After they’d ridden in peaceable silence a few minutes, Deveric spoke. “I take it you are going to ask Grace to marry you?”
“Again, you mean?”
“Ha, yes, again. I’m sorry I missed the first proposal. I should have liked to have heard it, or at least Grace’s response.”
“It did not go well.”
“Obviously, since it’s clear by your demeanor that she refused you.” Deveric grinned over at Damon, who now rode by his side. “I’m torn, you know.”
“What?”
“I am. On the one hand, all would agree it’s the right thing to do, you marrying her on account of recent events. On the other, I wouldn’t force anyone into a marriage they don’t want, whether it be you or Grace. I endured that in my first marriage, and given its disastrous results, it’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
“Though now you have your Eliza.”
“Yes, exactly. Now I have my Eliza. And I want everyone to have what Eliza and I have. Lord knows it’s rare in these times.”
Damon merely nodded, unsure of what to say.
“And yet I have this feeling,” Deveric continued, “that a union between you and my sister would be more than merely an effort to avoid scandal. Not that a scandal can be completely avoided as is.”
Damon remained silent.
“As I was saying, I wouldn’t be in favor of a match between you and my sister if I didn’t suspect that you had feelings for her, feelings beyond friendship and, well, honor.”
“I do,” Damon conceded at length.
“And I believe she has feelings for you, too.”
“That I cannot answer. That she so roundly refused me makes me think not. One can hardly blame her.” He gave a derisive snort.
Deveric frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Come, Claremont. Let us speak plainly. I am no great catch. Yes, I am a duke now, but titles are of no consequence to Grace. And it’s not one I should hold. Were it not for my uncle, I would still be in the Yorkshire wilderness, the unwanted and forgotten son.”
He ground his teeth, steeling himself against the pain of his own words. “I did not receive a proper education. The one tutor my mother hired I drove out. My library was thus my tutor, but in ways it was lacking and incomplete. Through Hobbes, I received guidance on successfully negotiating polite society, but there was only so much he could teach. I was not prepared to shoulder a ducal title and its corresponding duties.”
He paused for a moment, but this time Deveric was the one who said nothing.
“I don’t enjoy polite company. I rarely know what to say or what is expected,” Damon added as the silence stretched on.
“All of those are things that can be overcome, Blackbourne. Indeed, you’ve already overcome a number of them.”
“But there’s one thing I can’t overcome, and you well know it. This demon inside, this devil on my back. This betrayal of my own body, forcing me into movements and sounds I don’t want to make, but cannot control. At least not for long. I thought they were gone, or I wouldn’t have returned. I see now they were merely dormant, roused again by the challenges of the last month.” His lips pulled into a thin line, anguish slumping his shoulders. “What woman would want that? What woman? What woman would risk having children that might be afflicted in a similar manner? Is it not better to let this die with me?”
If Deveric noticed the sheen in Damon’s eyes, he did not comment on it.
“That is why I offered the option of a marriage of convenience—in name only, lest she worry over the same things.”
Deveric laughed out loud, a long and hearty bellow. “You offered my sister a marriage of convenience? Do you not know her at all? She finds marriage anything but convenient. No, nothing but a grand love would bring her to the altar—not even a scandal such as this. And if you believe Grace would reject you for any of the other, you have sorely misjudged her.”
Damon scowled, his face burning. He did not care to be laughed at. And it was clear he’d miscalculated quite thoroughly. He needed a drink, needed to think over all Deveric had said.
They reached the stables and dismounted, handing the horses over to the stable master. As they walked toward the house, Deveric turned the subject to his children. Damon was grateful for the respite; he was worn quite raw.
It was only temporary, however. As the lights of Clarehaven welcomed them in, Damon braced himself, for he would need to speak with Grace again.
Tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Clarehaven, Hampshire, England – Mid-May, 1814
Grace rolled over and opened her eyes, confused by the darkness. She had lain down for a mere moment before dressing for dinner. Why was it pitch black? She sat up. The fire in the fireplace was reduced to glowing embers. She got out of bed and walked to the window, pushing aside the curtain. The moon hung in the inky, star-filled sky.
She must have slept through dinner, the excitement and anxiety of the past few days catching up with her. Her stomach grumbled. Would there be anything in the kitchen at this time of night? It must be after midnight, given the fire. Perhaps Cook would have left something out on which she could nibble.
Pulling on her wrapper, she crept into the hallway. All was quiet and dark as she padded toward the stairs. In which chamber was Damon? Was he, in fact, still here? She hadn’t seen him all day. Would he think she was avoiding him, since she’d appeared at neither breakfast nor dinner?
Her earlier conversation with Eliza echoed through her mind. Could Eliza be right? Was it possible Damon did love her?
A light flickered from under the library door. Who could be in there? She debated whether to pass by, but curiosity got the better of her. Perhaps Dev was up with the baby. He’d said in the carriage he liked to help with Isabelle at night. If so, she should apologize for missing dinner and assure him she was fine. She pushed the door and it opened with a mild squeak.
A man sat on the settee, facing the flames, but it was not Deveric, not with that raven hair. The firelight illuminated the sharp planes of his cheek. Damon.
He turned and their eyes locked. He blinked, then his cheek inched upward as he gave her a crooked smile. “Ah. The mouse emerges at last. I suppose it does not surprise me that books are your cheese. Irresistible.”
He raised a glass to her in mock toast. Brandy, most likely—that’s what her brother favored and kept well stocked. How much had he imbibed? He did not seem foxed.
“Damon,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I overslept and missed dinner.”
He rose, all feline grace. “And you thought to find something to eat in the library?”
Grace clutched at her wrapper, embarrassment making her skin tingle. “No. I—There was a light. I…”
She stilled as he sauntered over to her, his eyes never leaving hers. He stopped mere inches from her body, far too close to be proper. She sucked in her breath. He raised his empty hand and she thought for a moment he was going to put it around her waist, pull her against him, but he merely pushed on the door until it clicked shut.
Grace stared at him, her eyes wide in apprehension and … something else. She shouldn’t be here, in the library, alone with him, in the middle of the night. But he wouldn’t hurt her. The apprehension wasn’t fear. It was excitement. Nervousness. Desire. She licked her lip.
Damon groaned. “God, Grace, what you do to me. Don’t do things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Licking those damn luscious lips. It makes me want to lick them, too.”
At her gasp, he smirked, his eyebrow rising. “But that would mark me for the beast I am, would it not? Taking advantage of a fair maiden in her own castle?”
Grace’s brow knit. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he growled, throwing his arms wide. “You make me want to do bad things. Things I shouldn’t do.”
She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “How is kissing me bad?”
H
e gave a short bark of laughter. “Because it makes me want to do more. So much more.” He took a sip from his tumbler. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and her fingers itched to touch him there.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled.
“Like what?”
“Like the cat who wants the cream. I only have so much self-restraint, dearest Grace. And you’ve already made it clear that you don’t want me.”
She sucked in, hard. “Whatever gave you that idea?” She couldn’t believe the words as they left her mouth. Who was this woman, freely admitting her desire for a man?
Damon leaned in very close, so close his breath caressed her lips, but he didn’t kiss her. “You did. When you refused to marry me.”
Grace gulped. The words were out before she had time to rethink them. “But that had nothing to do with me not wanting you, Damon. Exactly the opposite.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have said as much. A proper lady wouldn’t. And yet, despite the muddle in which they found themselves, there was something between them. She knew it. She had always known it. True, he hadn’t declared his undying love, but for her to tell herself there were no feelings, no bond of some sort, was an outright lie.
It had felt safer to believe the lie.
Safer for whom? For her, she supposed. So that life would remain the same. So that she could go on with her plans and not have to risk anything, not have to risk everything, on a man. Not merely any man. This man. Because if she had said yes, everything would change. And she couldn’t bear the idea of loving him without him loving her in return.
Damon slammed the tumbler on a table near the door. “What do you mean, it had nothing to do with me? I asked you to marry me, and you said no. I cannot see how that doesn’t have everything to do with me.”
He pinched his eyes shut, pain seeping across his face before he opened them again. “I understand, Grace. I am not what you would want in a husband, not what anyone would want in a spouse. I am damaged. I am a demon, just like they call me. I am unlovable. I’ve always known it.” He jerked away from her and stumbled near the fire.
Grace let out an agonized cry and ran to him, locking her arms around him. “No, Damon,” she said, tears leaking from her eyes. “Don’t speak of yourself in such a way. Ever.”
She ran her hand down his cheek, smoothing her thumb over his lips as if to keep him from saying anything further. “I refused you because I didn’t want you to feel obligated on account of your uncle’s actions. Because you offered me marriage, yes, but a marriage devoid of connection. Of affection. Of passion. Because the way you were speaking was not the way a woman wants the man she’s in love with to propose.”
She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Damon Blackbourne,” she murmured against them.
At first, he did nothing. Then it was as if a dam broke, and he clutched her to him, his mouth moving over hers, claiming her, devouring her. “Say it again,” he pleaded. “Say it again, Grace.”
“I love you,” she said, a tear trickling from her eye. She did love him, for better or worse, whatever may come.
He opened his eyes, a blissful smile on his lips until he saw the tear. “Why are you crying, dearest?” He wiped the drop with his finger, then sucked it off his fingertip.
“Because. I am happy,” she whispered. “And I am frightened.”
He pulled her into him again, his arms wrapping her in his solid embrace. She rested her head on his chest and his breath stirred her hair. “Of what? Please tell me not of me. I would never hurt you, Grace. Never. I have this … devil inside of me, but I would never hurt you.”
“I know that.” She took a breath, squaring herself to admit her deepest fear, spurred on by Eliza’s encouragement. “But I watched my mother give her life to my father. She loved him, loved him deeply. And he tired of her. She never meant as much to him as he did to her, and it ruined her, Damon. It ruined her. Only recently, only with the arrival of Eliza, could she see it, how she locked herself behind rigid propriety and rule-following as a desperate way to block out the hurt of my father’s betrayal. She told me as much and warned me, warned all of us, not to do the same.”
He leaned back, cupping her face between his hands. “But why would you think we would have such a marriage?”
“Because of what you said, Damon! In the carriage. You spoke of having to marry me because I was ruined. You spoke of me being a well-trained wife. You said I wouldn’t have to come with you to London, that you’d be happy to leave me behind. Even that we need not have a full marriage. It was everything I never wanted!”
He closed his eyes. “God, I’m such an idiot, Grace. Come.”
He moved to the settee, beckoning her. He sat and when she neared, pulled her on top of him. The intimate connection, so much of their bodies pressing together, was unnerving. Exciting. Arousing.
Cradling her in his arms, he gazed into her eyes, emotion roiling in his own. “I said those things because I thought they might convince you more than anything else.”
He swallowed. “My feelings for you are deeper than anything I’ve ever known, Grace Mattersley. They’re so intense, so complex, they terrify me. You accepted my … movements right from the start, from that first moment in the library.”
He stroked her loose hair from her face. “You’re brilliant. I’ve never doubted women can be as intelligent, if not more so, than men, but for me, lacking any formal education, it’s intimidating.” A sheepish grin spread across his face. “Not very manly of me to admit, is it?”
Pulling her closer before she could respond, he feathered her cheek with kisses. “My whole life I’ve been told, been shown, that I’m unlovable. My mother was the sole person professing otherwise. But even she abandoned me. How could I think otherwise, than to believe I wasn’t worth loving?” He clutched her to him, burying his face in her hair. “To hear you say it. Oh my God, Grace, you can’t imagine how it feels.”
He ran his arm around her middle and up her side, under the wrapper. The heat of his hand soaked through her thin nightgown, and it made her shiver, but not from cold.
“I don’t need a traditional wife. I don’t care if you spend all day in the library reading. I don’t care if I ever learn which spoon is correct, or which form of address goes with which person. I don’t need you to teach me that. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I only need … kindness. I need love.”
He pulled back, gently tilting her chin up with his hand so that their eyes could feast on each other. He smiled, his eyes welling up. “I love you, Grace Mattersley. I love you. You have slain my demons. You have slain me. Will you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?”
Grace’s heart nearly burst. He loved her? He truly loved her? As she loved him? She flattened herself against him, her lips capturing his in a scorching kiss. She poured all of her emotions into him, and he returned the kiss in kind, his hand running down her side. She pressed her breasts against his chest and he moaned, his hand sliding around to gently caress one of the small mounds. He broke off from her mouth.
“I take that as a yes?” he breathed, even as his thumb moved over her nipple, flicking it gently.
“Yes! Oh, yes, Damon!”
He shifted on the settee so that he was lying full-length on it, his head reclined on its arm, Grace on top of him. He ran his arms over her back under her wrapper, his touch arousing the most exhilarating sensations. He moved farther down, cupping her derriere as he pulled her against him, his arousal pressing into her. “Stop me, Grace. Stop me, or so help me God, I’ll take you right here on this sofa.”
She wriggled against him, delighting in her power. “Why ever would I?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m already a ruined woman, am I not? You said that’s why I needed to marry you.”
He groaned as she shifted against him. “Forget what I said. I’m an idiot.”
He made to push the wrapper from her shoulders, and she sat up, aiding
him, dropping it to the floor. The nightgown she wore was modest, a thick cotton not at all seductive in any manner, but he beheld it as if she were wearing a gossamer negligee. Hesitantly, he reached up and undid the long row of buttons at the front, his eyes never leaving hers as the gown dropped farther and farther open. At last he pulled it down past her breasts to her waist. And then he stared.
Grace fought the instinct to cover her chest with her arms. No, she would not show shame, for there was nothing of which to be ashamed. He reached up and cupped the small mounds in his palms. His pupils dilated. “You are so beautiful. So very beautiful.”
He slid a hand around her back and tipped her forward so that one of her nipples grazed his lips. He opened his mouth, eagerly sucking on the tip. An unexpected bolt of electricity coursed through her, her eyes flying open wide for a second before she closed them and gave herself over to the sumptuous feelings he awakened in her. She braced one arm on the settee, trying to steady herself against the waves of sensation crashing over her. She pressed her hips into his, seeking the pressure, and he moaned against her breast.
“I want,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps, “to see you. All of you.”
Grace’s skin flushed in spite of herself, but she stood up, instantly missing the heat of his body. “Only if you return the favor,” she whispered, casting him a flirtatious glance.
Damon leapt up, his fingers flying to his cravat.
“No, no. Let me.” She pushed his hands away and worked at untying the knot herself, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips as she concentrated.
Damon chuckled. “You are irresistible. The tip of that tongue drives me wild.”
She leaned forward and licked his neck. He shook at the contact. “Mmm,” she said. “I will have to think of other things to do with it.”
Gracious, where had that boldness come from? She wasn’t even sure what she’d meant, but he instantly responded. His hands flew back to her breasts, kneading them before feverishly pushing her gown down over her hips.
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