Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) by Marianne Knightly Read Free Book Online Page A

cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you.”
     
    After another moment, he stepped back and picked up several tools nearby and placed them in a basket. “Anything else we need?” he asked.
     
    “Well,” she said, glancing at the basket as she licked her dry lips. She missed the flicker in Marcello’s eyes as she considered. “We’ll need to get you some gloves. We’ve got extras in the other room. I’ll go fetch a pair,” she said and turned away.
     
    When she was safely in the other room, she let out a long sigh of relief. She was confused again and she hated it. The worst part was, she didn’t know if she was relieved that he had not kissed her, or if she wished that he had.
     
    What would it be like to kiss another man again? she wondered. She’d had so little experience with it before Daniel and, well, it probably was not a stretch to believe that Marcello would kiss better than him.
     
    Shaking her head free of foolish thoughts, she picked up a pair of gloves she thought may fit Marcello and headed back into the other room.
     
    ***
     
    Marcello had wanted to kiss Grace since he first saw her last night. He had almost kissed her just now, but the look in her eyes stopped him.
     
    He had gotten too close to her. Marcello had never and would never incite fear in a woman or abuse them. And, though he did not want to admit it, Grace was acting like a woman who had suffered abuse at the hands of a man. He wondered if Cat knew.
     
    Marcello had wanted a few days of distraction when he arrived here, and thought the pretty widow might provide it. He had only wanted to learn more about the woman he had been thinking about for the last few weeks.
     
    Now, he found himself wanting to learn everything.
     
    Before he could think about what that really meant, she returned. She was more composed than she had been a minute or two ago, and as she walked closer he caught her scent again. God, that scent could drive a man mad with longing.
     
    He was halfway there himself.
     
    “Here you go,” she said in that soft, refined accent of hers. It made him wonder what her voice might sound like in other situations.
     
    “Thank you,” he said as he took the gloves and his fingers brushed hers. She pulled her hand away quickly and turned to pick up the basket.
     
    “Why don’t I help with that?” he asked as he held out his hand.
     
    Both of her hands were wrapped around the handle in a fierce grip. As he caught sight of it, he wondered what kind of man would hurt the woman in front of him. “I’ll carry it actually. Why don’t you bring that extra basket over there?”
     
    He picked it up and she led the way out of the gardening shed. They walked in silence for several moments before Grace began pointing out different parts of the property. Grace didn’t need to know that Marcello already had the blueprints for the entire house memorized; he never stayed anywhere unless he knew the escape routes. Some habits, especially considering the mission he may soon be on, never changed.
     
    “Did you grow up nearby?" Marcello asked. "It seems as though you know the area quite well.”
     
    “Approximately thirty or so miles that way,” she said, pointing one slim arm in a southeasterly direction. “Raynott Hall is over there. It’s in my care since my father passed about six years ago.”
     
    Marcello raised an eyebrow. “Running two estates must keep you quite busy, particularly if the other house is as large as this one.”
     
    Grace nodded. “There’s a lot to see to. Fortunately, my father did a very good job of keeping Raynott Hall up to date. I’ve had to do quite a lot to this house over the last year,” Grace said, her voice trailing off.
     
    “Cat mentioned last night that you’d been renovating it,” Marcello said. “You’ve done a great job. It all looks wonderful.”
     
    “Thank you,” she said with a smile and he felt his insides twist. God, she was beautiful. Her golden hair was wound