As an apology it was rather poor, seeming to imply that it was Grace’s own behaviour that had caused Lucian to behave in the way that he had. But it was an apology nonetheless…
‘Apology accepted.’ She nodded graciously.
Dark eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. ‘That is very—generous of you…’
Grace gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I am a very generous person.’
Lucian’s lips twitched on the edge of a smile at her magnanimous attitude, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. But not all. He was still too aware of Grace’s loveliness, her near-nakedness beneath her velvet robe, to be able to relax completely. ‘The Duke tells me that there was some sort of upset between you and Francis when you returned from our ride this morning…?’
Grace’s chin rose challengingly. ‘He annoyed me.’
Lucian gave a tight smile. ‘By breathing, perhaps…?’
She nodded abruptly. ‘Perhaps.’
Lucian gave an understanding nod of his head. ‘If, as we think, Francis is the one responsible for the rumours concerning our betrothal—’
‘He is!’
‘He has admitted as much?’
Her mouth tightened angrily. ‘As good as, yes.’
‘Then you have every right to be annoyed with him.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘How kind of you to give me permission to be so, My Lord!’
Why, Lucian wondered irritably, did every conversation he had with Grace result in an argument of some kind? Even when he was attempting to be reasonable—especially when he was attempting to be reasonable!—Grace seemed to take offence over something he either said or did.
He sighed his impatience. ‘I am merely suggesting that it might be better if you were to leave any reprimand to Francis Wynter to me. Better as regards your aunt and uncle, I mean,’ he rasped at Grace’s fierce glare. ‘After all, he is the brother of your guardian, your uncle, and for the moment you are all residing under the same roof.’
Grace found she couldn’t disagree with this argument. Although, contrarily, found she would have liked to do so. There was something so deliciously…exciting about inciting Lucian to anger. Especially when both his brother and sister seemed to imply that their brother was no longer capable of deep emotion…
For the last two years, anyway. It had been a bloody war against Napoleon, of course, and many of those who had fought in it had not returned. Perhaps—perhaps that was the very reason Lucian had those disturbing dreams? Because he was one of the ones who had returned?
If that were the reason then it was ridiculous of him to feel that way, of course, but in the short time that she had known him Grace had come to realise that Lucian was a man capable of very deep emotions. Anger and desire to name but two…
‘Perhaps you are right.’ Grace spoke quietly, her gaze slightly shy beneath the sweep of her lashes.
‘Good God…!’ Lucian looked astounded.
Grace gave him a startled glance. ‘What is it?’
‘I do believe, Grace—’ he grinned widely ‘—that is the first time in our acquaintance that you have ever agreed with me without argument!’
‘I am sure that cannot be right, Lucian.’ She frowned. ‘What about—? No. Well, there was the time—No.’ She gave a heavy sigh. ‘But surely I did agree—? No, I did not.’ Grace grimaced as she realised that his claim was correct. ‘Perhaps if you were not always so determined to be right—’
‘No, Grace, I will not allow you to spoil this moment for me!’ Lucian moved forward to place a triumphantly silencing finger against her mouth.
He was instantly aware of his mistake as he felt the softness of her lips beneath his fingertips, the warmth of her breath against his skin. The nearness of the soft rise and fall of her breasts…
Grace’s startled gaze met his, their faces only inches apart, misty grey captured by dark, compelling black, her breath only the softest of whispers against his fingers. Lucian’s own breathing had become somewhat erratic.
Time seemed to stand still as Lucian gazed deeply into Grace’s eyes, watching as the pupils became enlarged, leaving only a rim of grey at their edges as she stared up at him in rising expectation, as if willing him to kiss her.