Page 35 of The Mistletoe Countess
He closed his eyes, leaned his head back against his pillows, and groaned. “Heaven help me, I hope not.”
Chapter Eleven
Grace was created for travel, even if she responded with a bit more exuberance than most of the other first-class travelers were used to seeing.
And though Frederick should likely rein in a little of her enthusiasm before they met with his mother, something in the way she filled every corner of his shadowed heart with a new perspective on…well, everything, paused his attempts. The world took on a ruddy glow through her eyes, and his life of loneliness came alive with colors and beauty and hope.
Hope.
Was this what marriage would be like to her? He couldn’t even fathom it.
Of course Frederick had never been married, but he’d engaged in enough relationships to place him among the persons of interest to gossips in town. Yet this was wholly different. Whether from his own repentance from a life of recklessness in trying to sate a thirst or drown a curse or make amends for past wrongs, this connection with Grace, married and free, changed everything.
He’d watched her sleep across from him for five nights, and he wanted to span the distance between their two berths, gather her up in his arms, and discover if every part of her was as beautiful and vibrant as those eyes. But she deserved the wooing process, the chance for affection to build toward an intimate encounter to which she was unprepared. With whom better to aspire for a fairy tale than one’s own wife?
“I’ve never been surrounded by the sea until now, and I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like since my grandfather’s favorite hymn was one that mentioned God’s love being as vast as the ocean.” She sighed as if the thought ushered a tender memory. “Viewing all these gray and blue waves from the shore is different than being surrounded by them.”
“Yes, quite different.”
“Grandfather said God’s love is like that. Fathoms and fathoms surrounding us so we can never escape it.” Her arms stretched out as if to capture the sea. “To be loved like that must make a great deal of difference in the way we live, mustn’t it?”
“Indeed.” He stared out at the roiling waves dancing to the edge of the sky. Fathoms of love? Apart from his grandparents, love—if one could call it love at all—had been doled out by teaspoons, but God’s love? His throat constricted, memories hammering through opened flood-gates of his mind. Grace’s sentiments echoed hints of his grandmother’s wisdom and called to a deep place in his heart that he’d stuffed beneath his hurt and frantic search for approval—for the love his mother refused to share and the perfection his father expected. He cleared his throat and ushered up a teasing grin. “Is this the same grandfather who taught you how to swim, ride a bicycle, and climb trees?”
“Yes, that one. He was incredibly devout, but he didn’t let that impede his living life fully. In fact, his faith likely fueled a bit of his adventure because he believed God was the maker of creativity and wonder, who created life as a grand journey.” She leaned back against the railing, her fiery hair blowing around her in ringlets.
His throat tightened. “My…my grandmother would have liked you.”
She offered a wrinkle-nosed grin, completely unaware of the impact of her simple declaration. “My grandfather would have liked you. I’m sure of it.”
He cleared his throat and offered his arm to her. “And why is that?”
“Because you are kind, and grandfather always told me to marry a man with a kind heart.” They walked ahead on the promenade, the sea breeze blowing her scent of mint and rosemary around him. His fingers itched to capture the fiery tresses, to know their texture against his skin. They’d certainly become more comfortable with sharing space and holding hands. Would she allow him the freedom of unraveling her hair?
“I’m glad you see kindness in me, Grace.” He tipped his head to her. “Because I am certain you will hear different accounts when we reach Havensbrooke.”
“Well, you may not have been armed with kindness in the past, but you have it now, and now is all we have anyway.” She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Grandfather would say, ‘Kindness is your most valiant weapon. People may fight against many things, but against kindness, they fall unprepared.’” Her gaze held his, and she blinked. “But of course you have other delightful attributes, like being clever and charming.” She leaned nearer, her brows raised. “And excellent company.”
Her generous compliments widened his grin even more. She was much too easy to find endearing. “I must say the company has been my favorite part of the last five days. You’re much better to look at than Blake and not nearly as annoying.”
“What a mercy anyhow. At leastsomeoneis more annoying than me.” She released a light laugh, continuing their walk. “But I do wonder how I might improve in my refinement. I feel certain there are probably so many suggestions you have it’s difficult to narrow them down, but perhaps you could begin with a digestible three?”
It took him a full five seconds to catch up with her topic change. “Three?”
“Oh dear.” Her lower lip pouted in a most distracting way as she looked up at him. “There are too many to number, aren’t there? Perhaps you should just start with one.”
“Right now, I only wish for you to enjoy your first transatlantic crossing.”
She studied him through narrowed eyes and then turned back to the view. “Do you think I shocked Mr. and Mrs. Stein at lunch this afternoon with my thrill over the way the sunlight glowed off the ceiling in the dining salon? I didn’t think her brows could rise any higher.”
“Once the shock subsided, I do believe they found you quite charming.”
“I hope I eventually learn how to be quite charming without shocking people senseless first.”
He barely stifled his laugh.
“I do wish you’d laugh,” she said as they resumed their walk. “I imagine it sounds as intoxicating as your voice.”
He leaned his lips near her ear. “You find my voice intoxicating?”
