Chapter 25
GRACE
“Hawkins!” Drasko called out. “Let us give the lady a ride.”
One of the men hopped up to Grace and bowed charmingly. A grin split his face. He dusted off the box inside the rail cart and offered her his hand. “My lady?”
She glanced at her husband. He nodded. Despite the hesitation, she let the man help her into the dirty cart and sat on the box, feeling like a fancy peacock. She laughed in surprise when he shouted, “Departing!” and pushed the cart down the rails, the other man helping him.
Like the wind, they carried her down the tracks and paused in the middle of nowhere until the gas lamp was lit.
She found herself in yet another large cave, with stacks and stacks of storage trunks on each side.
Her husband helped her out.
The two men grinned and bowed theatrically. “The most notorious ride in London, ma’am.”
She laughed with them, glancing at Drasko and his ghost of a smile.
“Something my men can do that I can’t,” he muttered.
“Which is?”
“Make my wife laugh.”
She blushed as she adjusted her hat and skirt.
The men were already walking farther down the tunnel, the scent of tobacco saturating the air behind them. And Grace was suddenly too aware of being next to Drasko, alone, in a place guarded by dozens of men. A secret, really, and she was in on it.
“I want to show you something,” Drasko said and walked over to a stack of storage trunks.
She took in the sight of him.
For the first time, she saw him not as the famous Drasko Mawr, with guards and carriages, people bowing and reporters gawking, the crowds parting to let him through and the noblemen cowering under his stern gaze—that was the Drasko Mawr that everyone knew.
This Drasko was different. Not the Diamond King but a humble man, among his workers, his hands dirty and his hair seductively tousled, the light of the gas lamps tinting his skin a golden shade and reflecting in his eyes.
Grace was still puzzled by the purpose of all this, the caves with thousands of diamonds hidden in them.
“Drasko,” she called out as he inspected the markings on the trunks.
“Drasko,” she said louder.
He unlatched the top trunk out of the stack, disregarding her.
“Drasko!” she insisted.
He turned around to look at her, a delightful boyish grin on his face. “Yes, darling?”
“What are you so happy about?” she scorned.
“I like the way you say my name.”
She rolled her eyes, blushing a little. “But this is smuggling, is it not?” She motioned to the trunks.
His eyes swept over her figure, then returned to her face—this gesture had become his habit, which made Grace self-aware.
She pursed her lips, enjoying it, nevertheless. “Did you not hear my question?”
“I heard genuine concern. Or was it curiosity?”
He was impossible. “But these are your diamonds.”
“Absolutely.”
“You are smuggling your own diamonds? Into the country that easily allows you to bring them legally?”
“Correct.”
She waited for the answer that didn’t come. “Are you going to explain?”
“Come here.” He beckoned her with two fingers, and she walked up, like an obedient wife.
His hands were on her waist again, turning her around until she faced the stack of trunks.
“Watch,” he whispered in her ear, the sound of it sending tingles down her body.
He pushed the lid of the top trunk open, and she inhaled sharply, wanting to shield her eyes from the blinding glitter.
The trunk was lined with simple cotton cloth and held the treasures worth a fortune. A trunk full of tiny diamonds, hundreds, thousands!
They sparkled in the lamplight. Their glistening flickers danced on the stone walls of the cave.
“Oh…” Grace exhaled in astonishment.
The scent spread around, that of spices and foreign lands. And there were dozens of such trunks in the stack. This was Treasure Island!
Drasko gently took her hand, removed her lace glove, finger by finger, and then pushed her hand into the diamonds.
The texture of tiny pebbles prickled her skin while the diamonds exploded in myriads of glistening lights.
“We don’t want to report everything that we bring into this country,” Drasko said. “Not even half of it.”
Grace tried to think of the right questions but was too distracted by the shimmering waves of diamonds, like sparkly water over her skin.
Even more so by Drasko’s hand still holding hers, guiding it, his fingers intertwining with hers in the sea of diamonds.
His other hand was still on her waist, holding her in place.
“Why?” she asked.
“The Wollendorf Consortium, for one.” He pulled her hand out, took a handful of diamonds, and poured them into her palm. “They are catching up and are the second biggest diamond mining company in the world. We mine forty times more than we sell, and they don’t know that.”
A tiny gasp of surprise left her.
His hand pushed hers into the diamonds again, both of them disappearing, his fingers caressing hers, so sensual it made her body hum.
She dared lift her face to look up at Drasko, meeting his eyes, like green diamonds, with specks of glittery reflections.
“Why don’t we sell them all?” he guessed her question.
“Because demand drives the prices.” His fingers played with hers, deep in the diamonds.
“Why don’t we report them? Because we don’t want anyone to know the true scale of our enterprise.
” He didn’t stop touching her. “Moreover,” he explained in a low husky voice, “if a diamond war broke out, and it would be bloody if it were to happen, we would have leverage by outselling the competition.”
“You don’t think your people pass on the information to your competition?”
“Clever girl.” He smiled and glanced at her lips. “Perhaps. But no one knows how much we truly have.”
“Except you.”
“And a few others.”
“But that is…” She didn’t want to so openly admire him, yet there was no doubt in what she was about to say. “You are truly an extraordinary man.”
“Did I receive a compliment from my wife?” He chuckled.
His face was only inches away from hers, a breath away, and she was afraid to breathe.
Something was happening. At last , she thought, then blushed, shameful from this anticipation. But, no, no, she wanted this, him . This cave had brought them closer than ever before.
“They are all yours, Grace, if you want them,” he said softly.
Not darling , but Grace —she’d noticed his change of words.
Darling was endearing, at times playful, but often bitter, sarcastic, and occasionally angry.
Grace was reserved for serious Drasko. Grace was for sad Drasko. Grace on his lips sounded intimate, and they hadn’t had any intimate moments yet.
“Why do you suppose I want diamonds?” she asked, adding, “Drasko?”
His face inched closer. His hand in the diamonds left hers and reached her face, tipping her chin, his eyes locked with hers.
“What do you want, Grace? Tell me, and I will give it to you.”
She didn’t know what to say or what it was that he asked. She was afraid to ruin this moment—she had done that before. She hadn’t yet learned to pick the right words around him.
“Anything but letting you go,” he said even quieter, the words that scared her instantly. No, she didn’t want that. She didn’t know when her thoughts had changed, but she didn’t want him to let her go.
She shook her head but didn’t answer, hoping he would tell her what he wanted. One thing she knew for certain was that she wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers.
His warm breath ghosted over her face. “Would it be so bad if we found out that we both want the same thing?”
And he kissed her.
It was a chaste kiss, their lips pressing together. The slick metal of his rings grazed her cheek as he cupped it, the touch of his big hand unusually gentle.
She felt the minuscule tug of him pulling away—no, she wanted more!—and she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, drawing him back into the kiss.
This kiss—oh, this kiss was different. The eagerness with which he came back for it. The gentle insistence of his lips. The sensual sweep of his tongue. The heatwave that ran through her as her tongue met his.
His arm around her tightened. The strokes of his tongue deepened in the ravishing invasion. This was a feeling unknown to her—being in the arms of a powerful man, the strength of his body so tangible that her own body grew weak.
Kissing had never felt so overwhelming. Her heart thrashed in her chest, wanting to leap out and join his. She was free-falling, felt weightless, and the only thing holding her on her feet was his arm around her waist.
She moaned embarrassingly loudly but was past caring. She prayed he didn’t stop, drowned in the revelation of how amazing he felt, how gentle he was, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck and holding her tightly against him.
Giggles right behind them broke them apart.
She blinked, dazed from kissing, wanted to protest and pull him back toward her.
But Drasko’s hands fell off her body. His gaze briefly met hers—a flicker of surprise from the intensity of what had just happened.
His gaze shifted to someone behind her. One step back, and the warmth of his body was gone.
“What did I tell you?” he reproached, annoyed.
Grace turned to see the boys, elbowing each other, peeking from behind the corner.
Fumbling, she brushed her skirt with her palms like she’d just done something scandalous.
The boys flashed brazen grins at her. “Would Missus have dinner with us?”
“No,” Drasko answered. “Not today.”
“Tsk.” They hung their heads low and disappeared into the darkness of the connecting tunnel.
Baffled, Grace looked at Drasko. “You have dinner with them?”
“Occasionally, yes.”
She waited for more. He didn’t explain.
She finally stared him down, butterflies in her stomach as he finally met her eyes. “Will you start telling me more about yourself? Or do I have to spy?”
And that handsome boyish smile was back on his face. “Is that what you want, Grace? To know more about me?”
“Part of it, yes. But for that, you’d have to spend more time at home.”
He cocked a brow, his eyes boring into her. “Is that what you want? Me at home?”
She held his gaze this time, nodded in confirmation, willed him to come closer and kiss her again.
“To learn more about me?” he baited her instead, that sneaky smile still on his lips and making her nervous.
“Part of it, yes.”
“And the other part?”
His smile grew mischievous, but he stuck his hands in his pockets, turned around, and studied the cave as if letting her summon her courage.
Only now did she notice how damp from sweat his white shirt was on his back, clinging to his skin, the dark tattoo visible through it. Rakshasa.
“Tell me something.” He turned around to face her again, his smile gone. “Does your music help you forget?”
“Forget what?” She licked her lips, disappointed at the change of topic.
“Anything. When you are sad, can it make you happy? When you are angry, can it make you kind? Does it help you erase painful memories?”
She shifted uneasily, thinking about her nightmares, about the years with her guardians. “Yes. We all have a weapon like this. Some work better than others.”
“I don’t have weapons, Grace. I would like to have your music.” There was a question in his eyes as if he were making another deal. “This”—he nodded toward the open trunk of diamonds—“doesn’t do it. It’s a trading coin.”
“But, all these diamonds, they can buy off so much pain. Others’ futures. Children’s education. You…” She wanted to bring his smile back. “You are not a king. You are a god, Drasko Mawr.”
A sudden change in his expression made his gaze almost haunted. His face was often a rigid mask. But his eyes—she had studied him lately, determined to learn what he felt or thought—they revealed a lot of what he was trying to hide inside him.
And now the light in his marvelous greens was waning.
Sadness? Drasko Mawr was sad?
No, no, that wasn’t it.
He blinked slowly, as if blinking away some distant memories, and there it was—her heart squeezed so hard at this revelation—Drasko Mawr was vulnerable.
But why?
Grace had wanted to please him yet had unknowingly pained him with her words. And she wanted to know what made this indestructible man lose his composure for even a second.
“A god…” he said bitterly, stepped back, and aimlessly looked around. “I don’t want to be a god. There is one thing a god can’t do that I would’ve given all these diamonds for.”
“And that is?”
“Bring loved ones back from the dead.”