“You are also invited, the both of you,” Milton said, gesturing to James and Graham. “It should be a rather large affair.”
“I’m afraid I will not be in Glasgow,” Graham said, as he patted James on the back. “But I’m sure the good doctor would be thrilled to attend.”
James glared at Graham who was smirking, pleased with himself for some reason.
“Of course,” James said, his entire manner stiff. “Good day, Mr. Milton.”
“Hm? Oh yes, I was leaving,” he said, turning back to Grace and Arabella. He bowed. “It was a pleasure, ladies.”
Arabella blushed, covering her smile with her face while Grace curtsied. For some reason, the simple curtsy was enough to tip James back into bad spirits, when suddenly Grace’s hand was on his cheekbone, pressing the tender skin ever so slightly, in front of Graham and Arabella.
“Dr. Hall, what’s happened?” she asked, worried. “Your face is swollen. And there seems to be broken blood vessels all along your eye.”
“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Graham said, as James stared down into Grace’s concerned eyes. “He just went a couple of rounds at the club.”
“You were fighting?”
“Boxing,” he said, as he raised his hand to gently pull hers away.
“That’s a dangerous activity.”
“I am aware of it,” he said as he forced himself to release her hand. “But one I unfortunately find invigorating.”
“You should put a poultice on that.”
“I will.”
“Soon,” she insisted.
James glanced at the others, who each seemed to be watching them with varying levels of interest. Nodding, he took a step back.
“I believe you are correct, Miss Sharpe. I shall do so now. Graham?” he said, shaking his hand. “It was good to see you.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes. Good day, Miss Scott,” he paused. “Miss Sharpe.”
“Good day,” she said softly, almost sorry as he left.
James had decided that being in her home was not a smart move. If he was to think clearly, he needed to be out of herpresence and in the short time it took him to reach his own house, he had decided to leave Grace alone.
Exhausted from the day, James took a bath once he returned home and fell asleep in his bed, having no energy or desire to eat or stay awake. After a short, fitful sleep, he woke up in the dark, wide awake. It was his own fault, he knew, but as he lay on his back, staring up into the darkness, he questioned the very restless feeling that seemed his constant companion these last few days.
There was one thing he thought of that he could do that would send him back to sleep and though social constructs might label him a vagrant for such behavior, he was a man of science. That, and the way the memory of Grace’s kiss haunted him was too much.
Eyes closed, her image appeared instantly, honey-colored eyes wide and eager, mouth barely open, just as it had been in the carriage. James’s hand moved down his abdomen, gripping the length of himself in his large hand. He squeezed tight at first, almost as a penance, before the picture in his mind shifted. He imagined Grace in a short-sleeve muslin nightgown, one that was oversized so that it could be removed with ease. His breath hitched as the illusion of her lifted her shoulder, pulling her one arm up over the collar, followed by the other as it slipped low, revealing what he had only felt.
His brow pinched, the fantasy lacking, but he was too desperate, too in need. God, what he wouldn’t do to have her in his bed. He flexed his other hand, wanting to run his fingers through her hair, to smell the mint that seemed to linger in every room after she left. He hadn’t been able to drink mint tea in weeks now, having become semi-hard at only the scent of it.
His hand pumped, up and down, faster, squeezing just so every few seconds as he edged his pleasure as his breath became ragged. He imagined that it was her hand on him, sat next to himin bed, and when his mind dared to picture her lowering herself over his lap, he tensed as the image of her in his mind blurred and he spent himself with a final moan, gasping as he did.
Once James’s heart rate finally subsided, a wave of guilt washed over him as he rolled off the bed to clean himself up. Man of science he might be, but he was only a man. As he walked to the water table that was near the window, he glanced up to see Grace, in her own window, staring in his direction.
James froze, momentarily worried that he was visible, but as his room was pitch black and the night was dark, he realized she couldn’t see him, even though she was staring right in his direction. In the next moment, she turned away and soon after the warm glow dimmed and James was left wondering what had possessed her to gaze in his direction.
It was many minutes later that he finally turned away and continued a restless night’s sleep.
Chapter Twelve
