Page 41 of The Trouble with a Dare

“Thank you, Maggie,” she said, her voice thick.

She made her way down the stairs to discover Sterling waiting for her in the entrance hall. He had his back to her, and oh, how fine he looked in his severe black evening dress. His coat moulded to his broad shoulders, highlighting his powerful physique, his straight back and narrow waist. Long, muscular legs encased in tight-fitting trousers were shown to great advantage and Grace felt something inside her contract with longing at the sight of him. She wanted to run into his arms and let him do as he wanted with her, as she wanted him to, but she was so afraid she would shock him with her passion. He believed she was an innocent who’d been badly wronged, but Grace feared that was very far from the truth.

He turned then and she could not read his expression, for he went very still.

Grace swallowed, clutching the banister with nerveless fingers. “Good evening, Sterling, you look very handsome.”

He looked puzzled for a moment and then shook himself. “Oh… I…. You too… very… you look…. It’s a lovely gown.”

She did her best to smile at him and allowed him to put her cloak about her shoulders.

One of the farmhands was waiting with the horse and Sterling helped Grace up into the phaeton before climbing in himself. He got the horse walking on with a click of his tongue and they were soon enclosed in the not quite silence of the evening. The horse’s hooves struck a regular rhythm as the wheels crunched over the first fall of autumn leaves. In the hedgerows, small creatures scurried, and Grace caught sight of a fox, slipping noiselessly through the evening shadows, and disappearing into the gloom of an adjacent copse. They were barely out of sight of the house and all at once, she could not stand it.

“Stop.”

Sterling glanced at her in surprise.

“Stop the carriage,” she cried.

“What is it?” he asked, doing as she asked at once, his expression full of anxiety. “Grace? Are you unwell? Is it the baby? Tell me, love.”

“No,” she shook her head, her misery all the worse for his tender concern. “No, it is not the baby, it is me. I have been a dreadful trial to you, Sterling, I know that I have, and you have been so very kind and understanding and I know you must h-hate me and I can’t stand it.” She burst into tears and immediately found herself gathered up in his brawny arms and hauled onto his lap, and the relief of it was so great she could do nothing but cling to him.

“Grace, ah, love, don’t… don’t upset yourself. I’m a great pig-headed lummox and I ought to be shot for making you so unhappy.”

“Oh,” she sobbed. “Oh, no, no, it is not your fault, but mine. It is all mine and I wonder you do not put me out of the house.”

“Grace,” his tone was harder now, and his hands came to her face, holding her, forcing her to look at him when she would have turned away in shame. “I think we have made each other wretched these past weeks. Perhaps we are both to blame, though I must hold myself to account, and do not speak such nonsense about turning you out. Do you not yet realise that I would rather die than be parted from you?”

Grace started in shock, her breath coming in short little gasps as her tears subsided, too overwhelmed by his words to cry any more.

“You… You….” she began, uncertain of what it was she wanted to say, hardly daring to believe in what she had heard.

“Grace,” he whispered, staring at her so intently, his dark eyes so full of tenderness that tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “Grace, I love you, and it was only my stupid pride that has kept me away, for it cut at me to think you did not love me, that you did not desire me as I do you. I was unjust, and cruel of me to feel rejected when what else should you do when we barely know each other. I promised to give you time and I have not and….”

She could not bear it, could not bear to hear him berate himself so on her account, so she silenced him in the only way she could think of, by pressing her mouth to his.

His breath hitched, his body tensing, and then he sighed against her mouth, as though some great weight had lifted from him, and he could relax. He kissed her back, not with the fiery passion of the last time, but quietly and with such gentleness it made her ache. When he pulled back at last, she wanted to escape the tenderness of his gaze, the way he looked at her, like he would unravel all her secrets, but she owed him that much, didn’t she? Even if he truly despised her in the end, at least it would be for the right reason.

“Do you like my touch, love? It… It doesn’t—”

“Yes,” she said, before he could voice any foolish questions. How he could believe he did anything else than make her melt, she could not comprehend. The wretched man had only to touch her, and her wits scattered and her will became as soft and malleable as warm wax.

He frowned a little, settling her more comfortably on his lap.

“Truly?”

“Oh, Sterling,” she said helplessly. “I have wanted you to hold me so very badly. I have missed you and been utterly miserable knowing I had driven you away.”

He stared at her, his gaze clearing, the slightest glimmer of a smile tugging at his lips, but it faded again, and she had to fight to resist the urge to chase it with her mouth and bring it back. She waited as he studied her, knowing he was considering his words, and that was fine. It was safe here in his arms, for now, before the inevitable confession, so she would wait forever if she could, but that only cowardice. She was not a coward, at least. He could lay many sins at her feet if he chose, but not that one, at least not any longer.

“If you like my kisses, why do you pull away, why do you distance yourself from me?”

Grace steeled herself for his disgust, for the moment he turned away from her when he realised the kind of woman he had married.

“B-Because I am ashamed.”

He gazed at her, his eyes so dark in the twilight they were almost black, but she still saw tenderness there, understanding. “But I have told you—”