Grace Under Fire by Jackie Barbosa

Author:Jackie Barbosa
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spice
Published: 2011-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

After delivering Colin and Atticus a stern warning not to debauch Lady Grace in her absence, Lady Aberdeen—or Abby as they had always called her—left the room, closing the door behind her.

Atticus smiled at the lovely, final sound of the solid, heavy oak thudding against the door frame.

Of course, Abby had to know that her charge was in very grave danger of being thoroughly debauched, but she also trusted that neither Colin nor Atticus would directly disobey her. Which meant they would, at a minimum, avoid relieving their beloved of her virginity. Anything short of that, however, was fair game, provided Grace agreed.

And judging by the soft, hungry look in her eyes, she would agree to just about anything. That expression turned Atticus’s mind to dark, dirty thoughts—thoughts of every delicious, decadent pleasure they would teach their redheaded goddess to give and to receive.

Lust flared to life, weighing thick and heavy in his loins, and at the most inopportune moment possible. He and Colin both needed to keep their heads—the ones they used for thinking, at any rate—long enough to explain to her who they were…and why. They owed her that much.

To allay his arousal, he thought of Latin. There was nothing quite so effective for snuffing desire as declining nouns.

Except the Latin word that first popped into his mind was not a noun, but a verb.

Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant.

No help, that.

He tried to think of other, less arousing words. The ones that came were no better. Verbs like capere and osculare and futuere. To take, to kiss, to fuck. Nouns like os, mentula, cunnus—mouth, cock, cunt.

Fortunately, Colin saved him by dousing him in a substance more effective than either Latin or cold water ever could be—history.

Their history.

“Atticus told you when last we parted that we would explain our past. How we came to be the men we are. That is, if you wish to know.”

God, Atticus needed to hear no more than that to be drained of his burgeoning desire.

The memories were vivid and brutal, even at nearly twenty years’ distance. Their mothers weeping in terror while Colin’s father pleaded for their lives. His own father shoving them from the carriage into the brambles beside the road and telling them to run into the woods, to never look back no matter what they heard. The horrifying crack of gunshots and the acrid scent of gunpowder. And overhead as they ran, the denuded branches of trees reaching down toward two frightened, newly orphaned boys like the claws of hungry beasts.

“Of course, I wish to know.”

“Then you are still considering our proposal?” Colin pursued, folding his lanky frame into the settee next to her, his knees nearly touching hers.

Grace worried her lower lip with her front teeth before saying, “I believe I am doing rather more than considering.”

Elation and triumph rushed through Atticus’s veins, reducing if not eliminating the pain of discussing the past. He had been right. Lady Grace Hannington was their perfect mate, a lady strong enough to disregard the dictates of society in favor of her own happiness.

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