Daughters of Castle Deverill by Santa Montefiore Page A

Little Jack to London to stay with me. We’ll arrange it after
Christmas. I’ll help you organize your passage to America and for someone to vouch for you when you get there. God help those you leave behind.’
    Kitty stood up to go. ‘Robert will get over me and Papa will survive,’ she said, making for the door. ‘After all, he has
you
.’
    Grace watched her leave. Kitty suspected that Grace’s affair with Bertie Deverill had ended the moment Kitty had saved Grace’s life. Indeed, Grace had used that as an excuse to end a
relationship of which she had grown tired. She had explained to Bertie that she owed Kitty a debt of gratitude which couldn’t be paid if she was sleeping with the girl’s father. But
that was a lie. Only Grace knew the
real
moment it had ended. When, high on the excitement of having played her part in the War of Independence and lured Colonel Manley into the abandoned
house on the Dunashee Road so that Michael Doyle and the other rebels could murder him, she and Michael had fallen on each other like wild animals. It had all started then, her affair with Michael
Doyle. She went and leaned on the fireplace and gazed into the fire. The flames licked the logs of turf and the smoke was thick and earthy. She wound her hand around the back of her neck and closed
her eyes. The heat made her feel drowsy and sensual.
    She could see him as clearly as if he were right in front of her, his brooding face close enough to feel his breath on her skin. She could even smell him, that very manly scent which was his
alone: sweat, salt, spice and something feral that made her lose control and surrender herself to his every desire. He had taken her then and many times since, and Grace had grown addicted to the
pleasure he gave her, for none of her previous lovers could compare to Michael Doyle. He made a mockery of all of them, even Bertie Deverill. There was a vitality about him, an earthiness, a hunger
that made her wanton. He handled her roughly, impatiently and when he was done she pleaded for more. He had reduced her to pulp, but she had never felt more of a woman than when he was inside
her.
    Now he was at Mount Melleray she longed for the moment he would return. She fantasized about their reunion. His passion would be all the greater for his having been locked up in an abbey. He
would be like a stallion let out into the field at last and she would be waiting for him like an eager mare. She would wait as long as it took. In the meantime, no one else would suffice.
    Kitty returned home, weary and disgruntled. Grace had been the voice of her conscience and she didn’t like it. She knew that what she was planning was selfish and yet,
after all she had suffered, didn’t she deserve to take something for herself?
    She wanted to ride over to see Jack, but she was careful not to arouse suspicion. The many times she had used her father, her sister Elspeth, who lived close by, and Grace as excuses for her long absences only heightened her chances of getting caught. She had to be discreet. It wouldn’t be long before
they’d have the rest of their lives to be together. Until that time she’d have to play the good wife.
    After going to see Little Jack, who was having his tea, she found Robert in his study, writing. Knowing not to disturb him at his desk she went upstairs and changed out of her riding clothes.
When she came down, Robert was in the hall. ‘Fancy a drink?’ he asked, smiling at her. ‘I could do with one myself. I’ve been deep in my novel all day. I can barely see the
words for the paper.’ He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. ‘What have you been up to, my darling?’
    ‘I went to see Grace,’ she replied, stinging with guilt.
    ‘So you did. How is she?’
    ‘Same as always. She’s expecting her entire family to descend on her in a couple of days for Christmas.’ She followed Robert into the drawing room and