by J. D. Robb
They were as silent on the ride home as they had been talkative earlier. George made to speak at least once but both men could see that Grace was lost in thought, her face so clearly determined that they knew it must involve something serious. Whatever George had to say, he thought better of it, leaving Lindsay to wonder exactly what Grace was thinking.
Thirteen
Grace was determined to take advantage of this opportunity. She would make her own magic and hope for a miracle.
When they reached the house, Cardovan brushed Lindsay’s assistance aside and seemed quite able to make his way up the front steps. Once through the door they all handed cloaks and hats to Petkin and, to Grace’s surprise, George abandoned his cane.
With Lindsay at his side, he made his way up the stairs, if not with speed then with surprising ease.
Grace followed them as they proceeded up to the second-floor bedrooms but went into her own room at the back of the house. It was a long while before she heard Lindsay’s footsteps. Opening her door, she called to him, “Major, is he all right?”
Lindsay shook his head. “Why does he even use the cane?” he said as he came to her door.
“I told you before, Aunt Louise is a loving mother, but much too protective of him. And he is a loving son who wishes to make his mother happy.”
“No wonder he prefers the army.”
“No mothers there?”
The major nodded with a smile. She loved that smile, the way it made her feel that her words were an echo of his thoughts. Grace took a deep breath. “My maid is off tonight. Would you help with my stays?”
His smile vanished. “You want me to come into your bedroom?” He spoke the words slowly, as though he did not quite understand the concept.
“Yes, please. I hardly want to unlace them in the hall.” When he said nothing she stepped back into her room, leaving the door open. She was terrified, but reminded herself that all she had asked for was help with her stays. No more.
He came in behind her and stood by the door. “Are there not other maids?”
Grace did not answer him, only walked back to the door and closed it. “Shall I wake them?”
When he did not answer, she turned her back so that he could begin to undo the buttons of her dress. It took an interminable amount of time, the silence complete save only for the sound of their breathing. His was a little ragged, and she almost told him to leave and that she would wait for her aunt.
Then her dress was loosed and she let it slide down her arms so he could easily reach the corset laces. She could feel the tips of his fingers as they worked the silk strings, each touch making her want more. It took him a moment to realize that he must undo them completely for her to remove the garment.
The last of the laces slipped through the holes and Lindsay grasped her shoulders and turned her to him. “God, Grace, what kind of test is this?”
“Test?” she whispered even as his mouth silenced hers with a desperate kiss.
At first the embrace was arousing, she half undressed, he fully clothed. It was like the conqueror demanding his prize. His touch reached into her with such power that she almost let him have his way, let him take her as though there was nothing more between them than lust. But there was something here beyond the anticipated pleasure. She could feel it in the way his arms held her, the way his body pressed hers. This was as much about anger as it was about sex.
“Stop, David,” she whispered in his ear, not afraid, not yet; she would only be afraid if he did not stop. “Please, stop, David,” she whispered again, near heartbroken for him.
He pulled away from her with a frustrated groan that held the echo of his rage. He did not let her go. Instead he leaned his forehead on hers and they stood together, until his breathing steadied, his bruising hold the only sign that he was still angry. “Angry” is too gentle a word, she thought, infuriated, disgusted.
She leaned back, and his grip eased. “I am so sorry, David. Sorry for teasing you when I did not mean to. I truly did not intend that at all. Kitty did have the evening off. But I did not quite know how to tell you that we would be undisturbed.”
He said nothing. That was his way, she realized, when he was trying not to say something that would hurt her. He was such a gentleman. Most of the time.
He stepped away from her. “Good night then, my lady.”
She nodded, trying to decide whether to speak or not. Either way it would change them forever. If she held silent he would never be more than an employee. Or she could share more of herself than she ever had with any man. She had to decide in the time it took for him to walk to the door.
His hand was on the latch before she spoke.
“I understand, you know.” She pulled the shell of her dress over her nakedness.
With the door opened a crack, he turned back to her. “I think not, my lady.”
“Then you must think again.” She paused, trying for a practical tone, failing completely. “I understand exactly how it feels to be wanted only for your body. How humiliating it is, how used you feel.”
The space of the room was between them, but she had his attention. “It was that way for most of my marriage. Oh, at first I could pretend that Anderson felt some regard for me. But I should have known better when he never once considered my—” Grace stopped herself. That was entirely too personal.
“For him sex was all about creating an heir. And in that I proved to be a disappointment. He married me for a son, because his father insisted it was time for him to get an heir.
“He did not care a whit that I enjoyed the theater, disliked eating before noon and the very idea of boxing. He only cared that I was young enough to bear a dozen children. But in ten years of marriage I had only four pregnancies, and all of them ended in miscarriage.”
“Stop, Grace.” He closed the door and moved back into the room. “You do not have to relive that life.”
She looked away from his sympathy. It was not what she wanted. “No, I will tell you. I suppose it is like reliving a battle you would as soon forget, but I owe you this much, so that you can understand.”
“Understand what? That you have lived through your own hell?”
“No, why I hired you. Why I never want to marry again. Why, until I met you, even the thought of a lover was distasteful.”
He came closer, and it made it more difficult to speak. She could feel his distress. His now mixed with hers.
“I knew what my duty was, and he was never cruel. But it was as though I was a broodmare and of no other value. There was not a person at Beauville that did not know and did not measure my worth by my failure. No matter that I visited the sick or learned the servants’ names. Because there was no heir I lost their respect.
“Oh, David, I know how awful it can be, but now I see that there is a big difference between knowing and understanding. I am sorry, sorry from the deepest part of my heart.” She wanted to turn away, to recoup some of her detachment, to, quite literally, put some distance between them, but she would not allow herself even that small comfort.
“He was a fool.”
“He was a man.” No sooner had she spoken than she realized the insult. She opened her mouth to take the words back and realized David was smiling. He lowered his head and raised his hand to hide his amusement and took a long moment to recover himself. When he looked up all humor was gone, his expression loving and filled with anguish.
“Do not apologize, Grace.” He came closer and took her hands, kissing each one as he had once before. “I want to thank you. You have given me so much. Much more than money. You have shown me that there is a place for me in a world without war. That what so many died for was worth preserving, even for a silly fop like Fetters, but especially for women like you, your aunt and the dozens of others I have met these last four months.”
“You make it sound as though I considered you some sort of charity. David, you are the best friend I have ever had. It was hardly a burden sharing the Season with you.”
Why did this sound like a farewell? Something in his expression, his tone, his words? All of them, she realized.
“There is one thing more we can share.” He pulled her into his arms. He slipped her dress from her shoulder and pressed a kiss there. “And Grace, I have no desire for an heir. There is not money to leave one, after all, and my life is full enough without one.”
“I did not hire you to be my lover,” she said.
He gave her a look that challenged her claim, and she let him slip the dress down farther.
“Though, David, I must admit that I lost sight of that the first time you kissed me.”
He kissed the spot that he had uncovered. “A dangerous admission, Grace.”
She smiled and bobbed her head.
“Very dangerous when you are mostly disrobed.” He took her in his arms and kissed her lightly.
It was an invitation, and she accepted it. In moments she was dressed only in her chemise and stockings. She stayed his hand and played his valet, helping him out of his coat and then going to work on the buttons of his shirt.
He took her hands from his shirtfront. “Now is not the time to be a lady, my darling. This is not about a dozen fine buttons.” He made quick work of the shirt, as she did her stockings.
She was sure she blushed when he drew the chemise over her head, but then it was about touching, feeling his skin against hers, his heart thundering, hers answering. There was nothing familiar about this. And Grace knew that love and lust made this as different from what she had known before as the difference between homespun and silk.
They were both experienced in the mechanics, but both novices when it came to love. It was exquisite and basic, torture and pleasure and finally release and a sunburst of pleasure that bound them, eclipsing all other experience.
She must have fallen asleep, though not for so long that she woke up disoriented. She knew exactly where she was and who she was with. She turned her head to look at him. He was deeply asleep, as though the act had exhausted him, exhausted more than his body. Her own felt well used, not hurt at all but as though she had not done this in a long time. One husband and one lover in fourteen years was hardly excess.
Lying next to him was as lovely as the pleasure he had shown her. Feeling safe, secure. And more than that. Feeling a oneness with him, as though the places where they touched now—along the leg, at the shoulder—made them one. Even with only his deep, exhausted breaths beside her, she felt the union.
David Lindsay was everything she could want in a lover. In a companion.
But perhaps not in a husband. Not that his poverty mattered. She was wealthy enough for two.
No, she would not marry him because once she did, he would be the one in charge. She would be the one who must make him happy, who must obey his wishes and subdue her own. She liked her life as it was. If there were a chance for children she might think differently, but she was realist enough to know that there was little hope of that. One husband was enough. A lifetime of lovers would be far more satisfying.
At this moment, though, she could not imagine that lifetime filled with anyone but him.
She smiled, and then her eyes filled with tears. Oh dear. She had not done this since childhood. Felt so much happiness that tears slid down her cheeks. This was different, completely different from heartbreak. This was the heart overflowing with joy.
When had those happy tears stopped? Sometime after her marriage. Never once had she felt this with her husband. But then they had never made love. Despite the fact David was being paid, this was a more personal, intimate act than she had ever shared with her husband. She edged closer to his side and touched her lips to his shoulder.
Fourteen
Lindsay opened his eyes, instantly alert.
“Is that something you learned in the army? To come awake so quickly?”
He did not answer her, but stared at her as if trying to absorb every detail of her beside him. The silence drew out and Grace’s own smile faded when he did not return it.
“This is the end, Grace.”
“What do you mean? Was it that awful? I thought you found as much fulfillment as I did.” She knew she was blushing, and knew why. Being naked together had been perfect until he had spoken. Now it felt all wrong.
“It was . . .” He bit off whatever he was going to say, and the tenderness that went with it. “It was very satisfying.”
“ ‘Very satisfying’?” It might have moved her heaven and earth but his was still solidly in place. She made to turn away from him, angry and chagrined both.
He pulled her back to him and kissed her. “I lied. It was wonderful.” He kissed her again, this time longer and with rising passion. “You are the answer to my dreams. You are everything a man could want. I could love you again now, tonight and for a hundred years and it would not be enough.” He kissed her one more time, lightly, and even though it was a bare touch of the lips she felt it in the deepest part of her, which still echoed with pleasure. He pulled the coverlet over her and sat up on the edge of her bed. “But this is the end, my lady.”
He looked at her even as he pulled his clothes from the floor and began to dress. “You must know that I can no longer accept money from you, work for you—not when it comes to this.”
“To what?” She did not mean to sound confused, but had he not just said that he wanted her?
“Do you now see that I am no better than a well-paid whore? Or perhaps a courtesan, as you once said.”
She was at a loss for words, her happy tears evaporating.
“It is more than my self-worth can tolerate. It would be different if I had sold my commission and could come to you with some money of my own. But that has not happened; God only knows if it ever will. It is one thing for society to think we are lovers—I have no control over what others think. But now it is the truth.”
“But it happens. We could name many couples so engaged.”
“But how many men are paid for their night’s work, Grace?”
She shook her head, knowing any answer would be the wrong one.
“Put yourself in my place. Tell me, how would you feel?”
She had deliberately avoided the thought.
“It is degrading. And I will have no more of it. I needed employment and so I accepted what you offered. But no need is worth this compromise of my honor.”
“Then we can go back to the way we were before. Friends.”
“Yes, I can see from your expression that you know as well as I do that is impossible.” He came to her and pulled her from the bed and kissed her ruthlessly. The kiss trapped them both. She could feel his arousal and her own hunger. He stopped the kiss and pushed her away, none too gently. “This will always be there between us.”
He returned to his shirt buttons and then reached for his cravat.
“I will not let you go.”
He whirled back to her with his jacket in hand. “You have no choice in this. I am no longer your employee. You may command, but I am no longer compelled to obey.” He had his jacket on, was across the room and out the door before she could think of any argument that might sway him.
She lay back down on a bed that was too big and cold without him, to a world that was made too small without him to laugh with. She moved over to feel the linen that still held his warmth, and the tears that trickled out of her eyes were not from an excess of happiness.
He had not been thinking with his brain but with his body, and, oh yes, his heart. No matter why he had made love to her, he could not go back. If he did he would have to live with the gradual destruction of his honor. And it was the only thing he had left. For she had surely taken all of his heart, and part of his soul.
The sounds of her pleasure, the look of complete surprise, had touched his heart as surely as it had aroused his body. Grace Anderson had never known the pleasure of sex before. Married for ten years and like a virgin for all that. And the pleasure had not been one-sided. Her wonder had made him feel powerful. She mig
ht have been the one paying for services, but he had been the one in command. He had shown her how fine it could be, and had proved the same to himself.
God help him, his heart ached as though he had taken a blow to the chest. His mind was a muddle of memories he wanted to relive and banish at the same time. If only he could sell his commission. It was the last bit of magic he would ever ask for.
Grace could not sleep. It was possible that she could never sleep in this bed again. She got up, found a robe and went to the window to draw the curtains, then began to pick up the clothes they had let fall. How she wished she could do this night over. This whole Season. How she wished she had never offered Lindsay employment.
She dropped her clothes on the chair in her dressing room and pulled out her oldest, most comfortable nightgown.
Would she have met him someplace else? Would he have asked her to dance? Could they have reached her bedroom some other way that would not have wounded him so?
She sank into the chair at her dressing table and pulled the last of the pins from her hair, combing it out as she had every night for at least fifteen years. The rhythmic strokes often allowed a contemplation where truth revealed itself. It did not fail her tonight.
She was in love with David Lindsay. Not the man who wore a uniform with pride and a medal as a tribute. Not the man who was always a gentleman. She was in love with the man who had shown her passion. Tonight had been the culmination, but there was more to the passion they shared than sex. He had made her laugh, encouraged her anger, made her feel in ways she’d thought long lost.
She turned from her seat to face the door, seeing him as he said her name that one last time, stone-faced and in control. She knew she would not see him again.
Something lying on the red carpet caught her eye. At the edge of the chair where David had carelessly tossed his uniform, she saw a coin. She bent to pick it up. Certainly it belonged to him, for it was not a coin she recognized. Something foreign, with English on one side.