Chapter Twelve #2
Rory took another sip of his champagne before he answered.
What did she want from him? He could lie and say everything would work out perfectly, but he didn’t believe she would want that.
“I think when you are settled into your new home, wherever and whatever that may be, you will know better how you can help them. You should not feel guilty for leaving Ormsby’s house.
Your mother would never have wanted you to stay there when you had the chance to escape. ”
He thought he had comforted her and that she would agree with him, but instead she blurted out, “Perhaps it would have been better if I had married Fitt.”
Rory stared at her in outrage. “Fitt! What on earth do ye mean by that?”
She eyed him uneasily. “I just mean that at least I would still be with them,” she explained. “I could watch over them.”
Rory snorted. “And what if Fitt fell out with Ormsby and decided to take another position? What if he refused to let you live in the house and forced you into some ugsome hut somewhere? You would belong to him, Grace, have you forgotten that? You would have no free will!”
She stared back at him, and it was only then that it occurred to him that despite his good intentions, when he had married Grace, she had become his property in exactly the same way she would have been Fitt’s. And according to Grace, they weren’t even properly married.
“I am not Fitt,” he growled. “Don’t even think it.”
She blinked and then she sighed. “Of course you’re not. You’re much better looking than him.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” he said, not quite ready to forgive her.
“You know you are.” She gave him that look from under her lashes, and then took another sip of her champagne, and he saw that she had drunk most of her glass.
He filled it again and spoke more mildly.
“Here I was thinking I had done you a good deed. You can’t really think that by marrying Fitt you would be better off?
” The idea of Grace under Fitt’s control made him feel queasy.
Her naked body held down by that brute, when it could be Rory in bed with her.
It could be Rory’s hands and mouth discovering her secrets, and Rory hearing her cry out with pleasure.
“No, and I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It is just that I don’t know yet where I will be living.
If it is too far away, then how can I help my sisters?
They need me here in London. I know my father will not let them visit if he thinks my situation does not do justice to his consequence.
” She took another sip of the champagne and said with conscious disinterest, “And we have not discussed my future yet, Rory, so I cannot help but worry.”
Rory set down the bottle. “No, we haven’t,” he agreed. That was due to his cowardice, but perhaps he could put it right. Why not? If it would help ease her mind, and it would certainly ease his inconvenient desire for her.
He sat down beside her and she met his gaze curiously. “You have a very serious expression,” she said. “Are you about to send me back to Ormsby?” She might have meant it as a joke but he could see that her fear was genuine. And that was all the more reason to say what he said next.
“If we were to consummate our marriage, would that put your mind at ease?”
Her hand shook and some of the liquid spilled from her glass. “I thought you did not want to!”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to,” he huffed.
“You sent me from your bed!”
“I had sworn not to touch you,” he argued. “I thought that would help you to trust me. And we didn’t know each other, we were strangers. Who wants to go to bed with a stranger?”
She gave him a knowing look. “I’m sure you have been to bed with many strangers, Rory. I am not a fool.” Then, before he could argue with her further, “Do you mean you would consider it now? That we can start again?”
Rory’s plan had always been to continue with his life the way he wanted it and not be weighed down by responsibilities he had never asked for.
But now . . . He allowed his gaze to slide over her, the swell of her bosom beneath the bodice of the turquoise dress, the long line of her neck and her dark hair glossy in the candlelight.
She was an attractive woman, there was no doubt about it, but there was more to her than that.
He liked her, he enjoyed her company, and he could hardly blame her for wanting her domestic life to be stable and settled for the sake of her sisters.
Ever since she had come to his bed, he had regretted sending her away. If she desired a new arrangement between them, then why not give it to her?
“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” he said, and wondered why he felt as if he had suddenly just agreed to something monumental.
She hesitated a moment, watching him, as if she was trying to read his mind. “You won’t regret it in the morning?” she asked.
Rory groaned. “I thought you were the virgin,” he muttered. Then he rose to his feet and held out his hand. She rose too, and her hand rested on his while she stared up at him, her gaze searching his face.
“I think it is time we retired, don’t you, Grace?” he said, his voice predatory.
“Retired?” she repeated, as if she thought he had changed his mind again.
“To our marital bed,” he went on. “Or in this case, to my bed.”
He could see her realization that he really meant this.
“It would be a lovely end to a lovely evening,” she said breathlessly. “I am sorry if I find it hard to believe you, but I only have Bolton as my example when it comes to whether gentlemen are being truthful. And he was a very good liar.”
“I do not lie.” Rory was insulted she would think he did. “You can believe me, Grace. And I am going to prove it to you.”
He bent his head and kissed her, and the taste of her mouth, the warm softness of her lips was just as he had remembered. She made a sound like a whimper, but it wasn’t of fear or distress. It was of need.
Grace wanted him, and that made everything so much better.