“Yes. I mean, no.”
Marcello chuckled and the sound sent her pulse racing. Before Marcello, her pulse too often raced in fear. Now, she realized and remembered, it could race for something else. “You don’t seem very sure of your answer,” he said as sat back against the couch again. Somehow, he had managed to move closer to her, so close that their knees were almost touching.
Grace shifted slightly away, though part of her rebelled against the action, and sat up straighter. She sipped some more tea which was becoming cooler. “It’s complicated,” Grace said softly. “I’m complicated.”
“That’s certainly true,” he said and her head whipped over to his. He had a half smile on his face and his dark eyes were bright.
“I beg your pardon.”
He chuckled again; she almost wished he wouldn’t. Certainly, he couldn’t know what his voice was doing to her.
“I’m only agreeing with you, fair Grace. You are complicated. I knew that the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
She felt dismay at the thought. Was her past so clearly written on her face? “What did you know, Marcello?” she asked softly, looking away to stare into the dregs of her tea.
His hand came to her chin and tilted her face towards him. The smile had faded into an intense expression. His eyes held her in place, almost as strongly as a pair of hands could have. “You’re one of the most beautiful, intelligent, enchanting women I’ve ever met, Grace. Any woman as enigmatic as you is bound to be complicated.”
Her breath caught and the cup rattled in her hand. Enchanting? No one, not once in her whole life, had called her enchanting. She had certainly not been called beautiful in years; she had not felt beautiful in years, either.
“Here’s the thing, Grace.”
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
“I like complications, and I like you, maybe much more than I should.”
“What?” she asked again.
“May I kiss you, Grace?”
How had he moved even closer? She could feel the heat from his body; it seems to roll off him in waves and aimed for her. “Kiss me?”
Without breaking eye contact, his hands slid down her arm, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. He took the cup from her hands and put it down next to his. “It’s your decision,” he said as he leaned forward and his hands shifted to rest on her arms again.
Grace licked her lips and saw his eyes flicker to the movement before locking with hers again. She was terrified and embarrassed but suddenly she had to know, needed to know what those lips felt like. “Kiss me,” she said and she felt the heat of a blush sweep across her cheek.
“Are you sure, Grace?”
Was he changing his mind? She did not think she could bear it if he did, so she did the only thing she could think of: she kissed him first.
She pressed her soft lips to his full and firm ones, watching with open eyes how he reacted. She’d gotten out of the habit of kissing with her eyes closed long ago; keeping her eyes open had made it much easier to anticipate from which direction Daniel would punch her next.
When Marcello did not move, not one muscle, not even one lip, she thought she must be as terrible at a kisser as Daniel had always told her she was. Useless. Whore. Tramp. Can’t even kiss worth a damn. All of the things he used to say to her crowded inside her mind.
She shook her head and broke free from his lips. Before the tears came in full force, she stood and began to run across the room.
“Grace, wait,” Marcello called as she ran through his bedroom and closet to the joint sitting room. When she got to the door that would connect her with freedom, she remembered that she had locked it from the other side.
Trapped. She was trapped with Daniel again.
No, she reminded herself. Daniel was dead. Is dead. He could not hurt anyone anymore.
“Grace,” Marcello said as he came behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed for a moment before relaxing again.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice already husky with the threat of impending tears.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked as he gently turned her around. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do. I’m a terrible kisser,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. As she lifted a hand to brush it away, Marcello got there first.
“You’re not a terrible kisser,” he said firmly and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. He wasn’t upset or laughing at her. Could he be sincere?
“I am,” she said again.
“When was the last time you were kissed, Grace? I mean truly kissed by a man who meant it, and not by a man who kissed in anger.”
She gasped. She thought he may have suspected her past that morning, but he knew? Had Catharine told him?
“Yes, I know about your past. No one told me, fair Grace. I only had to see the pain in your eyes and the way you shift away from me so much to know.” She was not sure what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
He cursed under his breath, but his hold on her was gentle. “You are not a terrible kisser. I don’t give a damn what that useless son-of-a-bitch told you.”
Grace pressed her lips together to keep from defending Daniel; it had been a tough habit to break but she was finally learning how. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “I told you I was complicated.”
“Damn right you are,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice as he shifted closer to her and drew his arms around her. “And right now, you’re in my arms and I want to know what you plan to do about it. Do you plan to run away again? Or may I kiss you again?”
Her hands were resting against his chest. Though he was slim, it was clear from what she felt that he was all muscle and strength. Where Marcello was strong with a gentle touch, Daniel had been soft with brutal touch; the stark difference surprised her.
She looked into his eyes again, which were patiently waiting for her. She had forgotten how to kiss, she realized, and thought it might be time to learn again. She lifted up onto her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to his lips. This time, before she could think about what to do next, he took over.
His lips became demanding as he pulled her body firmly against his. With a gasping breath, her lips parted and his tongue reached out to taste her. As her own tongue tentatively tasted back, she felt his hands skim along her back, shifting down her spine to rest just above her bottom.
He shifted the angle of his head, and she barely kept up. God, she thought. This was what she had been missing all those years. All those years. All those years.
Her own small palms slid down his chest and she felt him shudder, but he didn’t stop kissing. She wrapped her own arms around his waist and let out another gasping breath.
His lips moved to her neck and she tilted her head back to give him better access, as her long, golden hair fell like a curtain behind her. “I don’t ever want to hear again how you’re a terrible kisser. You're so good at it that it’s taking all my energy to stay standing. You make my knees weak.”
“But you did all the work,” she said, her eyes closing as she felt his hot breath against her skin.
“You did plenty, believe me,” he muttered and pressed his erection against her. When she tried to draw back, he held her close. “That’s what you do to me, Grace,” he whispered. “Don’t ever apologize for that.”
He was aroused by her? She could not remember the last time a man had been aroused by her; Daniel certainly hadn’t been in the last several years.
Stop it, she told herself. Stop comparing Marcello to Daniel. It was not fair to either of them, and it wasn’t fair to herself, either.
“You’re thinking too much again,” he whispered.
“How can you tell?”
“You get a crease right here,” he said as he kissed the spot between her eyebrows. Grace wasn’t sure why, but a gentle kiss on her forehead moved her almost as much a passionate one did.
“I can’t seem to help it. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing so damn much,” he said without any anger and nuzzled her neck. “God, you smell amazing. What is that? I can’t get it out of my head.” He brought his eyes to her again. “I can’t get you out of my head,” he said before he kissed her again.
The kiss was gentle and sweet, and reminded her of the first kiss she'd ever had at the tender age of thirteen. She almost felt she were that age again, for all the inexperience she felt.
Marcello pulled back to rest his head against hers. His hands shifted along her spine in a soothing motion, as sensation warred with the emotions swirling within her. "Are you all right, fair Grace?"
"Yes."
"Good," he said and kissed her forehead before pulling back. "Do you want some more tea?"
"No, thank you," she said as she took a step back herself. Now free of his warm arms, she felt a sudden chill and hugged herself in defense of it. "I've got too much to see to before dinner."
"It's a shame we aren't going to have any dancing tonight," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I really liked holding you in my arms, and I'd like to do it again."
"I don't think I'd mind it if you did," she said, then swallowed. His eyes glanced to her neck while his body remained stiff but not angry; it was almost as though he were holding himself back.
"I'll remember that," he said in a low voice that reverberated through her.
She cleared her throat. "Yes, well, I think I'll just go see to the arrangements for tonight," she said as she turned away from his intense gaze. As she walked back through the closet and bedroom, his laptop caught her eye.
The screen was covered with a photo of a dense forested area, and a bright red 'X' marked the top of a dark gray building. What looked like latitude and longitude coordinates were stamped across the image. Before she could glean any more information from the image, the lid of the computer shut. She swiveled her head around to meet his impassive face.
"Sorry, you weren't meant to see that," he said.
"I didn't mean to intrude," she said, then took a closer look at his face. He was hiding something, though that should not have surprised her considering he was in military intelligence. "What's going on, Marcello?"
"Nothing."
The word echoed in her mind. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. She had heard that word many times from Daniel. Sometimes it described her, sometimes it was a lie he had told when she had asked about his overly friendly behavior with other women. She did not care for the word at all.
"Don't tell me it's 'nothing'," she snapped and his face registered surprise. "If you can't tell me what's going on, fine, but I won't stand for lies. Not in my house."
His hand touched her arm, and he said, "I'm sorry. You're right. I was lying and it was wrong. I can't tell you what's going on, though."
She nodded and stepped away, but his hand stayed on her arm, holding her back. "Are you angry with me?" he asked.
She wasn't sure what she was. "I don't know."
"You don't know if you're angry with me?" he asked, his voice mildly amused. To Grace, the tone felt as though he were laughing at her, and her feelings. She’d been laughed at too many times over the years.
Unwilling to face a confrontation with him, however, she tore her arm free from his hold and ran out of the room and down the hall towards her own, Marcello following quickly behind. When she couldn't get her door open fast enough, his hand came over hers on the doorknob.
A flashback of Daniel had her jerking back and away from him, gasping as she instinctually held her palms out in front of her. She could feel the anger rise within him, sharp and fast. She saw it in his eyes and his contorted face.
He opened the door with a swift flick of his wrist and, in a thin voice, said, "Get inside."
When she did nothing but slowly lower her hands, he sighed and said, "Please."
***
She walked cautiously towards him, as though he might use his anger against her. The idea was like a swift slash of pain across his chest. How could she think that about him? Why would she think that about him? She moved like a deer who knew it was hunting season.
When she stepped by him to enter her room and her damn scent reached him again, he wanted to reach out and shake her or kiss her senseless until she knew he was not her dead, worthless husband.
"Grace," he said in an unexpectedly emotional voice. "I'm sorry for scaring you. Truly, I am."
Her arms were wrapped around her, as if she were broken and trying to hold herself together. The sight tore at his heart.
When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would never hurt you. Can't you see that I'm not the same man your husband was?"
"Then why did you run away from me this morning?" she blurted out.
"I already shown you what you do to me," he said and saw pink stain her cheeks. "The truth is that I’ve got feelings for you Grace."
“You've got feelings for me? You mean physically.”
“I mean personally. It’s true I’m attracted to you, Grace. Good God, look at you; you’re beautiful.”
When she just stared at him wide-eyed, he inched closer to her. “I’ve also got feelings for you, Grace. I don’t quite know what to do about it, but I’ve got some ideas."
"Ideas? Like what?"
"Kiss you for starters."
"I don't understand," she said and walked away to the window, leaving him with a view of her slim, straight back.
“What don’t you understand?”
“We barely know each other. How can you feel anything for me?”
“I don’t know, Grace,” he said as he walked over to her. He leaned against the window and her eyes, as light a blue as the walls surrounding them, swirled with emotion as they stared back at him. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “You were tugging at me long before I ever met you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since Cat first mentioned you to me, almost a month ago, I felt something for you.”
“What? What did she say about me?”
His thumb was stroking her soft cheek, and he was pleased she hadn’t stepped back from him. “She just said you’d had it tough, with your husband dying young.”
“That’s all she said?”
Marcello paused, but knew the truth would go farther even while it brought her pain. “She thought you hadn’t had the easiest marriage, but she didn’t mention any details.”
Grace looked out the window for a minute before she spoke. “Cat didn’t know any details, not about my life after I got married. I made sure no one knew.” He shifted slightly closer while she continued, and his hand took hold of hers.
“In the end, I guess the joke was on me; everyone knew but no one said anything.”
“Grace.”
“No, it’s true. What you felt when Cat spoke about me, it was just pity. I’ve had enough of it to last me a lifetime and I don’t care for any more.”
When she shifted to turn away again, he held her hand steady and firm, forcing her to look at him. “Maybe that was part of it, in the beginning,” he said truthfully. “But none of that held true once I met you. I don’t pity you, Grace,” he said as he deftly wrapped an arm around her and brought her close.
“Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t pity you. I adore you,” he said and knew as soon as he had spoken the words that they were absolutely true. “I don’t know everything about you, just as you don’t know everything about me, but I know that much.”
She tried to pull away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying. I saw you on a stormy night, your golden hair in a braid I just wanted to unravel,” he said as he drew one hand through her long, soft locks. “I wanted you, as a man wants a woman. I’ve never felt lust so strong before in my life.”
“Never?”
The truth again, he decided. “I wasn’t innocent when I came here, Grace. I loved once before, and it ended badly. I realize now
, knowing the feelings that are growing inside me for you, that what I felt for her was nothing compared to this.”
“Who was she?” she asked and then blushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a right to ask.”
“I told you to stop apologizing so much, and I meant it. You can ask whatever you want, and I’ll answer if I can.” The mission flitted through his mind, but he pushed it out again.
Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) Page 8