Free Swan's Grace by Linda Francis Lee Page B

Despite the rough start, her father wanted her back to be a part of his new family; it could be nothing else.
    "I think you know that I have always cared for you," he continued. "And I would like to think you care—"
    "Good heavens! Look at the time." She whirled away from his grasp and hurried to the door with a laugh she didn't feel. "I'm late, absolutely, positively, unforgivably late. I know you understand, since you are about nothing if not schedules and timetables. We'll talk later. Really."
    "Sophie!"
    But she didn't stop. She dashed out of his office, aware the whole time of his dark, probing gaze on her back.

Chapter Six

    Grayson stood in the window of his office, staring out at the snow-lined street without seeing. He didn't know what to make of Sophie and her abrupt departure.
    With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair. He was frustrated and growing increasingly ambivalent about the bride he had chosen. But he also couldn't deny his increasing hunger for the taste of her mouth. The quick brush of her lips had only made him want more. As always, just thinking about her made his body stir.
    On the morning he had found her wearing his robe, he could tell she had little on underneath. For one stark moment he had imagined parting the cashmere, cupping the bare fullness of her breasts, running his thumbs over the rose-tipped peaks. And his receptionist was only yards away in the kitchen.
    Grayson bit back an oath. His intended was barely home and already she was twisting his thoughts and beliefs into unrecognizable musings.
    Conrad had been pressing him to tell Sophie of the betrothal. He and Patrice, not to mention his father, wanted to announce the joining of the two families at the party Saturday night—in truth, the sole reason for the event. Though Sophie didn't know that.
    Grayson had returned from court early, determined to tell her. And he would have, but she hadn't given him a chance.
    Impatience flashed through his mind at the thought. This was the woman he had chosen to marry. He had written up and signed a flawless legal document to do just that. She was the woman who would bear and raise his children. Hell, based on what he had seen so far, Sophie needed some raising of her own. The irony wasn't lost on him.
    The woman was trouble, and trouble he didn't need.
    But still, he couldn't get her out of his mind.
    He heard the slam of the front door, then he saw Sophie race out onto the landing. Wearing heavy woolen gloves, she pulled on a coat and buttoned it awkwardly, popped open a parasol against the winter sun, then hurried down the flagstone path.
    He didn't believe for a second that she had someplace to go. Though what he wasn't as certain about was whether she had known what he had been trying to say.
    He watched as she crossed the street, then strode down the granite walkway that was bordered by a waist-high, black wrought-iron fence, topped with spikes that were more decorative than deterrent. Despite himself, Grayson started to smile. She was outrageous and maddening, but beautiful beyond words.
    Her hair was uncovered, a generous hat of bells and bows held in her free hand. Wild golden curls were pulled up and away from her face, but escaping its confines. His fingers itched to pull free the simple ribbon that held the riotous mass in place. He longed to touch her hair, her lips. He thought of her eyes, large and brown, shot with shards of gold and green. Vivid and wild. Yet again, his body surged at the thought.
    Suddenly she stopped. Grayson watched, his thoughts churning to a halt, as she slowly sank down to the walkway in front of a place in the wrought iron that had been broken but not yet repaired. With his shoulders stiffening, he saw her curl her gloved fingers around the bent lengths of fencing and peer into the bushes just beyond. Something was wrong.
    Sophie pushed up from the ground, then looked frantically from side to side. He started to go to her, but his jaw fell open in