Grace by Deneane Clark Page A

him. Her horse, Firefly, a beautiful and spirited chestnut mare, stood securely tethered across the glade near an old tree stump Grace would find convenient to use when remounting. She chewed on a long stem of grass with her eyes half-closed, one foot encased in its scuffed boot and crossed over her threadbare knee. An unexpected shadow fell across her face.
    Certain the newcomer was Mercy directly disobeying the orders of both the physician and her sisters, Grace sat up and turned around, ready to scold the irrepressible young girl for getting out of bed. With a start of surprise, shesaw one of the very people she least wanted to see, calmly settling down and leaning back against
her
oak tree. Without bothering to hide her annoyance, Grace plopped back down, refusing to acknowledge his presence.
    “Good morning, Grace,” he said in a pleasant tone.
    Grace said nothing.
    “You’re out and about early,” he commented.
    Still no response.
    Amused by her stubborn silence, Trevor tried one more time. “Have I done something to offend you?”
    “No,” came her terse reply.
    Trevor fell silent for a moment. He regarded the top of her curly head with a thoughtful look while contemplating his next move. He cleared his throat in the stillness, then frowned when he saw Grace start in surprise at the noise. She was tense, strung as tightly as a bowstring, he thought, and wondered why. “Would you care to know why I’ve come to find you?” he asked. He stretched out on his side behind her, his dark head propped on one hand.
    “To say good-bye?” Grace asked hopefully, without looking around.
    Trevor chuckled. “No,” he said, close to her ear, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Abruptly she scrambled up and stood over him, her hands firmly planted on her hips, her eyes spitting defiant blue sparks at him.
    Trevor remained prone, lying on his side beneath her. He was able, from this angle, to properly appreciate every luscious curve revealed by the breeches that clung provocatively to her hips, thighs, and trim backside. He looked up farther, past the oversize shirt that hid any other attributes she might possess, to her small, set face.
    “Perhaps we began badly, Miss Ackerly—”
    “All the more reason to end well, my lord,” she interrupted ruthlessly.
    “Ah, Grace, but if we end our acquaintance prematurely, there will always be unanswered questions between us.” He looked down and picked up the long blade of grass she had chewed upon, then deliberately caressed the toe of her boot with it.
    She snatched her foot away. “I’ve no questions for you, Lord Caldwell. Ask yours so you may leave Pelthamshire with a free mind.”
    His eyes traveled back up her body to lock suggestively with hers. With satisfaction, he watched her expression go from defiance to wariness, then to sudden alarm.
    Afraid she would take flight, he got to his feet in one fluid motion. He found her enormous blue eyes looking directly into his, silently beseeching, almost begging:
‘Please don’t ask me that!’
    I will,
his eyes promised in return as he took a step closer, his intentions clearly written on his face.
    Instinctively Grace began to retreat, more consciously aware of his nearness than she had ever been with any other person; then she bravely decided to stand her ground. She glared at him, her head held high in proud rebellion. A second later she knew she had made a tactical error.
    Trevor reached out and grasped her upper arms, hauled her suddenly against the rock-hard length of his body, and brought his mouth down on hers. Despite the abrupt embrace, the lips that found hers were soft, cajoling. The more Grace struggled, the more closely Trevor held her, not wanting to hurt her, only seeking to calm her with his hands and his mouth as she fought more and more feebly to get away. Tenderly he coaxed her tightly compressed lips to part with his tongue, only to encounter the stubborn barrier of her