What a fool he was. He’d known she was desperate, that she was marrying him because she had no option, what the devil was he doing asking her such a thing?
“No,” she said, the answer dragging his heart out of the dark hole it had tumbled in and sending it soaring into the light. “No, it’s not the only reason.”
He laughed a little, incredulous but relieved, and she smiled, reaching up to trace a finger over his mouth.
“I think I should like to marry you, no matter the circumstances.”
The breath left him in a rush. “Gracie,” he said, his arms going about her and pulling her closer. “Oh, love, you’ve no idea how ye make me feel.”
“I-I think perhaps I do,” she said, laughing a little and laying her head on his shoulder.
He held her close, stroking her hair and thinking this was as close to heaven as he’d ever been in his life.
“May I kiss ye, Grace? I know we are not yet wed, and I promise not to take liberties, but… I can’t think of anything else.”
“Yes,” she said, the word breathed more than spoken, the warmth of it fluttering against his neck and sending anticipation through him like a lightning strike. “Yes, please, Ned.”
Chapter 6
“Wherein the first taste of temptation.”
Grace wondered if her heart could keep beating at the frantic pace it had found, and then Mr Hardy—Ned—asked if he could kiss her. The poor thing was out of control now, racing so fast she felt giddy with it, dizzy with his nearness.
She’d known he was a big man, large and powerful, but now, sitting on his lap with his arms around her, she was surrounded by virile male. He was so warm and so alive and he overwhelmed her senses. If she’d been bold enough, she would have wrapped her arms about him and burrowed into that solid masculinity, pressing her slighter, more delicate frame against him. She wanted to feel him, the weight of him, the strength of him, but she did not know how to ask for such things and so she waited, trembling with anticipation.
“You’re not afraid of me?” he asked, concerned.
As close as they were, she could see flecks of gold, bronze, and green in his brown eyes, and such warmth, such care shone there.
“No, not in the least afraid,” she said, meaning it.
He smiled, and she sighed as his warm palm cupped her face. Oh, how she loved the feel of his hands on her, so gentle, so reverent.
“Have ye ever been kissed?” he asked, something in his voice that caught her attention.
She went to tell him no and then paused, realising she couldn’t. Though could such an assault be called a kiss. Grace stiffened in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said, immediately contrite, though for what she wasn’t certain. “I ought not to have asked, it’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, cross with herself for allowing Mr Carrington to spoil this perfect moment. “There’s been no one. It’s… it’s only… last week. Last week….”
Her voice cracked as she remembered.
“Oh, God,” he said, understanding at once, both hands framing her face now. “Gracie, love, what did he do?”
She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. Ned held her to him, tucking her head under his chin as he rubbed circles on her back, soothing her like a child.
“Tell me, love,” he said, his voice achingly tender. “Tell me what happened. You’ll feel better once you’ve said it aloud, and ye surely know I’ll not blame ye for anything that bastard did.”
Grace swallowed. “It was nothing much, really. I… I was just so frightened. He’s vile, and I couldn’t stand it when he touched me.”
She was aware of the tension singing through his body and thought she’d best tell him it all before he imagined the worst.
“Mr Carrington came to ask me to marry him and when I refused he was furious. He… he pinned me against the wall and said awful things. He said I’d led him on and that it didn’t matter whether or not I wanted him, I would marry him. He’d bought me from Harold, and so I… I belonged to him.”
Ned let out a curse under his breath and Grace put her arms about his neck, feeling the strange need to comfort him for the distress she knew she was causing him in telling him this.
“He kissed me, though it didn’t feel like a kiss. It… it hurt, his teeth biting at my lips and he forced his tongue….” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “He had my wrists pinned above my head with one hand and he was so strong I knew I had to fight. He started to pull up my skirts, and I—”
“I’ll kill him,” Ned growled, such savagery in the words that Grace knew he meant it.
“N-No, no you must not. You cannot,” she said, panicked now, pushing away from his chest to sit back and look at him. “I won’t see you hurt on my behalf. He’s a powerful man, Ned, and besides, what will become of me if you are prosecuted? No. In any case, there is no need. I already punished him for his attentions.”
He stilled at that. “You did?”
Grace nodded. “I was struggling to get away and… and it was instinct really, but I raised my knee, hard, and he… he sort of crumpled.”
Ned stared at her and then let out a breath before hugging her to him again. “Clever girl,” he said, with such obvious pride that she felt her heart swell. “Clever, brave girl, Gracie. Oh, God, love. When I think of the bastard’s hands on ye…. He deserves more than a knee to the bollocks. He deserves to be castrated.”
She gave a shocked little bark of laughter and Ned smiled at her.
“That wasn’t a kiss, Grace, not even close. It was an attack. It doesn’t count and ye must not think on it anymore. Carrington will never trouble ye again. I’ll see to that. If he does, I’ll make him regret it. He’s a vile bully but he’s no fool. He’ll not pursue ye once we are wed. Not in person, at least. Your brother I don’t trust an inch, but he’s easily dealt with. Carrington, though?” He shook his head. “The scandal would not reflect well on such a man, for one thing. He’s vain—a bloody peacock. To be seen to be chasing an unwilling woman would hurt his pride.”
“You think so?” she asked, such hope in her eyes he prayed he was right.
“I do. Though if I’m wrong, ye may rest assured I’ll break his fine neck.”
“No, Ned,” she said, panicked, but he pressed a finger to her lips.
“Hush.”
He withdrew his finger, sliding his hand into her hair, his palm warm and rough against her cheek.
“Yes,” she said, before he could even ask the question.
She held her breath as he leaned in, the touch of his lips against hers so gentle, and she sighed against his mouth. It wasn’t one kiss, but a thousand kisses, each one melting into the next as his lips caressed hers. He drew back, breaking the connection, and disappointment slammed through her.
“No! Don’t stop,” she protested before she could think about it, and blushing like fury as he smiled, a victorious smile of such pure satisfaction that it made her insides tremble in response.
“I wasn’t going to,” he said, kissing her again. “Open for me,” he coaxed, and she shivered as his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. “Let me in.”
She did, still a little surprised that it wasn’t wet and revolting as it had been with Mr Carrington.
His tongue was warm and silky, inviting her to touch him in the same way and she did, quickly enthralled by the sweet tangle and parry of one against the other. It was delicious, intoxicating, heat pooling inside her, low and deep, an ache between her thighs that made her squirm on his lap as she remembered the groom and his lady. He groaned, the sound sending a thrill of excitement thrumming down her spine. Would Ned touch her like that? Was that what he thought of now? She burned, hot and needy and desperate for more and almost wept with frustration when he pulled back.
“We’d better stop,” he said, the words gruff, his eyes so dark they seemed almost black now, reflecting the glow of the lamplight like polished ebony.
“No,” she said, daring to sink her hands into his hair. “Not yet.”
She tugged his head back down, and he went without a murmur, but this time there was an urgency to his kiss. His mouth was demanding, devouring her like he was ravenous. Far from being alarmed, or remembering Mr Carrington’s revolting attentions, Grace burned hotter still. She wanted Ned’s hands on her, those big, rough hands on her skin, touching her, caressing her. They were at her waist, and she felt the urgent desire to make them move higher. She whimpered with desire and he stopped at once, and would have put her away from him if she’d not clung to his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking so appalled she almost laughed. “Did I hurt ye? Frighten—”
“No,” she said at once, smiling up at him in a daze of euphoria. “Nothing like that. It was… lovely.”
The look in his eyes stole what little breath remained in her lungs and she gasped as he clutched her to him, burying his face in her neck and breathing deeply.
“Gracie,” he said, her name like a prayer of thanks to a generous deity. “Oh, Gracie, do ye have the slightest idea what ye do to me? I’ve thought of nothing but ye since the moment ye fell into my arms. I swear I’ll think of nothing else for the rest of my days.”
“You’ll not get much done like that,” she teased, more delighted than she could say by his words. She felt beautiful and powerful, things she’d never felt in all her life.
He laughed and her heart soared that she’d made him happy. She’d never done that before, either. No one had ever smiled when she entered a room, never laughed at her words, not with amusement at least.
“Reckon not,” he said with a sigh. “But I think ye had best go to bed, lass, before I forget myself.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” she protested. “And there are the dinner things to wash up.”
“I’ll do them,” he said at once. “God knows I’ll not sleep.”
“Why not?” she asked, having a good idea but still wanting to hear him say it.
“Because I want ye badly,” he said, the words raw and honest. “But I’ll not have ye walk down the aisle anything less than ye ought to be. I won’t have ye feel any regret for being with me, no more than is natural at such a marriage, in any case.”
She frowned at that. “I regret nothing that has happened between us, and I will not regret marrying you. Whatever circumstances brought us together.”
He kissed her again for that and she sank into him, her hands flat against his chest, revelling in the heavy muscle under his shirt, wanting to get closer, to put her hands on his skin, but he stood and let her go, so fast that she swayed and he was forced to take hold of her again.
“Ah, love, don’t tempt me any harder, I beg ye.”
She flushed, remembering Mr Carrington’s words and went to turn away, mortified, but he stopped her, catching her hand in his.
“No… no, I didn’t mean…. Ye did nothing wrong, nothing at all. Only, I want our wedding night to be perfect, and it’s damned hard to stop touching ye. I love that ye want me to, Grace. I need that honesty from ye and ye won’t understand what it means to me, how it makes me feel, but away to bed with ye now, for both our sanity. Please.”
Grace nodded and went to walk away, but he didn’t let go of her hand. She paused.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Goodnight, my beauty. I’ll dream of ye.”
Any lingering anxiety fled in the face of such sweetness and she smiled at him.
“Goodnight, Ned.”
The next morning, Grace awoke to discover Ned was already hard at work in the yard below. Frustrated at not waking when he did, she jumped out of bed and washed as fast as she could in the chilly room. The fire had died in the night, as she’d been too addled to tend it before she went to bed, and now gooseflesh prickled over her skin. The reason for her distraction returned tenfold as she remembered last night, remembered being in Ned’s arms, the taste of his kisses. Heat bloomed beneath her skin, a flush of pleasure surging up her neck and staining her cheeks.
She stared out of the window, admiring the strong, handsome man who’d made her quiver with longing as he went about his day. His powerful shoulders filled out his coat superbly, making the lifting and carrying he did look effortless. She watched his large hands as he worked, those strong, capable hands that had touched her with such reverence that the memory of it made her eyes burn with emotion.
As if her thoughts had reached him, he looked up then, to see her watching him from the window. He smiled, and her heart gave three heavy, uneven beats in her chest before she could catch her breath. She waved at him, feeling giddy and silly, and then laughed as he raised his hand and blew her a kiss.
“Oh, Edward Hardy, what are you doing to my heart?” She wondered aloud.
Tearing herself away from the window she hurried down the stairs, determined to make sure he came into a warm house and that there was a hearty breakfast ready, fit for a working man.
The breakfast was plentiful, if not as elegant as she might have hoped. The bread was more evenly cut but still far too thick, she’d broken all the eggs again and almost, but not quite, burnt the bacon.
Ned ate every scrap, showing every sign of pleasure and mopping up the remaining egg with more bread that she dutifully cut for him.
“That was very welcome.” He sighed with contentment. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said, meaning it.
“Ah, well, back out into the cold for me,” he said with obvious regret.
“Oh, must you go at once?” she said, and then wished she hadn’t. Fool. He had a farm to run and there were no doubt a thousand jobs for her to do, if only she had the slightest idea what they were. “Forgive me, of course you must. You’ve better things to do, I know.”
“Not better, lass,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “I’d happily stay by your side if I could.”
Grace smiled her thanks at his words, looking down at his hand engulfing hers. She remembered again the way he’d touched her, remembered sitting in his lap last night and felt her heart quicken with anticipation. Would he do that again tonight?
“Couldn’t I come with you, about the farm? I won’t get in your way,” she said in a rush. “I’d only watch.”
Pleasure lit his eyes, but he shook his head. “No, lass. Just in case that brother of yours has someone watching the house. We need to keep ye hid until we’re wed, but then… if ye would like to come with me, ye may. I’d love to show ye about the place.”
“You would?”
He nodded, though his expression grew troubled. “I wouldn’t blame ye if ye didn’t like it though. What with ye being raised a lady, it’ll not be what ye are used to. It’s a rough, mucky place, especially in the winter.”
“You love it,” she said, and he nodded.
“Aye.”
“Then I shall love it too.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then got to his feet, moving to stand beside her. He bent, his fingers gently tipping her chin up to him as he leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft press of lips, tender and full of promise.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve such sweetness, but I’ll do my best for ye, Grace. I’ll do all in my power to make ye happy.”
He kissed her again and then moved quickly, grabbing his coat, boots, and hat, and hurrying out of the kitchen. Grace smiled, knowing he had fought the temptation to stay with her and experiencing a rush of contentment.
She worked hard that morning, clearing away the breakfast things and scouring the recipe book for things she could manage for dinner.
Ned appeared again at midday and she fed him the rest of the soup they’d had last night, and thick slices of bread spread with dripping and sprinkled with salt. He kissed her again before he left, a little more fiercely this time and, when he’d hurried away, he left her breathless and flushed.
Once she’d done all she could to prepare for the eve
ning meal, Grace investigated the house. Ned had told her to poke about as she wished, seeing as how she’d be mistress of the place in a few days. His words had provoked a strange, almost proprietary emotion, and not just for the house.
There were two main rooms downstairs, with the huge brick fireplace separating them in the middle, and the stairs to the upper rooms to the side of it. On one side was the large kitchen, and on the other a room that Ned referred to as the hall but which appeared to Grace to be a comfortable and spacious parlour. The furniture was covered with sheets and Ned had admitted he’d not used the room since Sarah died.
Grace pushed aside an unwelcome stab of mingled jealousy and sorrow, wondering if this room held many happy memories for him of his late wife. She ought not to begrudge such memories—it was uncharitable, unchristian—yet she felt like an intruder, an interloper who had inveigled her way into his life and his home when she had no right to do so. She wanted the right to be there. To be with him.
How strange that she had known him such a short time, and yet she would trust him more than she would ever trust her own brother. He’d earned that trust in a matter of hours, with his honesty and his goodness, and she felt a rush of tenderness for him. How restful it was to be with a man who would not flare up with temper if one said the wrong thing, who would not react with violence or weeks of silence as punishment for whatever crime she’d committed. She knew she could not be certain he did not harbour those traits, or similar ones, not yet, but every instinct told her Edward Hardy was decent to his bones and she clung to that belief.
Carrying on her investigations, Grace discovered the milk house or dairy, a brewhouse and a large storeroom. Everything was well stocked and cared for and spoke of a prosperous, well-managed farm.
Returning to the parlour, Grace tugged the covers off the furniture, determined that she would create new memories for him, happy ones that she could share with him. With an exclamation of surprise and delight, she uncovered a small piano. Whilst she had now surmised that Ned was comfortably off, a yeoman of some standing going on his clothes and the size and quality of his home, a piano was an extravagance that she had not expected.
Once Upon a Christmas Wedding Page 36