she’d understand eventually.”
“But she didn’t understand.” It wasn’t a question. If Marie-Laure had kidnapped Nora, clearly the woman didn’t understand.
“I didn’t even allow us to kiss at our wedding. That was one of the conditions. I knew it would hurt Kingsley too much to see. And yet, on our wedding night, as soon as we were alone, she threw herself at me. Everything I told her, everything she’d agreed to, she pretended like it hadn’t happened. She acted as if the only words I’d said to her that day in the woods were ‘We can be married.’“
“Love can give you tunnel vision. I know I had it with Zachary. I only saw the possibilities, never the danger.”
“Love made Marie-Laure very dangerous. She touched me constantly. I hated it. Especially being touched in my sleep.” Something flashed across his eyes—an old memory, perhaps, and a very bad one at that.
“Was it difficult to rebuff her advances? After all, if she looked anything like Kingsley, she must have been beautiful.”
“Many thought her so. Some who saw her declared her the most beautiful girl they’d ever seen. But she held no interest for me. None whatsoever. All her beauty was on the outside. I cared for her because Kingsley did. That was all.”
“I’m sure she thought you’d change your mind eventually. Women do that, convince themselves men will change when they won’t. If Marie-Laure believed in the power of her own beauty, I’m sure she thought she could change your mind. Must have been a great blow to her ego when she couldn’t.”
“She was less than pleased, obviously.”
“I’ve known my fair share of women like that. Beautiful, dangerous girls. Any man who didn’t fall at their feet … they considered it an insult and a challenge.”
“You speak of beautiful women as if you weren’t one. I assure you, you are. The freckles are an especially nice touch.”
Grace hoped the low light in the room masked the blossoming blush on her face.
“I’m not sure I agree with you. My husband would, but Zachary’s a freckle fetishist, if there is such a thing.”
“Your husband and I have excellent taste in women.”
The blush deepened at the insinuation. Grace took a deep breath. Show no fear, Nora had cautioned. Now she knew why.
“Nora was right about you.”
“About what?” Father Stearns asked. “Or do I not want to know?”
“She told me you’d play with me, play with my mind. You intimated that you know my husband has slept with Nora. Trying to gauge my reaction?”
“Perhaps. It’s not typical wifely behavior to show such concern over a woman who her husband has been with.”
“You can play all the mind games you want with me. I do care about Nora. My marriage is better than it’s ever been because of her. It’s the two of us in our marriage for the first time ever. Me and Zachary. Not me and Zachary and his guilt.”
“Doth the lady protest too much?” Father Stearns narrowed his eyes at her and Grace found herself squirming under the intensity of the gaze.
“No, I’m simply speaking the truth. I love Nora. She’s a dear friend, and considering I slept with someone even before Zachary had his night with your Nora, I think all is forgiven between us and then some. And Nora was absolutely right about you.”
“Was she?”
“She told me to show no fear around you. Said you’d play with it like a cat with a catnip toy.”
At that, a laugh filled the room, warm, rich and masculine. It made every nerve in Grace’s body want to stand at attention and salute someone.
Then the laugh died and Father Stearns closed his eyes again. Once more he leaned his head back against the bed. He seemed to be in prayer.
“Forgive me, Grace,” he exhaled his apology. “I try not to—” he paused as he seemed to search for the right word “—inflict this side of myself on the unwilling or unsuspecting. I’m afraid it simply comes out at times.”
Grace scooted a little closer to him again so that their legs were mere inches apart. She reached out and laid a hand on his thigh right above his knee. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do that other than she’d touched Zachary a million times that way when offering support or comfort.
“The woman who you’ve loved for almost twenty years has been taken. You were drugged and handcuffed to a bed. You’re a Catholic priest and if any of this gets out, your reputation and career will be ruined. Please …” Grace squeezed his leg and felt muscle hard as steel under her hand. “Please do not apologize to me. God knows I can’t do anything to help this horrible situation at all. If at the very least I can be a sympathetic ear, then please, inflict whatever you need to on me.”
Father Stearns raised his eyebrow at her, and Grace sensed even the shadows in the room scuttling into the corners and pressing their backs to the wall.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, removing her shaking hand from his leg.
“Are you sure about that?”
“You are terrible. Seriously,” she said, trying to laugh off her nervousness. “I’m going to take the handcuffs off you now, but I can tell I’m going to regret it.”
“You will.”
“How on earth can anyone concentrate with you being … you?” she teased as he reached behind the bed and found the keys again. “You must delight in scaring women.”
“Men, too. Ask your husband.”
“Oh, he’s told me.”
“I should apologize to him. When we met I was feeling unnecessarily territorial. Eleanor never brought outsiders into our world. I knew he had to be very special to her to show him that side of her. I took my irritation out on Zachary.”
“Don’t apologize. He’s shredded the egos of so many writers I’ve lost count. It’s only poetic justice you shredded his a bit.”
“You have no sympathy for the male ego, do you?”
“Of course not. I’m a wife. I’m rather glad you terrified him a little.”
“You don’t seem terrified.”
“I am, I assure you. But Nora warned me how terrifying you are. I’d prepared myself.”
He smiled then, a genuine smile entirely devoid of guile or artifice.
“Eleanor is not even remotely afraid of me.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Grace came up to her knees and reached behind Father Stearns. Here she was a grown woman married for twelve years and she felt as awkward as a schoolgirl around her secret crush.
“I assure you
