A Wedding In Springtime(77)

“What if I don’t want to?” Grant set his jaw like a pouty boy. It was not his best look.

“I did not ask what you would like. Come now.” Genie stood and offered a hand. Grant took it and pulled himself up, using a bit more force than she expected. She stumbled forward as he stood, ending up in his arms.

Neither said a word. Neither moved away. Grant leaned down closer, and in his eyes, she saw a glimpse of sorrow. She reached up and put a hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. He bent down closer so that Genie thought he meant to kiss her, but instead he laid his head on her shoulder. Instinctively, she put her arms around him, as if to comfort him, though from what grief she did not know.

“Will you not tell me what is wrong?” asked Genie.

As if wakened from a trance, Grant stepped back, his eyes shuttered once more. “I see what you are about. Trying to seduce me at Almack’s and compromise me to force a proposal.”

“Mr. Grant. You are speaking nonsense!”

“Am I?” he said with confidence and swagger, only to have his shoulders sag the next moment. “I am, aren’t I? Apologize. Never take up the bottle. Makes you stupid.”

“It certainly does!”

“I need to go home,” said Grant, stumbling off in the wrong direction.

“No, no, you are going the wrong way.” Genie sighed and took his hand. “Here, let us find a back way out. You are not fit to be seen by anyone.”

“Not fit, nit fot,” slurred Grant.

“Try not speaking,” suggested Genie. She wandered her way through the back passages, the places that only a servant would go. She found a servants’ entrance and exited onto a side street. But here, Grant stopped her.

“No, no, I can find my carriage from here. Go back to the dance. Can’t be seen leaving out the back door with Mr. Grant, that would never do.”

“Still worried I am trying to compromise you?”

“I am a horse’s arse, Miss Talbot.”

“Will you not tell me what is wrong, Mr. Grant?”

“Lost a friend tonight.” Grant looked up into the dark night. Pale stars were barely visible in the small ribbon of sky visible between the buildings.

“I am so sorry. Is it someone I know?”

Grant looked back at her and smiled even as the sadness returned to his eyes. “You will marry and never again speak to me.”

“We can still be friends,” said Genie, but she knew the instant she spoke, the words were not true. Her feelings for Grant stretched long past friendship. When she was married, she would need to distance herself, which would not be difficult if she married Blakely, since she would leave for the country. Her friendship with Mr. Grant would end.

Neither said anything, the realization of their loss becoming real. This could be the last time she would ever speak to him alone. Genie tried to think of what she wanted to say. She wished to tell him how she felt, but considering she was about to accept another man’s proposal of marriage, the declaration seemed rather inappropriate.

“I will miss our conversations, Mr. Grant,” said Genie, wishing she could say more.

“I will miss your kisses,” said Grant.

And there it was. The truth she was afraid to say. She would miss them too. “Perhaps we should give each other one for good-bye?”

Grant raised an eyebrow. “That is supposed to be my line.” He stepped closer, and Genie’s heart raced. He stood before her for a moment, then reached up to touch her arms, tracing down from her shoulders to the skin below her short, lace sleeves to the edge of her long, white gloves. He slowly pulled off her gloves, first one, then the other. Tingles shot from her fingers to her toes at being so undressed. He lifted each hand to his lips, kissing first the back, then the palm. Shivers of energy pulsed through her at his touch.

He slowly encircled his arms around her and she returned the favor, floating in his embrace. She breathed deep and snuggled into him. This is where she had wanted to be, wrapped in his arms.

Slowly, he bent down and pressed his cheek to hers, then kissed along her jaw until he finally reached her lips. His lips were soft and warm, and she parted her lips to him. He was wet and warm and tasted of whiskey. She relaxed into his kiss, pressing closer and getting a full response in return as he deepened the kiss. She closed her eyes and was weightless and dizzy. Her knees buckled, but he held her fast.

“Run away with me,” breathed Grant into her ear.