Nicholas cleared his throat, watching silently as she lovingly touched the leather spines of the books before her. What would it feel like to have her touch him like that?
When Grace finally turned back toward him, he was struck by the sheer delight in her expression, the softness of her eyes. There was no denying her pleasure made him feel as if he were human once more. “Thank you, Nicholas. This is a lovely surprise.”
“Consider it your wedding gift,” he said gruffly, suddenly needing to escape her fulsome praise. He didn’t deserve it. “I must return to my work.”
The light in her eyes dimmed but she nodded. “Of course. I shall see you later.”
It wasn’t a question, but he didn’t answer her, inclining his head before swiftly vacating the room.
Perhaps the library would keep her entertained for a while until he could figure out exactly what he needed to do with her.
Because right now, he wasn’t so certain he felt quite as detached has he had when she first arrived, and he couldn’t afford to have his heart involved. Their marriage was a business arrangement only.
And Nicholas was determined it would remain so. He didn’t dare do otherwise.
Chapter Eight
Grace stared at the ornate ceiling above her head, her heart heavy. Nicholas had not come yet again to her bed and she was starting to wonder if he ever would. After today’s events, she’d hoped he was warming to the fact they were married. That she was now his wife.
Yet as the shadows lengthened from day to night, she’d eaten a solitary dinner for the second time and made her way to bed.
Alone.
It seemed her new husband was still avoiding her.
As yet she had no lady’s maid, and in truth had no wish for one, but it would have been comforting to have someone to speak with as she readied herself for bed. She thought about her sisters and the noisy mayhem that usually accompanied them all as they retired. Her room was undeniably beautiful, but she was surrounded by oppressive silence.
Grace lay in her bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. Was this how it was going to be for rest of her life? She felt a clutch of fear, then took herself to task. Throwing back the covers, she sat up. She wasn’t simply going to lay here and look at the ceiling. There was an entire library for her to explore downstairs.
After locating her wrap, Grace stole down the stairs as quietly as possible. Halfway down she abruptly froze as muffled sounds of screaming came from her husband’s study.
Another cry rent the air and Grace stumbled down the rest of the stairs, her heart in her throat. Had someone broken in? It sounded as though they were being attacked. She felt suddenly sick at the thought that Nicholas may still be in the study. Was he even now being murdered?
Without thinking she grabbed a candlestick from a small occasional table at the foot of the stairs and hurried down the dim hallway to the study.
Throwing open the door, Grace found the room empty save a thrashing man in the chair before the fire.
“No! Don’t you dare die on me John. Keep your eyes open. Look at me damn you, look at me.”
The anguish in his words tore through Grace as she made her way to his side, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nicholas was having a nightmare and by the torment on his face, she realised whatever it was he was dreaming had actually happened.
Was this why he hadn’t come to her bed?
“Lass, be careful.”
Grace turned to find Nicholas’ valet at the doorway, his red hair sticking out all over his head. She had met the Scot the day before and found him very congenial. “Do you know what’s happening?”
The sombre look on his face tugged at her heart. “Aye. He’s having a nightmare. They continue to plague him even after all this time.”
“What can I do to help him,” she whispered, kneeling beside the chair. It must be torturous to know he would endure such pain each night when he closed his eyes.
“There’s nae helping him,” the Scot replied, moving closer to the chair. “And he will not thank ye to see him so.”
“I can’t leave him like this,” Grace stated softly. Carefully, she lay her hand on her husband’s cheek, feeling the tightness under her palm. Nicholas flinched against her touch, but his eyes did not open, his fists clenched tightly against the chair. “There must be something I can do,” she continued almost on the verge of tears.
“Go on lass,” the Scot replied, his expression troubled. “I’ll get the lad tae his bed. Tis the blasted memories that will not leave him be. And the sights and sounds he’s endured are not for a gentle woman’s ears.”
Gently he pushed her towards the door. “He’s lucky to have a friend such as you,” she whispered.
The other man grinned. “Aye and he’s lucky tae have a woman like ye by his side. God willing, he’ll realise it before we’re all old and grey.”
Grace touched the man’s shoulder in thanks before she exited the room, the tears now flowing freely as she climbed the stairs. Perhaps her husband was not the cold man she’d believed him to be. The agonies he’d clearly experienced had wrought such terrible suffering inside him. Mayhap Nicholas had cultivated the remoteness in his demeanour as protection.
To keep people away. To keep her away.
Shivering Grace climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers to her neck. She had no knowledge of the horrors of battle and felt completely out of her depth. But she was determined to do something. One thing had become abundantly clear. Nicholas had shut himself away from the world and it was up to her to bring him back.
∞∞∞
The next morning, Grace opened her eyes to find her husband seated on the
