Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
CHRISTIAN
Waking up alone the day after my wedding was not on my bingo card.
I’d planned to wake Grace with my head between her legs before sinking into her and giving her several orgasms. The mattress is cool, meaning she’s been up for a while.
I fling back the covers and use the bathroom.
Then, dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, I go in search of my wife.
Wife. Damn that sounds fucking sexy, and no one is more surprised than me.
The dining room is empty, although set for breakfast, and so is the main living room I share with Tobias and Saskia. In fact, the house is deathly quiet. Everyone is probably having a lie in after a late end to the night before.
Everyone except Grace.
After what she said last night about struggling to sleep, I hope she settles here. We hadn’t discussed a honeymoon, nor had I intended to propose one, but maybe a few days away will be a good transition between her home and mine. A way to bridge the gap and slowly ease her into her new life.
The door to my office is ajar. I push it open. Grace hasn’t heard me. She’s standing with her back to me looking at an array of family photos I keep on several bookshelves.
“Morning, Duchess.”
She startles, almost dropping a picture of my parents in a thick, mahogany frame.
“You scared me.” Putting it back, she turns in my direction, her teeth grazing her bottom lip.
She ducks her head like she’s suddenly shy, which, considering everything we did last night, is so damn cute I could split my face in two with the smile I give her.
“Waking up alone was not in the plan.” I close the distance between us, drawing her into my arms. “Did you sleep much?”
“A little. I hope you don’t mind me looking at your photographs.”
“What’s mine is yours.”
She grins, all signs of shyness vanishing. “Be careful, Mr. De Vil. I may clean you out.”
“Anything you want, Grace, I’m happy to give it to you. I benefit from this marriage by not having to marry some stuck-up debutante who’d bore me every time she opened her mouth, and you get financial security. Which reminds me. Your credit card should arrive today.”
She frowns. “Credit card?”
“Yes. You don’t want to keep asking me for money, do you?”
“I-I… hadn’t thought about it.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
“Gosh. That’s… that’s generous of you. I promise I won’t go nuts.”
“I want you to go nuts. That’s the whole point. It’s no more than you deserve as my wife.”
Her shyness makes a return, and she inches out of my hold.
“Who is this?” She reaches to the back of the bookcase and plucks out a small frame that was hidden behind a large one, masking it from view.
“I didn’t see them at the wedding yesterday, although there were so many people I could have missed them. ”
My jaw locks as I pluck the frame from her hands. “That’s my dad’s brother George and his wife Alice. The staff must’ve missed this one.” I remove the back of the frame, take out the photo, and rip it into several pieces.
“Black sheep?” she asks innocently.
“Not until recently.” I toss the pieces into the wastepaper basket beside my desk.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not prying.” I move in to her body, grazing my hands up and down her sides before settling them on her hips.
“I haven’t told you about him to keep anything from you.
I just hate talking about him, but you’re a De Vil now, so you deserve to know.
” I take a deep breath. “We discovered, quite recently, that he raped my mother the day before she married my dad.”
Grace gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Oh, my God. That’s… that’s horrible.”
“Yeah. It gets worse. We also found out that my mother got pregnant from the rape, and my eldest brother is his kid. So was his twin, but she was murdered two weeks before my mother killed herself.” I tighten my grip, anchoring myself to her.
“He disappeared before we could confront him, and we’ve had people looking for him ever since. ”
“Jesus.” She presses her tiny palm to my cheek. “That’s a lot to handle. I’m so sorry, Christian. For you, Alexander, and all the family.”
I cover her hand with mine, leaning into her warmth and tenderness. It never occurred to me how much I craved having someone to confide this kind of stuff in, but now I’ve got Grace, I see why Xan and Nicholas are so fucking happy in their marriages.
“We’ll find him. We have eyes all over the world. My guess is he’s hunkered down on some tiny island without CCTV or internet, or maybe he’s hopping around, but sooner or later, he’ll raise his head above the parapet, and we’ll have him.”
“And then what?” she whispers, snaking her hand around the back of my neck and playing with the hair at my nape.
“Oh, he’s dead for sure. Alexander will take care of that.”
I watch her carefully for signs she’s shocked or afraid by my admission, but there’s no sign of fear.
“People deserve to pay for their crimes.”
“Yes.” I nod in agreement. “They do.”
Her eyes narrow, and she gazes at me quizzically, as though she’s looking for something but is afraid to find it.
“What?” I ask when she continues studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s determined to crack.
In an instant, her expression smooths and she shakes her head. “Nothing. Ignore me. I’m processing, that’s all.”
“Well, while you’re processing, I want to talk to you about our honeymoon.”
“What honeymoon?”
“The one we’re having.”
“I didn’t expect a honeymoon.”
“And I didn’t plan on taking you on one, but after you struggled to sleep last night, I had an idea that some time away might help you transition to life here a little better.”
“Kind of like a halfway house for alcoholics?”
I burst out laughing. “If that analogy works for you, we’ll go with it.”
She beams. “Where were you thinking?”
“I thought somewhere warm. Southern Europe is still mild this time of year, or we could head further afield. The Caribbean, Mexico, Brazil.”
She grimaces. “Um, I don’t have a passport.”
“That’s okay. I can arrange to have one here in a couple of hours.”
“Passports take weeks.”
“Not when you’re in this family.”
She rubs the back of her neck and bites her lip. “Okay, the truth is I’m afraid of flying.”
“Safest way to travel.”
“I just… I can’t. I don’t want to. I’d rather stay in this country.”
“It’s cold.”
“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only wrong clothing choices. Besides, think roaring fires, hot chocolate with marshmallows, going to bed early, sn—”
“I’m convinced. You had me at the early to bed thing. Where were you thinking?”
“I’ve always loved the Cotswolds. My father took me there once when I was little, but I haven’t been back in years.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m positive.”
“Then, the Cotswolds it is.” I graze my hands up her sides and lower my head, stealing a kiss that immediately makes me hard. “Sex first, then breakfast, then I’ll make some calls.”
She giggles, and it’s so freaking adorable, I want to record it so I can listen to her laugh whenever I want. “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”
“I know the way to her pussy better,” I say as I lift Grace into my arms. “I owe you a carry over the threshold.”
“Careful, Christian. At this rate, I might start to think this marriage is real.”
You’re not the only one.
It only takes a phone call to organize a base in the Cotswolds, a beautiful stone house on the outskirts of Chipping Camden owned by a member of The Consortium who was only too happy to offer it to us for however long we wished to stay.
We have a place in Gloucester, but a more intimate setting feels right, and I think Grace will feel more at home in a smaller place, too.
Although small to me is different than small to Grace, it seems, when Dawson steers the car through the gates two days after our wedding and Grace squeals, “God, it’s huge.”
I open my mouth, a dirty retort on the tip of my tongue.
She clamps her hand over my mouth. “Don’t say it.”
Laughing, I shove her hand away. “Then, don’t make it easy for me.”
The car comes to a stop outside the front door. Grace’s jaw is on the ground as she shields her eyes from the weak autumn sun and gazes up at the house.
“You said a cozy place.”
“This is cozy.”
She snorts. “My dictionary description of cozy and yours are poles apart.”
“Come inside and you’ll see what I mean.
” I take her hand and unlock the front door.
I’ll admit, the hallway is grand, the staircase leading to the upper floors even more so, with its oak railings and matching treads, but as I veer left, where the owner told me the snug is located, cozy is the word that instantly comes to mind.
The fire is already lit, probably by the live-in housekeeper, and it crackles and spits, sparks landing on the hearth. There’s a three-seater couch tucked under a wooden beam, complete with a gigantic fur throw, and bookcases jammed with books line two walls.
“This is gorgeous,” Grace whispers, fingering the spines of the books before moving in front of the fire and warming her hands over the flames.
“I promised you cozy, and that’s what you’ll get. This was the original part of the house. It’s been extended over the years, but there’s still plenty of old-world charm to be found.”
“I love it. It’s perfect.” She stands on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. “Thank you, Christian.”
“Thank you for agreeing to marry me.”
“Let’s agree that we’re both amazing.”
I chuckle. “Deal.” I slide my hand around the back of her neck and lightly squeeze. “How about we grab a bite to eat, then head out exploring. There are still several hours of daylight left.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Stomachs full, we leave our suitcases on the bed in the smallest room in the house, as Grace insisted she’d rather stay in the original part of the house than the far more generously-sized extension.
It’s fast becoming my reality that I can’t say no to her.
Whatever she wants she can have. I’m not yet willing to examine too closely why her happiness seems to be so tied to my own, but I’m not mad about it, either.
Grace’s enthusiasm for the smallest thing makes me appreciate how lucky I am.
Sure, I’ve suffered loss and guilt and have demons like most people, but I’ve lived, helped in no small way by unlimited funds.
I’ve never had to worry about where the next meal is coming from or how to make rent.
I’ve traveled extensively, and those experiences have enriched my life.
Grace has seen so little of the world, and despite her self-confessed fear of flying, I’m determined to take her places she won’t ever have dreamed of.
A fear of flying is easily overcome by the right education.
Once she’s settled, I’ll raise the subject again and see if I can persuade her to give it a try.
It’s after one when we leave the house, and many of the sights I’d like to take her to are a full-day excursion, so instead, we wander the streets of the local village until the sun dips beneath the horizon.
Somewhere between the cobbled streets and her soft laughter, I forget our arrangement was intended to be temporary.
I’m under her spell, and the thing is, I’ve no intention of breaking it.