Gray didn’t think. He acted on pure instinct, ready to kill for her.
He charged like a horrifying beast set loose to wreck its worst havoc. He smashed into Cavendish, grasping the arrow at the same time. He heard ribs cracking.
Landing on the balls of his feet and palms almost hitting the ground, he turned, snarled, and leaped at the man writhing on the ground. A knee crashing into Cavendish’s thigh would ensure the bastard didn’t stand to his feet again. But that wasn’t enough. Cavendish had kicked Gray and broken his bones more than once. He’d teased and ridiculed Gray about his dancing and after the incident, Cavendish made his life a living hell. Gray wanted to pay him back for it all.
When blood from Cavendish’s face splattered up onto his cheek, he became aware of someone grasping his wrist and almost falling over him when she tried to stop his fist from striking again.
Aria! “Aria!” He grabbed her face and grew furious again when he saw her bruised jaw. But he didn’t hit Cavendish again. Aria needed to be seen to.
“Are you hurt very badly?” he managed to ask her, not breathing until she answered. “Where’s Harry Gable?”
“I’m not hurt,” she assured him with her smile that worked to calm him. “And Harry Gable is off somewhere nursing his hand after Ghost bit off his finger.”
You’ll get apples too, Ghost.
“You should be promising her apples for the next month.”
“That’s what I’m doing! How did you know?”
She shrugged. “I can tell by your tender expression that you’re speaking to her. And I just know what I would say to her.”
She made him laugh. He laughed! Then he kissed her jaw as gently as he could and pulled her into his embrace.
“How did you find me?”
He looked at his horse. “Ghost has a good nose.”
Why, thank you Grayson.
His smile deepened and Aria laughed. “My boyfriend is Dr. Doolittle.”
“Who?” he asked.
She let him help her to her feet and then, standing above Cavendish, she let him kiss her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The duke’s marriageball for his son was in its second hour and Gray still hadn’t shown his face. That was because Aria didn’t want to stop kissing him. They had stolen away to his private dance hall so he could practice his dance. With his grandmother returned, Aria had convinced him that they had so much to be thankful to Mrs. B. for. His grandmother knew that out of the three women suitable to take him as a husband, only Aria would appreciate his love of dancing and his dedication to it. She understood how it made him feel.
Earlier, when he mentioned practicing, despite all the musicians being in the main ballroom, she leaped at the chance to watch him. She had watched him often. Tonight though, tonight his dancing made her desire him with a force that wouldn’t be tamed or stopped. One look at the flames in his eyes, the decadence of his smile, and she melted from the inside out.
Boldly, she had gone to him on the dance floor and moved like a cat in heat against him, around him until he pushed her up against the window, yanked up her skirts, and pulled at other garments to take her. Their love was passionate and swift, leaving them both pulling their breath and resting against each other.
Looking up at him, Aria knew she loved him enough to stay with him for the rest of her life. But as much as she loved looking at him, she loved touching him, holding him even more. She pulled him close. She was about to tell him how much she loved him, when he said her name.
“Take me as your husband. I promise my life to you. I want to stay by your side forever and share our journeys together. If you cry, I want to be there to hold you and comfort you. And if it was me who brought tears to your eyes, I’ll spend forever making it up to you. “Let’s…ehm…” He smiled at her from under his long, dark lashes… “have seven children together.”
“Yes,” she told him softly, “I’ll be your wife and have your children, however many there are.”
They kissed until someone banged on the locked door. Gray adjusted his periwinkle velvet breeches.
Aria considered him the sexiest man alive, who could fire up her insides just by tucking his shirt into his breeches.
Blushing uncontrollably, she adjusted her clothes—and there were so damn many layers.
The intruder happened to be Harper, looking for them. “Cavendish is bedridden—and very drunk I’m told. Now is the chance to speak to your father without his interruptions.”
Gray scowled at her. “How can you not know me by now?”