Free Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace by Regina Jeffers Page A

condition, Grace religiously recorded his mumblings and her description of his condition, and she constantly bathed his torso and face to bring down his fever. She slept little. Snatching an hour or two while curled up in a high backed chair while holding His Lordship’s hand.
    Finally, she succumbed to the need for sleep without relinquishing her promise to watch over him. Grace draped a blanket across her body and crawled onto the bed to lie beside him. She caught his hand and closed her eyes.
    She could not say what woke her. Perhaps, it was the difference in his breathing. Perhaps, it was how he aimlessly wrapped a ringlet of her hair about his fingers. Panicked, Grace made to pull away from him, but Lord Godown tightened his grasp. “Stay,” he insisted. “I was…just considering…the merits of heaven.”
    His eyes still held a bleary gaze, and Grace reached tentatively to touch his face. His fever still roared, but, at least, he appeared a bit more lucid.
    “You may find heaven some day, my Lord, but not today,” she countered.
    Lord Godown smiled wryly. “I beg to differ. Waking…to find your hair…draped across my shoulders…and smelling of lemons.” He lifted her tresses to his nose and sniffed. “Is very close…to how I…envision heaven.”
    Grace felt the heat spread across her chest and cheeks. “I should see to your wound,” she said self-consciously.
    “You should see to your own needs,” he corrected. “You require…rest also.” His finger traced her jaw’s line.
    “But I am to see to your recovery,” she argued.
    Lord Godown’s breathing shallowed. “I am…content.” His eyes shuttered.
    For a moment, Grace searched his countenance, but when his fingers stilled, she snuggled closer to his side. She would follow his orders. Grace would sleep a bit longer.
    When next she woke, darkness draped the room. Only the light from the dying fire showed. No daylight remained, and the night’s reflective light had not achieved its glory. Somehow, Lord Godown appeared closer. His skin’s warmth caressed her cheek, and through her sleep-induced fog, Grace realized her head rested on his uninjured shoulder. She inhaled deeply. Sweat. The metallic smell of dried blood. But deep in the experience, Grace discovered the unique scent of this man. Close enough to touch him, her lips brushed against his skin. Her tongue trailed along the rise of his chest muscle. It was a taste she would never forget. Salty but deceptively sweet.
    “Touch me, Grace.” His mouth’s warmth brushed her hair. So soft, Grace could not guarantee she had not dreamed it. Her eyes strained to see him in the developing shadows.
    Tentatively, her fingertips stroked across his nipple, and a hiss of awareness followed. “Did I hurt you, my Lord?” she whispered hoarsely.
    “Never,” Lord Godown moaned as he pulled her closer. “You are perfection.”
    Grace fought the urge to scoff at such falsehoods, but a secret part of her heart did not want it to be a prevarication. She wanted some man to consider her desirable. Even if that man was near death. Even if it was only for one night. Therefore, she slid her hand across his chest to the plane of his flat stomach.
    “Grace,” Lord Godown bent his head closer to hers. “I want…nothing more…than to kiss you.” He shifted her weight to where he held her in a one-armed embrace. “Although I am currently…a poor excuse…for a man, I would give…a king’s ransom…to show you pleasure. Please come to me.”
    She stilled. Was she truly willing to compromise herself completely? Of course, no one would ever forgive her numerous indiscretions since meeting Lord Godown in the inn’s yard some three days prior, but she would know the truth. If Fate held, she would leave His Lordship and return to a life of boredom among England’s servant class. She already held exquisite memories of his body and his tenderness. Could she possess one more?
    With a deep inhalation of his