Saving Grace (Safe Havens) Page 23

  “For me?”

  “For you.”

  Trembling hands took the box from him.

  Stephen’s fingers slid over her elbow as he guided her toward the settee. As she sat down, she put the box next to her. Just as she looked up, the door clicked shut, the sound reminding her of the one Mama’s coffin made when it finally reached the ground as it was lowered into her grave.

  “Look in the box.” Stephen pulled off the lid and dropped it on the carpet behind the settee.

  A red satin dress lay inside.

  Grace reached out and ran her fingertips over the shiny cloth.

  He bent down to lift the gown from its nest. A pair of red satin slippers remained. “The color is perfect for you.”

  She’d never seen such a stunning garment. Mama had never owned anything half as fine. Despite her misgivings, Grace wanted that dress and those shoes. She wanted to wear something that made the other girls jealous—especially the girls who teased her and Matthew so much about how poor they were.

  Those girls would be pea green with envy of her red satin dress.

  “Pick up the shoes,” Stephen ordered. “You can go into the bedroom and try your new clothes on.”

  Reluctantly following, she peeked into the bedroom. An enormous bed dominated everything else. Deep forest-green bed curtains had been pulled back to reveal a spread of the same color.

  He set the dress on the bed. “Get dressed so I can see you in my gift. Then we’ll have a bite of supper.” He left before she could reply, shutting the door behind him.

  She picked up the dress and held it in front of her as she hurried to see her reflection in the looking glass. Oh, how she wanted to keep that dress! The color made the red highlights in her hair gleam. Pushing aside her qualms, she stripped out of her gown and wriggled into the gift.

  Her camisole was in the way of the bodice, bunching up so it overflowed the top. Should she leave it on, she would look ridiculous. Teeth tugging on her bottom lip, she glanced back to the door. Surely the man wouldn’t disturb her as she changed. And she wanted someone to see her in the dress.

  But to be bare, nothing between her and the satin?

  Scolding herself for being a nervous ninny, she made up her mind. The camisole quickly fell to the carpet.

  The laces were in the front of the dress, and she tugged them as tight as she could. Dropping the slippers to the floor, she slid her feet into them before turning back to the mirror.

  Grace gasped at her reflection.

  A grown woman stared back. The bodice was tight enough to force her breasts to swell against the fabric. The capped shoulders revealed all of her collarbones. The cinches made her waist seem so small, her hips so round.

  The prim braid didn’t suit the new look. Snatching at the pink ribbon, she unplaited her hair and shook it loose. It hung in waves and curls, cascading around her shoulders and down her back.

  How she wished Mama could see her—that she could see how much Grace looked like her in these grown-up clothes.

  A soft knock sounded on the door. “Grace? May I come in now?”

  “Yes.” She turned to face Stephen Shay.

  He opened the door and took a step inside. A smile curved his lips as he let his eyes take their fill, from the top of her head to her toes before returning to her bodice.

  Her face flushed hot.

  “So very beautiful. Oh, yes, my sweet. Just as I thought. You’re lovely.”

  Awkward silence hung between them before he closed the distance separating them in fast steps. “I fear supper might have to wait. After seeing you in my gift, I think we should…get to know each other first.”

  Things happened in a blur. One minute she was standing in front of the mirror; the next he’d wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips against hers.

  She hated the way he held her and didn’t want him so close she could smell him. Tobacco and liquor. He was hurting her, squeezing tightly as he ran his hand down her back to press against her backside. She tried to pull her mouth away to tell him to stop, but his tongue pushed past her lips.

  Panic sizzled through Grace. Wriggling both hands up between their bodies, she was able to press her palms against his chest. She pushed with all her might and twisted against his restraining arms.

  He wouldn’t let her go. His open mouth kept moving over her skin on her face and her neck.

  She summoned all her strength and shoved him away.

  Stephen took a stumbling step back. Then he flashed her a chilling smile. “If you want it rough, I can oblige you.”

  He backhanded her across the face hard enough she fell to her knees, cradling her throbbing cheek in her hand.

  His hands were suddenly in her hair as he dragged her toward the bed. She tried to crawl away, but he twisted her long hair around his fist.

  “You don’t understand, Grace. You owe me.”

  Tears streamed down her face, making her cheek sting. “I don’t owe you anything! I don’t even know you!”

  “Ah, but you do, my sweet. Your father lost a great deal of money at our game. I was foolish enough to take you in payment. But you’re going to make it worth my while. You belong to me now. I. Own. You.”

  A sharp tug on her hair forced a scream.

  Mama had explained to her about what could happen between a man and a woman, but she told her the union came from love two people shared.

  Why didn’t Stephen know that? Why was he doing this to her?

  Another vicious tug at her hair found Grace at the side of the bed.

  Stephen bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her. Despite her pleas and struggles, he tossed her onto the bed. Shoving a hand inside her bodice, he ripped open the satin. Her breasts lay bare before him.

  Clutching at the bedspread, she tried to hide herself.

  He merely chuckled, stepped away from the bed, and walked to the door.

  Thank God, he was leaving!

  The click of the lock took away her last ounce of her hope.

  He came to stand at the foot of the bed. With slow motions—as if he had all the time in the world—he unbuttoned his coat, folded it, and placed it over the bureau. He did the same with his vest.

  She didn’t know what to do. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”

  His chuckle was as cold as his hands. “Go ahead. I like it when a woman screams. Besides, do you really think anyone will come to your aid?” He shook his head as he whipped his tie from his neck. “I’m a Shay. No one questions what I do.”

  Grace took a deep breath and screamed her loudest as she tried to rush off the bed.

  He moved fast as lightning and caught her. He silenced her screams by covering his mouth with hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth again.

  She bit down, gagging at the taste of the blood that seeped onto her tongue as she pulled away.

  His fist crashed into her jaw a moment later.

  Everything went fuzzy as pain shot through her head. As her senses cleared, she realized she was on the bed again with what was left of the ripped dress tangled up around her hips. Rolling to her side, she tried to crawl away.

  He hoisted the twisted material of the skirt up her body until he trapped her arms. Her legs were bared to him. All of her was bared to him—even her most personal and private place.

  Helpless, all she could do was scream and cry as he settled his body between her thighs…

  ***

  Stephen finished dressing as Grace huddled beneath the quilt, injured and silent.

  “I’m going to see to our supper. You stay here. We’ll eat in the room.” Sliding his arms back into his jacket, he fixed those obsidian eyes on her again. “Wait for me in that bed. Don’t bother getting dressed.”

  She had very little fight left in her, but he hadn’t broken her spirit. Not yet. “I won’t.”

  “Oh, but you will. I told you. You belong to me now.”

  The door closed, the sound of a key in the lock only making her
feel more trapped.

  Grace held her breath until she heard the close of the door to the suite. When she was sure he’d truly left, that breath escaped in a loud whoosh. She refused to let him hurt her again. Even if she had to throw herself out of the window, she would find a way to escape.

  By the time she’d hurriedly dressed in her old clothes, tried to open the locked door, and searched every inch of the room, she realized she was trapped. If she really wanted to get away from this hell, she would have to jump—out the second story window.

  The locking mechanism gave her no trouble, but the window was more stubborn. She had to wrestle and tug to get it open enough she could slip through. Thrusting her head outside, she stared down. Several pine shrubs were directly below. Perhaps they would break her fall.

  Terrified that Stephen would return, Grace swallowed her fear of injury, wriggled her leg out the window, and said a quick prayer. With eyes closed, she let herself plummet to the ground.

  The shrubs cushioned her enough that she was sure no bones were broken. Bruises, cuts, and scrapes would no doubt be riddled from head to toe, but they were of little concern. Her abused body almost refused to obey her wishes. Biting her lip to stifle a cry of pain, she got to her feet and limped away from the Palace as quickly as she could manage.

  ***

  Matthew was alone by the time Grace made it back to their home.

  He glanced up from where he played on the ground with his wooden horse and a smile lit his face. “Grace! I had a steak. And potatoes. And peaches. And—” His smile fell to a fierce frown as he scrambled to his feet. “What happened to you?”

  The only sound came from the squeaky floor as she crossed the room.

  Matthew followed her to her bedroom. Staring wide-eyed, he tried again. “How’d you get hurt?”

  “I’m fine.”

  But she wasn’t. The reflection in the mirror wasn’t the old Grace Riley. Whatever vanity had existed had been burned away. Large, hollow eyes stared back at her.

  Grace never wanted to stand out again. She never wanted anyone to take notice of her. She wanted anything tying her to that cursed vanity gone.

  The scissors caught her gaze.

  Trembling fingers slipped through the cool metal rings as she brought the blades to her hair. Grabbing long locks in her other hand, she hacked through the thick hair. Hunks of it fell to the floor.

  Her brother bent to pick up several strands. “Why are you cuttin’ all your hair off? You love your hair.”

  “I don’t love it anymore.” Anger flowed through her as she chopped and sliced until the tresses barely brushed her shoulders.

  “You lose your senses, girl?”

  The loud, deep voice startled her, but she simply raised her gaze in the reflection to see Papa standing in the doorway.

  “You’re making me angry,” he said.

  She didn’t want him angry.

  She wanted him dead.

  She wanted Stephen Shay dead too.

  Setting the scissors back on the bureau, she turned away from the mirror and vowed she’d never see her father again. “Go pack your clothes, Matthew. We’re leaving.”

  Her father leaned a shoulder against the doorframe as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Leaving are you?”

  As if she would even deign to nod at him. The man had sold her like some piece of meat. All for his gambling debts.

  Leaving?

  Oh, yes.

  And she was taking Matthew with her before something bad happened to him as well.

  Grabbing a burlap bag, Grace shoved the few clothes she owned inside.

  “You need to go back to the Palace,” Papa insisted. “Shay’ll be looking for you.”

  She jammed the few pieces of Mama’s jewelry that hadn’t been worth enough to pawn or sell into the bag and closed it tight. Without a word, she pushed past the man she no longer considered her father.

  “Grace, stop.” He grabbed her arm.

  She jerked it away and spat at his feet.

  Matthew was waiting, holding a bag and his wooden horse. “Where are we goin’, Grace?”

  “On an adventure.”

  ***

  Grace labored to push the baby from her body.

  The nuns weren’t sure how to help. They wiped her sweaty brow. They offered words of encouragement. They even tried to ease her pain by rubbing her back and her swollen belly. Nothing helped.

  Almost a whole day passed, and still the baby didn’t come.

  Convinced she would die, Grace worried more about Matthew than herself. Her brother needed her. They’d survived on what little she could make as a cook. What would he do if she left him all alone in the world?

  Another pain hit, so hard she shouted a word that made all the nuns cross themselves.

  That agony had no longer ebbed when another was on top of her. Her body knew what to do as her knees pulled up, her lungs took a deep breath, and her muscles bore down hard.

  A scream escaped her lips.

  The baby came out crying.

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “He’s wonderful,” Sister Charity replied as she fussed over him, cleaning him and wrapping him in a blanket.

  When he was finally placed in Grace’s arms, she could only stare at him.

  Her body ached from head to toe. She felt as if someone had beaten her, but she couldn’t focus on that. All she could see was a tiny boy with dark curly hair and deep blue eyes. Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes.

  Merciful God, how was she ever going to leave the beautiful boy behind?

  The nuns cast furtive glances at each other as they helped clean her up and put the room back to right.

  Sister Felicity brought Matthew in to see her a few hours later. He stood close to the bed, staring at his shoes and looking like he always did when he’d done something naughty.

  “What’s wrong, Matthew?” Grace asked when he didn’t come close enough to see the baby.

  He shrugged, refusing to let his gaze meet hers.

  “Don’t you want to see him?”

  His teeth tugged on his bottom lip. “He’s not coming with us?”

  She answered with a quick shake of her head and sniffed back tears. Seemed as though she’d cried a river of tears from the moment she realized she was going to have a baby because of what Stephen Shay had done to her.

  “He can’t, Matthew. He needs a mama and a papa. He can’t go on the cattle drive.”

  God bless Mother Superior. She knew of a Christian couple who’d been married for a dozen years and hadn’t been blessed with a child of their own. The baby would live on a farm and have doting parents.

  Grace couldn’t offer her son a life. She could barely take care of herself and her brother. What could she offer this baby except starvation and misery?

  Mother Superior had called in some favors and secured a job for Grace on a cattle drive. She would cook in return for the men teaching Matthew how to handle a horse and herd a cow. At least they could both eat regularly, get plenty of fresh air, and hopefully make themselves valuable to future employers.

  They would leave in a month’s time.

  But the baby would leave tonight.

  “Why are you crying, Grace?” Matthew hurried to her side and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I hate it when you cry. Did birthing the baby make you cry?”

  She blinked back more tears and kissed the baby’s forehead, breathing in his scent and trying to brand it on her heart. “I’m just sad because I won’t see him after tonight.”

  “Never again?”

  “Never again.”

  “But you’re his mama.”

  “I’m not his mama. Mrs. Curtis is gonna be his mama.”

  “And Mr. Curtis’ll be his papa? Why can’t you give him a papa? You could get married, Grace.”

  Matthew’s curiosity and intelligence always made him attack anything he didn’t understand in the way a dog assaulted a meaty bone. This time, she sim
ply couldn’t answer him in a way he’d understand. Hard to believe sometimes that he was only eight.

  “I just can’t.” She nodded at the dresser. “Can you please fetch me Mama’s gold pin?”

  With a nod, he hurried to do as she asked. She took the heart-shaped pin from him with trembling fingers.

  “This is for you.” She pinned the heart onto her son’s swaddling. “It’s all I have to give you.”

  “Will he remember us?” Matthew’s small finger stroked the baby’s cheek.

  The baby opened his mouth and turned toward the finger as if searching for something to eat.

  The emotions swelling inside her choked off her air. She shook her head in answer and glanced up to where Mother Superior now stood in the doorway.

  “It’s time, Grace.”

  “Have they given him a name?”

  Mother Superior nodded.

  “Please tell me. I want to know what they’ll call him.”

  “Grace…”

  “Please,” she pleaded.

  “Jake. They’ll call him Jake. They’re here now.”

  Grace cuddled the baby a little closer. “Just a few more minutes. Please.”

  The kind woman sighed before she gave her a brusque nod. “Matthew,” she said reaching her hand out for him, “come with me. Let your sister have a minute alone.”

  “She’s not alone. She’s got her baby with her.”

  “But she needs to say her farewells. Come. We’ll get you a glass of milk.”

  “I like milk.” He took Mother Superior’s hand and let her lead him away. Right before he reached the doorway, he turned back. “Goodbye, Jake.” He skipped out the door, humming a tune.

  Mother Superior glanced back over her shoulder. “Just a few moments. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis are waiting.”

  Alone with her son, Grace tried to memorize every bit of him. His hair and eyes. The way his forehead wrinkled before he let out a bellow when he was hungry. How he stopped crying when he heard her voice. Those memories would have to last her a lifetime.

  She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you, Jake. I always will.”