A Fresh Start

But living in close quarters meant that he saw Grace in various stages of undress quite often. Even with her own suite, she was more than comfortable in his. He had meant her to be. But he hadn’t realized – no, he had refused to acknowledge – how that would stir his blood. She walked around in light dresses that emphasized her curves and showed off her magnificent body perfectly.

Was she doing it on purpose? She might be. She had married him, and might expect the marriage to involve a physical side.

He could ignore it most of the time.

But now, he had found himself, in sleep, letting go of all of his inhibitions, everything that held him back.

He wanted to with an intensity that frightened him.

This couldn’t happen.

This was never supposed to happen.

He needed distance.

Abruptly, he got up.

“Grace, you need to leave. Now.”

The words barely registered through the haze of passion that enveloped her.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and sat up, feeling bereft. She adjusted her dress, bewildered, and looked at him with hurt shining in her dark, mysterious eyes.

“Alan?”

“That should never have happened. I need you to leave. Don’t come in here without asking again. Leave, Grace. Now. This is not part of the deal.”

Humiliated, she got up and left, wondering what she had done wrong.

What had gone wrong? He had wanted her. She had done nothing to make him want her. She had woken him up so that they could go for a walk. He had kissed her, touched her, awakened all kinds of things that were always simmering just beneath the surface when she was around him, and then he had humiliated her by throwing her out of the room.

Suddenly, all her joy in the beautiful city in which she had found herself vanished. Unable to prevent the tears that spilled down her cheeks, Grace bolted to her room and locked herself in.

What had she done? She was married to a man who wanted an employee. She had thought that she could handle it.

No, she had thought that she could turn it into a real marriage. After all, marriage was full of work and compromise. She had been more than willing to do both. That crush that she had on her favorite author had turned into real desire and affection for the man underneath that image.

She had hoped that he would make love to her. Of course she had. What woman doesn’t hope for that when she’s newlywed? She refused to feel guilty for hoping that, not when she hadn’t even taken the first step.

How could he have just discarded her like that, as if what she had felt, what she knew he had felt, had been a mistake? What was wrong with him?

He wasn’t cold or unfeeling. He was a warm, passionate, demanding man. She wanted to give him more.

He wanted more. She knew that now. He might not want to want more, but he did. She had caught him at a weak moment and he had responded without all those walls he had erected around his feelings and his instincts.

But he had hurt her with that rejection. Grace hadn’t known that it could hurt that bad. She hugged herself and cried out the frustration, the sadness, the bitterness, and that tiny kernel of doubt that made her ask if she had done the right thing, after all.

She couldn’t look at this as just a job. If she couldn’t do that, then maybe it was all a big mistake. If she couldn’t think of it as just a job, maybe she should never have taken it.

She was falling in love with the man she had married. But he wanted no part of that.

What was she supposed to do now?

Grace went with instinct. She took out her laptop and poured all her anguish and misery out in words, until she finally felt as if she’d written enough of it out of herself to face the world again.

By the time she finally looked up from her laptop, her room was dark. She’d put a ‘do not disturb’ sign out, even in that state of mind, and they had taken her at her word.

But she was feeling better. Her mind was clearer.

She didn’t particularly appreciate it, though.

Grace wanted to wallow in her misery and focus on how she had been rejected. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? It had been awful.

And yet…