Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) (8 page)

This was not how he had planned to redeem his and Valleria’s reputation but, at the moment, he could not see another path.

Resolved, his dark eyes firm and unwavering, he sat down and began to plot a top secret mission into the dregs of the Gardar Rus.

Grace walked slowly up the steps towards the guest rooms, particularly towards Marcello’s room, balancing a tray as she did so. She had become worried when he hadn’t come down to lunch. The servant she had sent to check on him had also told her that he wasn’t interested in a meal.

Grace wondered perhaps, if it was really her that he wasn't interested in anymore.

Even with her dismal experience, she could tell when a man was interested in her. Daniel had made her afraid to speak to any man, really anybody but him. However, in the last year, that had slowly changed. She could now tell the difference between a man’s interest and a man’s general pleasantries. Marcello acted like he was interested in her, at least he had during their morning walk.

What had changed?

As she adjusted the tea tray in her hands, she knocked softly and heard muttering but no answer. When she knocked louder, the door flew open and left her hand knocking against air.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” Marcello said in a loud voice and Grace froze, as did Marcello when he found her standing there. “Grace,” he said softly.

She stood frozen, her hand still fisted in the air. She was holding her breath, just as she had when Daniel would raise his voice. Her eyes were fixed on Marcello’s for any sign that violence would come; she could always tell how abusive Daniel would be by the look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Marcello said in a low, even voice. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice, to you or any of your staff.” Marcello glanced at the tray in her hands and said, as he slowly reached for it, “Here, let me take that.”

Her hand had fallen back to her side and, as Marcello took the tray, she took an unconscious step back. Grace saw pain flicker across his face and it jolted her out of the trance she had fallen into.

“I just thought you may want a snack since you missed lunch and dinner’s not for several hours,” Grace said.

“I notice there are two cups on the tray,” Marcello said. “Why don’t you come inside and join me?”

“You don’t want to be disturbed, so I’ll just see to something else,” she said and turned to go. She froze again when his hand gripped her arm lightly in a bid to keep her from leaving. She knew she could easily step away from Marcello, and that he would understand why she did, but she did not want to. She liked the feeling of his warm hands and slim fingers on her arm.

“Please join me, Grace.”

She fisted and unfisted her hands a few times before she turned and studied his eyes again. They were a clear, pleading deep dark brown. There was not any violence in them, and she knew what violent eyes looked like. She realized that when he had opened the door in anger, that had not been in violence either.

“All right,” she said. Marcello go of her arm and stood aside as she walked into the room, her arm brushing his as she did so. She unconsciously stepped back, then blushed when she realized what she had done. She had to stop being so afraid of a man touching her.

Not all men were like her lying, cheating, abusive husband, she reminded herself.

Marcello closed the door, then led her to a small sitting area near the fireplace and set the tray down. As Grace reached for the teapot to serve them, his hand came to rest over hers. She held her breath as he brought it to his warm lips for a kiss and then released it. Daniel’s lips had never been that warm, even before marriage, she recalled. Then she wondered if it was right to compare Marcello to Daniel so much.

“I’ll pour,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” he said as the piping hot aromatic brew hit the fine, porcelain cup. He poured some milk and sugar into the cup before handing it to her, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“How did you know how I like my tea?” she asked.

“That’s how you drank it this morning,” he said as he fixed himself a cup and settled down on the couch beside her.

“You’re very observant.”

“Occupational hazard,” he said as he leaned back and relaxed, the dainty cup balanced easily on one strong, capable male hand. She wondered why she kept thinking about how his hands felt. Perhaps it was because she had not felt such softness with strength in a very long time.

She sipped slowly, and her eyes could not help but darting towards him as he did the same. She saw the lines of his full lips as he sipped the hot, comforting drink, and watched the movement of his ankle as it was raised in the air and then balanced on his knee. His was an easy confidence, and was in stark contrast to the brutal confidence she had so long been accustomed to.

Marcello, she realized, made her both at ease and uneasy. She wondered why she felt so many conflicting emotions in his presence.

“May I help you with anything?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. What?” she asked as she broke free of her thoughts.

“You seem to be figuring out a problem of astronomical proportions,” he said as he put down his empty cup. His thumb slid across her forehead to her brow and began to smooth out the furrow she hadn’t realized was there. “Am I the problem you’re trying to figure out?”

“Yes. I mean, no.”

Marcello chuckled and the sound sent her pulse racing. Before Marcello, her pulse too often raced in fear. Now, she realized and remembered, it could race for something else. “You don’t seem very sure of your answer,” he said as sat back against the couch again. Somehow, he had managed to move closer to her, so close that their knees were almost touching.

Grace shifted slightly away, though part of her rebelled against the action, and sat up straighter. She sipped some more tea which was becoming cooler. “It’s complicated,” Grace said softly. “I’m complicated.”

“That’s certainly true,” he said and her head whipped over to his. He had a half smile on his face and his dark eyes were bright.

“I beg your pardon.”

He chuckled again; she almost wished he wouldn’t. Certainly, he couldn’t know what his voice was doing to her.

“I’m only agreeing with you, fair Grace. You are complicated. I knew that the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

She felt dismay at the thought. Was her past so clearly written on her face? “What did you know, Marcello?” she asked softly, looking away to stare into the dregs of her tea.

His hand came to her chin and tilted her face towards him. The smile had faded into an intense expression. His eyes held her in place, almost as strongly as a pair of hands could have. “You’re one of the most beautiful, intelligent, enchanting women I’ve ever met, Grace. Any woman as enigmatic as you is bound to be complicated.”

Her breath caught and the cup rattled in her hand. Enchanting? No one, not once in her whole life, had called her enchanting. She had certainly not been called beautiful in years; she had not felt beautiful in years, either.

“Here’s the thing, Grace.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“I like complications, and I like you, maybe much more than I should.”

“What?” she asked again.

“May I kiss you, Grace?”

How had he moved even closer? She could feel the heat from his body; it seems to roll off him in waves and aimed for her. “Kiss me?”

Without breaking eye contact, his hands slid down her arm, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. He took the cup from her hands and put it down next to his. “It’s your decision,” he said as he leaned forward and his hands shifted to rest on her arms again.

Grace licked her lips and saw his eyes flicker to the movement before locking with hers again. She was terrified and embarrassed but suddenly she had to know, needed to know what those lips felt like. “Kiss me,” she said and she felt the heat of a blush sweep across her cheek.

“Are you sure, Grace?”

Was he changing his mind? She did not think she could bear it if he did, so she did the only thing she could think of: she kissed him first.

She pressed her soft lips to his full and firm ones, watching with open eyes how he reacted. She’d gotten out of the habit of kissing with her eyes closed long ago; keeping her eyes open had made it much easier to anticipate from which direction Daniel would punch her next.

When Marcello did not move, not one muscle, not even one lip, she thought she must be as terrible at a kisser as Daniel had always told her she was.
Useless. Whore. Tramp. Can’t even kiss worth a damn
. All of the things he used to say to her crowded inside her mind.

She shook her head and broke free from his lips. Before the tears came in full force, she stood and began to run across the room.

“Grace, wait,” Marcello called as she ran through his bedroom and closet to the joint sitting room. When she got to the door that would connect her with freedom, she remembered that she had locked it from the other side.

Trapped. She was trapped with Daniel again.

No
, she reminded herself. Daniel was dead.
Is
dead. He could not hurt anyone anymore.

“Grace,” Marcello said as he came behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed for a moment before relaxing again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice already husky with the threat of impending tears.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked as he gently turned her around. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do. I’m a terrible kisser,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. As she lifted a hand to brush it away, Marcello got there first.

“You’re not a terrible kisser,” he said firmly and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. He wasn’t upset or laughing at her. Could he be sincere?

“I am,” she said again.

“When was the last time you were kissed, Grace? I mean truly kissed by a man who meant it, and not by a man who kissed in anger.”

She gasped. She thought he may have suspected her past that morning, but he knew? Had Catharine told him?

“Yes, I know about your past. No one told me, fair Grace. I only had to see the pain in your eyes and the way you shift away from me so much to know.” She was not sure what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

He cursed under his breath, but his hold on her was gentle. “You are not a terrible kisser. I don’t give a damn what that useless son-of-a-bitch told you.”

Grace pressed her lips together to keep from defending Daniel; it had been a tough habit to break but she was finally learning how. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “I told you I was complicated.”

“Damn right you are,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice as he shifted closer to her and drew his arms around her. “And right now, you’re in my arms and I want to know what you plan to do about it. Do you plan to run away again? Or may I kiss you again?”

Her hands were resting against his chest. Though he was slim, it was clear from what she felt that he was all muscle and strength. Where Marcello was strong with a gentle touch, Daniel had been soft with brutal touch; the stark difference surprised her.

She looked into his eyes again, which were patiently waiting for her. She had forgotten how to kiss, she realized, and thought it might be time to learn again. She lifted up onto her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to his lips. This time, before she could think about what to do next, he took over.

His lips became demanding as he pulled her body firmly against his. With a gasping breath, her lips parted and his tongue reached out to taste her. As her own tongue tentatively tasted back, she felt his hands skim along her back, shifting down her spine to rest just above her bottom.