Page 75 of Dare it all for Love

He muttered something under his breath and stared up at the heavens.

“Miss Weston?” he said, or rather growled.

Grace ignored his tone.

“You think me pretty, then?” she asked warily, somehow doubtful that a man like him noticed such things. He seemed far too practical, the sort who would judge a wife by the breadth of her hips and her ability to birth fine, healthy sons. Grace’s slight frame would hardly accommodate that kind of thinking.

“Is there a man alive who doesn’t?” he asked tersely, kicking at a stone on the path and sending it skittering down the lane.

Grace felt her eyebrows go up, a little taken aback by the irritated demand. “I… I don’t know.”

He made a sound of such mocking disbelief she did not know what to make of him. She stared at her feet, somehow disheartened to know that was the only thing he found appealing about her. Though what had she expected from him? Some declaration about how the sound of her voice made his heart glad, or her smile lit the room, or that he had heard her laughter and known it was the only sound that had ever made him feel truly happy? She had heard such sweet nonsense before. At least he was honest. He desired her. That was the long and the short of it, and he was prepared to take on another man’s bastard to have her. Well, so be it.

She nodded her understanding, but perhaps he saw something resembling hurt or disappointment in her gaze as he spoke again.

“I won’t ever hurt you,” he said, his voice still gruff but sincere. “I won’t berate you with harsh words or lay a hand on you in anger so long as I live. I’ll keep you safe, the baby too. I certainly will never lock you up nor feed you to my pigs,” he added with a curl of his lip.

“Well, that is reassuring,” she said with a sigh, grateful for his words.

He shrugged. “There’s barely a scrap of meat on you. Hardly a meal for a hungry sow.”

Grace bristled. Was he serious, or was that amusement glinting in the depths of his dark eyes? It was impossible to tell.

“Thank you so much for your candour, Mr Oak. I feel so much happier about marrying a complete stranger. Good day to you.”

She doubted he missed the sarcasm dripping from the words, but she did not care. The unfeeling beast! It was very hard to be grateful to your knight in shining armour when the fellow was great, lumbering oaf.

“Wait.”

Grace was so surprised at being called back she almost stumbled. Mr Oak’s hand shot out, curving around her upper arm and keeping her upright.

“Steady,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, relieved when his large hand released her. The heat of his touch had burned through the fine muslin of her gown, and she felt disconcertingly as if she’d been branded by it.

“Here,” he said, appearing oddly uncomfortable as he handed her a small parcel.

It was no bigger than her palm and wrapped in tissue paper. Grace stared it, perplexed for a moment, but accepted it from him. He didn’t look at her as she took it, but then glanced sideways at her, jerking his head at the offering.

“For your birthday.”

He walked off then, without another word. Grace watched him go, his long strides taking him swiftly out of sight. He was built like his name suggested, strong and of the land, like there was nothing that would bend him. He would stand tall and proud against whatever was thrown at him and never give an inch to anything or anyone, certainly not a wife. Grace sighed wearily and stared down at the parcel. It was carefully wrapped, now she came to look at it, though tied with string not ribbon. She tugged at the neat bow, curious.

Grace made a little sound of surprise as she pulled the paper free. A tiny wooden fox filled the palm of her hand. It was beautifully carved, giving the impression of a sleeping animal that was perhaps still alert, listening out for danger from the way its ears pricked up. Its nose was hidden beneath the elegant curve of its tail, and it was so very lovely that Grace felt tears prick at her eyes and suddenly she was crying. Oh, she had become so ridiculously emotional of late. The slightest thing had her weeping, but this…. Had he made this? Had he made it for her?

She stroked a delicate finger over the creature’s back, astonished by the delicacy and beauty of the piece. Grace looked up, staring blindly through her tears at the field through which Mr Oak had disappeared, back into the woods and out of sight.

“We did not see that.” Florence’s voice was firm as Henry turned to look at her. She dragged him out of sight before Grace turned and saw them.

“You might not have, but I did!” Henry protested. “Is that… was that… was that a… a secret assignation? Are they…?”

Florence sighed and shook her head. “I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone, Henry.”

“I’m not anyone, love. I’m your husband. What’s more, you’ve told me nothing that I’ve not seen with my own eyes. Sterling is my friend, but if he’s messing around with Miss Weston—”

“Oh! They’re going to be married,” Florence said impatiently. “But if you breathe a word of that to another living soul, I shall never forgive you.”

Henry gaped at her, so obviously astonished she might have laughed if she didn’t feel so wretched for Grace. She wanted her friend to be as happy as she was, but that was not to be.