Gray’s smile softened. “Thank you, Celia. Your response shows you to have more character than I ever gave you credit for.”
Celia blushed and dipped her head. “You said you have two purposes for coming to call. What is the second?”
Gray looked passed her again and speared Rosalinde with a look. She knew the look. She had been seeing it on his face since the first moment she met him at the inn weeks before. The look that spoke of desire she had never expected. The look that spoke of a connection they had both claimed was stolen, and yet felt so much like home to her.
A look that stirred the love she felt for him.
“I came to talk to Rosalinde,” he said softly. “Will you come with me?”
Rosalinde swallowed hard. She knew what a precarious position she was currently in. She loved him, but he did not feel the same. With all the high emotion of the day, she would likely give him anything he asked for. She would want to give it. But later, she might regret it.
Later, there would be consequences.
“I should stay with Celia,” she whispered.
Celia shot her an incredulous look. “Rosalinde, don’t use me as a shield, for heaven’s sake. After today, I might just want a lovely bath and a bit of time alone to ponder my next step. So please, go with Gray. I’m fine.”
Rosalinde sighed. Gray had a half-smile on his face, almost amused when confronted by her reticence. But Celia had taken away her only excuse, so she nodded.
“Of course, Gray. I’d be happy to speak to you.”
She passed by her sister, shooting her a glare, and stepped into the hallway with him. As the door closed behind them, he reached for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. Electric awareness shot up her hand at the act, which was so intimate and so meaningful. Far more than if he had merely taken her arm.
He guided her up the hallway toward the family wing of the house, and when he stopped at his door, she hesitated. “Your room?”
He nodded while he opened it and waved her in. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to speak to you. What I have to say requires privacy. Downstairs everyone is gathered for supper now, but soon enough they’ll be roaming the halls again, some of them looking for more gossip about today than they already have. My rooms are the safest place if we don’t want to be interrupted.”
She shook her head. If this was a game, he was the expert at it. She had no words, no recourse, no retort. Partly because she was exhausted and arguing would take too much energy. Partly because she wanted so much to be alone with him, to be comforted by him and his searing touch.
She entered the chamber without further argument and caught her breath. He had prepared for her. There were candles lit across the room and a plate with fruit and cheese next to an opened bottle of wine on a table before the settee.
“Gray?” she murmured.
“I thought you might not eat whatever was sent to your rooms,” he explained. “And so I first want to tempt you to have a bit of sustenance. Unless your throat hurts too much?”
He asked the last in a strained tone. She lifted her hand to her neck, feeling the bruises there. He frowned at the act.
“It only hurts a little,” she reassured him.
“I should have positioned myself to better protect you,” he said as he led her to the settee. They took their place together. “I could have kept that bastard from getting his hands on you at all.”
She bent her head. “No one could have guessed he would become so violent,” she whispered. “You are not to blame.”
He pressed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “And neither are you.”
When he said the words like that, she almost believed him. With a sigh, she leaned into him to rest her head on his chest, shivering as his arms came around her. He held her like that for a long time, wordlessly smoothing his hand over her hair. She was glad he didn’t speak. An endless string of platitudes would do nothing to change what had already happened. His comfort was enough.
“I thought you would hate me when I began my speech,” she murmured against his coat when she felt strong enough. “I ruined your plans, after all.”
He made a low rumbling sound in his chest and his arms held tighter. “They weren’t very good plans, Rosalinde. My only good plan, in fact, was you.”
“Me?” she repeated, drawing back to look at him. His dark gaze was intent on her face, and when he was so close it felt like he could see all the way through her. She’d never known a man who could do that. She’d never known a man who wanted to. Even her husband hadn’t tried.
Gray traced her cheek with a fingertip. “Approaching you at the inn that night. Making love to you, there and here. Those were my best plans ever.”
His face was moving closer, and it felt like the air had been sucked from her room—hell, sucked from her very lungs. Something was happening here. Something she didn’t understand, couldn’t believe, wasn’t ready for.
“Gray?” she murmured, holding tighter to his arm for purchase, even though it was him who was spinning her out of control.
