Sylvia Day - The Stranger I Married

She smoothed her muslin skirts, and touched a hand to her upswept hair. When she caught herself checking her appearance, Isabel stopped with a muttered curse. This was Gray. He would not care how she looked. “The study?”

“Yes, my lady.”

The scene of that day.

She nodded, and squared her shoulders, shoring up her nerve. As ready as she would ever be, Isabel passed the curving staircase and turned into the first open door on the right. Despite her mental and physical preparations, the sight of her husband’s back struck her like a physical blow. He stood silhouetted in the window, appearing taller and definitely broader. His powerful torso tapered to a trim waist, beautifully curved ass, and long, muscular legs. Framed by the dark green velvet curtains, the perfect symmetry of his form stole her breath.

But there was a somber, oppressive air that surrounded him that was so distant from the carefree man she remembered. It forced her to take another deep breath before opening her mouth to speak.

As if he felt her presence, Gray turned before she managed a word. Her throat closed tight as a fist.

He was not at all the man she had married.

They stared at each other, both held motionless in the pregnant pause. Only a few years, and yet it seemed a lifetime had passed. Grayson was no longer a boy, not by any stretch of the imagination. His face had lost that faint remnant of youth, and time had etched its passing in the lines that bracketed his mouth and eyes. Not happy lines, she could see. Frown lines, lines of sorrow. The brilliant blue of his irises that had caused many women to fall in love with him were now a deeper, darker shade. They no longer smiled, and appeared to have seen far more than possible in only a four year span.

She raised a hand to her bodice, dismayed by the rapid lift and fall of her chest.

Gray had been beautiful before. Now, there were no words to describe him. She forced her breathing to slow, and fought off a sudden, desperate flare of panic. She had known how to handle the boy, but this…this man was not tamable. Had she met him anew, she would know to stay far away.

“Hello, Isabel.”

Even his voice had changed. It was deeper now, slightly raspy.

Isabel had no notion of what to say to him.

“You have not changed at all,” he murmured, striding toward her. The previous cockiness of his bearing was gone, replaced by the type of confidence one gained from walking through hell and surviving it.

Sucking in a deep breath, she was inundated with the familiar scent of him. A little spicier, perhaps, but he smelled like Gray, nevertheless. Staring up at his impassive face, she could do no more than shrug helplessly.

“I should have written,” he said.

“Yes, you should have,” she agreed. “Not just to warn me of your intent to visit, but before, if only to say that you were well. I have been worried about you, Gray.”

He gestured with his hand toward a nearby chair, and she sank into it gratefully. As he moved to the settee across from her, Isabel noted his quaint garb. While he wore trousers with jacket and waistcoat, the garments were plain, and of common materials. Whatever he had been doing these last years, it apparently had not required the latest fashions.

“I apologize for your worry.” One side of his mouth curved upward in a ghost of his former smile. “But I could not tell you I was well, when I was far from it. I could not bear to look at letters, Pel. It was not because they were from you. For years I avoided any sight of correspondence. But now…” He paused, and his jaw tightened, as if with determination. “I am not visiting.”

“Oh?” Her stomach fluttered. Their camaraderie was gone. Instead of the easy comfort she had once enjoyed with him, she now felt decidedly nervous.

“I have come here to live. If I can remember how to do that.”

“Gray-”

He shook his head, his slightly-longer-than-fashionable locks drifting about his neck. “No pity, Isabel. I do not deserve it. What’s more, I don’t want it.”

“What do you want?”

His met her gaze directly. “I want many things, but mostly I want companionship. And I want to be worthy of it.”

“Worthy?” She frowned.

“I was a dreadful friend, as are most selfish people.”

Isabel stared down at her hands and noted her gold wedding band-a symbol of her lifelong commitment to a veritable stranger. “Where have you been, Gray?”

“Taking stock.”

So he was not going to tell her . “Very well, then. What do you want from me?” She lifted her chin. “What service can I provide?”

“First, I will need to be made presentable.” Gray waved a careless hand down the length of his body. “Then I will need to hear the latest on dit . I have read the papers, but you and I both know that gossip is rarely the truth. Most importantly, I will require your escort.”

“I am not certain how much assistance I can offer you, Gray,” she said honestly.

“I am aware.” He stood and moved toward her. “The gossips have been unkind to you in my absence, which is why I have returned. How responsible can I be, truly, if I cannot take care of my own wife?” He dropped to a crouch beside her. “It is a great deal to ask of you, Pel, I know. It was not what you agreed to when we made our bargain. But things have changed.”

“ You have changed.”

“God, I can only hope that’s true.”

Gray caught up her hands, and she felt calluses against her fingertips. She looked down, and saw his skin dark from the sun and reddened from work. Next to her smaller, paler ones, the contrast was like night to day.

He gave a gentle squeeze. Isabel lifted her gaze, and was stunned again by the comeliness of his features.

“I will not coerce you, Pel. If you wish to live your life as you have been, I will respect that.” That faint hint of his remembered smile shined through again. “But I am not above begging, I warn you. I owe you much, and I am quite determined.”

It was that brief glimpse of the old Gray that soothed her. Yes, the outer shell had changed, perhaps even much of the interior, but there was still some of the scapegrace charmer she knew in there. For the moment, it was enough.

Isabel smiled back, and his relief was tangible. “I will cancel my engagements for this evening and we can strategize.”

Grayson shook his head. “I need to gather my bearings, and familiarize myself with being home again. Enjoy yourself tonight. You shall be burdened with me soon enough.”

“Perhaps you would agree to have tea with me, in an hour or so?” Maybe then she could compel him to tell her about his absence.

“I would enjoy that.”

She stood, and he rose with her.

Heavens, he was tall. Had he always been? She could not recall. Pushing aside her surprise, Isabel turned toward the door, and found one hand still caught in his.

Gray released it with a sheepish shrug. “See you in an hour, Pel.”

Gerard waited until Isabel departed the room before sinking onto the settee with a groan. During his absence, insomnia had been a recurring torment. Needing physical exhaustion to sleep, he’d worked the fields of his many properties and in doing so he had become accustomed to muscle aches and pains. Never had his body hurt in quite the manner it did now. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until he was alone and the seductive floral fragrance that was his wife’s alone had dissipated.

Had Isabel always been so beautiful? He could not remember. Certainly he had used the word “beautiful” to describe her in his thoughts, but the reality was beyond what the mere utterance could convey. Her hair had more fire, her eyes more sparkle, her skin more glow than he had remembered.