Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) (12 page)

He gathered her against him and she didn’t protest. “You’ve got Cat and you’ve got me. Both of us care for you very much.”

“You do?”

“Yes. You’re not alone anymore. Not now, not ever again.”

It was hard for her heart to believe that, even if her head could acknowledge its truth.

“I know it’s late,” he said. “But do you really have things you need to take care of tonight, or was that an excuse?”

She sighed. “I’m sure the servants have seen to it by now. I’m so tired,” she said as she leaned her head against him once more.

“Then allow me to walk you to your room.”

When she nodded, he walked her back inside and locked the doors behind him. Then he swept her into his arms, and began carrying her through the ballroom and towards the stairs. “You don’t need to carry me.”

“I want to carry you,” he said and pressed a soft kiss against her head. Since she didn’t mind it overmuch, she didn’t say anything else.

He deftly made it up the stairs, letting her down only when they had reached her door. He kept her in the safe circle of his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead before stepping back.

She reached out to him, grabbing his arms to keep him from leaving. “Don’t leave me,” she said before she could think about it.

“Did you want to sit down? Talk some more?”

She shook her head. “Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” She didn’t know if it was a good idea, but she liked it when he held her. “I don’t mean that I’m ready for anything physical.”

“I know what you mean,” he said as he slipped his arms around her. “I’d be more than happy to stay with you, fair Grace.” He kissed her lips and pulled back again. “Why don’t I go change and I’ll meet you in your room?”

She worried what the servants might think if they saw him. She worried what Cat might think if she saw him, too.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll use the door that joins our rooms; no one needs to know if you don’t want them to.”

“How did you know about the door?”

“I work in security and intelligence. It’s not hard to figure out where a door goes, especially since you tried to use it to escape my room earlier today.”

“Oh,” she said as she remembered the incident, which brought another wave of embarrassment over her. “I’ll unlock it for you.” Noticing the gleam in his eye, she said, “You’ve already unlocked it.”

“It wasn’t that hard to do. Does that make you uncomfortable? I just wanted the door available in case you needed another escape route.”

Since he said it with a soft smile, she decided not to lecture him for it. In truth, it made her feel cared for, and it wasn’t as though he’d used the door to take advantage of her. “It’s all right. Maybe come by in about fifteen minutes?”

“Sure,” he said as he began walking backward down the hall towards his room. “See you soon.”

After Marcello disappeared into his room, Grace quickly slipped into hers. After a quick glance in the mirror at her tear-stained face, she wished she’d told him an hour.

She quickly shucked off her fitted jacket and headed straight for the bathroom. First order of business was to make her face and hair presentable, then she’d worry about what she should wear.

As soon as Marcello entered his bedroom, he threw off his jacket and tie. He pulled his dress shirt over his head, too impatient to unbutton it. When it caught at his wrists, he simply ripped the shirt apart.

As he threw the tattered shirt onto a chair, he took a deep breath; he had to get himself under control. Grace was vulnerable and fragile right now. If he showed up in her room like this, she might get that terrible look on her face, the one she’d had when Lord Picford had been ranting and yelling.

Marcello sighed and ran his hands through his careful coif. Had she had that same look on her face for years while her husband had beaten her, or worse? Anger welled up inside him again. Why hadn’t someone helped? Why hadn’t she asked for help?

He shook his head. Why was he blaming her? It wasn’t her fault. Though he couldn’t help but grieve for what she’d lost. For some reason, he felt her pain. Physically felt it. Her fear, her anger, her defeat - all things she’d felt during the confrontation an hour ago - he had felt it, too.

Why did he have such a connection with her? Why her and no one before? He had a feeling he would never find this kind of connection with another woman again, and that scared him. He was never scared of much, but losing her, before they’d even begun, scared him.

Tonight was a big step forward for them. They may not forge a physical connection tonight, but they could still forge an intimate one. He just had to keep his body under control, while they slept together. In the same bed. Inches away from each other.

Holy hell.

Marcello took off his clothes, but for his body-hugging boxers, and finished readying for bed. He decided against wearing a robe. Since he usually slept in the nude, even boxers were a concession to him, and he wanted Grace to become comfortable with him and his body. As soon as fifteen minutes passed, he strode barefoot through the closet and to the door adjoining their suites.

After a soft knock with no answer, Marcello tentatively opened the door and called for Grace. When he still didn’t receive an answer, he walked inside.

He passed through the sitting room to the closet, where he stopped. Her soft scent assailed him though she was nowhere to be found. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it wash over him.

He continued to her bedroom, which was empty. Her jacket lay haphazardly on a chair and the sound of running water drew his attention. The bathroom door was cracked open but he didn’t want to intrude.

“Grace?”

“I’ll be out in just a minute,” she called back in muffled voice.

Left with nothing to do, his naturally inquisitive mind began to roam around the room. The same gifts that made him excellent in his profession also gave him an insight into the woman with whom he would soon be spending the night.

He had not had an opportunity to really look around when he had been in her room earlier, but he now saw little touches everywhere that reflected her. Small vases of fresh cut flowers dotted various furniture. Her dresser was covered with bits of makeup and things that women claimed they needed, though Grace could wear nothing and be just as beautiful. He thought of her that morning in casual clothes and a ridiculous hat, and that evening in a silk gown with hair just so. She stole his breath away no matter what she wore.

A clear glass bottle of pale pink liquid sat atop her dresser next to lotions, powders, lipsticks, and more. As he removed the stopper, he smelled part of the scent that made up her unique one. She came out just as he replaced the stopper.

“Sorry for taking so long,” she said as she came out in a rush then stopped, eyes wide, when she caught sight of him almost nude.

Irritation bit through him and he turned, ready to scold her for apologizing again. Then his irritation turned to anger when he caught sight of her scars. “You don’t need to apologize, Grace,” he said when he’d gotten himself under a little more control. He walked over and stopped in front of her.

When her eyes gave him a quizzical look, he lifted a hand to the puckered skin at her shoulder. Though healed, it would always leave a scar.

She stiffened and stepped back. “Excuse me,” she said turning, and escaped to her closet. He followed.

When he saw her, Grace’s head was buried in her hands again. He stepped behind her, and dropped a soft kiss to her scarred skin.

She jumped back. “What are you doing?”

“Your scars aren’t something to be ashamed of.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“It is now. It didn’t used to be.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave her a small smile. “If you weren’t so intent on avoiding looking at my body, you might see for yourself.”

She blushed, and when she blushed she seemed to blush all over. God, was that sexy. One day, he hoped to see her whole body blush. “I’m not avoiding you. Exactly.”

“I know I haven’t been through what you have, fair Grace. I have, however, been injured in duty.” He took her slim hand and placed it on his body, first on left side, just under his cage. Her fingers felt electric against his skin.

“That scar happened during my first mission. I was barely twenty-three, and I was still green.” He rubbed her fingers over the long scar before shifting it to his back, near the base of his spine. She was almost pressed against him.

“This was a scary one,” he said. Though she wasn’t saying anything, she wasn’t pulling away. “A bullet right near my spine. If it had been a few millimeters to the right, I’d probably be paralyzed.”

“My God.”

“Hardly anyone knows about that scar. You’re one of the few.”

“What?”

“It’s true. Cat doesn’t even know. Alex and my parents know, along with the medical staff who treated me. We kept it quiet from everyone else.”

“Why?”

“The mission was highly dangerous. Only a few knew that I’d even gone, Alex being one of them. I always told him when I went on missions, just in case.”

“Marcello,” she said as she gently caressed his back. He willed her hand to go a little lower, but knew that would be dangerous for both of them. Instead, he moved her hands around to just below his belly button, right at the line of his boxers. He watched her throat as she swallowed.

“There’s another scar just underneath here, though a little lower.”

“How low?”

He chuckled. “Not that low.”

Tentatively, she slid her hands across his stomach, which quivered in response. Though his torso was not as broad as some of his brothers, his svelte body was toned and muscled. Her hand dipped into his boxers and he held his breath.

He covered his hand with hers and shifted them to where the scar lay. Everywhere she touched was like a spark against his skin. It was impossible to hide his growing erection from her, not that he wanted to. He wanted to Grace to know unequivocally that he desired her, and that he would not force her into anything, ever.

He cleared his throat and removed her hand, giving it a kiss. “I’ve got more scars. So do you. So does everyone.” He gave her scarred shoulder another kiss. “Your scars are part of who you are, but they’re not all you are. You’re so much more than your scars.”

Her eyes welled up again. “Oh, Grace,” he said as he pulled her against him. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t,” she said sniffling. “Well, you did, but they’re happy tears. No one’s ever said anything like that to me, Marcello.”

“No one?”

“Well, maybe my therapist, but it’s different.”

“Yes, it is.” He kissed her head and pulled back. “Are you okay? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You have every right to change your mind.”

“No, I want to be near you tonight,” she said and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

God, one taste and he wanted to devour her. He took a deep breath. “You’re welcome, but you don’t need to thank me for telling the truth.” He kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll wait in the bedroom for you.”

“Wait,” she said as he shifted away. “Will you help me?”

“With anything. What do you need?”

“It’s my zipper,” she said gesturing with a grimace. “I think it’s stuck. I can’t get it down.”

God help him. “Turn around,” he said in a husky voice.

With her back turned to him, he fingered the zipper and tugged softly. The dress had indeed gotten stuck on some fabric. While one hand slipped against her skin and began to shift the fabric behind the zipper away, the other toyed with the pull tab of the zipper, moving it up and down in slow, steady motions.

Marcello could feel the soft, creamy skin along her spine, and tried not to think about how she would taste if he kissed her there.

Eventually, he worked the zipper free. He slowly pulled it down, the zipper’s teeth ticking softly, until he stopped just above her waist. Grace was holding up the dress in the front and he now knew that she had worn a blue bra to match her dress. His cock clearly liked this new information.

Unable to resist, his hand traced her spine upwards and then along her neck to her mass of hair. She gasped as his hands delved into the golden strands, pulling out pins and undoing the twist she’d made earlier. It fell in one long, glorious mass down her back.

He shifted her hair over one shoulder to keep it free from the zipper. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and she shivered. He hoped it wasn’t fear, but lust that had spurred it. He did not mind waiting, not one bit, for her body but he did not want fear in their relationship. Fear had no place in any relationship, by his way of thinking.

“I’ll be outside,” he said in a gruff voice and left before the urge to kiss her again took over.

***

As soon as Marcello left the room, Grace gripped a chair in her closet for support. She had never felt more aroused in her life, and all from one look at his trim, toned body and the feel of his hands against her skin. The simple sound of a dress unzipping would never be the same to her again.

She let go of the dress, which pooled in a lake of blue at her feet. She let the cool air in the room swirl around her for a minute before she picked it up. Her mind may not be ready to go all the way with him, she thought, but her body certainly was.

A few minutes later, after taking a furious brush to her hair, she debated what to wear. She’d had no need for anything sinful since her wedding night. Resigned, she came out in her plain, practical, cotton pajama shorts and tank top. Her shorts were just long enough to hide the scars on her thigh.

Marcello was leaning, arms crossed, against the window. The pale light of the moon cast the most enchanting shadows against his skin. She never thought she could be enchanted by a man, certainly not after Daniel, yet here she was.

She drew her shoulders back and took a deep breath, resolving not to think of her dead husband. This was her night, hers and Marcello’s. They may not make love, but other people didn’t belong between them.

She walked over to him and he noticed her progress halfway across the room. He uncrossed his arms and stood up straighter, as if searching for control. His erection certainly had ideas that Marcello seemed to be tamping down.

“You’re beautiful, Grace,” he said as she joined him in the moonlight. “I can’t say it enough.”

“I can’t hear it enough,” she said because it was true. She never thought a man would find her attractive or desirable. She never thought that about herself enough, either.

He took her hand and led her to the bed. They both slipped underneath the soft, warm covers, and she felt as though they’d slept together for years instead of for the first time. Both of them scooted to the center, where Grace curled against him and rested her head against his chest; she could hear his heart beating strong and true. Marcello’s hand joined hers against his chest, while the other stroked her hair in long, smooth motions.