Only a Hero Will Do (The Heart of a Hero Book 2) Page 8

  “I was tired of being weak. Tired of physicians and painful remedies that didn’t work. I wanted more from life than viewing the world from my sickbed. I was either going to overcome my debility or die trying. With Abrams and Simon’s guidance I became strong. I worked hard to gain strength and knowledge.”

  “Simon is a good friend, isn’t he?”

  Not wanting to discus any more of his personal life, Grant changed the subject. “Shall we take a look at the garden?”

  As he followed her back inside the ballroom, he noticed her eyes had settled on the empty dance floor. He could almost hear her thoughts. Poor Captain Alexander, he’d been too ill to be able to learn how to dance.

  “There’s access to the garden from the smaller adjoining hall, but not any other from this floor.”

  “I’ll check the other rooms later. Lead the way to the garden.”

  Within minutes they were on a smaller terrace with a wide staircase leading to the garden below. Large pineapple finials grew out of the newel post.

  The crunch of gravel beneath his feet and the sounds of nature did not drown out all the thoughts racing through his mind. He should be focused on this evening’s task, but all he could think about was Elizabeth, and more specifically, holding her in his arms as he swept her around the ballroom. Never in his life had he been sorrier that he didn’t know how to dance.

  Elizabeth glanced back at him. Her gaze was cold and distant. He’d offended her. It was probably for the best. Why did everything have to be so complex between them? Why couldn’t they work side by side without him wanting more?

  He began to step forward, but she held up her hand to stop him. “I will lead us today,” she said with firmness. “This way.”

  Any argument would fall on deaf ears. She was headstrong and could not be swayed once she made up her mind. It was a quality he both admired and found entirely annoying. Perhaps one day she’d understand why he was protective.

  Grant surveyed the landscape, keeping a sharp eye for anything out of the ordinary. They walked in silence, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

  Minutes later she broke the silence. “Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you, Captain Alexander?”

  He detested the formality present in her voice.

  “Grant.”

  “Pardon?”

  “There’s no need to be so formal.”

  With his request, the tension eased. “Grant, please talk to me.” Her eyes softened as she said his name. It had been a mistake for him to have encouraged her to use his given name. Why must he continue to test Pandora’s box? Because you want to know more about her.

  Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own that had been plaguing him for days. “Apart from your grandfather’s influence, why did you get involved in the Legion?” It was a simple enough question, but one he suspected had an answer a mile long.

  Thankfully she indulged his curiosity rather than argue about what was troubling him. “For as long as I could remember, my father and Lord Fynes were the best of friends. One day Lord Fynes visited us at our country estate. He was showing my father a peculiar-looking drawing. I wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but not caring for the propriety forced upon me by my mother, I hid under the table and listened to their conversation.”

  “Seems rather bold. How old were you?”

  “Too old to be hiding under a table.” She offered a crooked mischievous half smile. “I was twelve.” She gazed across the open landscape dotted with trees, as if lost in a memory. “I don’t remember why, but they left the room. I crawled out from my hiding place with every intention of sneaking out of the room, but Lord Fynes had left the drawing on the table. I remember looking down at it as if I were a bird in flight. I don’t recall what the drawing was supposed to be of, but I remember thinking it looked like a fortified city.” She blinked several times before turning to Grant. “You probably think I’m foolish.”

  “On the contrary, I believe you are very intuitive and highly intelligent.” His praise earned him a warm smile. Some secret communication seemed to pass between them. Although he was enjoying the day, he needed to stay focused. He cleared his throat. “I presume you were discovered. Then what happened?”

  “Yes, my mother was furious at my lack of decorum, but my father seemed almost proud I’d worked out the drawing. I had a natural talent for deciphering communications. It was the first time in my life that I’d felt like more than the daughter of a viscount. With the assistance of Lord Fynes, I convinced my father to allow me to train under his command.”

  They continued down the path, trees encircling them, offering privacy.

  “But why did you join the Legion?” Grant blurted out the question, then tried to soften it. “I mean…it just seems…”

  “Odd for the daughter of a viscount to want adventure?” Her response was matter of fact, but the meaning behind the words spoke volumes. She inhaled deeply. A long slow sigh escaped her lips. “I’m the youngest of five daughters. My mother only noticed me when I had my first season. She saw me as a pawn to marry off to the highest title. My sisters have all improved their lots, and the same was expected of me.”

  “What happened?”

  “My mother tried to convince Father to arrange an engagement to a duke.”

  “You were engaged?” Jealousy streaked across his heart. The idea of Elizabeth marrying did not sit well with him.

  She let out a slight laugh, followed by a firm, “No.”

  “Don’t you want to be engaged…or rather, married?” He was really blundering through this conversation. He seemed to have a hard time focusing while she was so near, tempting him in ways no other woman ever had. He knew he should avoid her, but reason did not want to be acknowledged.

  “It isn’t that I don’t want to.” She contemplated her hands for a long moment. “It is rather complicated.”

  “You’re the daughter of a viscount.”

  “I do wish you would stop mentioning that.”

  That was the only excuse keeping him from doing what he wanted to do. “What I mean is...” A hawk cried overhead, distracting him from what he intended to say. Without further thought, he declared, “Not to mention you’re beautiful.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” She gave an alluring half smile.

  He snapped his gaze to hers. Had he really just said that? He offered a simple nod as he cleared his throat again, not knowing what to say or how he should proceed. A lady like Elizabeth would never be interested in a soldier like him. It wasn’t even possible. And besides, her father would never allow it.

  Ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks, he kept his gaze centered on the path as they continued on in silence. Focus on the mission, not Elizabeth’s marital status.

  When they reached the edge of the pond, there was a fork in the path. Elizabeth pointed to the right and explained. “The path circles around the pond and connects with this one.”

  “But you do want to marry?” The question entered his thoughts and sprung out of his mouth before he could stop it. So much for keeping focused on the mission.

  The warmth of her smile echoed in her voice. “If I find the right man.” She held his eyes for a moment. “And now it is your turn. How did you get involved with the Legion?”

  He had a moment of hesitation but deep down he wanted to open up to her about his life. “My parents believed in doing all you could for your country. It seemed the natural order of things for me. I wanted to make a difference.”

  “That’s very admirable.” Her brown eyes were filled with respect. A delicate thread began to form between them.

  This was insanity. He could not let anything progress beyond this; it had already gone too far. He offered a flimsy excuse, “I’m going to go discuss this evening’s strategy with Simon. Good day.” He took off down what he hoped was the path that led to where Simon was stationed, praying that Elizabeth would not follow, but secretly hoping she would.

  ~~~

&n
bsp; The soirée had been in full swing for over an hour and guests were still continuing to arrive. Elizabeth had yet to see Grant, but more than once she felt his intense stare on her. She understood how her body knew when he was near, as the fluttering in her heart and the sheer excitement that coursed through her veins were because of him.

  She took a turn around the large ballroom looking for anything or anyone out of place. After completing one circle, she found a vacant spot beside a small grouping of chairs.

  Young debutantes flitted about, full of giggles and making spectacles of themselves over every handsome gentleman in attendance. She knew without a doubt she’d never be starry-eyed or giddy over some man. What she felt for Captain Alexander was respect and admiration, nothing more. Well, perhaps slightly more than nothing. Who wouldn’t be affected by his intelligence, his handsome face, and strong physique? However, it didn’t matter what she felt. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in her.

  “Good evening, Miss Atwell.” The nasal sound of Mr. Ward’s voice jolted her insides, sending a shiver down her spine. She truly detested this man.

  “Oh, good evening, Mr. Ward.” She managed to keep her tone light despite the disgust churning within her stomach.

  “I was hoping to have a moment alone with you this evening.”

  His request instantly sent warning bells ringing through her head. She didn’t even want to contemplate the direction Mr. Ward’s mind was heading, or else she just might lose the contents of her stomach.

  “Oh, I do love the quadrille, don’t you?” She hoped the declaration would distract Mr. Ward, who seemed rather disappointed by the change of subject.

  He let out a heavy sigh, offered his arm, and said, “Miss Atwell.”

  With some reluctance she accepted his invitation to dance. Thankfully Mr. Ward was not one for conversation while dancing, which gave her plenty of time to conjure an excuse after the set was done.

  As soon as the quadrille ended, Mr. Ward promptly returned her to her mother’s side and took his leave. Although she was relieved, she thought it rather odd Mr. Ward had not pushed any advantage he thought he might have.

  In spite of the fact that her mother was preoccupied with a group of attentive and devoted followers, she still took the time to glare over at Elizabeth. Elizabeth disliked being under the watchful eye of her mother, but needed to play the part of obedient daughter if only for a short while. No sense in attracting attention from other guests.

  She flipped open her fan and scanned the ballroom. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening this evening. Everyone present had been invited. All the usual gossipmongers were in attendance. Even Miss Anjou…

  Who was that with Miss Anjou?

  Elizabeth edged closer to Lady Redgrave, pretending to be preoccupied in whatever was being discussed. Her gaze followed the pair walking toward the hall, which led to the ladies’ retiring room.

  Where had she seen that man before? Elizabeth scanned through her memory. “The garden party,” she murmured out loud.

  “Did you say something, Miss Atwell?” Lady Redgrave asked.

  “Nothing. I believe I must retire for a while. Please excuse me.” Not waiting for a response from Lady Redgrave, or for a comment from her mother about her lack of decorum, Elizabeth quickly attempted to glide out of the room as if she had no pressing care in the world. Years ago, she had learned nonchalance with a hint of arrogance aroused far less attention amongst the ton.

  Ambling around a group of chattering matrons, she came face to face with Grant, her heart thumping erratically

  “I was hoping you’d save me a dance this evening, Miss Atwell.”

  She didn’t know if he was being serious or if it was all a façade for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping, but she accepted the challenge. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

  His blue eyes smoldered with fire, holding her in place. “Perhaps I’m willing to learn for the right partner.” The words were deep, seductive, and far too enticing given the surrounding company, but the honesty in them revealed his sincerity.

  Elizabeth’s heart practically jumped out of her chest. She was enjoying the playful banter and wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind. She didn’t want this moment to end, but Miss Anjou and her escort took precedence.

  “Perhaps I can reserve a dance for you later, Captain Alexander.” A look of hurt flashed in his eyes. She quickly brought her fan close to her face and whispered, “Follow me.” The hurt was instantly replaced by understanding.

  She glanced about, hoping no one had taken note of their brief conversation. Thankfully, it appeared no one had seemed to notice. Strolling in the direction of the ladies’ retiring room, she kept a sharp eye for anything untoward. Even though Grant kept his distance, she could feel his presence close behind, watching, protecting.

  At the entrance to the long gallery, a small group of lords and ladies were admiring the Duke of Bolton’s latest acquisition.

  She casually meandered around the crowd before picking up her pace, afraid it might already be too late. She didn’t know what Miss Anjou was about, but something told her it wasn’t good. Halfway down the long gallery, Grant was at her side.

  “What’s this all about? What happened?” His voice was low, but his concern was loud and clear.

  “I was watching the couples in the main ballroom and spied Miss Anjou with a gentleman. It took me a moment to remember, but it was the same man I saw loitering in the shadows at the garden party.”

  “I doubt it’s a coincidence. Are you sure they were headed this way?”

  “Yes.

  “I’ll handle this. You can go back and enjoy the evening—”

  She grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt beside her. “No.” He looked as if he was about to argue, but she cut him off. “I’m not retreating. We can stand here and argue, or we can do this…together.”

  Even in the dim light, she saw the hesitancy in his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath. “Alright. But please don’t try and be a heroine. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

  What did he mean?

  Time seemed to stand still. Heat resonated between them. Her heart beat faster, in rhythm with her breath. He seemed just as flustered as she was.

  Grant cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “We need to find Miss Anjou.” He turned and continued to walk down the hall toward the little marble hall.

  Their timing never seemed to be good.

  The little marble hall was in fact not little, nor was it a hall, but a grand staircase that led to the family’s portrait gallery and collection of marbles. They passed a newly hung portrait of Elizabeth’s sister. In her estimation, it looked nothing like Loretta. The scene was an idealized view of an Italian landscape, with her sister standing in the foreground, much taller and fairer than she was in real life, and holding a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Never in her life could Elizabeth recall Loretta reading, let alone holding a book.

  “Stay close,” Grant whispered, bringing her out of her musings.

  Descending the steps with silent haste, he kept close to the wall. The entire time, his gaze was focused and intense, as if he was looking for something very specific.

  By the time they reached the lower level, Elizabeth was certain her beating heart would alert anyone within twenty paces of their presence. Grant glanced over at her, concern marking his features. She offered a nod before stepping forward. His hand came up, halting her as soft muffled sounds drifted from down the marbled hall.

  They slunk from one marble statue to the next, careful not to make their presence known. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth spied a dark shadow in the near distance. She was about to warn Grant when his command echoed through the space.

  “Get down!”

  She ducked behind a large pedestal just as sword breezed past, hitting the suit of armor on display and knocking it over. Metal clamored to the ground. The sound ricocheted all around, piercin
g her ears with intensity.

  Grant charged their attacker, wrestling him to the ground. The assailant was large and fought hard, swinging punch after punch, but Grant clearly had the upper hand, avoiding each strike.

  He threw a hard punch, making contact with the man’s jaw, sending him flat on the ground. Picking up the shield that had, just moments ago, crashed to the floor with the suit of armor, he brought it down hard onto the assailant’s head.

  Elizabeth stared in awe, mesmerized by Grant’s strength, as he tossed the shield aside as if it weighed no more than a twig. “Let’s go.”

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to her feet. They stood mere inches apart. The heat of his body radiated off him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his strength. It was the second time in one evening that she had desperately wanted to kiss him, to give into temptation and be one with him, in his world.

  The air between them grew thick with desire. He let go of her hand and took a step back. “Elizabeth, we cannot let this happen. I—”

  “Help me,” a shrill voice called out before it was silenced.

  “Miss Anjou!” Elizabeth took off down the gallery, with Grant at her side.

  When they reached the end, they listened for some clue as to which direction the cry had come from. Moonlight from the windows trickled in, casting odd shadows from the statues. More soft moans emanated from down the side hall.

  “This way,” Grant said.

  It didn’t take long to find the source of the moan. At the end of the hall, slumped at the base of a statue of Venus, was Miss Anjou.

  Elizabeth rushed to her side and pulled down the white strip of fabric covering her mouth. “Are you hurt?”

  Miss Anjou shook her head, clearly shaken by what ever had just occurred. “He…” she swallowed hard, “He was such a monster.”

  Elizabeth had begun to undo Miss Anjou’s restraints when Grant stepped forward. Moonlight caught his harsh and accusing features.

  “What happened?” His firm tone seemed to startle Miss Anjou. She shifted her gaze from Elizabeth up to Grant. Her body started to shake, clearly in shock from the whole experience.