’ll get him out.”
He dug some more, creating enough space for both arms to fit down the hole. She chewed on her bottom lip while he pushed his arms deeper. Slowly, he withdrew muddy arms and tugged out Claude with a flourish. The cat, filthy and more mussed up than normal, looked askew at Nash, as though he had been quite content to stay in his hole, thank you very much.
“Here we go,” Nash announced. “One filthy, annoyed cat.”
“Oh, thank you!” Grace took the offered cat, holding him tight against her in one arm before flinging her arm around Nash’s waist and stretching onto tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He shrugged. “Anything for you, Grace.”
Taking a step back, she eyed him. His expression was sincere, and she did not doubt his words one jot. Whatever had been in his past, he was not that man any longer. She doubted the Nash of old would rescue cats or offer up any piece of his soul to someone like her. And yet he had.
She blew out a breath and held the wriggling cat to her chest. His past did not matter, but her future did. She loved him and no notes or studies of him would persuade her differently. The knowledge beat hard in her heart, rippling through her veins and whispering in her mind.
She loved him.
But what was she going to do about it?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nash stumbled out of bed before he quite understood why, his heart was smashing against his rib cage. He nearly tripped over the blankets as they tangled around his legs and he fumbled with them, cursing over and over. “Damn it, bugger, bloody thing.” He finally unwound the sheet and flung open the door to find Russell standing in the hallway, a candle holder clutched in one hand.
“What is it?”
Russell gave him a grim look. “The uncle is here.”
Nash’s heart decided hammering like a bloody hammer wasn’t good enough anymore and came to a sharp, sudden stop. “Grace’s uncle?”
“Indeed.”
“How the bloody hell did he find us?”
Russell lifted both shoulders. “Lord knows.”
Nash glanced at Grace’s firmly shut bedroom door. “He cannot have her.” He frowned and looked Russell up and down. “Where’s Guy and why the devil haven’t you beaten the snot out of her uncle?”
“The man came peacefully. Alone.” Russell shrugged again.
“What the devil...” Nash murmured.
“Put some c
lothes on. You’d be better off speaking to him. You know Grace the best.”
He threaded his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be hard pushed to simply talk to the cad. He tried to sell off his niece.”
Russell put a hand to Nash’s shoulders. “If this can be solved peacefully, we should ensure it. He has seen us now. It could put everything in jeopardy.”
Nash cursed under his breath. “It’s a strange day when you should be talking of peace.”
“I only use violence when absolutely necessary.”
Nash eyed him. “Like that time when you punched the chap who wouldn’t cease singing ballads in the Royal Oak?”
“That was entirely necessary.” Russell’s expression didn’t change.
Blowing out a breath, Nash went back into the bedroom and threw on enough clothes to look vaguely respectable. Not that he cared what the uncle thought. The man could go hang as far as he was concerned, and if he was alone, there was no chance he was even setting eyes on Grace.
He stepped out of the bedroom and his heart gave another jolt. He glowered at Grace. “Good Lord, woman, someone is determined to give me a heart attack tonight.”
She peered at him through a veil of mussed hair. “What is going on? I heard Russell talking of my uncle.”
He could lie but she would only find out or draw her own conclusions easily enough. Trust him to fall for a woman with a giant mind. “He is here.”
Her eyes widened and she blew the hair unsuccessfully from her face. With a sound of annoyance, she shoved it aside and tucked it behind her ear. “Here? In this cottage?”
“Yes. We found him skulking around outside.”
“But how did he find us?”
“I do not know but I intend to find out.” He put a hand to her arm. “Go back in your room and lock the door. We shall have him sent on his way soon enough.”
She pursed her lips then finally shook her head. “No, I do not think so.”
“Pardon?”
She tightened the string at the neck of her shift and reached behind the door, drawing out a robe. Stuffing her arms into the sleeves, she tightened that too until he could see the fragile outline of her waist. She reminded him rather of a knight suiting up for battle. Her shoulders rose and she lifted her chin. “I think I should speak with him.”
Capturing the Bride (The Kidnap Club Book 1) Page 17