“I can’t believe my eyes. Look at you. You’re an angel.”
I held out my skirt and let it fall, showcasing the beautiful drape of it against my legs. Nick made my heart stop as he climbed the stairs and took my hand.
“Let me show you something,” he said, guiding me back up to the first floor. We went down the long red-carpeted hallway, past doors I had never entered, and turned right. We entered a room at the end of a dark passageway.
It was far too dark to see at first. Then soft beamsof daylight flooded in as Nick opened up the shutters. I gazed around in wonder to see a library wink to life before my eyes; a two-storey library with elaborate mahogany bookcases wall-to-wall, and a short spiral staircase with a gold bannister to take me to the next floor.
“How many books are there?” I asked breathlessly.
“Thousands, collected over decades. They all need to be treated regularly to ensure they don’t degrade.” Nick came to my side, and put his hand at the small of my back, making my breathing falter. He pointed to the floor above the gold staircase. “Up there is our area of interest. Hundreds of books about anatomy, biology – well, the process, you know. I regularly update and restock them. This will be your study room when you start the course in January.”
“This...this whole room?”
Two floors to myself. A whole library.
“This whole room, Grace, just for you,” he said softly, as if knowing how much that would mean to me. “And me, from time to time, if you wouldn’t mind sharing.”
The little smile that teased the corners of his mouth momentarily made my heart flutter. I looked at his carved jaw, his stern brow, his slightly crooked nose, and no longer saw coldness or any hint of cruelty. My eyes fell on his lips, willing me to draw him closer to me, just to feel them against mine for a moment.
I felt emboldened by my new look. I imagined for a moment that I was somebody else.
I allowed my hand to reach out and touch his crow brooch, and then his silk tie, before moving up his lapel towardshis neck.
“Grace...” said Nick, his dark eyes watching my hand.
He took it suddenly, exposing my wrist, and paused. He looked at my pale skin, as if unsure whether to kiss it or bite into it. Some indecision made his brow wrinkle.
“I’m not a child, you know,” I said, my voice quivering. Every sensitive part of my body was alive, pulsing, aching, longing to be touched. The way he looked at me, the way he touched the small of my back...it was chaos to this secret part of me, this fire that had been ignited.
I felt Nick’s chin with my fingertips, his hand still holding my wrist. He turned his head, pausing. I could tell he was contemplating kissing them. The breath from his nostrils heated my palm. I let the pad of my thumb touch his lip, before he pulled my hand away entirely. He took me by the shoulders, staring down at our feet.
“But you are to me,” he said firmly. Though I detected a hint of regret in his tone, he’d said it. He couldn’t take it back now.
Tears prickled my eyes. I’d made a fool of myself. My shoulders began to shake as the shame crept over me.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I said. “I should never have – ”
“It’s all right,” he soothed, massaging my shoulders. “Think about the weekend. Think about Dorian, dashing sod that he is, and all the fun you’re going to have at the charity gig. He’s got lots of friends. He’ll look after you.”
“Not like you look after me,” I said solemnly. “I could never thank you enough.”
“You can thank me by doing your job, Grace, and by becoming the funeral director you were clearly born to be. That isallyou need to do. And if you change your mind, and want to leave here, you’re free to go. Free to go and bewhomever you choose to be. I don’t own you, and you owe me nothing.”
I could see a weight lifting from him. He’d been waiting to say this to me.
“You will have my loyalty for all of my life, Nick,” I said, forcing him to meet my eyes. I looked at him earnestly, knowing I meant it with all of my heart. Fool or no fool, he had me.
“You don’t need to say that,” he replied.
But there was something I desperately needed to say. A question I needed to be answered.
“Are you doing this because...because I look like her?”
Nick closed his eyes, as if I’d said something painful.
“No,” he said firmly, with an edge to his voice that told me he was battling some emotion. “It’s because you look like you. Because you areyou, you demented girl.”
I laughed, and Nick smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. I looped my arm through his, and walked with him around the library. He guided and pointed and described the room’s history, how grateful he’d been when it was spared in the fire. In a small nook beneath the stairs, he showed me his record collection and a record player that used to be his birth-mother’s.
