A Gentle Grace (Wedded Women Quartet) by Jillian Eaton Page A

“But first, do you think we might wait for the pastries? I am ever so hungry.”
    Chuckling, the Earl skirted the edge of the table and offered his arm. She tucked her hand neatly through the crook of his elbow and tried to pretend his very touch did not make her pulse flutter or her heart pound.
    “Whatever you wish, Lady Deringer,” he said. “Whatever you wish.”
     

 
     
    CHAPTER TEN

     
     
    Covertly wiping the crumbs off her skirt from the delicious blueberry pastry she had all but inhaled, Grace stole a sideways glance at Stephen. They had been walking arm in arm through the field for some time and while she was bursting with conversation, he seemed content to wander in silence.
    She wondered if he was always so quiet, or if it was just around her that he guarded his words like precious gemstones. There was no doubt that Lord Melbourne was an unusual man. She could easily see how someone could judge him as arrogant or, in less unflattering terms, just another rake. But there was something below the surface of his ready smile and dry wit that hinted at more. Something she could not quite put her finger on, but was intrigued by nevertheless.
    The sun, having dimmed beneath a flock of white clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky, drifted free again, causing Grace to squint and look away from the Earl as a ray of light played directly into her eyes.
    “You forgot to wear a hat.”
    Belatedly Grace patted the top of her head and noted that there was, in fact, no hat to be had and oh, wouldn’t her mother have a fit when she found out! “I suppose I did. I tend to do that quite often.”
    “Your hair gleams in the sun,” Stephen said quietly.
    Caught off guard by the compliment, Grace blinked several times while she struggled to think of a fitting response. “You… have gleaming hair as well?” she ventured, to which the Earl replied with a snort of laughter.
    “Perhaps you had best leave the flattery to me, Lady Deringer.”
    “Yes,” she agreed without hesitation. “I probably should.”
    They shared a smile, and the intimacy of such a seemingly harmless expression quite stole Grace’s breath away. Anxiety, not wholly unpleasant, swelled within her chest. She felt the muscles in Stephen’s arm tighten ever so slightly and her fingers squeezed in reflex.
    “Lady Deringer, I…”
    “Lord Melbourne, I…”
    Self-consciously Grace laughed and tucked a lock of hair that had come loose behind her ear. “You go first,” she urged, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye only to discover he was already gazing at her. As if drawn together by some invisible force they stopped and turned to face each other. Stephen’s free hand rose to gently clasp her other elbow. Instead of feeling caught, Grace felt… protected. Safe. Treasured. The butterflies in her belly went crazy, dancing and swooping and swirling in dizzying circles.
    “Are you going to kiss me now?” she wondered out loud.
    Stephen took a step closer. “Do you want me to?” he asked huskily.
    Grace tipped her chin up, the better to study the Earl. He stood in front of the sun, blocking it from her eyes and creating a shimmering halo that cloaked his head and shoulders in a dazzling light. “You look like an angel,” she whispered.
    His mouth curved, revealing a dimple high on his left cheek she had never noticed before. “Far from it, I am afraid.”
    She bit her lip, equal parts terrified and breathlessly excited. “You would never hurt me, would you?”
    Stephen released her elbow to cup her cheek. He ran his thumb along the soft curve of her jaw line, his touch so gentle as to barely be felt, and Grace leaned into the pressure, welcoming the foreign feel of a man’s fingers gliding along her skin.
    “No Grace,” he said. “I would never hurt you.”
    Satisfied with his answer, she allowed her eyes to drift close and waited for his lips to descend on hers…
    And waited…
    And waited some more.
    When nothing happened Grace