Free Grace Under Fire by Jackie Barbosa Page B

flutter.
    “But quite damp,” came the amused reply.
    Mr. Dimpled Cheek, then , she decided.
    “As am I,” another male voice observed.
    Sir Blue Eyes . Oh dear, she had spilled the lemonade on him as well as herself. So much for having ruined only her own clothing. How mortifying.
    Mr. Dimpled Cheek set her on her feet. “We’d best get you to a retiring room to clean up, my dear.”
    Grace finally dared to lift her gaze. Her stomach flipped, just as she’d expected. “That’s quite all right, sir. I can manage on my own.”
    Mr. Dimpled Cheek grinned. Sure enough, a deep, devilish crease appeared there. “I beg to differ.”
    “B-b-but my ch-chaperone…” she protested, glancing to the opposite side of the ballroom where she’d left Aunt Georgie. The elderly woman sat precisely where Grace had left her, dozing in her chair.
    “Is otherwise occupied,” Sir Blue Eyes supplied. “Please, allow us to escort you, my lady.”
    She oughtn’t, of course, but the wetness seeping through her bodice and into her stays was a compelling reason to quit the ballroom as soon as possible. Besides, what harm could befall her between here and the retiring rooms in a town house full of people?
    You could be eaten by the Big Bad Wolf. Or wolves , her cautious, sensible side argued.
    She looked from one man to another, and the heat in her belly thickened at the expressions on their faces. Not pitying nor condescending, but admiring. And hungry.
    A treacherous, irrational voice whispered in her head. Would it be so awful to be devoured?

Chapter Two
    Colin followed his best friend and his future wife from the ballroom, conscious of the twitters of conversation and titters of laughter that followed them.
    The first part of their plan had come together flawlessly. It was unfortunate that spiriting the lovely Lady Grace from the throng had required them to make use of her legendary clumsiness, but he hoped she would forgive them once she understood their intentions were pure.
    Well, mostly pure.
    He supposed it wasn’t every day a lady received a marriage proposal from not one man, but two.
    Of course, she would be Colin’s wife in the eyes of the law. Any children she bore would be his heirs. But, if she accepted, she would be as much Atticus’s woman as Colin’s. Both of them would care for her, protect her, cherish her…and fuck her.
    His balls grew heavier as his gaze fell to the rounded curve of Lady Grace’s lovely arse. He hadn’t quite believed it when Atticus had told him he’d found the perfect woman for them. Well-bred, kindhearted, quick-witted…and, like them, incapable of finding a suitable mate.
    Colin compressed his lips at the unwelcome thought. He didn’t need to be reminded of the ostracism he and Atticus endured due to their “unnatural bond.” Most of the time, it didn’t trouble either of them in the least. Or it hadn’t, until Colin’s need for an heir to prevent his family’s estate from reverting to the Crown had begun to nip at his heels, a persistent pest that robbed him of the pleasure he’d once taken in the courtesans and other women of questionable virtue who were willing to accept the attentions of two men at once.
    He supposed he could have made an honest woman of any of those so-called ladies, for he had no family to object to his choice, but he owed his long-dead parents and his future children better than that. In a generation or two, his scandalous behavior would be forgotten, but only if his children had a mother whose background and breeding was unassailable—even if her choice in men was not.
    As they reached the corridor upon which the retiring rooms were located, Colin cast his eyes heavenward and prayed that Lady Grace could be won over by what was bound to be the most shocking proposition she would ever receive.
     
    “Here you are, my lady,” Mr. Dimpled Cheek said, turning the knob and swinging inward the door to the retiring room.
    “Thank you, s-sir,” she