“What did he do to you?” My heart throbbed, a knot tightening in my belly, to thinkanyonehad hurt Nick, let alone his adoptive brother.
“Don’t make me say it, Grace. I won’t say it.” Nick’s voice suddenly rose louder from his chest. He drew me back into his arms, soothing me, as tears flooded my eyes. He whispered that he was sorry into my hair.
“I didn’t miss my father either, when he died,” I said, in barely a whisper. “And I was glad when it happened. He left me with shame, too. I was humiliated. Mother knew.”
Nick’s hand was shaking as he brought it to my face and stroked me, as if I was made of something precious that could break.
“You’re not in the Dales any more. You needn’t ever return. You could sell that place, if you wanted to. Invest the money. Stay here forever,” said Nick, as if that could solve everything. As if he wanted to have the answer and gift it to me, wrapped in a bow.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted nothing more in the whole world.
I kissed him so passionately, wishing I could sink inside of him, meld my soul with his.
“Heather House should be condemned,” I said. “I couldnever sell it. Nobody would have it, except a developer, perhaps,” I said, remembering it all too well for the cold, dilapidated shell that it was, with a tree collapsed inside a broken window. It was tempting to describe the house as lifeless, but that wouldn’t be true. Things lived in it. The house breathed, screamed, despaired. It sucked the life of everyone and every thing in its vicinity, just to sustain itself.
“My contractors are in the final stages of the repairs,” said Nick, as casually as if he was commenting on the weather. “It’ll be fit for habitation and sale in no time at all, if that’s what you choose to do.”
I glanced up at him, disbelieving. “You fixed it? You really fixed the house?”
“I told you I would, and I did,” he said, running his fingers through a length of my hair. “Now it’s up to you to decide how to proceed. If you want to go home – ”
“I am home,” I said suddenly, without thinking. I wished I could have held the words back, but they were true. I couldn’t imagine anything tearing me away from Crowthorne House now.
Nick pressed a kiss against my temple, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile.
“People will tell us that we’re wrong, Grace. Do you know that? I’m far too old for you. There’s an obvious power imbalance.” He shook his head, letting out a tired sigh. “You’re so very young. I’m battling with my desire for you all the time, knowing you deserve better. I should never have dared touch you.”
“But I want you to touch me. I wanteverythingwith you,” I said.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting my words sink in, like he wanted to savour them.
“My reputation is poor in certain circles. There are people who have it in for me, purely and simply, because of what they believe about the fire. A relationship with my very young apprentice might just be the shovel that buries me,” said Nick.
I shook my head, not understanding how our difference in age could be considered so wrong.
“But it’s legal. We’re not breaking any rules,” I said.
“You should be dating men your own age, like Dorian,” he said, his eyes looking away and into a far corner of the orangery. “But it was harder to see you with another man than it was to resist you, and so I’ve failed, miserably. We’ll have to tread carefully, Grace. Don’t tell a soul until we’re ready. Understand?”
I didn’t understand, not really. But I trusted Nick. He knew what was best for me, for the same reasons that made our relationship so wrong in his eyes. Because he was older. Because he had power over me.
But I liked that.
Chapter Twelve
Nicholas
The weeks flew by, wrapped as we were in our new reverie state. We were enchanted by one another, our love made all the more precious by its secrecy.
Grace had no desire to return to Heather House, or to even look at pictures of the renovations, and I was glad of it. Privately, deeply, glad of it. So long as Grace was willing, staying with me at Crowthorne House out of desire, she needn’t know about my true possessiveness of her. The fatherly ways I coddled her and built her up, knowing all the time that my care for her would grow steadily into an obsession.
Just like it did with Louisa, who had as many strange and curious ways about her as Grace.
But for as long as it was a welcome one, I would take care of Grace...and I didn’t need to think of the alternative. Of what I’d do, and what loathsome creature I might transform into, if Grace ever wanted to leave here.
I saw her fascination with death, plain on her face. The mesmerising look in her eyes when we brought the bodies in. Grace enjoyed death. I would have no difficultyin providing her with more of those wondrous moments in a funeral home, where she could explore to her heart’s desire, feeding her enjoyment of caring for the dead. Where else could she find such an opportunity, without fear of judgement or interference?
I would make love to Grace in the night, when the house was quiet and Margaret was downstairs in her rooms, and I would steal away in the early morning, back to my attic room, before she brought up the breakfast. I ensured Grace got a good night’s sleep, no matter how she pleaded for me to keep loving her, and no matter how difficult I found it to stop. She needed her strength to complete her tasks with me during the day, learning the skills that this profession required, and it was my job to ensure she could do it.
