She put her lips almost on his, and when he parted his to kiss her, she rolled off him and sat up. “You make me sound like a cross between a forest and a farmyard.”
She started to get up, but Graydon caught her hair, began to wrap it around his wrist, and pulled her back to him. He pushed her onto the bed, then straddled her.
“How about this? If you were the king’s daughter I’d kill everyone to win you.”
“Better,” she said. “But you certainly talk a lot.”
In a quick motion Graydon put his arms around her, pulled her on top of him, and kissed her.
The intensity of what went between them surprised both of them. It was sparks, a merging, a flowing—a union.
They broke apart and stared, then came back together with a force that nearly shattered them. Graydon opened his mouth over hers, and rolled on top of her, covering her.
Toby reacted in the age-old way of wrapping her legs around his waist, her hands digging into his back, pulling him closer and closer.
It was Graydon who broke away. He pulled his mouth off hers and buried his face in her neck. “I can’t. We can’t. When I leave …” He didn’t finish his sentence.
Toby’s heart was pounding. She’d never been this close to a man before. Feeling a bit embarrassed, she put her legs down on the bed. “I understand,” she said. “We can’t take a chance that ol’ True Love will rear its head and …”
He rolled off her but stayed near, his hand stroking her cheek. “How about if today we go explore that old house? Aunt Cale has to finish a book before she can take possession of it, so she wanted me to see if the roof was okay, that sort of thing. If I’m with you, maybe when you’re there you won’t fall asleep and dream of kissing another man.”
Toby couldn’t get her mind off his closeness, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Did this happen to people, that lovemaking became blasé after a while? Something that was easy to turn off and on?
“Sure,” she said as she tried to still her heart. “But I need to sketch Victoria’s wedding from what I saw in the dream. Oh! I forgot. This morning I had another one.”
Graydon got off the bed, took her hand, and pulled her up. “I have to shave. Sit with me while I do it and tell me of this dream. Did I kiss you and ask for your hand in marriage?”
“This time you were so angry at me you threatened to burn the town down.”
“I guess that means this one’s about Silas,” he said heavily.
“What do you think ‘truck-bellied’ means?”
“If I said it and it was about the other man, my guess is that it’s not good.”
“You think?” she said and followed him into the bathroom.
The four of them worked together in the dining room. Toby and Graydon took the ends of the table, laptops open before them, while Lorcan and Daire were in the middle. Graydon had to walk Rory through a meeting with an ambassador from Lithuania. Graydon had played golf with the man and had met his family so Rory had to know everything his brother did. Instead of memorizing facts, Daire and Graydon came up with the idea of strapping a phone onto Rory’s cast. He kept it on so Graydon could hear what was said and quickly tap out a reply. It caused some delays in the conversation, but Rory was good at coming up with distractions before he answered.
Toby was researching what she’d seen in her dreams. Maybe if she showed Victoria some drawings or photos of dresses of that time period, she would like them, which would mean that Toby could go ahead with planning the wedding. Food, flowers, all of it was going to take a lot of work, and she needed to get started. When what she saw in her research was so much like her dream, she had to remind herself that it wasn’t real.
Graydon was by the kitchen door, his phone to his ear. “How many of those dreams have you had now?”
“Three,” she said. “Is this a Lanconian thing, because Americans don’t pay much attention to dreams?”
“Last year I—” Graydon broke off as Rory spoke to him. “Tell her,” he said to Daire, then went through the kitchen to the sunroom to talk in private.
“Last year His Royal Highness—” Daire began.
“You mean Graydon?”
Daire smiled. “Yes, of course. Gray’s father—the king—sent his son up into the mountains to a remote little village. It seemed that some of the Ultens had decided a woman in the village was a witch. They wanted to stone her.”
“Were their goats dying, that sort of thing?” Toby asked.
“No. She was a very pretty young woman and the husbands found her irresistible. When we investigated, we found that the problem was that she never said no.”
“Some witchcraft!” Toby said, smiling. “So what did Graydon do?”
“He gave her a one-way ticket to Los Angeles and an introduction to a movie producer. So far, she’s been the pretty girl who gets killed in four horror movies.”
Toby laughed. “Cold Comfort Farm comes alive,” she said, and went back to work.
Unfortunately, all these jobs left Lorcan with nothing to do. So far, Toby’d had little interaction with her. They had advanced to there being a sense of both of them working to help Graydon, but it hadn’t moved past that.
Toby did a computer search for Regency costumes and came up with some beautiful examples from various museums. She printed them out, then spread them on the table to look at them.
Graydon was still on the phone and Daire was absorbed by the computer, so Toby pushed them toward Lorcan. “What do you think?”
“They are nice,” Lorcan said.
Toby was disappointed by her reticence. Not exactly girlfriend material. She pulled the photos back.
“They are better in person,” Lorcan said.
“Oh? You’ve seen them in museums in Lanconia?”
“No, in the …” She looked at Daire.
“The attic,” he said without looking up. “That family never throws anything away. They just build onto that palace so they can store more old oddments.”
Toby looked at Lorcan. “I wish we could borrow a dress and show it to Victoria. Maybe she’d remember it,” she said, laughing. “Of course she can’t remember my dream but she looked so good in that dress. She’s quite large on top.” She glanced at Lorcan. “You’d be a knockout in one of them. Soft white muslin with a red ribbon right around here.” She put her hands on her own upper rib cage.
Daire snorted. “Lorcan sleeps in leather.”
Toby saw a shadow go across Lorcan’s eyes at that remark, but she said nothing. The Lanconians were certainly good at hiding their emotions! she thought.
“Perhaps you could wear one of the dresses,” Lorcan said politely.
Toby got up and went behind Lorcan’s chair. After a nod of permission, Toby lifted Lorcan’s long ponytail to the top of her head and studied it. “Yes, quite beautiful. You know, in high heels, you’re probably taller than Daire.”
That made Lorcan smile, the first one she’d directed at Toby, while Daire shook his head as he typed something on the computer.
“Do you really think we could do this? I mean, would Graydon agree?” Toby asked the both of them. “And even if he did, would it be possible to borrow clothes and get them here in a short time?”
“Of course,” Daire said, “but Gray won’t like being told what we want him to do.”
“Especially where you are concerned,” Lorcan added. “And if Prince Graydon thinks Daire suggested it, he will say no.”
Toby started to ask for more information about that concept, but when Graydon appeared at the doorway, Toby said, “Come look at these pictures.”
He picked up one of a lady in a long white dress that was low cut and clung to her legs. “I like it,” he said.
Daire looked up from the computer. “It says here that a problem at the time was the ‘muslin disease.’ It seems that the women wore dresses of such thin fabric that they caught their deaths of cold.” He seemed to consider that. “I think maybe it was worth it.”
“Are you planning to dress like this for Victoria?” Graydon asked.
“Heavens, no! That’s impossible to achieve,” Toby said, looking at him. “Wait a minute! This was Jane Austen’s time. Not that we could pull this off, but that would mean that you … drumroll please … could be Mr. Darcy.”
“Are you talking about that priggish man who everybody thought was a snob?”
“You’re talking about the most romantic man ever put on paper, so have some respect. If I were to wear a dress thin enough to give me pneumonia, you would have to wear those breeches.” She handed him a picture of a man wearing tan trousers that were like a second skin and a tight black jacket with a high collar.
“Are you saying that if I wore tights, you’d agree to wear a dress like this?”
“Sure. Why not? But where are we going to get some eighteenth-century costumes?” She batted her eyelashes at him in a very innocent way.
“We’ll search the closets of my ancestors,” Graydon said. “I’ll ask Rory and—No. I’ll call my grandfather and he’ll have everything here as fast as jets can fly.”
Toby bent her head over the picture to hide her smile. The clothes in the photo were romance personified. “Does this mean that I might wear a gown that was once worn by a queen?”
“Yes,” Graydon said. “A prince doesn’t impress you but a queen does?”
“Makes sense to me,” Lorcan said and they all laughed. For the first time, Toby and Lorcan exchanged looks of camaraderie.
“So when are we going to wear these ridiculous clothes? And I wonder what the food was like then?” Graydon’s phone rang. “I have to take this,” he said tiredly and left the room.
“What a great idea,” Toby said. “We’ll put on a Regency dinner party and be in costume. Why don’t you two join us?” She smiled at Daire’s look of horror and Lorcan’s surprise.
“No,” Daire said in a quiet voice, and Toby could tell that it was a final statement. She looked at Lorcan. “Rory’s iPad is in the bottom right drawer in Gray’s bedroom.” Lorcan was up the stairs before Toby finished speaking.
It was five P.M., Lanconian time, when Graydon pushed the button to reach his grandfather’s private number.
“Graydon? Is that you?” In spite of his advanced years, J. T. Montgomery’s voice and spirit were strong—and he didn’t give his grandson time to answer. “I want to know why the hell Rory is pretending to be you and taking over your duties. Your grandmother is beside herself with worry that you’re secreted away in some hospital somewhere like your father is and your mother won’t tell us about it.”
“Granddad, I’m fine, and Mother knows nothing about this. I just wanted a week’s holiday, that’s all, but then Rory broke his wrist and … Well, things happened. Besides, I met a girl who—”
“I told Aria that was the problem,” J.T. said.
“It’s not like that. I’m just staying with her for right now and—”
“What do you mean ‘it’s not like that’? Is she pretty?”
Graydon’s voice softened. “She’s beautiful. She has long blonde hair—natural blonde—and—”
“There’s only one way a man can be sure of a woman’s natural hair color,” J.T. said. Graydon couldn’t help laughing. Age hadn’t killed his grandfather’s love of life!
“The young lady and I spent the day cleaning up after a wedding, and afterward we went swimming in our underwear. It didn’t leave much to my imagination. Toby and I are just—”
“So help me, if you tell me that the two of you are just friends, I’ll disown you. The real question is, Does she make your blood boil?”
“Oh, yes!” Graydon said, and he suddenly realized that he wanted to say the truth out loud. “Sometimes I feel like one of my warrior ancestors and I want to throw her across my shoulder and run off with her. That I can’t touch her, can only look at her, makes me crazy. Granddad? She can tell me from Rory.”
J.T. was quiet for a moment. He was of a different generation than his grandson and he strongly believed in the old family legends. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. When I said I was Rory, she got angry because I was lying. Then later Rory dressed up like me and put on his bad imitation of me and … Anyway, she knew who he was instantly.”
“I’m sorry,” J.T. said, his voice barely a whisper. They both knew what was involved in this. When he was a young American soldier, J.T. had nearly killed himself fighting against centuries of tradition within the Lanconian royal family and their retainers. He’d made a lot of progress, but he hadn’t changed the system of whom his grandson would marry. That Graydon had found a woman who might mean more to him than just someone to sit beside him on a throne made J.T. feel deeply, deeply sad. “How can I help you?”
“I want you to get someone to send me some clothes from the early 1800s.” J.T. couldn’t help a snort of laughter. “And here I was thinking you wanted me to tackle your mother on your behalf.”
“How could I do that to you, Granddad? I love you, and I want you to continue living.”
J.T. laughed. “If your mother realizes what’s going on between you and your brother, nobody will live through it. Will you be back for the … you know?” He couldn’t bring himself to say “the engagement ceremony.”
“Yes,” Graydon said. “I plan to return in plenty of time for that. But what about the clothes? Can you get them for me?”
“Sure. I’ll have your grandmother send one of those girls she bosses around to search.”
“Good! I’ll send you the details of sizes and such later, but mainly I just need something that will dazzle Victoria Madsen.”
“The writer? Aria loves her books and when I tell her who it’s for she’ll have the whole palace working for her.”
“Just so Mother doesn’t hear about it and get suspicious,” Graydon said. He wanted to talk to his grandfather about how his mother spoke to Rory, but not on the phone. He’d do that in person.
“Don’t worry. She’s otherwise occupied. I take it you’re instructing Rory, because he’s dealt well with two ambassadors.”
“I’m on the phone and Skype with him hourly.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let duties take away time with your girl. Send me a photo of her, will you? And, Gray? I love you too.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I couldn’t do this without you.” They said goodbye and hung up.
It wasn’t until three P.M., ten in Lanconia, that Graydon could get away from the phone. He turned it off, tossed it to Daire, and said “Let’s go!” to Toby, and they left the house. As soon as they were outside, he told her of the call to his grandfather. “So you’ll be able to put on your pretty dress and I’m sure Victoria will agree to the wedding.”
“I hope you’re right.” She walked ahead of him and looked back. “Too bad Daire won’t wear the costume. He’d be gorgeous!”
“Not pale and short like me?”
The sun was at his back and it seemed to form a halo of light around him. Whether it was the light or just her growing familiarity with him, right now she didn’t think she’d ever seen a better looking man. She turned away, afraid he’d read her thoughts on her face. He’s not mine, she reminded herself.
When they reached the front door of the old house his relatives had bought, Graydon pulled from his pocket a key that was as big as his hand.
“Where did you get that?” Toby asked.
“Aunt Cale sent it to me. My question is how you got into the house without it.”
“The front door was standing open.”
“As though it were beckoning you to enter?” He was teasing.
“No,” Toby said, “as though the wind had blown it open. You have to remember how old houses are. Doors and windows and floors creak.”
“My bedroom at home was built in 1528 and it’s one of the newer rooms.”
“But the question is whether or not it’s haunted.”
“Swords clash every night,” Graydon said as he shut the door and hand
ed her the key. It had two dolphins on the top of it.
She held it up. “Is this so I can escape if your seducing of me gets too passionate?”
“That’s to lock the door so no one can come inside and interrupt us. Where should we start?”
“The bedrooms, of course,” she said as she put the big key in the lock. Laughing, they went up the stairs.
The old house was well lit even through very dirty windows, and they saw no sign of damp on the walls or the floors.
The main staircase led the way up to two bedrooms with large fireplaces and en suite bathrooms. “This is my favorite,” Toby said, and led him into the room where she’d had the first dream. In spite of the dirt, it was easy to see it had once been beautiful.
Graydon sat down on the dusty little sofa. “I like this too. I’d like to fill those shelves with books.”
She sat down by him. “And what would they be about?”
“I think that for here I’d like a collection of books about Nantucket. I’d like to know more about this island. What about you? What would you like to see in here?”
“Novels that I like to read and reread, gardening, and I agree, history books. I think I would like to know some more about this house.”
“Did you tell Daire all the details of your dreams?”
“Yes,” she said seriously, “and he was especially interested in hearing the kissing parts.”
There was a flash of anger across Graydon’s face before he realized she was teasing him. “You devil!” he said and made a lunge for her, but Toby was on her feet and running.
She went out a side door that Graydon hadn’t noticed, took a right down the hall, and he heard her footsteps on what sounded like stairs—but he didn’t see any. He opened doors to two bathrooms and two bedrooms before he found the narrow stairs tucked between walls. It was so dark he could hardly see his feet, and he wished he’d brought a flashlight.
At the top of the stairs was a solid door and when he opened it he saw a big, bare attic. The wide, thick, roughly sawn floorboards attested to the age of the house. The steep roof made a sharp pitch in the ceiling height. Toby was standing at the end, in front of a window.
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