“I’m just a woman who lives with you. A woman you use. You could throw me away at any second,” I said,standing up from the bed.
I was wearing just a camisole beneath the raincoat, and some hastily thrown-on leggings, all of which hugged my figure. I was rounded and plumper than I’d ever been, well-nourished in every possible way since I’d met Nick. The thought that it was all a ruse just to use my body was unbearable.
“Get back on the bed, Grace,” said Nick.
“Admit it. Admit that it’s all I am to you. An employee you can sleep with.”
“I’ll admit it’s a pretty big perk,” said Nick. “But I thought that counted for both of us.”
He lunged at me suddenly, throwing me down on the bed and trapping me beneath his weight.
I tore at his hair and resisted him, but he pinned me, both arms above my head, spearing me between the legs with his hardness. When he kissed me, I groaned, unable to fight what my body wanted and needed. When he tugged down my leggings and flipped me onto my front, I gripped the embroidered quilt and closed my eyes, pulsing in anticipation, whimpering with need.
Nick filled me in one aggressive shove, making me cry out, and bucked against me hard until the antique wooden bedstead creaked.
His anger fuelled every thrust, his fingers laced with mine, still pinning me.
I cried into the sheets as he spread my legs further apart, and the fabric caught the most sensitive part of me on every pump of his hips. Soon my whimpers turned to moans and then cries, until I climbed to the top of the hill and fell over, shattering into thousands of pieces. Whitespores danced behind my eyes as I rode out wave after wave, pinned by his weight, unable to feel anything but the pleasure and him.
Nick held my hips and released on a final thrust, grinding me into the bed.
When he turned me over and kissed me with just as much violence, I knew he wasn’t finished. He spent another hour teaching me, using me, until we were panting and sleepy. Finally Nick kissed me slowly and deliberately, his tongue making love with mine.
“You’re mine. Don’t ever doubt that you’re mine,” he said, as if in warning, yet with a hint of his own desperation. “And don’t let another man touch you like that ever again.”
I ran a hand down his hard abdomen and stroked between his legs, teasing out his hardness, until he closed his eyes.
“You’re asking me to be content with this – with nobody respecting me, least of all you, because I’m your apprentice. I’m little more than your mistress,” I said.
At that particular word,mistress, Nick’s eyes shot open.
“That’s not true, not even remotely,” he said, facing me. “Why are you using that word?”
“Because that’s how I feel,” I said, tears brimming and spilling over onto my cheeks. “I lay in a room which isn’t mine, surrounded by another woman’s things – all her trinkets from the past – and then the man who was supposed to marry her uses me, my body, in place of hers.”
“Oh Grace,” said Nick, covering his face with his hand. “Oh my goodness, Grace.”
“I’m not yours,” I said, sobbing against his chest. “Idon’t know who I am.”
Nick folded me into his arms, rocking me, whispering reassurances to me that I wouldn’t hear, until he said something very particular. Words I could have heard all the way from the moon.
“Be my wife, Grace,” he said, stroking me. “Marry me.”
I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding with alarm.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I said, feeling suddenly vulnerable and small. “Don’thumiliate me.”
“I mean it with all of my heart,” he said, getting up from the bed.
He went to the dresser against the far wall and opened a wooden box inside it. He was still naked, and I enjoyed the view of his firm, strong physique. He took something out which glimmered. He closed the dresser and returned to me, presenting it between his thumb and forefinger.
My heart stopped. The breath caught in my throat. Suddenly I forgot every grievance I had with him, even the strange incident in the church.
“This was my grandmother’s ring. She was a lovely, wonderful woman who made me happy. She would have taken me in if only she could, but she was too old, and too sick herself. She died only a few years after I came to Crowthorne House,” said Nick, turning the ring so it glinted in the light.
“And it’s never been anyone else’s?” I asked, as tears streamed down my face. “You know what I’m really asking you, don’t you?”
Nick smiled softly. “It was never her engagement ring, no. And as for your room, we can re-decorate the lot and make it look however you like. You can move up here withme, and we’ll stay in my bed, if you prefer.”
