Upon Your Return

by Lavender, Marie

  It was not unheard of for people in society to feel that those outside of it were less superior. Not only was that in reference to class, but also to ethnicity. Since she was a child, she'd been aware of the way France viewed others who were not from the country. It was hardly fair; her parents had never pressed the same view upon her, but she had seen it many times. It wasn't that the French were always unkind to visitors who were not of French origin, but it was something deeper within the culture, a quiet but unmistakable racism toward them and nothing, class position or otherwise, would change that opinion. She had never agreed with the overall consensus that those who were not French were lowly. It rather made her embarrassed for her countrymen; for if something as simple as one's origin could not be surpassed, then there was not much hope for France with regards to global relations.

  A rustle of clothing and footsteps behind her caused her to start, but she did not face her intruder. A strange feeling crept into her belly, knotting like apprehension, but she was not afraid. It wasn't a servant or her uncle's lawyer, who seemed to hang about ever since the funeral. Her body knew this presence. Her mind followed soon after and her senses acknowledged it as well. One night in a man's arms...was it supposed to happen this way? Was she supposed to recognize Grant immediately? In the dark, would he reach for her and instinctively would she know all was right and well? Would she always feel this desire that clouded her practicality and rendered her impulsive if not senseless? Always? Fara shivered with a feeling she did not yet fully accept.

  She slowly turned to face him. He was there, regarding her with his dark eyes, danger lurking in every bone...every fiber of his presence. This man could take her life in an instant and instead he was taking her heart.

  Or was he? She wasn't sure yet. And was it as punishment? Perhaps, but what had she done to deserve this assault on her senses? He saw her as a desirable woman. Otherwise, he would not have taken her virginity. Was he angry because in some small way she wielded a kind of power over him? She chose not to ponder it further for the only thing between them was desire, even though a part of her wanted it to be much more.

  “Are those your parents?” He gestured to the painting.

  “Oui.”

  He came to stand beside her, staring at the two figures. “You look very much like your mother. She was beautiful also.” She blushed and looked down, but he lifted her chin with an index finger. “Do not be embarrassed. Be proud of your beauty. Why do you think I desire you? Embrace it, Fara.” He looked up at the portrait again. “Your father...was he at all like your uncle?”

  She shook her head. “They were brothers, but very different in character. Papere was a proud man, but not so much as my uncle. My father was stubborn, yet kind.”

  He chuckled. “Stubborn yet kind…like you.”

  It was a statement. Fara looked up at him. He knew her better than she'd thought and for moments, it was disconcerting. She nodded.

  “I discovered something earlier.”

  “Oh?”

  “Andrew Spencer is leaving to go back to Louisiana.”

  She frowned. “That is too bad. I will miss him.”

  “Will you?”

  She couldn't help but notice a sharp note in his voice and wondered what she had done to cause his anger. “Oui, he was a good companion.”

  “Only a companion?”

  She would have laughed were he not so serious. “Grant, I was a virgin when we made love last night...”

  “Oui, but it has no bearing on the weeks I was away. We cannot choose who we love.”

  It made sense...obviously he required a vow of feeling from her. “Grant, I told you before. I don't care about Andrew...only as an acquaintance. I never thought of him romantically. With you, it's different. I've never felt this before with any man. That day I left La Voyageur to return to my uncle, you awoke something I never knew existed.”

  “Desire.” His voice was flat, emotionless, as if he was not satisfied with her answer and required much more of her.

  She stepped closer and grasped his shoulders. “I've never felt that before! I promise you that this feeling is new and--”

  “But, is it only lust that you feel, chère? Is it curiosity? Is it something elemental or more?”

  “I don't know,” she replied softly. “I do care for you very much and all I know is that I don't want to feel this with any other man alive...”

  “Shh, love.” He lifted his fingers to her lips. “Say no more, chère. I want you too much.” Then his lips teased hers open and thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he grasped her hips so that she could feel his stirring arousal.

  Fara was giddy with desire and giggled against his mouth. She wondered if she could drive him to insanity as well. She pulled away to look at him.

  “What are you thinking, chère?”

  “I was thinking that I want to make you beg for me...”

  “Mon Dieu,” he swallowed as she kissed him fiercely and cupped his head to guide him. As if he needed guidance, she thought, silently scowling. Then she covered his face with small kisses and unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it aside. She centered her kisses on his nipples, wondering if they were as sensitive as hers. With both tongue and teeth, she kissed and tugged gently at him. She was rewarded with his hands cupping her bottom. Fara ventured lower, fell to her knees, and began to unbutton his breeches. With each discovered section of skin, she kissed him there. Finally, she helped him out of his breeches. His manhood was erect and she felt the heat flood her veins as she imagined all the things he could do to her. She eased closer to him and reached out to touch him. He jerked against her hand and she grinned, stroking him.

  “Fara,” he choked, “Don't, love. You do not know what you are doing.”

  “Tell me then...”

  “You would kill me if you continued to do that,” he said softly. When she would have questioned him further, he pulled her to her feet and began to undress her. He kissed her roughly and unbuttoned her dress. When he parted it, it fell to her feet. He dispensed of her corset and her shift, and then pulled her beneath him to the floor. Grant locked his lips onto her breast and laved it with his tongue, nipping gently. She moaned and he grinned, giving the other the same treatment.

  His invasion was fast, relentless, and she felt herself grow very moist. She moaned again at the curling sensation he caused in the pit of her stomach. When his lips found her auburn curls at the base of her thighs, she gasped and pulled away. His hold kept her there though.

  “Let me, love. Let me love you.”

  She relaxed and bit back a cry as he pressed his mouth against her. She clenched her jaw tight on the overwhelming wave of pleasure. She felt his hands beneath her hips, lifting her to his mouth. She cried out then, sobbing and gasping. When he pulled away, her body cried out at the loss of his touch. Then, his fingers replaced his mouth and he was driving her up into oblivion. She clenched her hands into fists. “Grant,” she cried.

  “Oui, love?”

  “I need you...” she said in a breathless tone.

  “And I you, chère.” He rose and entered her then with a slow kind of invasion.

  She didn't want slow, she wanted a fast and mindless pace. She groaned, arching against him, needing so much more of him.

  “Patience, Fara. Let it build until you go crazy with need...”

  She shook her head and raked her nails lightly down his back. At his soft intake of breath, she opened her legs to accept him fully. She heard him groan and suddenly he was rolling with her until she was lying astride him. Fara gasped at the situation she found herself in and instinctively while feeling him inside of her, she began to move, to take him deeper. She looked at him and his dark eyes watched her with interest. She arched her back to draw him deeper.

  “Oui, chère. Oui.” He levered himself up to kiss her face and mouth.

  Fara accepted his kiss while moving urgently with him. Sweat beads broke out over her skin and goose bumps followed as reaction. Grant's hand
s moved over her skin to counter that effect; his large palms caressed her arms, hips, legs and stomach, and heightened her pleasure. She moved faster against him, taking him deeper, and gasped with frustration when there was no mind-numbing release. “Grant,” she whispered, her voice a small plea.

  He groaned again, turning with her and forcing her into the soft cover of the carpet. He thrust himself inside of her, dipping to kiss her full mouth, and began the rhythm once more. Her body opened to him and she felt an urgency, a need to feel him infinitely. She surrendered to his kiss as he explored her mouth deeply and drove into her with an unstoppable rhythm. Their climaxes came in the same breath-catching moment. Grant groaned as he captured Fara's cry in his mouth. They both lay replete on the carpet, slick and naked as the day their mothers bore them.

  Fara's lashes swept down. Her mind was pleasantly numb. At the edge of consciousness, she jerked when she felt a tickle on her breast. She opened her eyes slowly to see that she was aligned with Grant's body, and he bent to lick at her nipple, which shriveled to a peak at his touch. He stole a glance at her and she watched him intently now.

  “Surely you cannot have enough stamina to go again,” she managed.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Would it surprise you if I proved you wrong?”

  Fara grinned. “Not at all.”

  * * * *

  Grant had been away on business for a day, getting supplies for La Voyageur, so Fara had time to herself once more. She wondered if Grant felt anything for her besides desire. Why had he wanted a vow of feeling from her without giving one in return? She remembered the argument...the fight she'd put up about the very lack of love, only it had been slightly cryptic on her part. Why had she pretended it mattered so much?

  Mon Dieu...because it had mattered. It still mattered and Fara couldn't understand it. Why had she gone on and on about love and what-ifs and allowed herself to become near hysterical about it? It made no sense. She'd never been the kind of woman to commit to flights of fancy, to do anything on a whim...and yet she had. She'd allowed Grant to make love to her when her body said yes and her reasoning had been forgotten. For those moments, she'd thought both her heart and mind had been in perfect accord. It made perfect sense, but it didn't. She couldn't see taking a lover without ever feeling strongly for the man, feeling some vestige of love.

  She'd admitted to feeling some kind of affection for Grant, but it wasn't love. It could have been gratitude. Would love really cause a woman to forget her place in society for one night's time? Surely not, Fara thought. I can't be in love. I can't love Grant. But her heart was against her mind in this matter. It said all kinds of things which she'd like to deny but couldn't. It was too true and new for words. After she had spent two nights in the protection of Grant Hill's arms, she'd fallen for him. It wasn't infatuation...no, that stage was completely over. She could certainly be accused of developing a tendre for the man. Love was here and from the looks of it, it planned to stay. Now, she just had to worry about what her uncle had stated in his will and the fact that she would have to live with her aunt very soon.

  That night, when Grant returned for dinner, she asked him about his plans for ridding Monsieur Bordeaux of his obligation to marry her.

  “The man is only tied to you in writing. It is likely he has not protested the betrothal because he wants your dowry.”

  “Perhaps you want me for my dowry as well?” She fiddled with the food on her plate nervously, lowering her eyes. “I wouldn't blame you for it.”

  He frowned. “That wouldn't make you happy.”

  She disregarded his words with a flick of the wrist. “It's not about my happiness.”

  “Is it not? We've discussed this before. I thought we decided it would be mutual…”

  “Oui,” she agreed reluctantly. “Yet you did not answer the question.”

  “Fara, I desired you then. I saw you as a beautiful lady with a hell of a stubborn streak, but never did I care for that fact that you or your uncle had money. That is irrelevant regarding how much I still desire you.”

  She swallowed hard, her heart rate increasing. His words never failed to send her emotions careening into mindless objectives. She closed her eyes briefly. He claimed to desire her. Desire, but never anything more. Never an ounce of affection. Only desire. Certainly he had to feel something in order to disregard her financial prospects. If money wasn't important to this man, what was? Honor? The amende honorable he had proposed at first certainly revealed he had that much honor.

  What else was important? If he was willing to dismiss society's expectations on a whim, then was he only interested in wanting her and nothing else? Couldn't he care about her as well? She didn't know. The only thing she did know was that it was incredibly hard to figure the man out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grant's obligations as a captain usually required him to be gone for several hours during the day. In turn, it left Fara plenty of time to reflect on her life. She couldn't remember when she'd needed this much. For so long, she'd had to repress or control certain urges. No, she had not really wanted a man until she'd met Grant, but even her need for love had been repressed. As time had passed, as her uncle grew more impassive toward her, she had withdrawn into herself. She'd learned to forget what she wanted in life. Her function in society was to learn the art of being a lady, next to find a husband. Once she was married, there would be dinners and balls, perhaps even children to care for.

  For a long time, she could only focus on her role as a lady. Her uncle would allow nothing else. He controlled her plans, her social gatherings. But, she could never be controlled inside. She remembered her parents enough to know they had been fair people and probably would not have left her in her uncle's care, except there had been no choice.

  She'd had to accept her fate, but she knew he would never take the freedom inside her heart. He could control her future if he liked, but he could not master her thoughts. She alone knew the way to her heart. If her uncle had ever uttered a sympathetic or sincere word, she could have truly cared for him. It was hard not to care about someone she spent time with, but she could not love him as a father figure. He could never replace her parents. That was too much to ask.

  Her uncle never asked anything, just expected of her. He expected that she would plan the dinners and be escorted to the market three times a week. He expected she would be at his beck and call. He expected that she would retire after dinner and never leave the house unless escorted by him or a trusted servant. By controlling her life, he probably even thought he knew her.

  That was the wrong assumption to make. She could appear obedient because it was expected. But, no one knew of her iron will. No one knew that each time she followed her uncle's orders, she just bit back the urge to make a retort. They did not know that each night she dreamed of a far away love, of meeting a man who might take her out of that obligation, away from the continuity of obedience. She dreamed of a man with no face, one in the shadows who had his own mysteries but was still strong enough to help her when she needed it. She dreamed of a wise yet kind man, one known for his strength but also capable of empathy. Wasn't this what she needed? Very much.

  And what of Grant Hill, she wondered to herself that night after her nursemaid had left, after she lay in bed trying to sleep. Grant could very well be the man from her dreams. “Mon Dieu,” she moaned at the darkness. Yes, she needed much more than she once had. Not only had the man awakened fires in her blood, he had also opened her eyes to other things, especially to the truth. She could not stay alone in this house forever. More than anything, she needed to go to Lina Devereux, the last tie to her bloodline. She was still a lady and unfortunately had to worry about her reputation.

  She needed a guardian and even though Grant was good at it, he could not keep his word about having a strictly business relationship and she could not control herself with him either. Madame Devereux might be able to get her out of this fix. She might know how to tell a lover goodbye when the lady saying
it means the exact opposite. Fara wanted Grant; she just could not tell him that he really confused her. She really needed him too much; if she didn't depend on him so often, then she wouldn't be in this Godforsaken position.

  In the darkness, she blinked, her eyes still adjusting. Suddenly, she sensed something different about the room. A presence. Was that the slightest movement before the window? Could that have been a footstep heard on the carpeting? Her stomach muscles clenched into a tight knot of fear and she wondered if it could be Grant. No, she decided at once. He could be mysterious at times, but he would never enter a place unannounced. Well, at least he wouldn't come through the window if he wanted to be with her. “Rosalie?”

  A chuckle could be heard a short distance from the mattress. “Your nursemaid has left for the night…”

  The voice was masculine but unfamiliar. She rose on her elbows and felt vulnerable in only her nightgown. “Who are you? Reveal yourself or I will scream for help.”

  “Relax, Mademoiselle. It is I, Nicholas Bordeaux.” He stepped forward into the moonlight that spilled through the window.

  She recognized him as the man she'd seen in the club. A new kind of heat built inside her and it felt like a refreshing rage. Her fiancé? The man who had nearly killed Grant and was somehow still tied to her in writing had truly crossed the line this time. “Get out,” she ordered thickly.

  “Please, Mademoiselle…” He sighed. “I realize the circumstances of our first meeting were less than acceptable, but--”