Rapture?
Yes, rapture so beguiling she’d wanted to breathe it, live it eternally—beyond the end of time. That—the sensation of losing herself, of becoming something, someone other than herself—thatterrified her to tears. To say nothing of the fact that the man causing her rapture was not someone she could spend her life with.
She’d stepped back, breaking the kiss and the thralling ecstasy. Tried, while Luc had probed for reasons, to mask her fear with simple denials, and finally insisted on going home.
Now she was here, but it did not feel like home. Grace had labored for months to makeSweet Dreamshers, to create a home. Despite the various intrusions and mystifying events, she’d believed she’d succeeded.
She paced, chewing on her bottom lip.
Success or not,Sweet Dreamswasn’t home. Her soul whispered that fact, until it was yelling in her ears.
Nor was Boston, or any other place she could think of living. Home was Luc, and something more, something beyond. Like a word she knew but could not recall.
A word she needed. A word that would explain everything.
Whatever that word was, whatever the home was that it would explain, it lay just beyond her reach. It was maddening.
It was entirely Lucien Flynn’s fault.
Why couldn’t he have just left me alone?Why couldn’t he just live his cursed life and not involve me?
If he’d let her be, she’d never have fallen in love with him.
No!
Deny it as much as she wanted, it was true.
Grace loved a phantom, a man only half real. The ability to love, murdered when she’d been betrayed in Boston, had somehow found its way into Lucien Flynn’s keeping.
She mustn’t ever be that vulnerable, that weak again.
She would not survive.
I was right to be frightened. Luc is a danger to me.
Grace needed to protect herself.
As the idea solidified, the nervous energy that’d sustained her fled. Panic was exhausting. Still, she went through the motions of preparing for bed, finding some small comfort in the routine. Grace even wound the mechanism of the silver keepsake box. She lay back, turned onto her side, hugged her pillow and dreamed.
Grainne walked down the lane; foreboding hung in her heart like a looming storm waiting. Lucien waited for her under the rowan tree by the brochan beag. Brilliant green hills flanked either side of her path. She rounded a curve, and the stream came into view. In the distance lay a beach where the surf ebbed and flowed. Farther distant were the black boiling clouds of a squall line. She was a farmer’s daughter, but many of her neighbors and friends were fisher folk. So, she knew all the boats would be racing for shore. She, too, had to be home before the storm, so they had very little time. Turning away from the sea, Grainne spotted her beloved standing between the brochan and the ancient tree. She prayed he’d understand, but her heart said he wouldn’t. Just as she knew he would do what she asked. He loved her nearly as much as she loved him, and she was about to break both their hearts.
Too soon, she stood before Lucien Flynn.
He opened his arms wide, inviting her to the shelter and warmth of a treasured embrace. Grainne shook her head and choked back tears. “’Tis sorry, I am, Luc. I canna marry you.”
The anguish on his face spilled her tears.
“Why, darling, Grainne? I love you. You love me. Why can we not marry?” Desperation tightened his voice.
“Because you’re a duke’s son, and I’m a crofter’s daughter.” She spoke with a calm she did not feel. She had to be reasonable, matter of fact even, or Luc would never give her up, and he must, for both their sakes.
“Nonsense.” He smiled, took her hand, and tugged her closer. “I am a duke’s illegitimate, second son. A bastard. My marriage is of no import to the Margris succession.”
“And what of your own title and lands? You are Baron Kilmore, lord of McCullen Grove. Bastard or not, a crofter’s daughter is no fit bride for you.” she whispered, still struggling for calm and reason. The storm winds kicked up.
“Title and lands come to me from my mother, and Margris has no say in them.”
She straightened a bit within his embrace. “We both know he does. He’s your guardian until you are five and twenty.”
