XIII

The clock struck twelve noon when Marcus returned home. Four days had passed since Grace had started playing with him—subtle advances, fleeting touches, challenging and seductive glances, yet never crossing the invisible line they both seemed to have drawn. However, with each passing day, it became increasingly difficult for him to maintain his composure. His body burned whenever she touched him or walked past.

"What are you really up to?" he wondered as he walked toward the entrance of his home. He couldn't shake the thought that this might all be part of some plan, yet the attraction he felt toward her was undeniable. Each day, the desire grew stronger, and although his mind kept reminding him that this was a dangerous game, his body responded differently.

Westlin made a decision: he would go along with the distraction, but from now on, he would be the one in control. If Grace wanted to seduce him, he wouldn't make it easy, though he wouldn't resist either. He wanted to see just how far she was willing to go.

"Good afternoon, my lord," Ryder said as he took his coat.

"Where is Grace?" Marcus asked, perplexed, as she had been greeting him daily since that day.

"Miss Aylett is in the dining room, preparing lunch," the butler replied calmly.

"I see," Marcus said, eager to see her and figure out what her plan was this time.

With urgency, he headed toward the dining room, his footsteps echoing down the long hallway. When he entered, he couldn't help but admire the transformation of the once-familiar room. The midday light flooded the space, making the crystal glasses shimmer like jewels. The staff had laid out an exquisite selection of fresh fruits, wine, and tender meats. Grace was speaking to a footman, giving orders about the lunch arrangement. When she noticed his arrival, she turned toward him with a smile that left Westlin momentarily frozen with pleasure.

"When did you arrive?" she asked, walking toward him.

"Just now," Marcus replied, feeling his heartbeat in his throat.

"Lunch is ready. Freshen up and return," she instructed, standing in front of him and placing her hands on his chest.

Like an obedient servant, Westlin retreated, quickly ascending the stairs. He washed his hands and face, threw his jacket onto the bed, and rushed back down to her. From the threshold of the dining room, he noticed that the servants had already set the table and, strangely, were leaving in silence.

"What's going on?" he inquired as he approached his seat.

"Nothing," Grace replied with a broad smile.

That innocent demeanor shattered all the barriers Westlin had built each time he left the house. It was a constant struggle between right and wrong. Once he sat down and they were alone, Grace took her seat—a place he had specifically chosen for her—picked up a bunch of grapes, and, without breaking eye contact, brought one to her mouth. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and Marcus couldn't help but watch as the grape's juice moistened her lips.

"Is it good, darling?" he asked, though his voice felt foreign, sounding more like that of a young boy than a man of his age.

"It is. Would you like one?" she replied, plucking a grape and bringing it to his lips.

Even if it were the deadliest poison on earth, he accepted without wondering how long he had left to live. He parted his lips and waited for her to place it inside. But instead of savoring the small piece of fruit, he closed his mouth and let the taste of Grace's finger overshadow the grape itself.

"Yes, delicious," he said after swallowing it.

He expected her to comment on the moment, but she didn't. Eyes wide with surprise, he watched as she brought her finger to her own lips and gently brushed them. Westlin's body tensed, and his mind went blank.

"The wine is delightful too," she said softly, holding her glass up. She took a sip and then, locking her gaze on Marcus, added, "Would you like to try it?"

Marcus watched her in silence; his dark eyes reflected his restrained desire. Without breaking eye contact, he pushed his chair back slightly, relaxing into it, though also preparing for what he knew was coming.

Grace stood up slowly, moving her hips with an elegance that didn't escape his notice. She walked around the table until she was directly in front of him. She perched herself delicately on the edge of the table and offered him the glass.

"Taste it," she whispered, her lips barely parted.

Marcus stared at her for a few more moments, evaluating the young woman who had taken a sip and was now offering it to him from her own mouth. Slowly and with deliberate control, he leaned forward until his lips brushed hers and drank the wine straight from her mouth. The contact was brief, but the spark it ignited between them was immediate.

Grace set the glass aside and leaned further into him. This time, she took the initiative, running her fingers through Marcus's hair and gently caressing the back of his neck. Westlin closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the soft touch of her hands. But he wasn't about to let her have all the control.

Marcus stood up from his chair, now towering over her. The space between them was minimal, and Grace felt him closer than ever. She knew she had awakened something in him—something primal and powerful. Her truth came to the surface, a mix of fear and excitement.

"You've been playing with me these past four days, darling," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning. "Now, it's my turn."

Before she could respond, Marcus grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him with force. The contact was instant, their bodies brushing together, and the sensation was overwhelming. Grace felt his heat, the firmness of his hands, and couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped her lips.

"I can't deny that I enjoy this game," Marcus added, leaning down toward her neck. His warm breath caressed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

He held her firmly, leaning in closer to whisper in her ear.

"I don't know what you're after, but I assure you, we'll both enjoy the outcome of your efforts."

Grace, though trembling inside, couldn't deny that there was something in the way Marcus touched her that made her feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

Marcus, without breaking eye contact, took a segment of orange from the plate and brought it to Grace's lips. She accepted it gently, her lips brushing against Marcus's fingers in a way that made him hold his breath.

" Eat, " he whispered, but the tone of his voice carried much deeper meaning.

Grace bit into the piece of fruit slowly, and Marcus watched every movement, mesmerized by the sensuality of the moment. He knew he was treading dangerous ground, but at that point, he didn't care. Desire had completely overtaken reason.

The lunch had turned into a feast of unspoken desires. Every gesture, every touch, crackled with an electric energy that surrounded them.

Marcus reached for another piece of orange, but this time, he brought it to his own lips, letting the juice spill over his mouth. Then, he leaned in toward Grace, sharing the piece with her. The desire that had been building slowly now surged out of control. Marcus could wait no longer. He pulled her closer to him, his touch firm but restrained, his intentions clear. He kissed her deeply, their lips meeting in a fervor that had been suppressed for days. The sweet and tangy taste of the fruit blended with the heat of their kiss, making each caress, each sweep of their tongues, richer with the flavor of fresh citrus. It was intoxicating, as if the fruit heightened the passion between them, sharpening every sensation, making everything more intense.

Grace responded with equal passion, her fingers tangling in Marcus's hair, pulling him closer, as if she could never get enough. Their mouths moved in unison, exploring, indulging not only in the kiss but in the shared taste: that orange, like their desire, had burst and now enveloped them completely.

" No more games, Grace, " Marcus growled, his voice thick with want as he pulled back from the kiss.

Grace gazed into his eyes, trying to steady her breath. The game she had started days ago was reaching its peak.

" I accept, " was all she could manage to say. It was time to carry out her plan. She couldn't turn back now. If everything went as planned, by nightfall, Lesly and she would be free.

That single word was all Marcus needed. He scooped her up into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her out of the dining room, headed straight for his bedchamber.