Chapter 26 – Grant
W hy didn’t I want to marry?
“What’s for lunch?” I ask while washing her hair with that peach-scented shampoo. She’s already done the same to help me get the last traces of paint out of mine. I can’t keep my hands off of her.
“A man asking a woman about food. Shocking.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Barclay. What shall I prepare for you for lunch?”
She giggles and I love that sound. “That sounded so domestic, like a real married couple.”
“Nonsense. Everyone has to eat even if this is a marriage on paper only.”
“Showering together suggests otherwise, Grant.”
Yes, it does and she knows I was joking. When was the last time I joked about anything?
After we’re clean and dressed again, I lead Daisy downstairs to the kitchen. Frustrating morning with no breakfast combined with a furious fuck on the floor works up an appetite.
The staff are all huddled around the table chatting when we walk in but they break into startled movement when they see us. “As you were, please,” I tell them. “We just wanted some lunch.”
“Shall I prepare something?”
“No, Jenna. We’ll manage.”
“Would you prefer eating here or shall I set the dining room table, sir?” Radcliffe asks in his usual stiff way.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I should probably go back outside to-”
Christ, am I that frightening of a boss? “Eat your sandwich, Luis. My wife and I are taking our meal back upstairs with us.”
The gardener nods but Daisy’s cheeks pinken adorably. “Upstairs?” she whispers. Theodosia is grinning at us. I feel like grinning, too. Like I may never stop grinning. What has come over me? And, why have I been so determined not to enjoy this? Just because Linus forced me into it doesn’t mean it can’t be fun.
I’ve got several more months to enjoy this marriage according to our verbal agreement and then… I don’t want to think about what happens then. She’ll leave as she wants to. That’s the plan. I’m no longer fond of the plan.
As I put together a slap-dash charcuterie board, Daisy is discussing Christmas with the new maid . I haven’t forgotten our conversation from our dance at the ball. “Luis, Mrs. Barclay wants to do some holiday decorating in the coming days. Anders, would you mind helping him get the decorations down from the attic?”
Luis readily agrees but, when I turn toward Anders, I catch him staring at Daisy before quickly affirming he’ll help. Too familiar by far.
“Is that ready?” Daisy asks of the food, oblivious to me glaring at the driver.
I nod and lead her away from the kitchen. Aside from the new maid (and my wife), Anders has been with me the least amount of time, a handful of months versus all my life. I liked him well enough when he was simply my driver but I’m jealous of their easy-going friendship and this new unspoken tension between us is mounting. I think a clash may be inevitable.
“Hey, you okay?” my wife asks, knocking my elbow with her shoulder as we turn toward the stairs. My wife. Mine . Only an hour has passed since we took that irrevocable step. What am I getting so bent out of shape over? What do I care if Anders stares at Daisy now and then so long as he remembers his manners and she’s not staring back?
“I’m terrific,” I tell her, hurrying my steps so we may eat… and I can get her naked again. Our first time was over too quickly. This next time, I want to savor every lingering moment.
∞∞∞
“I can’t eat another bite,” she protests.
“You can eat another strawberry, can’t you? Or a few more grapes,” I argue, kissing her belly and drawing forth sweet laughter. “Barclay Vineyard doesn’t produce tolerable wine but we do grow decent grapes. Plus, I like feeding you.”
I never considered how much I might enjoy the playful act of feeding a lover until Daisy. Not that I’ve indulged in many lovers. Too much hassle when I was focused on business and busy keeping myself clear of messy entanglements after my biggest fuck up, the one with Emilia.
But Daisy could be your only lover from now on.
I scowl at the thought. Not because I don’t love the idea but because I’m afraid of wanting it too much when I know it’s not what she wants.
Another unhappy thought crosses my mind when I lightly palm her hip. She was noticeably thinner when we met. I’m glad that’s changing but how many nights did she go hungry before I was the asshole accusing her of stealing food that morning at Golden Gate? There’s a bagel-sized lump of guilt spreading through my chest and settling over my heart.
“Grant?” she says, anxiously. She starts to cover her bare breasts and I push my unhappy thoughts away. We’re just now falling into this beautiful intimacy. I don’t mean to make her uncomfortable.
“Don’t cover up, please. I love looking at you here, naked in our bed.”
“Our bed,” she repeats with a smile that even this heart of stone can’t resist.
“Three more bites and I promise I’ll not pester you to eat anymore… for ten whole minutes.”
She laughs but her pink lips part for me, nibbling at every bite I feed her. As she closes them around the last bite of gouda, her tongue licks my fingers, giving my cock ideas. “Did you want more?” I ask, setting the platter of food aside.
She grins, sliding further down the bed. “I definitely want more of something.”
I hurry to kiss her irresistible mouth, tasting the berries and the wine we drank, allowing her peachy scent and the musk of her arousal to fill my nostrils. Christ, I could get used to this. Work? What’s work? The outside world? What’s that?
“Do you have condoms hiding around here somewhere?” she asks just as I’ve worked the head of my cock into her incredibly tight heat.
I freeze, mid-thrust, and groan in agony. “Uh… no.”
She laughs, the little minx. “Never brought a woman home to the estate?”
“None except my wife… who was already in my bed. But, fuck , I should’ve thought about that.”
I should’ve thought about it earlier, too. I can’t think straight around Daisy. But, I don’t intend to get her pregnant. I won’t trap her here with a child like my mother was.
“Should we…” I have to gulp before I can even finish the sentence. “...stop?”
More laughter. “We should be fine today. Think you’ve got enough restraint to pull out again to be safe? I didn’t mind earlier upstairs when you…”
Her cheeks are scarlet as she glances up at me from beneath her dark blonde lashes, the picture of innocence with her sparkling blue eyes, bringing back all the dirty memories of me coming across her lovely back. I’m addicted to this woman.
“You could finish here this time if you like,” she adds, pointing to her pert mouth and licking her lips.
“Fucking hell, you’ll be the death of me,” I breathe, staring at her in awe and hornier than I’ve ever been.
∞∞∞
Hours later, it’s growing dark outside when I pull her close, both of us too tired to do more than cuddle. I’ve not cuddled with another soul since I was a small child but I love doing this with Daisy. I love doing too many things to name with Daisy. Even things I detest, I might almost like if Daisy said it should be so.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispers in the hushed quiet of the December evening.
“That you took that cum shot in the eye earlier like a champ.”
“Grant!”
“My apologies for that but when a man’s already ready to blow and you spit on his cock…”
She proceeds to beat me with my own pillow until we’re both breathless with laughter.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask once we’ve settled down again.
Her fingers idly trail across my abs and her breath is warm against my neck. “Kiara texted a little while ago when I was in the bathroom and you were busy killing Max.”
“That fucker’s time was up.”
A fresh whack with the pillow. “The three of us were having a good time until the battery died.”
“It died awfully damn quick.”
“Well, he’d seen some use.”
“Before I came to my goddamn senses. Still not sorry for committing vibratorcide. What did Little Miss Trouble want?”
“She asked if we’d like to get together with her and Jameson between Christmas and New Year’s since they’re planning to spend a week at their cabin here.” I make grumbling sounds and get another pillow whack to the face. “I want a friend my age, Grant.”
“You like people entirely too much.”
“A great irony that I’m married to a hater of people like you.”
“I don’t hate all people. Just most of them.”
“And, your partners?”
“No, they’re fine.” In truth, I like them all but, now that I’m enjoying bedding my wife, I don’t want social engagements messing with that.
“I’m going to your family’s fancy New Year’s thing without complaining.”
“Complain all you wish. I will when it gets closer.”
“Grant… please,” she begs and I know I’ll be stuck making conversation with Jameson for a few hours after Christmas so Daisy can enjoy making a new friend.
“Fine. Just not on my birthday.”
“I’ll tell her December 26 th is off limits. I told Lincoln I had plans for how we’d celebrate in your office that day but now they may come true.”
“What plans? I need details. But, don’t mention him when you’re in bed with me. Kills the mood.” She pays me no mind and immediately starts firing off a text, grinning at her phone like a carefree girl. “What else have you been pondering?” I ask once the phone is put away again.
“I had wondered why you said the baby in the portrait wasn’t a Barclay that first day when you took me up there if the baby was you.”
“Oh… that.” I wrap my arm around her, tugging her closer. If I’m going to be forced to open up a little, I want her closer. Always closer. “Because my parents were never married.”
She whips her head back. “Was that… an issue for your grandfather?”
“Yes, it was an issue for both my grandparents. It’s still an issue for certain other members of the Barclay family.”
“Like Lincoln?”
“Let’s not talk about him.”
“Why? What did he do?”
“He just wouldn’t let it go when we were boys. From the moment he understood what the word bastard meant, he enjoyed being nasty about it every time the adults were out of sight. He only stopped when he started to fear it might reflect poorly on the Barclays as a whole.”
“That’s stupidly old-fashioned and it was very unkind of him. I hate the thought of you being picked on.”
“Oh, I occasionally gave as good as I got. I’ve given him plenty of cause to hate me.”
“Will you tell me more about your parents?” Daisy asks, quietly.
Dean said I’d need to work on taking down some of my walls. Guess this is what he was talking about. Sighing, I stare at the ceiling, reciting the history I’ve been told. A beautiful, young model working in Vancouver, and a rich playboy visiting his cousins and avoiding responsibility at all costs met during a weekend ski trip as winter was waning. Drinks, parties and sex. A common tale.
“She was pregnant when she returned to the small town where her parents lived. They were… strict . They hadn’t liked her modeling and this was far worse. They wanted her to put me up for adoption. She wouldn't, so they kicked her out when I was two weeks old.”
I feel Daisy flinch beside me. “She had nowhere to turn?”
“No, she was…” She was like Daisy, I realize; desperate, homeless and alone. Except with a baby to care for. “She went in search of my father.”
“She had little choice,” Daisy whispers, probably sympathizing. She told me she’d never planned to be reliant on a man the day we married. Based on what she told Jewel in the car, she still loathes the idea.
“My father was in Italy by then, still doing what he did best – spending money, drinking too much and bedding every woman he wanted. But, my grandparents were here. They were suspicious of her motives, thought she was trying to trap my father somehow and get her hands on some of the family fortune. Nevertheless, she submitted to their tests and inquiries and, when they realized there was no denying I was their grandson, we were allowed to stay.”
“That doesn’t sound very cozy.”
“It wasn’t. My grandfather was one cold-hearted son of a bitch and he relished feeling high and mighty. But, they gave us that suite where your studio is. I never… Daisy, I never meant for you to feel unwanted up there.” It killed me when she suggested that earlier. How could I do that to her?
Softly, she caresses my cheek. “It’s alright. I’ve become accustomed to painting there and it is quieter. When did your father come home?”
“After Linus cut off his funds. Still took him three months to return. When confronted with the situation and my grandparents’ offended morals, Hayes Barclay laughed in their faces and said he wasn’t going to marry anyone. He offered my mother money to live comfortably somewhere out of sight and out of mind. He’d never wanted us, not for a second.”
“But, she wouldn’t accept that?”
“She might have. She didn’t want to marry him anymore than he wanted to marry her. But, my grandmother had already become attached to me and my grandfather wanted his heir to have an heir. He ordered my father to marry my mother or threatened to cut him off for good.”
“So, was he cut off?”
“No. My father, aged twenty-nine, stormed out of the house like a petulant child. He drank too much that night and crashed his sports car into a tree a few miles down the road on his way home. He died instantly.”
“Oh, my God. Grant, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not. I never knew him. But, his example has made me cautious when it comes to alcohol.” That and my foolish fling with Emilia but I don’t mention that aloud. “They were left with no clear answers if he was coming home to capitulate to Linus’ wishes or not.”
“That must’ve been hard for everyone.”
“My grandmother was devastated and they had no other children so my grandfather made a deal with my mother – she would remain here and they would foster the notion that my father and her had married before his untimely death. I was legally made a Barclay but my prickly extended family knew it was a matter of lawyers filing paperwork.”
“It still counts. I don’t understand how people can be so narrow minded. Is that why you never wanted to marry?”
“Yes. The way the others treated my mother like a money-grabbing, gold digging whore, the way they’d whisper their snide remarks and left her feeling as though she was endlessly trapped here with no life of her own took a toll on her mental health. She developed agoraphobia. She avoided everyone except me and the servants. I was only a boy but everything I saw just made me want nothing to do with such an archaic institution.”
“And then, you lost her…”
“Yes. My grandmother had already passed by then. My grandfather had started instructing me, overseeing my education, training my brain for business. My mother had been my heart and then she was gone in the blink of an eye.”
I can’t summon the strength to describe what that did to me tonight and Daisy doesn’t make me. But, it taught me love can be torn from us suddenly and most cruelly and I never wanted to know that sort of pain again. Granite Grant with a heart made of stone. It would be better to never love again than to suffer like that.
And yet, I know I love my wife. There’s no denying it. The granite all turned to dust and my heart is hers to smash someday when she walks out my door for the last time.
She kisses my brow, asking if there’s a portrait of my mother somewhere in the house. “No, only true Barclays hang along the walls of this house. That framed photo on the desk in the study is all I have of her now.”
That, my memories and the hedge maze, I add silently.