Loving Grace (23 page)

“Grace.” He stood and assisted her up,
walking with his arm around her until they were in the car. He
drove home holding her hand, hearing her weeping. Her tears dried
as fast as they came, by the air rushing through the rolled down
window.

Grace hardly registered the walked into the
house and into the family room in the basement. She held onto him,
as he turned at the bottom of the dark stairs and held her tight,
secure, kissing her temple.

He let her go, only to lead her to the
sectional. Then to stretch out, on their sides, legs twined. He
cupped her face. There was only one dim light in the corner, but
she could see the emotion burning in his face.

“Do you feel me, hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just a man, Grace. A man who would live
anywhere, anyway, with you and our son. I’m a man who gets lonely
and scared and hurt, I cry too, Grace. I stand in crowds of people
and photographers, faceless crowds who give me what I thought I
needed because of my paintings. Nevertheless, when I go back to my
studio, to my cottage, and I sit alone with my wine and my
paintings, all of that fades into the silence. My bed and my body
and my heart. My mornings and nights, and my laughter and tears.
All of that. All of those mundane things like eating and sleeping,
and days when I am not working. Those are the longest hours, the
most empty ones Grace, because you aren’t there. And you, more than
anyone, know that man, care about that man, and love that man.”

Grace shuddered and closed her eyes.

“I’m going to make love to you, Grace. I’m
not letting you go until the sun rises, and when it does, you are
going to take the ring I have bought, and you will marry me as soon
as we can. You will come to me as soon as you finish whatever you
need to do here. I have already told Jared I love you, that I did
when we made him together. I cannot go away again, Grace, unless I
know you’re mine, that I will have what’s left of my life with
you.”

Grace buried her face in his neck, holding
him tight. “I love you.”

“I know, darling. I love you.”

“I can’t fight it, anymore. I don’t think I
can stand it if you leave again and...” She kissed his neck, his
jaw, and rose on her elbow to stare down at him. “Once I am there,
I will never leave you, Noel. Do you understand? I couldn’t, no
matter what happens. If you are mine to have, to love, I won’t ever
give that up.”

“Grace. Grace.” He reached up and cupped the
back of her head, kissing her hungrily. He skimmed kisses over her
face and then murmured gently, “I won’t let you go. I won’t ever
let you go.” He moved, rolled her under him and fanned their hunger
with kisses and touches. He poured out his need and desire, until
they were skin to skin, clothing on the floor and bodies locked
tightly together.

Grace took him, held him, and met his every
kiss and every thrust with equal need and a consuming fire.

Through the dark hours, they existed in a
cocoon of touches, sighs and kisses. Their bodies and hearts were
too long starved and too full of love to hold back or stay separate
for long. Near the dawn hour, they carried their clothing above,
lay on her white sheets while the lavender, and red streaks of
sunrise bathed them in vibrant hues.

Noel held her in his arms as he sat against
the headboard of the bed, his hand in her hair as they gazed at
each other. Hours of spent passion and moments of unrestrained
giving had passed, yet the newness, the intensity remained, flowing
between them like a current of electric energy.

“You are my love, my heart, Grace.”

“I love you, Noel. More than life and
breath.”

He kissed her while the sun rose bright
saffron and lit the room in sparkling lights. Their lips touched,
their tongues tasted, and their breaths mingled sweet and warm.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Washington, DC

Twelve years later

“Is it on yet?” Seth’s daughter Karen came
through the apartment door, tossing her jacket in the corner.

“Almost.” Seth patted the sofa beside him.
“They’re doing the introduction part.”

Rita hung up the phone from talking to their
son, who was in Paris with Noel, Jared and Grace. She hurried over
and wedged into Seth’s other side. “My God. Look at the people!
There must be millions.”

“Grace was so sad Rosalind couldn’t come.
She’s doing better but between age and her joints, she didn’t want
to be seen in the wheelchair.”

Karen turned to look at her father. “When I
was there last summer, she was able to at least swim, now even
that’s difficult. It must be hard for her. Aunt Grace is glad Jared
lives in that big house with her. Her friends have all passed on,
and when Paolo died, it was so sad.”

Rita laid her head on Seth’s shoulder as they
watched the screen. “Grace has kept her privacy intact, and has
done so much in setting up scholarships and seeing to her finances.
Lord knows she has made Noel a millionaire many times over.”

“He does the paintings, mom.”

“Yes. However, Grace invests the money and
she’s set up charities, foundations. I don’t know where she gets
the energy to head so many boards and to open all of those schools,
hospitals, to still travel around the world with him. They’ve given
me every gray hair I have being caught in monsoons and tornadoes,
stranded on mountains, and that year in Iran was so tense, I wanted
to go get her myself.”

“Grace loves the challenge and adventure.”
Seth snorted. “She’s always laughing, talking about it afterwards,
and game to see where Noel wishes to go next.”

“Jared told me,” his daughter said, “that
Uncle Noel says she’s given him gray hair too, from riding camels
and elephants and crossing jungles and rivers in rickety planes and
boats. He said that Uncle Noel swears Grace is the daring one. When
Jared did his first show, she came in a cast because she’d taken a
tumble hiking in the Andes with Uncle Noel.”

“There they are!” Rita shushed her.
“Look!”

“I see.” Seth laughed, his eyes shining with
joy as the three appeared on the huge stage. Grace, her hair in a
sleek twist, with subtle highlights in the wisps framing her face,
looked great with her skin tanned. She wore a simple gold sheath
gown and stood between her husband and son.

Noel’s hair was now completely silvered but
his body, in a stylish tuxedo, was still strong and brown. Jared,
who was donned in a Spanish cut suit stood had grown tall, broad
shouldered, although still lanky, but with longer jet black
curls.

The announcer gave a long introduction,
awarding Noel’s mother, and then Noel, deep respect. It took nearly
as long to relay Grace’s fame and philanthropic accomplishments;
her contributions to the arts as well as her humanitarian
generosity. Seth hadn’t even known half of it, and he laughed when
it was mentioned that she was known privately, amongst friends, to
have a bit of a prankster in her. He saw Noel lean down and say
something that put a blush in her cheek, and watched Jared wink at
his dad.

Then the focus turned to Jared. He stepped to
the microphone, accepting the thunder of applause. He had been
chosen to create the sculpture that would grace the new Hawthorn
Art Institute and Park, and in two months would come to America to
tour with his art through the States and lecture at schools on the
importance of keeping funding for it alive, to also award
scholarships for students. He happened to be a professor of
physics, which he joked about, having graduated at seventeen and
possessing a near genius IQ.

Seth and his wife and children knew another
young man though, one who played mud football, ate hot-dogs on
their balcony, and who wrecked his new Mustang as a teen out with
his cousins in Georgetown, cruising for girls. They knew a family
of fun and warm people who lay around the pool when they were
there, talking about everyday things and arguing on occasion.

When Jared got his plaque and hugged his
parents, Seth also saw what the audience probably didn’t. As they
walked off stage, he saw Noel and Grace look at each other with
pride and love, and slide their arms around each other.

“Grace is so happy,” Rita murmured linking
their hands.

Seth leaned and kissed her, then laughed as
his daughter muttered something about it turning too weird and took
off for her room.

“They both are.”

“I wouldn’t have ever guessed it was him
those years ago. Grace really fell hard and fast.”

“That’s how it happens sometimes.” He wedged
his hand in the hair at her nape, kissing her deeply. “I’m feeling
a bit hard myself, and needing something real fast.”

Rita laughed and pulled him down on the sofa
with her.

~ * ~

Paris, France

Hours later

Grace lay on the rumpled bed, lazy from hours
of sexual play after a long day and two formal dinners following
the ceremony. Jared was already on a flight back to Milan with her
nephew, but she and Noel had elected to stay another week.

Noel lay across the foot of the bed, nude,
and his head propped in his palm. His fingers skimmed her ankle.
“Would you like to go to America with Jared?” he murmured idly,
scanning her face.

“No. Seth and Rita will be out this spring. I
don’t want to leave Rosalind, so I thought a quiet summer at home
would be best.”

“And welcome.” He winked, moving his hand,
and crawling up to lay between her limbs with his weight on his
forearms and fingers in her hair. “It’s been years since I painted
you.”

“You don’t need to. I only have to look at
the one your mother did.”

He smiled, knowing that it was her favorite,
the wedding gift, and the painting that graced their wall above the
mantle. In it was all the expression needed to convey their love
for each other, their wholeness in each other’s arms. Painted under
the golden rays of the sun, echoed in their eyes and expressions,
everyone who saw it said they felt the love breathing in it.

“Are you sorry we didn’t have more
children?’

“No. We have everything in Jared, and we’ve
traveled, been together and lived a full and exciting life. I know
the world sees the glamour and glitz, the fame. But I have my
fondest memories of mud huts and meadows and hidden glades.” Her
golden eyes shone along with her grin. “You have made love to me
all over the world, do you realize that?”

“Oh, yes.” He chuckled and told her, “I set
out to do it, of course. But let’s face it Grace, your penchant for
wanting to try things, swimming nude for one. How was I to
resist?”

“And I?” She stroked his cheek. “When no
matter what the wonder should be, I had only to look at you, to be
near you, and lose myself time and again.” She took his hand and
slid it to her breast. “On beaches, in rain, inside cabins
and—might I remind you, more than a few chancy alley ways,
restrooms—and one dangerous ride in a Range Rover which I’ll never
try again.”

Noel laughed and flexed his fingers. “I
stayed on the road.”

She snorted. “Barely. The holes and gullies
in that landscape gave me a few bumps on the head.”

“Ah, but you never felt them.”

“You’re insane.” She laughed with the memory,
the passion, and the erotic excitement.

“For you. Do you know that, darling? Have I
told you enough, shown you?” He leaned over and kissed her mouth,
her breast. “A lifetime isn’t enough, and the older we become, the
more I want to capture every second. I love you Grace.”

“I know, my love. I know that as sure as my
love for you has grown and become deeper and richer.” She threaded
her fingers through his hair as his kisses moved over her skin,
stirred her desires. “In our worst arguments and our
misunderstandings, in times we had to be apart and when the press
linked you with other women or they tried to insinuate I was
leaving you, nothing shook me because I knew you loved me. You like
to make love after we argue. I’m not so sure you don’t stir my
temper deliberately just to benefit from my passion.” She laughed.
“And you wouldn’t dare let me leave you, and I leave no room for
any other...”

“Only you, Grace.” He whispered in her ear.
“For now, for life, for always letting me fall in love with you
again and again.”

“Yes.” Grace closed her eyes feeling his
touch, his intimate caress. “I’m with you. Take me, Noel. Take us
both, let’s fall together.”

Moreover, they did, joined, one body, one
heart, feeling and breathing the love that was old as time, yet
always felt new. Later sleeping, wound and clasped, holding and
secure, dreaming of the forever that was now, theirs to claim.

Noel awoke in the beautiful hue of dawn and
set up his canvass, quietly painting Grace who lay half on her
stomach, the silken cover around her spine. He smiled at the
butterflies she had tattooed there, four of them, on each side,
just above her buttocks. In the gliding strokes, the warm hue of
her skin, the richness of her hair, he felt that renewed sense of
loving beyond words. Grace was a late bloomer, true, perhaps they
both were. However, Grace wasn't afraid to fail, to have flaws, to
age, or to love with all of her heart. She was a wonder to him, and
he remembered sitting with Rita once, sipping a beer and watching
Grace and her brother working on a tree house when the kids were
little.

They'd argued and Seth loved to get her riled
up, she'd pulled him from his perch and he'd torn her blueprints
up, the argument turned to laughter as it normally did, and Grace
in her denim shorts, bandanna and T shirt had happily painted peace
signs and flower power symbols on the structure in the midst of
occasionally spattering paint on her brother, and vice versa.

Rita had elbowed him when the two were done,
sitting on the deck of the tree house, feet dangling and sharing a
beer. He'd smiled, and later helped Grace wash free of paint while
the others were out back. His body had stirred as it always did
when he touched her, and his passion for her had him hungry to
taste her skin on his tongue, to feel that flesh under his hands,
to hear her soft and sexy purrs. It had him pleasuring her until
she lay panting and glittery eyed, having delighted in the essence
of that passionate woman she let herself be. She did that to him—,
sometimes, when she slipped into the studio to watch him paint. He
loved it when she took him apart and then brought him together with
the most exquisite part of her hungers, her need to pleasure
him.