Page 99 of The Mistletoe Countess
She pulled her hand free of Frederick’s, a sudden queasiness swirling in her stomach.
Celia Blackmore. The woman took up so much space in Frederick’s past, so many memories, sneaking into conversations like an unavenged spirit. Frederick had spent time with her here. Likely scandalously kissing a murderer.
The thought stung. Did he still think of her kisses? On a kissing scale, were Grace’s better? She felt certain she’d only improved since her first introduction. She remained quiet until they’d stepped from the building.
“Grace?” Frederick’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, bringing her to a stop next to him.
She turned, sighing out her momentary jealousy. Or was it grief? She didn’t even know what to call it. “There’s nothing we can do about the past, is there?” She squeezed his hand. “But I think we have an excellent start at a future, don’t you?”
Those dark eyes—clouded with regret—held her attention, her heart. “I love you, Grace.”
The gentle whisper, barely audible, reverberated like a blast through her. She’d read those three words before. Shakespeare lathered them with drama galore, but to hear them from her wildly handsome husband? The unnamed emotion quickening through her chest swelled, catching in her throat and fogging her vision. He’d never mentioned loving her before. Shown it with great skill, but spoken it?
Her lips trembled. Her breath paused.
With steady tenderness, his warm palms smoothed against her cheeks, his thumbs trailing soft against her skin. He pressed his forehead against hers, holding her gaze. Wordless. Their breaths mingling, lips almost touching. She couldn’t find her voice as the emotion swelled in at her throat. She closed her eyes, wrapped in the ethereal haven of his confession.
Helovedher.
She leaned into him and placed the moment to memory. Love? Was that the deep stirring within her to be with him? To see him happy? To protect him? Her lips quivered into a smile. She tipped her chin in silent entreaty, and he complied, lowering his mouth to hers in silent confirmation.
With another lingering glance, he slipped her arm through his and guided her to the horses.
“Once we get home, I’ll phone Detective Miracle about our findings today.” He helped her on her horse.
“Excellent.” She peered down at him with a grin. “And I believe I have an important meeting with your mother before Mr. Piper’s arrival.”
He paused as he rounded her horse to his. “A meeting with my mother?”
“Mm-hmm. She’s going to explain to me the family history of the Percys through the portraits in the Great Hall and gallery.”
“She’s agreed to this?” Her husband eyed her with a great deal of doubt as he mounted his horse.
“Not yet, but I have a plan.”
“You think you can convince her to come with you?”
“What have I told you about giving me the benefit of your doubts?” Her grin inched up as she started forward. “I will do my best.”
Silence greeted her, so she glanced to her right to see her dashing hero’s lips crooked ever so slightly. “My mother doesn’t stand a chance.”
She rewarded his confidence with a smile and drew in a deep breath, sorting out how to offer her husband a very sneaky option. “So while I’m learning about your centuries of descendants, how might you pass your time?”
“I have a strange suspicion you know exactly how I should pass my time.”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “With the architect’s arrival next week, you could always work on estate business.”
“I could.” His response came slowly.
“Or you could visit that darling daughter of yours.”
His eyes narrowed, unconvinced. Oh dear, he was learning her quite well. “Indeed.”
“But there’s always the possibility of searching your mother’s room while she’s out with me.”
His laugh burst out. “I—what?”
“You’re right.” She turned her attention to the path, shaking off the temptation to plead with him. “It’s probably a horrible idea, but the best sleuths resort to sneaky options in order to discover the truth.”
