Читать книгу The Original Sinners: The Red Years - Tiffany Reisz, Tiffany Reisz - Страница 42

35

There was no such thing as London fog—never had been.

Zach laughed to himself as he recalled his Royal House nickname. He thought he was the only London Fog anyone would ever see. But tonight it was a real London fog—clean, pure, swept in from the southern seas that wrapped its gray arms around the never quite sleeping city and around Zach as he stood outside the house he and Grace had shared during their marriage.

Almost eight months had passed since he’d crossed the threshold of his own home. He stood in the shadow of a streetlamp and imagined Grace inside. She was most likely reading, her knees tucked up under her chin in that battered but comfortable armchair they used to play-fight over. Zach slipped his hand into his pocket and felt a rush of silk against his fingers. He pulled out the black tie Nora had used to blindfold him. He stared at it. How had it gotten into his pocket? Who knew with Nora? Magic most likely. Zach considered throwing it into the nearest rubbish bin, but thought better of it.

Perhaps…maybe…one never knew…

Zach shoved the tie back into his pocket and strode forward up the three steps to his front door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door flew open before his knuckles touched the wood.

And there stood Grace wearing one of his shirts and not much else, and no woman in the history of the world had ever looked so beautiful standing in a doorway.

“Hi, Gracie.”

Grace grinned at him.

“Hi, George.”

* * *

Nora awoke and knew neither the time nor the place. She knew only that she had slept for a long time and that wherever she was, she wasn’t afraid.

“Where am I?” she asked, trying to orient herself. She only knew this was not her bed, not her usual darkness.

But it was a familiar darkness. She remembered this darkness and knew it remembered her. She inhaled the scent of hardwood so clean and comforting, savored the soft sheets wrapped around her naked body. The bed that held her now had held her before.

She saw a square of white break through the blackness, felt the bed shift with a familiar weight.

“I’m here, little one,” came a voice made for coaxing secrets from the heart. “Sleep now. We’ll talk when it’s time.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, now knowing where she was. She surrendered to sleep again.

The most familiar darkness…her darkness…she was home.

* * * * *

The End…or is it?

Watch for THE ANGEL,

coming soon from Mills and Boon Spice.