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."