At the end of the day, a singularly lovely day, he said to her, "The time passes too quickly when I'm with you." He reached for her hand. "I want to see you tomorrow."
Cammy stared at him, perplexed because he really did seem to like her. One could get used to having a magnificent man smiling at her as if she hung the moon.
Yet, she worried. How could she find someone, be courted, when Tori was mourning her grandfather? And the love of her life?
As promised, Winfield came around again on Thursday. But when he talked about what they would do the next day as though it was inconceivable that they wouldn't be spending it together, she said, "I would like to see you tomorrow, but circumstances at the Court are very delicate just now."
"How so?"
"Lady Victoria has been under a tremendous amount of strain. I don't know that this won't add to her worries."
"Wouldn't she be happy that a man, a good and decent man, I might add, is besotted with you?"
She thought he teased her. "Are you besotted?" she asked lightly.
His expression grew serious. "Since the moment I first saw you."
Her mouth parted in disbelief. She wanted to cover up her amazement, to say something witty. But his lips covered hers and saved her the trouble. Slow, tender, yet urgent. He communicated more to her in those brief moments than she'd ever dreamed. He pulled away, his gaze catching hers. "Tell me you feel the same way."
"I do," she whispered, then brought her lips back to his, gently clasping his face to answer him in kind.
Twenty-nine
Though the scenery on the Atlantic coast had been striking for the last few days, Grant hadn't enjoyed it. Tonight he was treated to the sun sinking into the azure sea, the clouds strewn around painted scarlet. Grant slowed his horse, and felt the familiar pang he suffered whenever he saw something so appealing. His first thought was that Victoria should see it as well.
The night before Derek had left for home, he'd said he missed Nicole as he would air. Grant now understood that feeling completely. Victoria should be where he was. Period.
How could I know I was in love when I'd never felt it?
The sun hissed when it met the sea. The sky burned with afterglow.
"Ah, bloody hell." He winced, then dropped his forehead into his hand.
It was because he'd never felt this way before that he knew. He shook his lowered head. "I'm in love with her," he mumbled to himself, noting that his voice sounded bewildered. Looking back at the sky, he said more clearly, "I love Victoria."
His discovery made him near frenzied to get home to tell her, but he forced himself to painstakingly follow any semblance of a lead to the end. When he concluded that he'd missed nothing that could help them with Ian's disappearance, he allowed himself to turn back to England, riding day and night to the channel, then pacing on the short voyage across. Every mile closer to home, the guilt he felt for not finding his young cousin grew heavier to bear, but he simply couldn't find another direction to investigate.
Once he'd made it to Whitestone, he took his lathered horse to the stable and ordered his mount rewarded and another saddled. He hurried past Amanda in the garden and tossed a greeting to her.
"Grant," she replied curtly.
Puzzled by her cool behavior, he strode into the house, starving, coated with road dust, and impatient as ever. He grabbed two apples for his dinner, then nearly walked straight into Derek. Grant noticed the tight look on his brother's face and narrowed his eyes. "Did you break the news to Serena?"
Derek gave a distracted nod. "She's sure she's dying of an equatorial disease she read about in the Times and rounded up the daughters to accompany her to Bath."
"Poor chits."
"But I've unleashed the runners," Derek added. "They said they should have news soon."
"That's good, because I found nothing new." Grant jerked an apple in Amanda's direction. "Why isn't she talking to me?"
"I'm afraid it isn't just her," Derek admitted. As if to illustrate his point, Nicole walked in, spotted Grant, and immediately quit the room.
"What's this about?" Grant demanded.
"I...it's about Victoria--"
Grant dropped the apples to fist his hands on Derek's shirt. "Is she hurt? Is she in trouble?"
"She's not hurt," he rushed to assure Grant. "But the old earl passed away while we were gone."
"He died?"
"Yes, he died." This from his mother, who'd just entered the room. "Leaving her with nothing. Less than nothing. She's been working like a field hand and selling everything that isn't nailed down just to keep the creditors from taking the Court. And actually, not nailed down is no longer applicable."
Grant sank down in a parlor chair and exhaled a breath.
"She had to sell her mother's wedding ring that Camellia took from Lady Anne before they buried her." She glared at Grant. "You brought Victoria here. Then you abandoned her."
Instantly, he was on his feet. "You know why I had to leave--"
"Then why didn't you make sure she had enough money before you left? Get someone to watch over her? You alone knew how destitute Belmont really was. None of us had any idea. You'd seen that the place was falling down around their ears."
"In case all of you hadn't already noticed, I don't do my best thinking where she's concerned. I just never conceived he'd die so soon."
"He did, and you stranded her--that's how she looks at it, as another stranding. And just like before, she's doing whatever it takes to survive. Believe it or not, she's making a go of it. But then she had to--"
Grant was out the door before she could say another word.
He made the Court in well under half a day. Energy surrounded the place and changes had been made, but he didn't hesitate to study anything in particular, only rushed to the entrance. The knocker was missing. Grant's brows drew together. Surely Victoria wouldn't have sold that too.
Strangely nervous, he banged on the door, but no one answered. Finding it unlocked, he let himself in and searched the manor until he came upon her in the study. Grant had thought he was prepared to see Victoria, but his chest tightened when he caught her rubbing her forehead, her face pensive as she inspected the account books before her.
He didn't want her pensive. Especially not because of account books. If there was one thing Grant could help her with, it was finance. He reminded himself that she didn't need him to take care of her.
Damn it, he needed him to take care of her.
A thought arose that made his nervousness return tenfold. There was a possibility--albeit slim--that he could mend the rift between them and have her in his arms within the hour.
So much work to be done, and already Tori's head was aching as if her temples were in a vise. Even the birdsong outside--which she had set up a feeder at the window to attract--grated on her nerves.
She put her arms up to stretch, to try to work out the tension creeping up her back into her neck. Her breath left her and her arms fell limply. Grant? He was leaning in the doorway staring at her. How long had he been there? She frowned. That man could not have chosen a worse day.
Without invitation, he entered her study.
Who did he think he was, walking into her home like this?
Like he owned it.
He stood for a moment at the desk, no doubt shocked at how tired she looked or how fierce her expression was when she faced him. If she looked tired, he appeared exhausted, his face drawn with some emotion. His clothes were covered in dust, his boots scuffed. He'd ridden here without even taking the time to shave. Her brows drew together in interest, until he casually laid his hat on her desk and took a seat. The gesture infuriated her and brought out a violently strong possessiveness of the Court.
"We need to talk."
Please, don't be here about the Court. Don't want it like I do....
"I need to explain what's happened in the last few weeks--"
"Did you find Ian?" she interrupted.
His face tightened.
"No, I didn't."
She glanced down, not wanting to share her sadness with him. She'd assumed Grant would find Ian just as Grant had found her, and was crushed to hear otherwise. "Is that why you came here?" She faced him again. "To tell me you hadn't found him?"
"No. Not completely."
"What else did you want to discuss? I'm afraid I don't have the time or the inclination for social calls just now," she said, her voice cold and pleasingly steady.
His eyes widened a touch. "We haven't seen each other in weeks. You can't spare time for me?"
"Is that why you're here? To visit? You should have left your card."
"You know that's not why I'm here--for a simple visit."
"How can I possibly know what you could want here?" She put her palms up in true frustration. "The last time you left here, you swore you wouldn't come back--"
"I behaved like an ass, and I regret that."
He regretted that? I'm sorry, her mind cried. Say you're sorry. Her headache had spread to a band around her entire head. She remembered vowing that she wouldn't take him back even if he swore eternal love and begged forgiveness. He wasn't even close to that with this stilted, pulling-teeth conversation.
"I just don't have time for this," she said, stacking papers in snappish movements. "You need to leave."
"I don't want to leave yet." He irritably raked his fingers through his hair. "I have to speak with you."
She stood. "I don't have to speak with you. And by my calculations, you've had your way every single time we've been at cross-purposes, so I believe I'm due. Good-bye, Grant."
He gave her a disbelieving look.
"It's over. I said good-bye." She walked to the front entrance to show him out, and heard him follow. When she opened the door, he exited, secretly disappointing her. She'd hoped for a groveling apology. Without warning, his hand shot out to drag her to him. Then his lips were on hers, the mere contact as explosive as ever. She didn't slap him or struggle, but was motionless. After moments passed, she couldn't resist moving her lips under his just slightly. He groaned, she gasped. Their hands collided as they reached out to grab each other.
But he was breaking the kiss, seeming to drag himself away. She heard herself give a little whimper of protest. When she opened her eyes and they cleared, she stiffened.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "It damn well isn't over."
"That means nothing," she blustered. "We've always been good like that. If you were listening to anything I said before, you'd know I wanted more."
"I'm ready to give you more," he said, the words like a promise.
She shook her head, furious. "Don't you dare toy with me. I would hope you knew your own mind enough that you wouldn't go from 'a lusty marriage only' to 'anything you want' in the space of a few weeks. A few weeks that we were apart and not working through this together, I might add." She pressed her fingers to her temple. "You made everything clear to me the last time we saw each other, and although I disagreed at the time, I've come to see that you were right about everything."
"No. No, I wasn't. I was a bloody--"
"I want you to know that I wish you every happiness," she interrupted coolly, and closed the door on his achingly handsome face.
But it only bought her a day. The next, he was back like a dog at a bone, continuing his pursuit. As there were only weeks left until the Court was hers, she resolved to avoid him at all costs.
Eluding him was as easy as it had been on the island. Anytime the dogs barked, she left the house or read in her closet by candlelight. Once, she and Mrs. Huckabee were in the kitchen when they heard him striding through the house. The woman had cocked a meaty hip into Tori, sending her flying into the larder just before Grant walked in. Another time, Huck had hidden her in the hayloft where she was silently trampled by a litter of adoring barn kittens.
The growing number of days she evaded him was satisfying.
Curse it, it was.
Victoria had accepted life without him, which was unacceptable.
As Grant drummed the door at the Court, he replayed for the hundredth time the unflinching look Victoria had given him the first day he'd returned. Grant had prepared for her anger. Her resignation was far worse. But she'd fought for him; he would do no less by her.
Plot, organize, fight, conquer. It worked in business. After much coaxing, he'd garnered support from his mother and Nicole, and if he couldn't find Victoria, he'd run Camellia to ground and recruit her as well.
But Camellia did not seem pleased to see him. Actually, at the front door she said, "I can't say I'm pleased to see you." She let him into the house, at least.
The difference in her appearance floored Grant. Gone was the thin, ailing woman, replaced by a comely, vibrant one. "Miss Scott, you're looking well."
He thought she would smile or thank him. Instead, she glared. "Why should I even speak to you? You've hurt Tori terribly."
"I know--I can explain that. I had to go after Ian--"
"She knows why you ran off. But not to even send word? To check on her?"
"I thought she felt well rid of me. Especially when I left here that last morning."
In a saucy tone, Camellia mumbled to herself, "She feels that way now."
"Damn it, Camellia. I thought the time apart would dim her anger toward me. And it would have if the earl hadn't died before I returned."
"The only reason I'm speaking to you is because your mother and sister-in-law wrote and asked me to," Camellia said as she led him into the parlor. "You're lucky Tori's out for the entire day."
When she took her seat in one of the few chairs, Grant sat as well. "This isn't easy for me to ask for your help."
"Why on earth should I help you? You broke her heart."
He frowned, thinking of Victoria's cool words to him. "She's not behaving like her heart's broken."
"No, but you're looking it."
He nodded, knowing she was right.
"No more than you deserve." Her tone was cutting, shockingly so.
"My God, I liked you better addled."
She narrowed her eyes.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. I just want to marry her, spoil her--"
"Love her?"
He looked her in the eye. "More than anything."
"So that's why Amanda and Nicole were so adamant. I'm surprised you told them."
He threw up his hands. "I talk about this to anyone who'll listen. The bloody stable boy knows I'm devoted."
"Well, what do you propose?"
"She said before that there was no affection, no ease between us. I know no one will trick her into meeting me. So what can I do? I want to show her there can be affection between us, but it's impossible when I have to hunt her down. And the one meeting we had since I returned was rushed."
"And, of course, you were nervous."
"I was not nervous." At her disbelieving expression, he grumbled, "There's a lot riding on this." Moving them back to the subject, he said, "I want to be with her alone and uninterrupted for the remainder of the month at least."
She shook her head. "Tori won't leave, and if she did, she'd be so distracted thinking about all the work she needed to be doing that it'd be like she was still at the Court anyway."
"Then I have to be here. With her alone."
"You'll ruin her reputation," Camellia pointed out. "You can't just live with her."
Grant had already planned for this argument. "The Court is isolated. I know you don't get visitors. The villagers and the Huckabees are loyal to their bones. Think about it--if they weren't, the papers would have been here to follow the story of the castaways. And I know your nearest neighbor, the baron. He's a good man who would never gossip."
Camellia was silent for some time, clearly torn.
Grant saw her waver, and pressed. "If worse comes to worst, my mother has agreed to say she was chaperoning here the entire time."
Finally, Camellia said, "Tori's had some papers drawn up. She wants
you to sign them and swear off your claim." She studied him. "I might help if you signed them--"
"Done."
"--and left them with me." Camellia raised her eyebrows. "If you don't make her fall for you in two weeks, you lose her and the Court. Are you willing to do that?"
"I want her." His hands clenched. "Bugger the rest."
Camellia coughed delicately at his language, then said, "I'll trust you on this, but only because I know she loves you. But if you hurt her..."
"I won't."
She pointed her finger at him. "And don't you dare offer her money or try to fix this. She wants--she needs--this for herself."
A quick nod. "Agreed."
"So, alone, you said?"
"If possible."
Her brows knitted in thought. "The Huckabees moved back into their cottage recently. They'd only been in the manor house to care for the earl. And as for me..."
"Perhaps you could visit Whitestone?"
"Oh, I'll just tell her I'm having a torrid affair with that baron and am going to his hunting lodge for a couple of weeks."
Grant straightened. "I wouldn't ask you to lie."
She blinked up at him. "It's not a lie."
Thirty
The roof on the sheep barn?" Tori asked Huckabee in one of their thrice-weekly office meetings.
"We're still getting estimates for materials."
"The shearing?"
"We've got a crew coming in later this spring. But they're going to want half their fee up front."
She sighed loudly. "I'll find it somewhere. The low acres?"
"We've contracted to have them drained by the end of the month."
Her eyes narrowed. "In time for planting?"
He checked a smile. "Aye, miss."
"Let's meet at the barn tomorrow and go over the repairs."
"Right after breakfast, then?"
She nodded, amazed at his unwavering enthusiasm. For some reason, Huckabee was delighted with how she was doing. Mrs. Huckabee related that he'd said he'd never worked for anyone as involved and knowledgeable as she was coming to be. He charged out with a spring in his step and his shoulders back.