Page 19 of A Touch for All Time (For All Time #3)

G ray was selfish. He couldn’t remember doing an unselfish thing. Perhaps before his mother left, he was kinder and more thoughtful. He doubted Sarah would have latched onto him if he had treated her poorly. But he couldn’t remember, and he never cared. Until now.

He felt the desperate need to offer Aria anything she wanted if she would stay with him. But he knew what she wanted most, and he’d just made the most unselfish offer he’d ever uttered. No matter what losing her would do to him—and he finally admitted that he would be heavily affected—he would send her away. He would make sure of it, even if it destroyed him.

He gazed into her eyes, holding her in the cradle of his arm while Harper ended her song that tore his heart from his chest and made his eyes grow red with unshed tears.

“I’ll get you home,” he promised her in a whisper. He didn’t want Harper to hear him. She obeyed his grandmother, and his grandmother wanted his sons to be born to Aria Darling. If Sarah Gable were an option, Aria never would have needed to come. Harper wanted what his grandmother wanted. She’d do what was needed to keep Aria here.

Something occurred to him suddenly. He pulled Aria up and let her go, remembering what Harper said about him touching Aria and putting her in danger. He looked at the woman he loved as his mother, then turned away.

Tabby, are you close?

Yes, Grayson.

I need you to search Harper’s chambers. Bring as many of your friends as you need.

What are we searching for?

A gold master key.

Master key?

It’s a fancy looking, long key , he explained. It’s fashioned of pure gold. If you find it, bring it to my chambers, please.

When he was finished communicating with the head mouse, he turned his attention back to Aria.

“Teach me more contemporary dance,” he asked, wanting to watch her, dance with her, and keep Harper here while the mice searched her room.

His beautiful dancer laughed softly, having no idea that Harper might be the one who took the key. He wouldn’t mention it, especially since he didn’t know yet if she was guilty.

“You already know so many moves,” Aria complimented. “Hmm, let me see now.”

While she thought about what to teach him next, he glanced again at Harper. How would he feel if she had taken the key? Grateful that she was able to help Aria stay longer? Or angry that she hadn’t told them the truth even after knowing how the lost key had affected Aria. If she had the key, he would know how loyal she was to his grandmother.

“Harper,” Aria called to her. “The rendition of the Romeo and Juliet we were practicing was performed to modern ballads. If you would play whatever you think is pretty—”

“One that has nothing to do with the previous topic,” Gray interjected to the violinist, then sat on a step close by to watch.

Aria began in tendu, then into plié and then sprang into a succession of slow, lyrical movements that blended into each other. Her hinge variations showed the power in her movements, while her long stretches into allongé, then arabesque were performed with deliberate delicacy. He took special note of the control of her breath, giving life to her isolations and contractions. She combined it all into an expressive work of art that brought love and passion to life.

Gray found himself on his feet. The longing to go to her and lift her off her feet and into his arms was like nothing he’d ever felt before. His skin tingled and tightened over his muscles with the need to touch her. His blood burned like molten lava through his veins with the desire to bend his body close to hers in a dance that would last forever, ignited by a touch for all time.

Harper stopped playing and stared at him. “There’s something else I haven’t told you. I can sense your grandmother. She’s back here—in this time.”

For a moment his head didn’t register what he heard; the instant it hit him, his heart thrashed so violently in his chest, he grew lightheaded and reached for the wall.

Aria and Harper were there seconds apart.

“Are you alright?” Aria asked, coiling his arm around her shoulder as if she could hold him up. He smiled as if something had just fluttered across his heart.

He remembered what Harper said. His grandmother was back. Emotions roiled through him. Anger vied for preeminence over all the hurt and unforgiveness for leaving him alone. There was only one reason for her to be here. It had to have something to do with Aria.

He stood straighter, taking his weight off Aria’s slight shoulders. “Harper, you’re telepathic.”

“Only with her,” Harper let him know. “And give or take a spirit here and there.”

Gray closed his eyes and shook his head. “Tell her to stay away from me. And she better stay away from Aria too.”

“Gray,” Aria said softly. “I want to speak with her. I want to know if she has seen my family.”

He closed his eyes. Yes, he had to give in to her request. He nodded. “Harper, if she brings Aria home, I want to bid Aria farewell.”

Harper nodded.

Grayson came Tabby’s squeaky voice in his head. We searched Miss Black’s chambers but did not find any key.

For that, at least, he was grateful. He thanked Tabby and returned his attention to the two women with him.

“Grayson, how can I tell grandmother you won’t see her when she came to see you?”

But he’d only heard one thing. “Grandmother? You call her grandmother. Harper,” his voice was low with growing detachment triumphing over trembling emotions, “are you my aunt? Are you my mother’s sister?”

He noted Aria’s small intake of breath first. She knew about Harper. He wanted to turn to her, but Harper began to speak.

“Yes, I’m your aunt but I consider you my own son, Grayson,” she told him. “I’m your mother, Emma’s sister.”

“Harper,” he said. His expression matched his cool tone, “how much more are you keeping from me?”

“Grayson, I—”

But he’d stopped listening. He’d heard enough—from Harper, at least. He set his gaze on Aria and prayed silently that she wasn’t a part of whatever schemes Harper planned out for his grandmother.

“Who are you, truly?” he asked her. He had to know if she was a part of this all along. How much did she know?

Had she cast some spell on him to make him look at her differently? To see her as what she was. A woman. Had her fiery temper and sweet smiles softened his heart and breathed a fog over his mind, blinding him to her feigned interest in him?

I can’t stay with him. I must go no matter how much of my heart is already lost.

He remembered her words, spoken to no one but heard by a tiny mouse. What she felt for him was real. She was too spirited and honest to pretend.

“I’m just me, Gray,” she said in her dulcet voice. “I’m a dance teacher, a sister, and a daughter. I was ripped from my life and brought here—into the snow. I know less about all this than you.”

He nodded, relief showing clearly on his face. He wanted to take her hand and leave Harper’s presence. They were trying to make Aria a part of the Ashmore/Blagden destiny by taking her from her family. He wouldn’t let them. But he kept his hand at his side. Touching her, even the slightest touch of her hand, would make him think about touching her all the time—and it might cause him to be less careful with her under the watchful eye of his enemy.

“When is she coming?” He asked Harper about his grandmother. He veered off topic when something occurred to him. “Grandmother is your mother.”

“She’s not my mother,” she told him with a slight shake of her head. “She’s older than that. And I don’t know when she’ll be at Dartmouth. But it won’t be long.”

He didn’t answer her but turned inward to Tabby the head mouse instead. I have a favor to ask of you.

Ask anything , came the quick reply.

I would like to know everything Harper says for the next forty-eight hours. Can you do that?

Of course, Grayson! I will have a thousand ears on it.

He was tempted to smile at the gift of having ears everywhere. But Harper was watching. She would realize that he was communicating with something and would be more cautious about things she said out loud.

“Grayson,” Harper began. She looked miserably repentant yet again. “It was more important to try to help you heal. You would have mistrusted me immediately if you knew I was your aunt—another family member who could leave you anytime. That’s what you would have thought. You would have been obsessed with finding your mother if you knew I had anything to do with her.”

Perhaps she was correct, but he would never know. There was no point telling her how betrayed he felt by her. She told herself she had done the right thing. It was an argument he didn’t want to have.

“Grayson, I know you don’t trust me anymore, but…”

Gray waited, giving her a chance to defend herself if that was what she wanted to do.

“But everything I did, every decision I made was made with love in my heart for you. I was thirteen years old when I pulled you from your mother’s body and held you in my arms before she did. I’ve loved you from that moment on. But this is all bigger than you, Grayson. One or all your sons will break a curse that has plagued families for centuries—and will save your life.”

“I have no destiny,” he whispered in a low voice.

“You do have a destiny,” she corrected. “We don’t know which of the three women you will choose, if any—or what that choice will mean. Your destiny is to father sons in love.”

His eyes turned involuntarily to Aria. He could father sons in love with her. He could feel his blood rising to his face and then to his head until he felt feverish. Was it a spell?

He fought to regain control of himself by concentrating on Harper’s voice and words.

“…to keep the Ashmore line alive.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll decide what my destiny is. But I can tell you that if she goes home—” He paused to look at Aria—“no child born to me after that, if I have any, will be conceived in love.”

Harper set her gaze on Aria. She understood what he meant, if not Aria, then no one.

“Harper,” he said, dragging her gaze to him. “Aria’s wish is to return home, and I’m going to help her do that. Don’t get involved.”

“What are you trying to say, Grayson? You won’t have any sons? In that case, I must warn you Tessa will see it done herself.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’ll manipulate time. She’ll bring you a few years back, a few forward, over and over until you do it her way.”

“That’s not destiny.”

Gray’s and Harper’s gaze flicked to Aria when he spoke.

“That’s not free will, Harper,” Aria continued. “Does Mrs. B. believe herself to be God?”

“No. She—”

“She should stay out of it. Everyone is entitled to discover their own destiny.”

“I wish she would,” Harper said with a groan.

Gray didn’t realize tears had fallen to his cheeks until Aria slipped her hand in his. He thought it mad that such a small, intimate gesture could make his heart feel lighter in seconds. His gaze found hers as he turned to her.

She reached her free hand up and wiped his tears with her fingers. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

She had no way of knowing that for sure, but she said it to comfort him. And it did. He began to smile at her, but Harper put her hand between theirs and severed their connection.

“You must both keep from touching—” she began to admonish, but Aria stopped her.

“I don’t care about any would-be threats,” she told Harper. “I’m not going to let anyone dictate my behavior. If I want to touch him, I’m going to touch him.” She took his hand again and this time entwined her fingers through his.

Caring for her wellbeing, he tried to pull away.

She held on tighter. “Gray, if I haven’t made it clear enough already, let me say it in plain English. I won’t stand for being told what to do. In my time, or yours.”

His or hers. Separate. Different. If he hadn’t grown used to pain, he would have doubled over at the ache in his belly at her words and the meaning of them. There was nothing in her that considered staying with him.

He’d go with her then. What did he care for anyone here? Let Cavendish have it all. That’s what his father wanted anyway. He’d go to Aria’s future with her and live and dance there. He’d wed her and have seven—no six sons and one daughter, destiny be damned—who would rule them all. The thought of it made him smile slightly. She saw it and rubbed the pad of her thumb over his skin.

“Are you staying then, Aria?” Harper asked her.

Aria stared at her but didn’t answer.

Harper turned her attention to him. “Grayson, she’s going to leave.”

“Right,” he said, purposely meaning neither this nor that. “Harper, it’s late. You should retire to your chambers. Aria and I will remain for a bit longer.”

“I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

He set his cool gaze on her. “Harper, I’m not a child. Goodnight.”

He was glad when she didn’t argue but marched out of the small dance hall in silence.

“Let’s dance,” he swept around Aria and said in her ear. He wanted to forget what Harper said and had done, and just dance with Aria. He wanted it more than anything he’d wanted in his life—to touch her in the intimate throes of dance, in a timeless embrace.

“Gray, I can’t help but worry about falling.”

Her confession reached his heart. He backed away, but his eyes beckoned her forward. She didn’t go to him, but he would keep calling. If tomorrow came and they found her key and she found her door, he would regret not dancing with her more.

Without Harper’s violin, he relied on the crackling of the hearth fire and his heartbeat in his ears to make music. He moved to it, isolating different parts of his body with each beat.

Turning his knees outward, he bent in plié. He twisted his arms to the left, then to the right, bending his wrists, curling his fingers. He smiled, feeling her eyes on him. He didn’t look at her yet, but scooped his hand over his raven tresses and closed his fingers around the back of his neck. He looked up then and smiled at her and almost laughed softly when she brought her hand to her throat—as if she could read his thoughts. He drew in a corner of his bottom lip between his teeth and scrunched up his nose at her. He danced around the hall, combining contemporary moves he’d recently learned, and ballet moves he’d known since he was a boy. He reached her in a vortex of spins and beautiful lines, intimate smiles and playful winks. When he stopped before her, he held his hand out to her and prayed she accepted.

She did and stepped into him. His heart thrashed and thundered within. For a moment, he completely forgot how to dance and just stood there with her, letting the beats of their hearts produce a whole new sound.

He wasn’t exactly sure how to dance with her facing him save for traditional pas de deux or ballet dances for two, some ballroom dances, and what she taught him in the forest.

She arched her back and, draped over his arm, bent far back enough for her fingertips to touch the floor. Gray leaned over her, dipping his nose closer to her neck. They moved together in perfect synchronicity. When she moved in a variation of what he knew, he followed and kept up with her.

Finally, he pulled her closer with gentle force and smiled then tossed back his head and closed his eyes.

“Gray, you’re a very passionate dancer,” she whispered close, beguiling his senses. “You know perfectly well how to seduce.”

“Am I seducing you, Miss Darling?”

She nodded, looking up at him, pressed to him. “Don’t you feel my heart beating?”

“I thought it was mine,” he said, close. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers. Harper’s warnings about touching her grew fainter and then were gone altogether.

He lifted her chin and deepened their kiss. She curled her arms around his neck, standing on the tips of her toes to receive him. She tasted of warmth and desire.

He felt himself going a little harder when she darted her tongue into his mouth. He cupped one of her buttocks in his hand and drew her in closer until he could feel all her soft curves.

They heard someone moving about outside the front door. They separated and stood apart staring at each other until whoever was out there passed.

“Come,” he said, taking her by the hand. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your chambers.”

“Let me change back into my petticoat and shirts—and all the rest of it.”

Gray waited while she disappeared behind the partition. She didn’t like all the clothes women had to wear. He didn’t like them either.

When they left the hall, he wouldn’t let her hold his hand on the way to her rooms. She proved she wasn’t from his time by not taking the threat of danger to her life seriously enough. He would speak to her about it tomorrow. For now, they didn’t touch or speak on the way toward her door.

The silence was not awkward or uncomfortable, especially since sometimes—Gray believed—more could be said without words. A lingering glance, an intimate smile, a warm gaze—or a heated one resounded off the walls of the heart and sank deeper than any words.

That was why, for so long, his expression remained impassive and unreadable. He’d been careful not to communicate anything to the people around him. But that didn’t mean he was passionless. He took delight that it seemed Aria from another lifetime understood and remained silent, save for a soft round of giggles here or there, like bells of celebration to his usually somber ears.

He liked the sound of her, not just her laughter, but her voice and the cadence of it that often made him want to tip his head, smile, and move his feet.

“Tomorrow let’s spar.”

He turned to her and nodded. “Alright. Do you want me to teach you how to wield a sword? It’s not likely something you learned in the twenty-first century.”

“I want to fight you,” she clarified with a hint of playfulness gleaming in her eyes.

He smiled. The more time he spent with her, the more she tempted him to toss aside every concern, every speck of hatred within him, and dance without the weight of any of it. “You don’t have to wait until tomorrow to do that, my darling.”

“Gray?” she said, wide-eyed.

“Hmm?”

“You called me your darling.”

He never wanted to stop looking at her. “Yes, I know.” Reaching her door, he dipped his head to hers to kiss her.

He was stopped by two of Dartmouth’s guards.