Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) (10 page)

“What happened to her?”

“We caught her a few months afterwards. She’s in prison right now, assuming she hasn’t escaped.”

“Would she come after you if she did?” Grace asked as her shifted against his chest. Her hands felt so good, so right against him, and he couldn’t help but be pleased that she cared enough to worry about him.

“She might. I am the one who caught her.” He took a moment before he asked, “Will you tell me about Daniel?”

He saw the indecision in her eyes before she spoke a few moments later. “What do you want to know?” she asked in a small voice.

“I want to know everything about you, fair Grace.”

She sighed. “I met him at college. I believe Cat may have told you that much at least.”

He nodded and she continued. “He, I guess you could say, overwhelmed me. He was so popular and well-liked. I was just a quiet girl who liked to read. I was surprised when he showed interest in me. I, too, was young and naïve once. Too naïve, when I look back. The signs were there, but I didn’t see them.” She looked into his eyes and pools of deep, clear blue stared back at him. “I didn’t want to see them.”

She broke out of his hold and walked to the sitting area. Papers were scattered about, and fabric and wallpaper samples littered the chairs. She shifted some of it away so that he could sit beside her on the long, antique couch. As soon as Marcello sat down, he took her hand in a strong grip meant for comfort, not violence.

“I wasn’t, well, innocent when Daniel and I first started dating,” she said with a becoming blush. “I was almost twenty when we met and nearly twenty-five when we married. I made him wait until the wedding night. I understand why now, but back then I thought I was being romantic.”

“You were afraid of him.”

She nodded. “I didn’t know that at the time. I thought I was just afraid of the physical intimacy with someone like him who was larger and stronger than me. Daniel was, he was just so much
more
than the other men I’d known.”

She pulled a tissue from a nearby box with her free hand, as though preparing herself. “It was on our wedding night that he hit me the first time. I couldn’t do anything right. He was upset I wasn’t a virgin, though I’d told him long before the wedding.”

She was rubbing the tissue between her fingers. Her eyes were still dry. “He apologized after. Always after. I thought it was my fault. It went on like that for about five years. He wouldn’t hit me every day. Sometimes the abuse was more verbal than physical.”

“What changed?” he asked in a gruff voice. It was taking all of his energy to keep calm and hold his own rage at bay; his rage couldn’t help her now.

“My father did. My mother had passed away when I was little, but my father passed five years into our marriage. He left everything to me, you see, and Daniel didn’t care for that.”

“Did your father know what was happening to you?”

“I think he suspected, but it was easy to hide it in those early years. After the reading of my father’s will, Daniel realized he wouldn’t get our family’s lands. The will ensured it would only go to me and my children, never to him.” His body lurched as he guessed what came next.

“He became more physical after that. Everyday. Anytime. No matter what I did. When I never became pregnant, it only made things worse.”

His free hand shifted to her back, where he rubbed small circles at the base of her spine, hoping it brought her comfort.

She sniffed and brought the tissue to her nose. “What he didn’t know what that I had gotten pregnant once. It happened just before he died.”

“Grace.”

“I lost the baby. He was drunk and angry, and pushed me. If I hadn’t been near some stairs, we might have made it,” she said as her tissue-filled hand pressed briefly to her stomach. “We might have made it.”

“I’m so sorry, Grace.”

“So was I, though I believe now it was for the best. What kind of life would it have been for a child? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, to protect myself, so how could I have been strong enough to protect my baby? I wasn’t strong enough, in the end.”

“You can’t think like that.”

“It’s all I think about,” she said as she stood up and began to pace. “I was so weak. I don’t know if I would have ever left him. I don’t know.”

“I know,” he said as he stood and stopped in front of her. “You would have left him, Grace. You would have.”

“I don’t know. How can you?”

“I know that you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You can’t tell me you never thought about it, especially after the baby died.”

“You’re right. I did think about it. But my father was dead. There was no place for me to go, no one to ask for help. I know now those are just excuses.”

“They’re not excuses. You’d been brainwashed for years but you still knew what he did was wrong. You would have left, Grace. You have to believe that about yourself.”

She didn’t say anything, but the wretched look on her face forced him to pull her tight against him. Tentatively, her hands wound around him as well. They stood like that, just holding each other for several minutes.

He nuzzled her hair, smelling the soft scent of roses wafting back at him and it comforted him. He did not think he had ever felt more useless in his life than he had while listening to Grace’s story. But this moment wasn’t about him. It was about the woman in his arms that was coming to mean so much to him.

He pressed a kiss against her hair, then her temple and her tear-stained cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me, fair Grace.”

“I don’t think I had much choice,” she murmured.

He gripped her chin and tilted it upwards. “You always,
always
have a choice, especially with me. Don’t ever doubt that, or yourself.”

“That sounded like an order,” she said and he was pleased to see a hint of smile on her face.

“So, I might give you an order every once in a while. You still have a choice, Grace. You can tell me to go to hell, if you want. I’ll still care for you. I don’t think I’m able to stop caring for you at this point.”

“Marcello,” she said surprised.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Say my name again.”

“Marcello,” she said as she tried to pull away.

“Just like that, but maybe pretend you like me a little.”

“Marcello,” she said again with a half laugh. “You can’t mean it.”

“Of course I do. They’re my feelings, aren’t they? Aren’t I entitled to them?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Then leave them be. I’m afraid nothing you can do will change them.”

“Oh, I’m afraid, all right,” she muttered and leaned her head against his chest. Since she wasn’t wearing heels, her head fit perfectly beneath his chin.

When the clock chimed on her bedside table, she jumped back. “Oh my goodness. I’d forgotten all about the time. Oh, I have so much to see to before dinner,” she said as she tried to pull away. “Marcello, please,” she said as she squirmed in his arms.

“In a minute.” When she stopped fidgeting, he asked, “Are you okay?”

She sighed then nodded. “Dinner will be the perfect thing to distract me today.”

“Trust in me, Grace. Moreso, trust in yourself. You can handle anything.”

“Perhaps you should have gone into a career in therapy or motivational speaking.”

He smiled. “Those words are only for you, fair Grace.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, which were softened by the few tears she had shed. “There’s so much waiting for you, Grace, if only you believe you’re worthy of it. You are, in case you’re wondering.”

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss back, then dropped another kiss on his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug.

He could feel her small body, particularly her breasts, pressed against him. Her hair tickled his nose, and her lips pressed a final kiss to his neck, which sent his hormones spiking. Who knew the neck was such an erogenous zone?

“Don’t get too buried in work that you’re late for dinner,” she said as she pulled away. She didn’t ask about his mission, nor did offer any information.

“I won’t. I promise.”

She nodded and then started to walk away. Halfway to the door, she stopped and turned back. “Wait a minute. This is my bedroom.”

He smiled broadly. “So it is.” As he walked past her to leave, he dropped a quick kiss to her lips and gave her one last devastating smile before walking out.

Grace spent the rest of the day distracting herself from her feelings and from Marcello by focusing on the evening ahead. It was just past six in the evening when she finally found time to head to her room to change; it wouldn’t do for the hostess to be late to her own dinner.

She took a quick shower, letting the steaming hot streams of water wash away the day’s hard work and hopefully also calm her nerves. She stepped out and dried herself quickly before wrapping the towel around her slim body. Then she sat down in front of her vanity to prepare for the night ahead.

Her golden hair was darker now that it was wet and much curlier. She tackled that first, blow drying and brushing it in even, steady strokes. At the moment, Grace didn't give much thought to the fact that her legs and shoulders were bare; it did not matter in her private bathroom. The evening ahead, however, was another story.

The long, strapless evening dress she had chosen would easily cover the scars covering her hips and thighs. There were a few scars on her back and a particularly nasty one on her shoulder. She never wore sleeveless dresses because of it. Her dress for the evening had a matching cropped jacket that would hide it all; no one would be the wiser.

After Grace finished twisting and pinning her hair in a demure coil atop her head, she began to apply makeup next. After she finished, she took a minute and gave herself a critical look in the mirror, eventually deciding that she looked as good as she was going to. Most of the people coming had rarely seen her, particularly in the few years before Daniel died, so she was not sure what they may expect.

She, unfortunately, did know what to expect from Lord Picford and winced at the thought of avoiding him all night. She would need to stay on her toes.

After slipping into her silky blue dress that looked and felt like a waterfall over her skin, she shrugged on her jacket. She gave herself a quick turn to make sure the dress would stay up; ample was not a word that described her breasts but the fitted nature of the dress along with some double-sided tape should compensate for it.

After putting on her shoes, she took a deep breath and walked out of her bedroom.

“My God,” Marcello said and Grace whipped around to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his hard chest. He looked decadent in his formal suit which molded to his delicious body. His dark blond hair was suavely styled and his dark brown eyes held admiration for her.

“You’re a vision, Grace,” he said as he walked over to her.

“I look all right?” she asked, her nerves getting the best of her.

“You’re stunning,” he said as he took her hand and gave it a quick kiss. He then wove her arm around his and began to escort her down the stairs.

“Thank you,” she said, a little breathlessly. Marcello could not have known how much his compliment meant to her, and she flushed with pleasure after hearing it. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Have you seen Cat?”

“I knocked on her door a little while ago, but she was still getting ready.”

“There’s still some time; it’s only quarter of.”

“Catharine Victoria Santoro di Valleria is not known for using time judiciously when getting ready,” Marcello said with an indulgent smile on his face. Grace couldn’t help but smile back.

“I resent that,” Cat said from behind them on the stairs. They both paused and turned to watch Cat walking slowly down in a strapless dark purple gown covered with tiny stones that shimmered in the dim evening light.

“You may resent it,” Marcello said as Cat stopped beside him and took his other arm for support down the rest of the stairs. “But am I wrong?”

Cat lifted her chin up in the air as they began walking again. “That’s entirely beside the point.”

Grace and Marcello laughed and, after a moment, Cat joined in as well. It felt so good to laugh again, Grace thought.

When they reached the landing, the doorbell rang as if on cue. “And so it begins,” Grace said as she led Marcello and Cat into the parlor where they would greet their guests.

A few moments later, the butler brought in the first guests: Lord and Lady Picford. Both were short and squat, with square faces and thin, unsmiling lips. Lord Picford was in a fierce battle to retain what little hair he had left, and was losing. Lady Picford, Grace had heard, had already lost a similar battle and now wore wigs to cover it up.

“Lady Nithercott,” Lord Picford said as he took Grace’s hand and pressed a fat, wet kiss there. It took all of Grace’s skills as a lady not to cringe back from it.

“Lord Picford,” she said with a bright, breezy smile that belied her true feelings. “You know very well I am Lady
Raynott
-Nithercott.” She gave a fake laugh, one she had perfected soon after her marriage. “Allow me to present Their Royal Highnesses, Princess Catharine and Prince Marcello of Valleria.”

Lord Picford extended into a bow while his wife did a curtsy, both of which were barely noticeable on their small forms. “It is, of course, a pleasure to meet you both,” Lord Picford said in a nasally voice. “I do hope you’ll change your mind and come to our ball tomorrow. No doubt, it will be much more entertaining than anything you have already planned here, with Lady Nithercott.”

“Indeed,” Lady Picford said in her sickeningly sweet soft voice.

Marcello and Cat gave each other a look before Marcello said, “The name of our hostess is Lady Raynott-Nithercott, and I must ask why you choose to insult both her, as well as my sister and I, not two minutes in the door?”

Lord Picford spluttered just as another couple was shown into the room. When Grace caught Marcello’s eyes, she sent him a beseeching look.

“I won’t stand for a lady in my presence to be insulted, sir,” Marcello said, loud enough for the other couple to hear. “You would take care to remember that.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Lord Picford said nodding, though he sent a scathing look to Grace.

As the Picfords stepped to the side, Grace introduced the next couple to the royals, as well as the rest of their guests who seemed to come all at once. Fortunately, none of the other guests had as little tact as Lord Picford did.

Some time later, Grace stepped away to see to dinner. When she was satisfied that everything was ready, Grace made her way slowly back towards the parlor. The casual voices and the occasional tinkling laugh wafted through the typically quiet halls of the house. It had been too long since happy voices donned these halls, she thought. Too long since a man had made her laugh. Too long since a man had called her beautiful. Too long since a man had come to her defense.

Too long.

As she entered the parlor again, her eyes automatically sought Marcello's only to find him watching her with an intent gaze. Her breath caught; it had also been too long since a man had looked at her like a feast rather than a punching bag.

“How are you doing?” he asked when he drew near enough.

“Well. I’m doing well,” she said, and wondered if he knew what a miraculous feeling it was for her. “Dinner’s ready. I’m just going to round people up.”

“Let us do that,” Marcello said. “These people will get a kick out of it.”

“That’s not what you’re here for. You’re a guest.”

“I suppose I am.” Then, in a lower voice that only she heard, he said, “But I’d like to be more.”

After a moment, she cleared her throat, and said, “Yes, well, perhaps you and Cat could lead them to the dining room, then?”

He gave her a dazzling smile and nodded his head before walking towards Cat. While he did, the butler came in and announced dinner.

“If everyone would please follow Their Royal Highnesses,” Grace said, and everyone fell in line behind the royal siblings. Grace noted Lord Picford lingering back, but decided to forego social protocol by waiting for him, the last person to leave the room; her instincts told her not to be alone with him and she was going to listen.

Dinner was comfortable enough, she thought. She sat at the head of the table, where Daniel had once sat. While Lord Picford did not seem too pleased with the fact, no one else gave it a second thought, so she didn’t either.

She had arranged the rest of the seating rather well, she thought. She had ensured that the Picfords were banished to the other end of the table, away from most of the crowd, and that Marcello and Cat sat next to her on either side. Grace had seated an unmarried Lord next to Cat and Grace could tell the man stood no chance with her; Cat was clearly only indulging politely in their conversation. Still, to Grace, it made an amusing sight and an entertaining dinner.

Seating the royals next to her had another, unexpected advantage. Marcello's knee would brush hers from time to time, and he sent soft smiles in her direction; Grace enjoyed watching him much more than watching Cat's inept suitor.

Marcello easily seduced the crowd with intriguing stories about Vallerian history, while Cat chimed in with her own tales and bright conversation. By the time dinner was over, the whole crowd was in love with the royals, and she couldn’t really blame them.

After dinner, Grace broke with tradition and asked everyone to head back to the parlor for coffee and cake, rather than splitting away by gender for private conversations. She told herself it was to keep the evening moving along, but really it was because she was greedy; Grace wanted Marcello to continue smiling at her when he thought no one else was watching.

It wasn’t until everyone began to leave later that evening that she began to feel uncomfortable again. The Picfords stayed behind, stopping in the front door while the other guests were outside waiting for their cars to arrive.

“Are you sure you cannot come tomorrow night, Your Highnesses?” Lady Picford asked for what must have been the tenth time.

“Quite sure,” Cat said as she took the woman’s hand in a gentle hold. “I’m afraid our schedule just does not allow for such a happy occasion as your ball. However, we wish you good luck for a pleasant evening.”

Lady Picford tittered, “Oh, thank you, Your Highness.” She curtsied as best she could, which was very poor indeed, but the effort was not lost on any of them.

“Well, if you’ve no time for a ball this time around,” Lord Picford said to Marcello. “You are welcome to come visit us anytime you please. We would be more than happy to accommodate you.”

Marcello’s face remained impassive, though Grace noticed his arms stiffen slightly. “Thank you for your invitation. As you know, I accompanied my sister on her visit here, and would likely return for another such occasion. The Princess had a great desire to see Lady Grace and Nithercott Hall since it may soon be sold.”

Lord Picford gasped. “Sold?” He turned to Grace. “You would sell your husband’s home?” He started shaking his head. “I can see Daniel was always right about you.”

With just a few words, the entire air in the room changed. What had been forced pleasantry now hung heavy with anger and her unwanted shame.

“Lord Picford,” Marcello said, his voice firm and just a little too loud. “Tell me. Do you like your home?”

“Why, er, why, yes, of course, I do. It has been in our family for over two hundred years.”

“Well, that is an interesting assertion you make,” Marcello replied, his eyes swarming with anger. “Since you have so little respect for it.”

“What? How dare you, sir?” Lord Picford replied, his square face growing red in embarrassment. “I do not care who you are, you cannot speak to me that way.”

“I have heard a great deal about this area, and about those who reside in this community. Rumours swirl that you’re behind on your taxes, and have been for quite some time. Yet, you still hold lavish balls every year that you cannot afford.”

“Is this true?” Lady Picford asked of her husband then flinched when his wild eyes trained on her.

“How dare you question me, your husband, in front of the others?”