FromNowOn (5 page)

By the time she had descended the stairs she was in a
quandary.

How could she look her servants in the eye? Trish was
unusually cheerful, insisting on an elaborate hairstyle completely unsuitable
for anything but a grand ball.

How was she to spend the day with the vicar after last
night? Could one scrub the evidence of an indiscretion from their being? Or
were her lips still puffy and her cheeks scarlet?

And how was she to see Sebastian? What could she say to his marriage
offer? His note had convinced her of one thing. He was serious. Aside from the
obvious declarations, he had folded a special license inside.

Before he had left London, he had planned to marry her. He
had planned to marry her before he had seen what Hammond had done to her face.

She had told Vicar Lawrence yes when he had so sweetly
proposed. How was she to go back on her agreement? Of course, she could not.

How was she to give up on the dream of a lifetime?

“The gig and the cart are ready, Your Grace.” Mr. Felix
stood in the hallway, hands behind his back. His gaze was slightly averted.

How mortifying. Of course the household knew. Nothing was
secret, even on such a large estate.

She yanked on her gloves. “You are aware Lord Ridgley is
still in residence?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Please see he is attended since his valet is not here.
Advise him I shall return around four.”

At the vicarage, Albert Lawrence emerged. She scooted to the
opposite side so he could take the reins.

When she saw him, she knew some things were just right.

* * * * *

The day was filled with gratification for her. Had she
remained in London, she would have grown in to the aloof and grand Duchess of
Hammond, barely able to dirty her hands or speak to a commoner.

The scars had changed her life in more ways than one. In
spite of their brutality and awfulness, she thought she might be a better
person for it. What she had lost in superficiality she had gained in depth of
character.

But she would admit it was hard not to be beautiful anymore,
especially when it came to men.

How could Sebastian be serious?

She had sent the empty cart ahead and took the leisurely
route back to the estate. She wanted to give Sebastian time to change his mind.
He could not live without the excitement of London—the parties, the wine and
women, the grandeur. The boxing.

The day was still warm but a touch of fall was in the air—it
was her favorite season. And amongst the falling leaves and crisp air, she’d
had one perfect night with Sebastian.

Even now the thought of his touch was enough to cause a
physical ache. A pain so all-encompassing and deep, she would willingly beg for
it and gladly die for it.

She caught sight of the horse off to her right. Sebastian
was riding one of her stallions in a full gallop across the meadow toward her.
She tugged on the reins, drawing her horse and gig to a halt, and waited for
him.

He had been very aware of her scars, always approaching from
her good side. How did he know to do that?

Recklessly, he pulled the stallion, Alcindor, to a quick
halt—hooves churning up dirt and his head fighting against the bit. Alcindor
had always been a handful. Just like Sebastian.

His darkness, his recklessness were on display in the way he
held the reins and held his seat. He was without a hat and his dark hair was
tousled. He was unshaven, a consequence of going without his valet.

For Sebastian, roguish appeal went beyond his appearance.
When he looked at her, he made her feel…deliciously desirable.

“You have a nice stable, Duchess.”

“A gift from my departed husband. He always had a good stable
master here in Cornwall,” she said.

“And you are still handy with the reins, I see.”

“I had a skilled teacher.”

He leaned against the pommel of the saddle, cocksure and
determined. “Did you tell the vicar no?”

Again she chafed that no one could keep a secret. “I don’t
see it is any of your business.”

“His sights were rather lofty, thinking he could capture a
duchess’s heart,” he said.

“Albert is a kind man.”

“Then he can still come to supper once a month after we
marry.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“But you
did
tell him no.”

She lifted the reins. Sebastian reached out. “Don’t go.”

“You have been here two days and already you’ve disrupted my
carefully ordered life.”

“I promise it will only be more exciting from now on. Walk
with me, Grace.” He dismounted and tied the stallion to the back of the gig.

Again he approached from the right. She held out her hand
but he reached for her waist, lifting her and setting her to her feet, pulling
her close as he did so. She had to turn away. There was too much light and too
much closeness.

“It’s time you showed me. You aren’t going to say yes until
you do and you can’t hide forever.”

“Don’t be so cavalier. It didn’t happen to you.”

“Yes, it did.”

It couldn’t be in some dimly lit room. He had to see her in
full sunshine, where not only her scars would be seen but her reaction to his
perusal.

Even as she steeled herself, a single tear dripped down her
cheek.

She turned toward him, closing her eyes while she did so.
She turned her head, tilting her face so the sun displayed all of her ugliness.

He growled and said, “If Hammond weren’t dead, I would kill
him with my bare hands.”

Sebastian cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead to
hers. “I am sorry, Grace.”

“I thought I was helping Hammond but he was drunk and angry.
I didn’t even have time to deflect the blow. He laughed afterward. He laughed.”
She gripped his wrist, her nails biting into his flesh.

Hammond was a fool.

“Let me look at you.” No matter how he had prepared himself,
the first sight shocked him. On a man, the marred skin would have been nothing,
but this was Grace. Delicate, beautiful and feminine. He schooled his features,
unwilling for her to see anything that might appear repulsed.

“Not again,” she said.

She turned from him but he kept a gentle grip. “You don’t
have to hide from me. Not now. Not ever.”

He tilted her chin then traced a finger along the longest
scar running the length of her jaw. A second deeper scar ran parallel to it,
stopping about an inch from the corner of her mouth. Where her skin was softest
below her cheek the scar was reddest, otherwise the marks were just slightly
lighter in color then her skin.

Relief was a contradictory and inappropriate feeling,
considering he was not the one bearing the scars.

“Say something,” she said.

“I would like for us to marry tomorrow. We can take a
carriage to Camborne and be home in time for supper. Or better, we will travel
on to Somerset, let a seaside home and enjoy marital bliss for the next few months.”

“Do you plan to bed your wife in the dark every night?”

“Every night, yes. In the dark, no.”

“You’ve never been a liar, Seb. Are you going to tell me
this doesn’t matter?” Her fingers skimmed over her face before she walked away.
There was a moment when their eyes locked. What had she seen? Pity? Because he
did feel deep sympathy. Anger? Yes, that emotion ran through his veins as
though it were molten lava. Hammond was to blame for this tragedy. Or had she
seen rejection? No. Never that. For such a shocking sight, he did not feel
repulsed.

He stared at her backside when she paused to lean against a
tree. “You’ve looked in the mirror too many times and seen only one thing.”

“You are wrong.”

“I am not going to spend my married life trying to convince you
that you are still astoundingly beautiful. I will not be married to a woman who
feels sorry for herself.”

She whirled, anger written in the furrow of her brow and in
the dark glitter of her gaze. “Is that what you want? To make me angry so I’ll
send you away? Was that your purpose—to come riding in like a white knight with
your promises and pretty words so it would be my fault when you left, if you
didn’t like what you found?

“You’ve done your duty. You’ve performed admirably. You’ve
allowed me to hope again. When you leave this time, please don’t bother coming
back,” she said.

“Damn it, Grace. The people who love you do not care about
this. They only care that you have been hurt by it.”

“I care. I only wanted to be beautiful for you.” She stared
at him, tears swimming in her eyes, making them mossy-green pools. “If I could
not have you before, how am I going to keep your attention now?”

Damn it to hell, he was not doing this right. He hurried
toward her and took her in his arms. Was it enough to love someone? It had to
be, because that was all he had to offer. “That was my mistake—a youthful error
because I could not see past the end of my cock. I am not leaving. We are
getting married. And one day your happiness is going to so far exceed this
day’s concern that you will have forgotten it ever happened.”

He stroked the side of her face and she didn’t fight him.

“I am sorry I waited so long,” he said before he kissed her
cheek and then found the sweet honey of her mouth. When he pulled away, he held
her face. “Now, Miss Gracie, are you going to marry me?”

“I suppose I should say yes since I just threw over Vicar
Lawrence.” She sniffed and smiled weakly.

“He could never give you what I can give you.”

“A title?”

“Oh no, no, my dear.” He gripped her hand and took a step
backward. “While he would spend his Sunday mornings worshiping the Creator, I
would spend mine worshiping the created.”

“That sounds almost sacrilegious. Vicar Lawrence gives
excellent sermons.”

“I’m sure he does.” He seated himself in the grass with his
back to a tree. He reached for Grace, his hand gripping her delicate fingers,
and pulled her into his lap. With a few helpful movements, he had her skirts
out of the way and her legs straddling his. “And on Monday mornings while he is
attending his flock, I will be ensconced with the one lost sheep.”

“You paid attention during your governess’s devotionals.”

“I am nothing if not attentive.” He caressed her knees and
then slid his hands up her thighs. “Speaking of sheep, I am feeling rather
wolfish right now.”

“Then I should help get you out of this sheep’s clothing.”
She reached for the placket of his breeches and popped the row of buttons.
Sebastian placed a hand to her neck and brought her closer, kissing her lips
and delving into her mouth for another taste.

Not that he could ignore his cock for long, but kissing
Grace while sitting in a Cornish meadow had more appeal than he might have
imagined. It had all the innocence of their shining youth with the promise of
greater things to come.

“Tomorrow. We’ll marry tomorrow,” he said.

“I embroider tomorrow with a ladies’ group.”

“You have become a dull lump.” He brushed the back of his
hand along her jaw.

She reached between their bodies and stroked the length of
his cock. “We weren’t married last night and it didn’t seem to matter then.”

“Mmm, show me what else you can do with those fingers
besides embroidery.”

And she did, reaching farther between his legs, cupping his
testes and squeezing gently. Aside from his throbbing erection, he felt
sleep-eyed and content.

He slid his hands back under her skirts, ready to rip at her
unmentionables only to find she was bare-assed under all her voluminous
propriety. He caressed the round globes and then squeezed.

“You shameless tart. What would the vicar have said?”

“I imagine he would have been speechless.”

“Typical of a vicar. I, on the other hand, know what to do
with a woman who brazenly appears in public without undergarments.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Allow me to show you,” he said.

Sebastian dug his fingers into her beautiful ass and lifted
her onto his cock. She knew what to do from there and slid downward, taking him
deeply. Her gaze turned molten and she licked at her lips.

“I have not gone mad, have I? You are real? After all this
time, you are with me?” Her hands cupped his face, forcing his gaze to meet
hers.

“Does this not feel real?” He nudged into her, earning a
feline smile. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

“Is this how we are going to do it? Gamboling in a meadow?”

“I can’t think of a better way.”

Her hands were busy pushing back his jacket. Once he was
free, he set to work on her bodice. When he plucked her breasts from the
confines of her chemise, he bent his head and licked. The hard nubbins tempted
him greatly now that he could see her in the full light of day. He sucked one
into his mouth, laving the rosy budding pebble with the years of attention it
deserved.

Her hands were in his hair, her fingers doing delicious
things to his scalp and neck—things that made him want to lie on his back
spread-eagled as she teased him with her fingertips and brought him to high
pleasure while the cattle lowed down by the stream.

With careful up-and-down movements, Grace stroked him toward
delirium. It would be so simple to lean his head back, close his eyes and allow
her to coax him toward release. But he felt the need to engage, to assure her
that she was all he needed—and wanted—in a woman.

He kissed her chest and then traced a slow path up her neck
using his lips and tongue. He could taste the heat of the day on her skin—fire
mixed with woman. Gawd, he could not wait to return to her room and divest her
of clothing, hairpins and any remaining inhibitions.

“I love you,” he whispered as he trailed kisses from her
ear, over her cheek and to the other side of her face. Either she was lost in
the whirlwind of passion or she had come to some acceptance of his intimate
knowledge of her worst fears. There had never been an issue of honesty between
them, only this unfulfilled desire that time had not quenched and tragedy had
not killed. Perhaps she had hidden from him because she knew, deep down, theirs
was a passion that was always meant to be.

Such a frightening concept. What if he had continued to
ignore the ever present beat of his destiny?

She clutched her hands at his shoulders. Her green-eyed gaze
was fierce as she rode him. There was still some doubt—maybe there would be
until after they had said their vows. Maybe because of his past mistakes it
would take years before she fully trusted him and his motives.

He was up for any number of Herculean tasks she might
require of him and he knew time would prove his sincerity.

“Given a choice between darkness and no clothes or sunshine
with clothes, I think in the future I would—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips.

Her eyes had closed and she’d thrown back her head, looking
like a sinful delight in her building passion.

Sebastian pushed his hands under her skirts again, allowing
his fingers to gently search between her thighs. She gasped as he stroked the
swollen bud between the folds of her legs.

In such surroundings, he always kept his head. His pleasure
could wait until they found her bed.

She tensed, her body arching away from him followed by a
long, soft moan. Her expression was one of complete fulfillment, a slight smile
playing at her lips, as if she were completely unaware of him.

Nothing could take away from her beauty at such an ephemeral
moment—it only reflected her true self.

His greatest mistake had been that he fought his deep
attraction for her when he should have embraced it. To him, she was all he had
ever needed, and how he wished he had recognized that sooner.

Dreamy happiness wasn’t something Grace thought existed.
Even while she was married she could manage only a dutiful satisfaction with
her husband.

Sebastian rolled with her, getting them lost in the lengthy
grass of the meadow. The lazy afternoon sun glazed the field with golden rays
while the light wind caused the stalks to sway in harmony. One of the horses
snorted in contentment.

Seb settled on his side and braced himself beside her with
his right arm. He batted at her skirts, covering her legs before turning his
gaze to her, but didn’t bother covering her breasts. Nor did she.

He grabbed at his trousers, presumably covering himself,
before resting his hand low on her stomach.

“You are serious, aren’t you?”

“About marrying you? I thought most maidens squealed in
delight when presented with a license.” He tilted a piece of grass and bounced
it against her nose. She batted it away. How strange to see him playful yet
with such a serious expression.

“I haven’t changed, Seb. Not really. I still want to know
the whys of everything. Just like with Hammond. Nearly every day I ask myself
why he did it. Why he laughed. Why a man could be so lacking in character he
would harm his wife?”

“And the real question, how can I trust Sebastian Traynor
after he abandoned me all those years ago?” he finished for her.

“I thought you loved me then.” She had let him see her
scars. She still had yet to accept his assertion they didn’t matter.

“A boy’s love—and that is all I was—is not the same as a
man’s, Grace. I wanted you because you were fun and willing to take risks with
me and laugh with me and kiss me when your mama was looking the other way. But
marriage, that seemed like the antithesis of all things fun. My future wasn’t a
wife and children. It was the next amusing thing.” He slid his hand upward,
settling it over her breast. He slowly stroked his thumb over her nipple but he
didn’t stop gazing at her. His playful young tigress, now wounded.

“I yearned for you, Seb.”

“I never meant to break your heart.” He tilted the grass
once more, stroking along her cheek. “Will I ever make you laugh again?”

“I laugh.”

“You haven’t since I’ve been here.”

“There’s hardly been time.”

“Then abandon your ladies’ group tomorrow and I shall
endeavor to make you laugh. Giggle even.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I was thinking of a bath.”

“A bath!” She did giggle but clapped her hand over her
mouth. “That wasn’t a laugh.”

His hand smoothed downward again then tugged at her skirts,
revealing one leg. His hand cupped her knee. “Oh? Are you still ticklish?” His
smile turned devilish and then he proceeded to stroke his fingers along the
back of her knee.

She burst into laughter and turned away from him. “Seb,
stop!”

He rolled with her, capturing her body beneath his and
setting his mouth to her neck, not kissing exactly, but doing something very
childlike and noisy as if he were going to eat her up. She shrieked and
commanded him to stop once more. When his hand tickled behind her knee again,
she curled up into a ball and laughed until a tear slid down her face. “You
must stop.”

He did, setting his chin to her shoulder.

“You shouldn’t do that. It is very undignified.”

“Why not? You liked it last time I did it.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did. You were a very naughty girl, allowing me
liberties under you dress.”

“I only let you touch my knee because we were in Hyde Park
and anyone could have seen us had you done anything else.”