His Saving Grace (23 page)

“Always. Love is always enough.”

Sara was pulled away by someone who had a question about where the cricket match would take place. Grace stared up at her home. She shouldn’t have left last night. She should have stayed and fought, but she’d let her emotions get the best of her. Tonight she would fight for her husband with every weapon she had at her command.

Grace found Tarik in the kitchen, pilfering a large chunk of cheese.

“Cook will have your head if she sees you.”

“Then I cannot let her see me, can I?” he said with a full mouth.

When Tarik first arrived, she had been afraid of him. He was like no one she had ever experienced. So tall and dark and fierce-looking, with the saber at his side and the frown on his face. Then she had been angry at him for standing between her and her husband, until she realized he had the same objective she did—Michael’s well-being and happiness. Now she considered Tarik less a servant and more a friend.

“Where is he, Tarik?”

She waited until he swallowed and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Truly I do not know, my lady. He is not…happy with me at the moment.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he was acting like a…” He cleared his throat. “He was not acting appropriately, and I told him so.”

“And that did not sit well with him?”

“No, my lady.”

“So where do you think he went?”

“Not to the tavern, if that’s what you’re thinking. He regrets that action.”

“As well he should.”

“It was not what it seemed,” he said softly.

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” She drew in a deep breath and pushed those negative emotions away. “If you see him, tell him I asked about him.”

“I will, my lady.”

She paused. Considered. “Tarik, if I may ask one more thing?”

“Of course, my lady.”

She outlined her plan. At first Tarik nodded solemnly, and then he grinned broadly.

“Don’t worry, my lady. I will make certain everything is as you want.”

“Thank you, Tarik.”

After their conversation, Grace surveyed the tables and confirmed a few things with the servants. She looked in on Cook, who was furiously rolling out dough for one of her excellent pastries. Grace wisely chose to duck out of the kitchen without interrupting.

With little to do until the festivities began the next day, and not wanting to return to the dark dower house, Grace strolled through the grounds. Her plants were doing well, the seedlings having grown much over the past week. She noted that someone had watered them.

She kept walking down the path that she and Michael had walked so many times before, as young lovers, then a married couple. They would walk and talk until their feet hurt and their voices were hoarse.

Spring was in the air, and she breathed deep of it, pulling in the scent of earth and plants. She rounded the bend and came upon the lake where she and Michael had taken many a ride.

She looked out over the placid water. It was always so peaceful here, so calm. Someday she would request that a bench be erected on this spot so she could come here to sit and enjoy the view.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement and was surprised to see the rowboat bobbing at the edge of the lake.

“What in the world?” She looked around, but no one was about. She had thought the old boat was put away in the winter and taken back out at the start of the summer. Why would it be in the lake now?

The oars were inside, along with splatters of water, as if something had splashed it.

She reached forward to grab the pointed bow and bring it up on the sandy shore, but it proved heavier than she’d thought, and it took quite a bit of tugging. She must be a sight, all bent over, trying not to get the hem of her gown soaked, tugging on a rowboat.

“You’ll fall in if you’re not careful.”

With a squeak, she straightened and spun around. Michael was standing in the shadows of the trees, watching her with one of the most intense expressions she’d ever seen.

“I didn’t want it to drift away,” she said.

He strode forward, waded into the water, and dragged the boat back with him.

“You’re getting wet.” What an inane thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to her mind.

“I’m already wet.”

She watched as he dragged the boat farther up the shore until it was concealed in the bushes. “Did you go out on the lake?” she asked.

He brushed his hands together before turning to face her. “Why are you here, Grace?”

“The picnic is tomorrow, and I had to help set it up.”

“Why are you at the lake?”

“I…” Why
was
she at the lake? It wasn’t as if she had nothing to do, with the festival winding down and the big picnic tomorrow. What had driven her here, of all places? “I walked down our path to clear my head, and my feet brought me here. It’s always been one of my favorite places on Blackbourne land.”

Michael looked over the lake. There was a stillness about him that was disconcerting.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Tarik was looking for you.”

“Tarik is always looking for me.”

That didn’t answer her question, and a funny feeling in her stomach told her the answer was imperative. “Do you like coming here as well?”

He shrugged. “It’s as good as any other place to think.”

“Is that what you needed? To think?”

“There were too many people around. I like quiet.”

Why would he not look at her?

“You should probably go back to change your trousers before you get chilled.”

He finally turned his gaze to her. Such intensity in those eyes. “I’m already chilled.”

“Are you all right, Michael?”

The corners of his lips lifted in an ironic smile. “No.” He fell silent for a moment, then seemed to shake himself of whatever had captured his thoughts. “I’m surprised you didn’t run when you saw me here.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Come now, Grace, must we play these word games? I was with another woman last night, in a very public setting.”

“Yes, you were. And yes, you hurt me terribly. As you are trying to do now by reminding me of it. But that is not going to work.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What is not going to work?”

“Pushing me away.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Now who’s playing word games?”

His lips thinned, and she smiled inside that she had scored a point in whatever game he was playing.

“I’m not going away that easily, Michael. I know you too well to believe that you and that woman were together.”

“I’m a changed man.”

“I don’t believe that. You are a different man, but the inner core is the same honorable man I married.”

“You are lying to yourself.”

“I think
you
are lying to yourself.”

“Word games.”

“Not this time.”

He braced his feet and crossed his arms to contemplate her. “I wrote to my London solicitor today.”

“And?” Her heart began to pound in dread.

“I asked him to help set you up in a house in London. You will be well taken care of.”

The words fell between them as if dropped from the heavens. Silence stretched; even the birds seemed to stop singing. All she heard was the gentle lap of the water against the shore and the fierce pounding of her heart.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You will when you receive a letter from him.”

For a small moment she hated him. Hated him for what he was doing to them, for what he was attempting to throw away. For not believing in himself or her enough to fight for their marriage. But that was what he wanted. He wanted her hatred because it would validate his feelings toward himself and open an irreparable chasm between them. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

“Very well. I will write to the solicitor with my specifications on what type of house and in what area of town.” She turned and walked away, her fury following, her heart beating so hard that she feared he heard it.

Oh, no. This was not over by a long shot.

Grace smoothed her skirts with nervous hands. She hadn’t seen Michael since their encounter by the lake earlier in the day, but she was still seething with anger. She kept it bottled, used it as energy to fuel her purpose. And she was filled with purpose.

The scene by the lake bothered her in ways she didn’t understand. There was something not right about the entire thing. Why had Michael been by the lake? This wasn’t the time of year to go boating. There had been something in his eyes that alerted her to something more.

The object of her thoughts opened the door to the dower house and stepped in, stopping short when he saw her standing there. Her heart fluttered in apprehension. She was taking a big risk being here. She knew he would be angry, but she had to work past that and convince him they were worth fighting for.

Behind him, Tarik winked at her and closed the door behind him. Moments later, she heard the carriage clatter down the lane. Michael looked at the closed door. Obviously, he had heard the carriage leave as well.

He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Tarik said you were sick and needed me to come get you.” He looked her up and down. “Obviously, that was a lie. What are you about, Grace?”

Grace. Not Gracie. “I asked Tarik to bring you here.”

He dropped his arms to his sides and pushed way from the doorjamb. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I think it’s a marvelous idea.”

“We’ve already discussed everything.”

“Not nearly everything.”

He stared at her for several beats. “Did you not hear anything I said to you earlier today?”

“I heard everything you said to me.”

“It’s over, Grace.”

“That’s what you claim.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re not cooperating.”

“You thought I would?”

He huffed out a breath. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you, Michael. Just love me.”

“I do love you, Grace.”

“You love me so much you want to eject me from your life?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“I know. I know exactly what the complications are.”

“You think you do, but you would be wrong.”

“Would I?”

“Yes. You would.”

“You feel that you aren’t good enough for our marriage anymore.”

His face tightened.

“You believe that you aren’t the same man I married.”

He glanced away, that jaw muscle working again.

“You’re wrong. I don’t care if you’re different. Inside, you’re the same man I fell in love with and married. The other things? They don’t matter.”

“They
do
matter. I can’t write. I can’t concentrate on anything for any length of time. I can’t remember half of what I used to.”

“And?”

His look was incredulous. “And? What do you mean by
and
? Do you want a complete list of my failings?”

“Is that what you think they are? Failings?”

“What would you say? That they’re advantages?”

“I would say they’re…” She searched for the right word. “Quirks.”

“So I’m an oddity. Something to be stared at and talked about.”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth. They’re a part of what you are, just like your black hair and your green eyes. Nothing more.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand. You just won’t let me in. You won’t let me help you.”

“Won’t let me help you? You prompt me when I don’t remember a name. You find everything I lose. You used to write my letters for me.”

A thought leaped into her mind. “Who helped you write the letter to your solicitor?”

“Henderson.”

“You allowed your secretary to write a letter to your solicitor asking to set your wife up in a townhouse in London? I don’t believe you. There is no letter, is there, Michael?”

“There will be.”

Such a feeling of relief swept through her that she almost leaned against the wall. He hadn’t contacted his solicitor. At least not yet. She had an open window of time, and she planned to take full advantage of it.

“Stay with me tonight, Michael.”

“Grace—”

“Just one night. Tomorrow is another day.”

“My mind is made up. Tomorrow won’t change anything.”

She wanted to challenge him on that but, wisely, held her tongue. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t change anything, but the next day might, or the day after that. She could see the war raging inside him and rejoiced that there was a war at all. She would let him come to his own decision; she had made hers. She wasn’t letting him leave without fighting until she had no breath left in her.

“What am I going to do with you, Grace?”

She looked up at him with a faint smile. “Make love to me.”

He shook his head. “You are incorrigible.”

“I’m fighting for us, Michael. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You think making love will make a difference?”

“It can’t hurt.”

“You’re so much better off without me.”

“And that is where we disagree. I’m so much more with you.”

“I’ve brought nothing but pain to you. Pain and heartache.”

“I suffered pain and heartache when I thought you were dead. I was half a person in that year, moving through life but not truly living it. It was like…” She paused to put her thoughts in order. “It was like the color was sucked out of my world. Everything was black and white, the sound dimmed, the joy gone. When you returned, the color and sound returned as well. Since then you’ve brought me nothing but joy.”

His face contorted into a grimace, and he turned on his heel to walk to the other side of the room. Grace followed but stopped just short of touching him.

“It’s so damn difficult,” he whispered. “Every day I wake up thinking my life will be back to what it was, that all of this…was a horrid dream. But then I look at something as simple as a fork and can’t remember the name of it. I try to read Roberts’s report, and I take two or three times to decipher it. Things never change, day in and day out. Endlessly.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to live inside your body, nor do I pretend to.”

“Inside…I feel different.” He turned to face her. She was taken aback by the raw desolation on his face. “I want that man back.”

“What if he never comes back? Can you live with that?”

Fear flashed in his eyes, a fear that made Grace’s stomach clench.

“Can you, Michael?”

“I don’t know.”

She was treading somewhere she’d never contemplated visiting. She had no idea how to proceed. She had to trust in her love to guide her. “Why were you at the lake today?”

He glanced away, his body tight, his hands clenched at his sides.

Her fear settled around her, making her weak and frightened in a way she’d never been before. “Why?” The question came out in a hoarse whisper.

“I went for a boat ride to clear my mind. To get away from the activity at the house.”

She swallowed, not believing him. “And did you clear your mind?”

He drew in a deep breath. “I believe so.”

She was afraid to ask the next question—t
errified, really. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

“That I’m weak. Spineless. That I don’t have the courage I thought I did.”

“The courage for what?”

He looked her in the eye. “To end everything.”

Grace blew out the breath she’d been holding. The statement wasn’t as shocking as it should have been, because she had suspected his motivation. “Maybe you have more courage than you think.”

“You are endlessly optimistic, aren’t you?”

“It takes courage to face your demons, and I believe that is what you did on that lake. You faced your fears and decided they weren’t as horrible as you believed them to be.”

“Or maybe I was a coward and couldn’t do what needed to be done.”

“I don’t think you believe that. What brought you back to shore, Michael?”

“You did.”

She lifted her brows. “Me? I thought you wanted to leave me, and yet you tell me I was the one who saved you.”

“You always were smarter in an argument.”

Because I’m fighting for us.
“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, damn you. You saved me. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, but it will do. Tell me why you want to write to your solicitor.”

He looked away and cursed in Russian. “I don’t want you to leave, Gracie, but I want you to be happy.”

She took a step closer, close enough to touch his arm. His muscles were tight, belying the tension humming through him. “I am happy. I wish you would believe that.”

“I saw you speaking to Timmons. You don’t laugh like that with me.”

“I will. There will come a day when we will laugh again.”

“My optimistic Grace.”

“Not optimistic. Just truthful.”

He bent his head and his shoulders shook. It took a moment for her to realize he was crying. Her brave husband was crying, and it broke her heart. Tears filled her eyes, and she wrapped him in her arms.

He put his head on her shoulder and pulled her tightly against him as if clinging for his very life. She’d come so close to losing him again. The terror threatened to overtake her, but she wouldn’t let it.

She let him cry, her heart shattering with each sob that shook both of their bodies. And she held him tightly, afraid to loosen her hold. Afraid he would slip through her fingers like smoke, and she would not be able to catch him.

“I love you, Michael.” She repeated those words. Over and over and over. Willing him to believe it, forcing him to hear her. Maybe, if she said it enough, the words would penetrate and her love would be enough to save him.