In Rapture (Destined) (22 page)

“I’ve
brought something for you.”

He
walked slowly across the room, and while Malinda noticed the bright, beautiful
scarves and ribbon he held in his hands her curiosity was outweighed by the
desire she felt when her eyes lingered over his naked body. He was perfect in
every way, every inch of his body glistening in the fire light, still wet from
their last encounter. She noticed the heat in his eyes and knew that the night
was still young.

Malinda
reached out to admire the bright scarves and colorful ribbons, but Grant kept
them just out of reach. A secretive smile now covered his face, his eyes
twinkling. “Grant? What are you doing?”

“Trust
me, Malinda. Lay back.”

Malinda
sat back in the bed and laid her head on the pillows. She watched as Grant
stepped closer, like a golden lion stalking its prey. If she did not know her
husband better the feral gleam in his eyes would have taken her breath away,
but she knew Grant would never hurt her. He put a hand under her head, lifted it
from the pillow, and a dark red scarf slid behind her head. When he wrapped it
all the way around her head it blocked out all the light, and her eyes could no
longer take in his body. She murmured a protest, but he never responded. She
could feel him near her; the heat of his body sent thrilling waves through
hers. When he wrapped scarves around her arms, she fought the urge to buck
against him. Soon her arms and legs had been bound to the bed, and while she
could not see what was happening to her, she could only guess that he had tied
several scarves together to wrap around the posts that held the canopy high
above.

Malinda
almost jumped when a warm drop of heat fell on her body, and it was soon
followed by a small flow of liquid. It smelled of lavender and vanilla, a heady
aroma that took over her senses. At first his hands slid lightly up and down
every inch of her body, but then the light feathery touches became firm as he
plied her skin under his strong hands. She moaned and arched her back, wanting nothing
more than to reach up and touch him, but her hands were held firmly in place by
their silken bonds. His hands had only skimmed over her most intimate parts,
but her body had reacted as if he had scorched her with a gentle fire. She
ached for him to touch her breasts, ached to feel the warmth of his hands on
the mounds that rose and fell with the rhythm of his movements. When he finally
ran a hand down the valley of her breasts she shivered in anticipation and
sighed in disappointment as the hands continued down her belly. She could
imagine the wicked expression on his face as he denied her the simplest touch.
She whimpered loudly, for her body craved more than he gave, and while he gave
quite a bit of time and attention to her, his slow teasing was creating a storm
within her.

Grant
brought his hands back up her stomach and moved slowly toward her breasts. His
hands caressed her breasts softly, but Malinda was not in the mood for gentle.
She bit her lip and pushed her chest higher in the air, hoping her movements
would push his hands harder into her chest. He rolled his fingers over the
tight nipples that begged for more attention and his fingers deeply massaged
the muscles of her chest. She arched into his touch, the air stuck in her
throat as ecstasy rolled through her. Her hips rose from the bed and her body
rocked with the heat his hands had created within her.

He
sucked her nipple into his mouth and the fire of his tongue moving across it scorched
every inch of her. She wanted to wrap her hands in his hair so badly that she
struggled to break free from her restraints, but they would not give. He
removed his mouth from her and let his hands glide down her body once again.
His mouth closed over hers and captured a loud moan as it broke free from her
mouth. Her hips arched into his, wanting nothing more than to feel his length
delving deep into her depths, but he moved away from her and began to work his
hands into her flesh once more, touch followed by mouth, mouth followed by
teeth as his teeth nipped gently into her flesh. His beard scratched against
her flesh like thousands of needles that sent electricity into her everywhere
it touched. His loving was such sweet torture that tore her in two parts: the
part that longed for it to go on forever, and the part that longed to straddle
her legs around him and force him inside.

She
hung in the middle of here and there, the pulse at the base of her neck beating
like a bitter diatribe. When his hands finally parted her legs her breath
caught in her chest. He eased himself into her and she shuddered against the
heat of his firm shaft. Grant moaned aloud when her juices covered him and
gathered her hips as close as he could. Malinda wanted him to move and did her
best to instigate a wild rhythm, but Grant denied her. He moved so slowly, so
exquisitely that the world was in danger of spinning out of control. Malinda
had no idea of time or space, or how long he kept the sensual rhythm going.
There was only Grant and Malinda, swirling together in a storm that built
slowly and rose to a dangerous peak that shattered the silence around them. It
was pure, unadulterated bliss, and Malinda enjoyed every moment of it.

When
Grant withdrew from her body he ran tiny kisses up her neck until his lips
fastened on hers. His hands reached up to release the ties that bound her and
he massaged them gently. When he had released her legs, he reached up to remove
the scarf from her head. She expected his face to be lit up with the prowess of
his masculinity, but his features were soft and thoughtful. His hands splayed
across her tummy one last time before rising up to her breasts. Malinda bit her
lip in anticipation, but he dropped his hands and gathered her into a warm
embrace.

“Malinda?”
Grant murmured into her neck.

“Hmm?”

“Is
there something you should tell me?”

Malinda
had no idea what he was talking about, so she answered with the first thing
that popped into her head. “That was delicious.”

“Exquisite.”
Grant nuzzled against her neck, a slight foreboding filling him. There was something
different about his wife. Her tears earlier had been entirely unlike her. That
was not the only change that Grant had noticed. She was rounder than she had
been when he first met her. When he had returned from his last battles last
week he had thought she had just put on a little weight from eating Gertie’s
amazing food, but now when he looked at her the firmness of a slightly extended
belly looked back at him. Her breasts were also larger, something he had also
noticed in the way her dresses were fitting her. He speculated that Malinda
could be with child, but he really did not want to believe it. He waved away
his fears, for he was sure Malinda would tell him if she were expecting. And if
she was, she was nothing like Maria, right? Thoughts of his past raced through
his head before exhaustion took over.

It
was dark when they both awoke to a loud crash outside in the hallway. The
smashing of glass was followed by a loud haunting shriek. Grant jumped from the
bed and hastily put on his breeches. “Stay here, Malinda.”

“No,
don’t go, Grant.”

“I’ll
be fine, Malinda.” His bare feet smacked the wooden floors as he almost ran to
the door.

Her
heart almost stopped as Malinda waited for the hammer to fall. She was pretty
sure that Grant was unaware of the specter that haunted the manor, and why that
was, Malinda had no idea. Surely he should be aware of everything that happened
here, but for some reason she doubted that he knew. Malinda closed her eyes
when she heard a loud exclamation from the door.

“What
the hell?”

Malinda
bolted from the bed and slipped into her robe. She heard more glass shattering
in the hall and dashed to the hallway. She wrapped her arms around Grant and
created a shield of light to protect them. The ghost of Maria opened her mouth
and sent a blast of hollow blackness toward them. This time it ricocheted off
the shield and launched itself right back at the ghost, who faded long before
it could reach her. “She’s gone for now.”

“I
know what I saw, but I don’t believe it. What the hell was that? Was that a
ghost?”

“Yes.
Maria’s to be exact.” Malinda tried to still the beating of her heart, but then
realized the loud beating she felt was not her own heart, but that the heavy
thud had come from Grant’s chest.

“When
did this happen?”

“I’m
not certain when this started, Grant. But from what I understand, it has been
going on for quite some time.” When Grant turned to face her she met his gaze.
She would not be surprised if he thought that she had brought the spirit
forward. Many people believed that the women of Lena used their magic to
conjure things. It would not be unexpected, but it would break her heart if he
thought she was capable of doing something so malicious.

“I’m
sorry, Malinda. I should have known she would haunt me even in death.” Grant
turned and walked away from sight before she could even utter another word.
While part of her was thrilled that he did not find her at fault for this
situation, the rest of her felt the sadness that trailed after his steps. His
energy was not in a good place right now and, while she wanted to follow him
and make sure he was all right, she knew he would need his space. She walked
back to the room that had been surrounded with such wonderful energy moments
before, to an emptiness that left her feeling hollow. She lay down on the bed
and let her tears loll her to sleep.

Chapter 28

Over
the next few days Malinda could sense Grant’s need to flee from the walls of
Wickford, but he had holed up in his den instead. She could not blame him, for
she had experienced similar feelings over the past few months. Had it not been
for the child who needed her and the friendly staff that seemed more like
family than part of the help, she would have fled a long time ago. However,
running away from your problems never solved them, only lengthened the amount
of time you had to deal with them in the end. Maria had not shown her face to
Grant before and Malinda was trying to figure out why she had chosen now to
reveal herself. It did not make sense to her. What was the motivation behind
the hauntings? It made sense that Maria would want to oust her replacement, so
whenever Malinda found herself to be the brunt of her attacks she chalked it up
to jealousy. The fact that she had never appeared before Grant, that was hard
to decipher.

How
does a ghost remain on the earthly plain? She had always assumed this happened
when a spirit had unfinished business, but perhaps she had romanticized her
concepts about spirits. Before Wickford Manor the only encounter she had
experienced was with the spirit of her dearly departed grandmother. The calm,
loving energy that had surrounded her grandmother was not threatening in the
least. The aura that shone around Maria was a different story. While white
light normally reflected an innocence and purity to the world around it, that
was far from what this spirit cast onto the world around it. A cold emanated
from the ghost, like icy tendrils reaching out to ensnare the world around with
its shallow energy. Darkness spewed from her mouth in an effort to corrode the
layers of purity in its surroundings. There were no happy feelings whenever
Maria was around.

Malinda
was annoyed that Grant had not come to bed, so she decided to put an end to the
distance that had been crawling between them. She opened the door to the den so
quietly that Grant never noticed her entrance. She saw his shoulders slumping
in defeat, his head held despairingly in his hands, and the glass of brandy
that sat in front of him. Her heart ached to see him in such a state. She saw
that Maria’s portrait now hung over the mantle and she was enraged. “I’ve had
it with you, she-devil!”

Grant’s
head jerked up at her loud curse and his bleary eyes sought hers. “What are you
doing, Malinda?”

Malinda
pulled a stool over to the fireplace and climbed on top of it. “I’m making sure
this never comes back again.” She yanked the painting down from the wall and
threw it on the floor. She stepped down from the stool and reached for a penknife
from Grant’s desk. She pounced on the painting and almost laughed with the
first sound of ripping canvas. Malinda lashed out over and over on the fabric,
slicing every inch of it away from the wooden frame. When it lay in tattered
pieces Malinda was still not content. She picked up the tiny swatches that used
to be Maria’s beautiful face and then she threw every last inch of them into
the fire. She heard the flames hiss as they devoured the portrait that had
haunted the world from the mantles of Wickford. She heard a wail somewhere in
the distance, but she ignored the sound. When she looked up at Grant she
expected to see anger, for he had loved his first wife. It had always been
clear that he had, for he continued to stalk the man who had turned her into a
monster. However when her eyes met his, he saw relief, as if one little action
had set him free from the turmoil that had controlled his every movement for
the past two years.

She
walked over to him and cradled his head to her chest, hoping to bring a small
amount of comfort to the soul that was hurting within. She felt the guilt
running through his skin and flashes of moments that were trapped in time
surfaced to the forefront of her mind. She saw Maria with her hand to her
swollen belly, cursing at Grant with pure loathing dripping in her words. Maria’s
face then turned sweet within moments, as if she realized that her behavior was
erasing her control over her husband. She blamed it on the emotions that raced
through her from her pregnancy and attempted to sidle up next to him. It
flashed forward to the nursemaid telling Grant that Maria had been standing
over the crib, her hand covering the child’s mouth and nose as if to suffocate
her, and Malinda saw the pained panic that rose across his face.