Home for a Soldier by Tatiana March

Author:Tatiana March [March, Tatiana]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Contemporary
ISBN: 9781607352525
Amazon: 1607352524
Goodreads: 8067646
Publisher: Resplendence Publishing, LLC
Published: 2010-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Grace lingered under the covers, unwilling to face the morning. Her last day with Rory. She wanted to stretch the time, make each minute last longer. An icy draft fluttered the curtains and the wind groaned outside. Another storm had gathered, a fitting backdrop for how tomorrow would cast her back into her bleak and lonely life.

Like Cinderella returning home after the ball.

In the warm shelter of the bedding, Grace brought her hands together. Her fingers felt the edge of the wedding band, and the solid foundation of legal ties banished her sense of defeat.

What could be a more powerful talisman than the gold circle she wore on her finger? How many women had a certificate to prove they were married to Rory Sullivan? None but her, and if she simply let him go, she could only blame herself.

With a determined thrust, Grace shoved the covers aside and lowered her feet to the floor. A chill raced up her legs, and when she shivered, the giraffes on her pajamas appeared to be nodding.

That’s right. Fight for him, Grace, the giraffes said. Use everything you’ve got.

If only she could find a way to cast a feminine spell over Rory. Make him take notice, go away with memories of her that lingered and grew during the long months, so that when he returned, he’d rush home to her from the airport.

Vegas. Her wedding shower. A blush heated Grace’s skin as she imagined herself in the skimpy clothes, but she welcomed how the sensation eased the arctic temperatures in the room.

That’s the answer. Grace smiled down at the giraffes. She would stop fighting against loving Rory. She would embrace her tender emotions, and she knew exactly how to make him remember her while he was away.

* * * *

Rory stretched under the blankets and raked his hands through his hair. Snow had started falling at two in the morning, shortly before he gave up roaming the streets of Manhattan. He ought to have known better than to go to sleep with wet hair and muscles numb with cold. Catching a chill was something he couldn’t afford.

He glanced at the watch on his left wrist, saw it was almost ten. His brows drew together as his eyes strayed to the gold band that circled his wedding finger. The wind howled outside. The sound sent a cold shiver over him. The weather reflected his dark mood, the mental battle between his unexpected feelings for Grace, and the fear that made him want to keep away from her.

Awareness arose inside him, a sense of being alone in the apartment. Somewhere in his subconscious, he recalled a slam of the front door. A soft slam. Controlled, in order not to disturb him. But a slam nonetheless, since a forceful pull was required to shut the door, which caught against the frame at the top.

He threw the covers aside and bolted up, the muscles on his bare chest bracing against the cold, the soft drawstring pants riding low on his hips.

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