Blinded by Grace: Book Five of the Cotillion Ball series (Crimson Romance) (16 page)

Halwyn’s lopsided grin appeared. “If you’ll hand the chamber pot to me, I’ll take it from there.” He reached out his hand to her.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Grace stumbled over her words as she thrust the bucket at him. The lid popped off the pot and went rolling across the floor, and she chased after it. The noise of the enamel hitting the wood floor was bad enough, but the fact it rolled on its edge across the floorboards was even worse. Grace finally retrieved it and glanced up at him, her cheeks ablaze. “Sorry again.”

His smile grew wider, greatly amused by her antics, which only made things worse. She set the chamber pot on top of the counterpane, replaced the lid, and stood stiffly beside the bed.

Halwyn glanced at her. “Grace, did I mention this was rather urgent?” His hand held hers and he brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a gentle kiss. “Why don’t you see about getting a pot of tea for me while I take care of this?”

Grace pulled her hand away from him, reluctantly, and took a step back from the bed, running her hand over her hair. “Yes, that’s a grand idea. Take your time, Halwyn.”

“And, Grace, could you play the pianoforte for me this afternoon? I’ve been told music helps the healing process. Even Percy Bysshe Shelley says music is ‘where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild,’ which certainly describes my scrambled brain right now.”

“Certainly. Whatever you want.” She rushed from the room, her cheeks aflame. She held her hands to her face, hoping to tamp down the redness she was certain was apparent, as she hurried down four flights of stairs to the kitchen.

As she waited for Cook to prepare the tea, she sat at the table in the big, warm, and comfortable kitchen with the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air. She ran a finger over the knuckles on her hand, where Halwyn’s lips had just been. The heat from his touch rivaled the warmth in her cheeks. How could a simple touch evoke such a response, and open a torrent of emotion within her?

This was wrong. So wrong. To play with Halwyn’s feelings as she was doing was tantamount to torture. He only thought he cared for her, because he had been told of their engagement. But he couldn’t remember the real reason for their decision to wed, and it was not right to let him think they actually cared for each other. No, correct that. She was in love with him, and had been for seven long years. She held on to every glance, every kindness, every word he had cast her way during those years. Without even being aware of her, beyond knowing she was friends with his sisters, he managed to keep her company at night, as she would trot out each conversation, each time he noticed her, and relive in detail every encounter. He had no idea she had feelings for him. He was merely being the nice, gentle, helpful soul that he had always been.

She was so envious of the Fitzpatrick siblings, who had each other to entertain themselves with, while she was an only child. And very much alone, now that her father—who’d adored her—was gone.

She would have to reveal to Halwyn the true details of their relationship soon. She didn’t feel right about continuing the charade. Perhaps when she delivered his tea to him, she would also explain about their contrived marriage. Or perhaps tomorrow.

The hours in the sick room fell into a lovely monotony, for Grace anyway. Halwyn was restless, as any able-bodied man would be, but Grace was enjoying every secret minute of solitude with him. If she let her thoughts drift, she could picture this scene happening time and again if they were truly husband and wife. When he slept, which was often because of the morphine, she settled in the chair next to his bed and stared at his face, memorizing every feature, every line, every expression. Pain was evident, even with the medicine, and he moaned softly whenever he tried to turn to one side or the other.

She indulged in her fantasy that Halwyn’s moans were not of pain, but rather of desire, for her. She could feel her corresponding excitement for him, and allowed her mind to wallow in the picture she was creating. It might be because of the medicine, or their forced confinement, but Halwyn seemed to be paying considerable attention to her body. Her breasts in particular. She was aware some men were drawn to a woman’s breasts, or their backsides, but she had never experienced such a male side of Halwyn’s personality before. Every time his eyes flitted over her bosom, her nipples grew hard under his gaze. She could only imagine what the response would be should he actually touch her. Or taste her flesh. Her moans matched Halwyn’s as she continued with her tortured thoughts. She placed a hand over her mouth, to quiet herself.

She was playing a dangerous game. When, and if, his memory returned, he would surely hate her for not letting him know the truth about their relationship. She had hoped to gain his love sometime during their year of marriage, but she was also well aware she was currently far from her goal. Halwyn was helping her out of a sticky situation, and doing nothing more for her than he would have done for any of his sisters. In fact, he lumped her into his memory with his twin sisters. He was not even close to being in love with her, despite what his mother believed.

This was foolishness, and she’d best clear her mind of any story other than the truth. It might further confuse him to tell him what their relationship truly was while he was still so heavily medicated, so she’d give herself a few more days to indulge. But once he began to feel better, and tapered off the pain medicine so his mind wouldn’t be so fuzzy, she’d tell all. She’d have to.

Charlotte crept into the room on tiptoes, waving to Grace.

“How’s our patient doing?” she whispered as she ran her hand over Halwyn’s brow.

“He had a bad night, but took some medicine an hour ago, so he’s sleeping well now.”

“Sleep is the best thing for him right now.” Charlotte straightened up and glanced at Grace. “How are you holding up?”

“Let’s go into my room and chat for a moment, shall we?”

The pair adjourned to the small bedroom next to Halwyn’s, leaving the door ajar.

“I have the feeling you want to talk about something important. Am I right, Grace?”

“Yes, ma’am. As soon as Halwyn can think straight, without the medicine clogging his brain, I think I must tell him the truth.”

“Has his memory returned at all?”

“No, not yet, and his brain is very fuzzy from the medicine.”

“Well then, dear, you’d best not to clog things up further. Let him believe what he will until he’s totally off the medicine. Then you can tell him anything you want.” Charlotte reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Grace’s ear. “You’re doing a splendid job of being a nurse to him, and I’m so grateful. All those stairs up and down between here and the kitchen would make my knees ache. I’m glad you’re here to do the running, with your young body. To show my appreciation, I’ve ordered a footbath for you with Epsom salts. The maid should arrive with the water shortly.”

Tears of gratitude filled Grace’s eyes. “No one has cared about my well-being since my father died, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I’m so thankful for you.”

Charlotte hugged her briefly and smoothed her hair. “You are one of my own, dear. We will always care for you. No harm can befall you now, with the strength of the Fitzpatricks behind you.”

Grace couldn’t contain the trickle of dread shimmying down her spine. She somehow doubted even the Fitzpatick’s reputation could contain the wrath of Simon for long.

• • •

Halwyn woke with a start from his tortured sleep. His mind was a haze, filled with images of Grace. Of holding her close as the two had danced, so close her breasts grazed his chest. Of him sliding a hand down her body and cupping one of those luscious breasts, feeling its weight in his palm. Of catching a glimpse of her naked ankle as she changed into her evening attire.

Surely, these were dreams and not his reality. He would remember such important occasions, head wound or not. Wouldn’t he?

He rubbed his eyes and took deep breaths, willing his heart to stop racing and his mind to slow down. As his body began to calm, he glanced around the room. He was alone. Where was Grace? The thought of her leaving his side reinforced the images from his dreams. When had he become so dependent on her? To have the day not be complete without seeing her smile? To need to touch her, kiss her? He groaned as, even though his heart had stopped racing, another part of his anatomy began to throb. He wanted to touch far more than Grace’s hand, or give her a gentle kiss on the lips. He only wished he could remember how far they had taken things before his fall. Surely he’d fondled her, hadn’t he? Could his mind be making up the sensation of his hand encircling her breast, making her gasp in pleasure at his touch? This madness had to stop.

But where was she? Grace hadn’t left his side in days, and he wanted—no, he needed—to see her right now. He yanked the bell off the table near his bed and gave the blasted thing a violent shake.

He caught wind of her favorite phrase—blast and damn!—and water sloshing. A few seconds later, she appeared at the doorway to his room, hastily wiping her hands on a towel.

“I’m sorry, Halwyn. I thought you’d sleep longer. What can I get you?”

He gazed at her. The doorway framed her, creating a lovely picture. Her hair was a bit disheveled, and she must have just woken, since she was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. His gaze wandered down her body, taking in her firm, high bosom which had been in his thoughts as he had woken up, moving on to her tiny waist, her swell of hips, and her legs, which went on for days. His perusal ended at her feet, which were bare. A trail of damp footprints marked her entrance into the room. A fleeting image of a naked ankle crept out from the shadows surrounding his fuzzy brain. Had he seen her nude feet before? Surely he would have remembered the lovely arch which was now on display. He longed to reach out and run his finger over the curve of it. Or to kiss her feet. His wayward thoughts had him momentarily tongue-tied.

He cleared his throat. “What you can get me is some company. I’m bored. Come sit with me and let’s talk.”

She smoothed her skirt, and then tried to bring her hair into some semblance of order. “Oh. All right, Halwyn, I’ll sit with you.” She ran her hand over her disheveled hair again as she sat at the edge of the bed, the towel in her lap.

He reached out and stilled her hand. “Have I ever seen you with your hair down before?”

“Of course you have. When I played here with your sisters years ago, we all wore our hair down.”

“But you were much younger then. What about now? Is your hair still curly? I remember ringlets all over your head.”

Grace inhaled a deep breath. “You remember my ringlets?” she whispered.

“Yes, and I insist on seeing your curls again. It’s a request from a very ill man, so you can’t possibly refuse me.” He moved to take the pins from her hair, which cascaded in waves of black silk over her shoulders. He ran his hand through her locks. “Soft. Just as the rest of you.” He tugged on her hair to pull her closer. His mouth covered hers just as she opened her mouth to express surprise. His tongue marched through the small opening as if he was a general leading his troops into battle. And what a battle! Their tongues dueled and parried with each other, giving, retreating. He pulled her closer. Her face was above his now, her breasts grazing his chest as she sank over him. Just as he had dreamed. His hands wove into her curls as he explored every inch of her mouth. Finally, he retreated, only to capture her lush lower lip and tease it to even fuller plumpness. She placed a hand on either side of his body and pulled herself up.

“My goodness, Halwyn. Your nap certainly made you feisty.” She backed off and moved to the chair alongside his bed.

He grinned at her. “You may say feisty. I say I’m being dutiful to my beloved. Now, tell me, why are you without shoes?”

She gasped as she pulled her feet under her skirt. “Your mother was kind enough to order a footbath for me. She was afraid all my trips up and down the stairs were taking a toll on my feet.”

“And are you better now?”

“Yes, thank you. I should go put my shoes back on now. If you don’t need anything else.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up at her remark. “There is one more thing … ” He reached over and removed the towel from her hands before he took hold of her ankle, bringing one foot up to the top of the bed. “You have been working awfully hard on my behalf. The least I can do is dry your feet for you.” He began by gently rubbing her sole, toes, and ankle with the cloth. After a sharp intake of her breath, she exhaled slowly, in a small hiss of pleasure. He removed the towel and ran his thumb lightly over her instep. “You have a truly lovely arch, Grace.” He brought her clean foot to his mouth and kissed it. Just as he had been dreaming of doing.

She lowered her foot to the floor slowly and, at his insistence, lifted the other for him to administer to as well.

“I think my arches are my best feature, and it’s a shame they are almost always covered by my shoes.”

“Ah, but now I am aware of what’s hidden beneath the shoes, so I can take pleasure in the knowledge of the graceful arch of your foot, which no other man will ever see. But I must disagree. You have other assets much more fine than your feet.”

She smiled, a truly beautiful smile, tinged with a bit of sadness, he thought, and wondered why. “What other assets do you think are better than my feet?”

He couldn’t help himself. His gaze fell to her breasts. “Those. They fascinate me.”

She stood suddenly, as she gasped in surprise. “You shouldn’t say such things, Halwyn.”

“I apologize. Will you accept the excuse of the medicine loosening my tongue?”

She stood silently, wringing her hands. He reached out and took hold of one.

“I would never intentionally say anything to upset you, Grace.”

She locked her gaze on him. “Yes, I’ll accept your apology. But we must take precautions not to let things get so out of hand again.”

He broke eye contact and let his gaze roam to her feet again as a wry smile graced his lips. “Then I suggest you put some shoes on. Your feet are very tempting.”