He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Until Darius confided certain facts to me I was beginning to have my own doubts,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Since that time I have been bound by a promise of silence.’
‘It is a promise you have kept, Lucian,’ Grace assured him. ‘I have merely spoken my thoughts and conjectures out loud. You have remained the soul of discretion.’ She gave a slow, enigmatic smile. ‘I believe the time has now come for us to discuss your other, more recent bedtime dreams…?’
Lucian’s gaze sharpened as he looked at her warily. ‘I am not sure—’
‘I am.’ Grace moved—so close to him now that Lucian could smell her perfume and see the languorous darkness of her eyes as she looked up at him. ‘I am very sure, Lucian.’
Lucian could feel the pounding of his heart, the heightened awareness he experienced whenever Grace was anywhere near, the need to touch her…
‘Shall we go inside the coach-house, Lucian?’ she prompted huskily at his silence. ‘I am curious to see if the effects of being in a stationary carriage will be as satisfying as in a moving one.’
Lucian found himself gritting his teeth once more at the image she provoked. ‘Grace, I cannot promise that you will still be chaste if and when I allow you to leave the carriage!’
‘My dear, that is my dearest hope…’ Grace’s laugh was husky as she gave him one last inviting glance, before moving to open the door of the coach-house herself, stepping inside to be consumed by the darkness within.
Lucian stared after her. Grace knew the truth of him now. The absolutely true self of him. Yet she was not filled with the disgust towards him that he had expected. And dreaded. Instead there had been invitation in her eyes.
It was an invitation Lucian had no power left to resist…
Chapter Seventeen
The coach-house was in darkness when Lucian entered. Only the paleness of Grace’s gown was visible to him as she stood a short distance away.
‘Grace—?’
‘Close the door, Lucian,’ she instructed softly.
‘Grace—’
‘Do you not want to be alone with me, Lucian?’
Not want to be alone with her! Lucian wanted to make love to Grace so badly even his teeth ached with the wanting! Grace knew it, too, and that knowledge was in the soft teasing of her voice.
Lucian wished he could see her, that he could read the expression in her eyes.
‘I will light a lamp.’
He moved to do so, hearing the slight rustle of Grace’s gown behind him as the coach-house became shadowed in a soft golden hue. Lucian’s breath caught in his throat as he turned to find Grace standing behind him, dressed only in her shift, her gown a soft bundle at her slippered feet.
‘Grace, there is something I must say—’
‘I believe we have talked enough for one evening,’ she teased, as she lifted her hands and removed the pins from her hair so that it fell in an ebony cascade about the bareness of her shoulders.
Lucian couldn’t think straight with Grace looking so sensually alluring. ‘This I have to say—’ He groaned low in his throat as Grace stepped even closer, her breasts brushing against him. ‘Grace, it has never been my intention to fall in love with any woman—’
‘I do not recall having asked for your love,’ she said.
Lucian reached out to grasp Grace’s shoulders and hold her away from him whilst he still had the strength to do so, his eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. ‘How could I ever ask for any woman to love me when I knew that to do so might result in her being awoken one night by my shouts of protest at the dreams that haunt me?’
‘I consider those dreams to be your wounds of war, Lucian.’ Grace put silencing fingertips over his lips. ‘The fact that they have wounded your heart rather than your physical person does not make them any less hard to endure. My dear, they are a part of you, are the very reason that you have tried to keep all emotion from your life, are they not…?’
He frowned slightly. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged tautly.
Grace nodded. ‘Remaining aloof and detached even from the family you love so dearly?’