Authors: Eliza Lloyd
FromNowOn (8 page)
Penny stood next to the vanity with her chin on her hands,
staring up at Grace. While the twins had decided they must be out every day,
terrorizing London and their governess, Penny had stayed nearby. Grace
understood her unease—it had been over eight years since she had had to face
such a daunting crowd of proficient critics.
Grace chucked Penny’s cheek. “Are you missing home?”
“Only Pee’bo. She misses me.” Peekaboo was the family’s
collie, a gift from Sebastian’s mother the last time she had visited.
“I’m sure she does but she has her puppies to take care of.”
“When can we go home?”
“When Papa is ready.”
As he walked into her boudoir, Sebastian looked every inch
the Earl of Ridgley, dressed in superfine with a stiff white cravat and a ruby stickpin.
Other than his linen shirt he was dressed in black and more handsome than ever.
“And how are my lovely ladies this evening?”
“Trish is determined my hair reach the chandeliers.” Her
maid laughed and then stepped away, giving them privacy.
“As long as there are no birds up there with it,” he said.
Penny embraced his leg. He bent to speak with her. “Look
what I brought for Mama,” he said, holding a square velvet case out for Penny.
“Go on, give it to her.”
“What is it?” Grace asked. “Why don’t you open it for me?
Here, like this.” Penny jumped a little bit and emitted a squeal. Grace stared
at the contents, tears misting her eyes and a hard lump forming in her chest.
“Pretty,” Penny said.
“Yes, it is.” Grace barely heard Seb tell Penny he had a
gift for her too and stared as he put the delicate necklace around his
daughter’s neck. Was love a cure-all? Had Sebastian reappeared in her life just
when she needed him most?
He glanced at Grace. “You shouldn’t look at me that way.”
“What way?”
“As if I had done something other than what you deserve.” He
whispered in her ear, “Unless it is the look that promises you’ll be naked
tonight after the ball.” Penny’s governess came into the room and Seb took a
step away. “So what do you think?”
“The necklace is…exquisite.” She traced the cabochon ruby
hanging from a delicate gold chain.
He reached for the case. “And you have the perfect dress for
it.” He slipped the jewel around her neck while she watched him in the mirror.
The feel of it was whisper-soft against her skin. Seb
brushed her as he solicitously arranged the ruby between her breasts.
“Are we ready?” she asked. Penny held her governess’s hand
and leaned against Grace’s side. Seb assisted Grace to her feet. She surveyed
herself in the mirror one last time. The scars were visible only they were no
longer wounds. They no longer had the power to hurt or shame.
“All of London awaits.”
* * * * *
The ballroom was awash in candles, the light bouncing
against the mullioned windows and winking with each slight movement of air. No
fewer than ten footmen were hurrying around making last-minute changes as their
head housekeeper discreetly ordered them about. Steadily the ballroom filled.
At the head of the receiving line Seb stood watch over his
family. Grace smiled each time she saw one of the boys take a bow or when Penny
attempted a wobbly curtsey. David James had been uncooperative and fussy,
remaining in the nursery.
“Lady Ridgley, we are so happy you have returned to us at
last,” the Marchioness of Stansbury said, a sentiment Grace had heard many
times this evening.
“Thank you, Lady Stansbury.”
Grace was to Seb’s right and each time she felt a prickling
of fear, she turned to him. In his gaze she saw the assurance and love that had
been the hallmark of their marriage. How could she have done it without him?
“It is time you return to your place in society, Lady
Ridgley. One cannot countenance brutality from a man proclaiming to be a
gentlemen.”
“Quite so, Lady Stansbury.”
“But it appears you have borne it well.” Lady Stansbury
glanced pointedly at Grace, peering at the scars as if they had a longstanding
and intimate acquaintance instead of merely being peers in the same social
stratum.
Grace remained stoic under the scrutiny but she knew her
cheeks flamed.
“Perhaps it was not so traumatic as all that. Why, one can
barely see what all the fuss was about.”
Seb squeezed her hand but did not interfere.
“Brutality comes in many forms,” Grace said. “In my case,
the wound has long healed and I won’t let anyone reopen it.”
Lady Stansbury passed on through the line. Grace took a deep
breath, knowing that if she could bear such pointed scrutiny, she could bear
all.
“Vicious old tabby,” Seb whispered next to her.
Grace smiled, a knowing conqueror’s smile. She would endure.
She had endured.
The orchestra tuned their instruments.
Seb leaned toward his daughter and held out his hand. “Well,
Miss Penny, I am ready to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.”
Penny shook her head. “Mama is.”
She propped her thumb in her mouth and leaned against her
mother’s leg. “It appears as though the ball is over for one of us.” Penny’s
governess took her hand and led her away, making two parents thankful for a
quiet exit.
Sebastian wrapped his arm about her waist and pressed his lips
to her neck. “She is right, you know. My fierce tigress is the most stunning
creature in the room.”
They opened the first set, Seb holding her in his arms
through three dances and then they parted for the night as they played host to
London’s elite.
The last guests departed around five o’clock in the morning.
Sebastian stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching as Grace mounted the
staircase. She glanced back at him, giving her best smile.
He would be along shortly given her encouragement through
the night—a smile here, a touch in passing there.
Her lady’s maid helped her from the red gown. Grace washed
quickly, slipped into a sheer robe and then waited to hear him come into his
room. The door between their rooms was never locked and most nights she was in
his bed before he was.
When he strolled into her room, he held a drink in one hand
and his robe was barely tied. “If you are too tired, Grace…”
“Tired? I could not sleep even if I wanted.”
“The ball was a success.” He sipped his drink, but she could
tell he was drinking her in as well.
“Spectacular.”
Seb found a seat on one of the overstuffed brocade chairs
near the fireplace, stretching one of his long legs, bare from his groin, out
in front of him. His arm, holding the glass, dangled to the side. A lock of
dark hair hung down his forehead, grazing his brow.
Grace strolled toward him, allowing her robe to slide from
her body and down her arms. Seb reached for her with his free hand and she
straddled his legs, parting his robe as she drew near.
“Did you know fourteen years ago tonight we had our first
kiss?”
“And they say elephants don’t forget. It seems neither do
tigers.” He soothed one finger over her skin, between her breasts and down to
her stomach before caressing the irregular half-circles on each of her sides,
the stripes he had given her as she bore their children.
“I won’t ever forget, Seb. The second time was at Hyde Park,
the third time at Lady Middleton’s, the fourth time at Hounslow Heath.”
“How could I forget Hounslow Heath?”
“The fifth kiss was in Cornwall.”
“Surely you lost track after that?”
She smiled. His words always humored her. She cupped his
face and pressed hers close to his, their noses touching. “I love you, Seb.”
She touched her lips to his. She heard his clumsy attempt to set his glass
aside before she felt his hand clutch her ass.
“And what do you plan to do about that?” he asked, staring
up into her eyes.
“You may have your heart’s desire.”
“I already have that. I have you.”
Grace pushed up on her thighs and drew closer to him. His
cock surged between her legs. She slid onto his perfect and welcoming erection,
taking him deep. Seb’s head lolled back against the chair, his eyes glazing as
he watched her body undulate over him. He held his hands loosely at her waist.
He was waiting, she knew. When he wanted her most fiercely
he kept control until she released, shuddering over his cock. So she made him
wait. She moved in slow, languorous slides up and down his cock. His chest
began to heave in rhythmic inhalations as his excitement mounted.
“You are not playing fair tonight.”
She reached behind her head and pulled a pin from her hair.
He bit and licked at his lips as his gaze devoured her. His hands slid higher
up her back and he pulled her close, sucking on her breasts.
His hips thrust hard into her.
She pulled another pin and her hair came tumbling down.
“You will always be mine, Grace.”
“Show me,” she said. She braced one foot against the floor,
his cock slipped from her and she stepped away. His cock glistened, distended
and red with pulsing desire.
He followed her, leaving his drink and robe behind.
She crawled onto the bed on all fours, knowing what he
liked.
He gripped her hips. His entry was forceful and deep. He
groaned. He pounded into her and she felt the quick rise of pleasure. She
broke, her sheath clamping on to him and causing him to growl at the fierce
need building in him. He lasted through several more deep thrusts and when he
spilled into her, he groaned and then shook himself.
“Gawd, I want to do that again.”
Grace went to her stomach and Seb to his back, stretching
beside her.
She leaned over him and kissed one of his small nipples.
“Old Madge told Cook we were going to have another child by
next Christmas.”
“Next Christmas? And of course Old Madge is never wrong.”
Seb propped both hands behind his head.
“She’s never been wrong about us.”
“Oh?”
“She once told Cook all I would ever need would be found.”
“That sounds rather vague and you rather trusting.”
“Yes, it does and I was trusting.” Their gazes locked.
“And was she right?”
“Mostly. She forgot to mention the small things like being
madly in love and incandescently happy.”
Her hand settled on his chest, over his heart. He entwined
his fingers with hers.
“Did she ever say anything about me?” he asked.
“Only that you were the luckiest man alive.”
“Old Madge is right again.”
Eliza thinks romance writing is nearly as good as the real
thing. Given her choice of professions, she would have preferred to be a 19th-century
archeologist, but she is perfectly happy living in the 21st century and
comfortably writing about such romantic but inconceivably inconvenient times,
instead.
She enjoys traveling, movies, everyone else’s novels and a
good meal out with friends on Saturday night. Her greatest flaw is that she
believes there is such a thing as true love. Don’t tell her otherwise, please.
Eliza welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website
and email addresses on her
author
bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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Eliza
Lloyd
Wicked
Affairs 1: Wicked Desires
Wicked
Affairs 2: Wicked Temptation
Wicked
Affairs 4: Wicked Secrets
Wicked
Affairs 1: Wicked Desires
Wicked
Affairs 2: Wicked Temptation
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
From Now On
ISBN 9781419945274
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
From Now On Copyright © 2014 Eliza Lloyd
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover design by Dar Albert
Cover photography by hotdamnstock.com, jonathan/fotolia.com
Electronic book publication January 2014
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