Sweet Surrender by Cheryl Holt

Author:Cheryl Holt [Holt, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781480232327
Amazon: 1480232327
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-11-04T22:00:00+00:00

DC

Grace raced into the garden. Blindly, she hurried down the paths, not really seeing where she was going.

Like a silly schoolgirl, she’d been yearning to be with Jackson Scott all day.

They’d engaged in marital fornication, and she’d assumed she could participate methodically and technically, that she could remain detached. Yet she’d been so wrong!

She was all jumbled on the inside, insanely happy, glad and stunned, but sad and weepy, too.

While she looked exactly the same, it seemed as if she’d been altered into someone new, someone different from boring, stalwart Grace Bennett. She felt connected to him now, as if she was his and they could never be separated.

At least she’d felt that way until she’d stumbled on him in the library.

For reasons she didn’t understand, she’d been confined to her bedchamber for hours, having received his curt and unhelpful note that she shouldn’t leave it until he sent for her.

She’d been insulted and furious, chafing at his edict and desperate to confront him, while recognizing that she was an unwanted guest, and he could treat her however he wished.

When the maid had knocked and told her that he was awaiting her, she’d been giddy with relief. She’d rushed down the stairs, as if floating with elation. But he’d been busy. With another woman.

Who was she? From her hair, clothing, and sparkling jewels, it was obvious she was everything that Grace was not. They’d been a handsome couple, wealthy and attractive and perfectly suited.

Grace was sick with envy and hurt. Why had he invited Grace to meet with him? Why deliberately break her heart?

She staggered to a halt and spun to face the Abbey. The sun was off in the west, casting shadows on the walls, the bricks glowing a creamy peach color. The mansion could have been a prince’s castle, like a palace in a fairytale.

She didn’t belong in such a place and never would.

Jackson was a cad and libertine. That fact wasn’t in dispute. While she’d been pining away, eager to tell him that she was madly in love for the very first time, he hadn’t been similarly afflicted. No, he’d been hugging a great beauty in a very public spot where Grace would be guaranteed to see.

Why was she surprised? Why was she devastated? She knew what he was like, but she’d had carnal relations with him anyway. She’d set herself up for disaster. Didn’t she deserve what had happened?

She started back to the house, walking slowly, getting her bearings. How was she to proceed? She’d been reckless and had jeopardized Michael’s chance to make a good impression.

What if the woman was Jackson’s fiancée? Grace possessed very little personal information about him. He could be engaged, and she wouldn’t have any idea. If he was betrothed, she could hardly remain at Milton Abbey.

She’d grown so complacent that she’d tossed away her security—she’d tossed away Eleanor’s and Michael’s, too—with scarcely a thought to the consequences.

Well, she was thinking of them now. First and foremost, she had to avoid Jackson Scott until she could gain her equilibrium.

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