The Mistress
Page 112

The night she’d woken up hemorrhaging in their bed, she wondered a moment if God was punishing her for seducing her teacher, or punishing Zachary for succumbing to a student. Only now did she realize how foolish she’d been to think of God as some cosmic dean of academics who’d slap their hands with a ruler for breaking some ordinance of the honor code. Terrible and beautiful things happened to everyone. That was life. Simply life. And now she understood...now she felt the method behind all the madness that had brought her to this moment. She didn’t quite know the meaning yet, couldn’t see the plan, but she felt it, sensed it, trusted it like a pilgrim walking a labyrinth blindfolded with her hand on the wall knowing she’d find the answer at the center and yet not hurrying her steps. The answer would wait. The journey was what mattered.
And tonight the journey brought her here.
She raised her hand to her lips and kissed her wedding band. Although still thousands of miles apart, she’d never felt closer to Zachary. He’d given her a promise, given her a night of freedom, given her his trust that she could wander the labyrinth a little and would still find him at the center.
When Søren entered the room, Grace smiled.
He locked the door behind him. In his hand he carried a long back bag. When he dropped it, she heard the distinctive and unnerving sound of metal clicking against metal.
She wanted to ask about the bag, what was inside it, but she decided to enjoy the mystery.
Søren came to where she stood at the end of the bed. She wore nothing but a white Oxford shirt, one of Zachary’s she’d packed. She’d asked Nora what she should wear for such a night. Nora’s answer was both elucidating and terrifying.
Doesn’t matter. You’ll be naked five minutes after he shows up, anyway.
“Nora said I wasn’t supposed to speak until you spoke to me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the bedpost and smiled.
“You’re doing a wonderful job at it.”
Grace burst into nervous laughter.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she admitted.
“Obviously.”
“That obvious?”
“Well...you are standing.”
“I’m...of course, I’m sorry.” She knelt on the floor and Søren stepped so close she could have rested her cheek against his thigh. She rather liked that image.
Søren snapped his fingers in her face and she started and looked up at him.
He crooked his finger and she stood up again, feeling both awkward and foolish.
“Grace...” Søren laid his hands on either side of her neck and caressed the line of her jaw with his thumbs. Relaxing into his touch, she closed her eyes. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. But I want to.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Please.”
“Saying ‘please’ is a good start.” He smiled and laughed a little. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Are you?”
“Not even remotely.”
“Thank God.” She collapsed against his chest like she had that night on the roof. Only two nights ago she reminded herself. Seemed like a lifetime had passed between then and now. “I can’t recall ever being so nervous or wanting something so much.”
“I won’t even charge you your soul for it.”
“Good. I’m a poet. I need my soul.”
Søren held her close and massaged her back while she got used to being in such close and intimate proximity to him.
“It’s very kind of you to offer yourself,” he said, kissing the top of her head. She wasn’t short, not at all, but with him she felt tiny. Nora must feel like a little girl whenever around him. No wonder she adored him like a father while she rebelled like a child.
“It’s not kindness, I promise you. I feel this...I don’t even know the word. It’s not desire, not quite. Attraction? Definitely. I need to do this with you.” She looked up at him. “If it helps you, wonderful. It’s my honor. But please don’t think I’m doing it for you. I only know that if I don’t do this tonight, I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
“And Zachary?”
“I told him how I’ve envied him the adventure Nora took him on. He said I could have my own. I could do whatever I wanted, although he preferred to not know any details after.”
“A wise man in many respects.”
“I know my husband. I know my marriage. This won’t harm it. If one night with your Nora could change everything for him, then maybe a night with you...”
“It might change things, yes.” He slid his hand under her shirt and rubbed the small of her back. She’d prepared herself for pain tonight. She hadn’t expected such simple, gentle pleasures like this one. “I know these past few days you and I have gotten close. Tragedy and adversity can make best friends of even strangers. But you’ve only seen one side of me...and you seem to rather like that side of me. This...this would be a very different side of me.”
“Are you afraid I won’t respect you in the morning?” She grinned up at him.
“Morning?” He laughed as if she’d told the most hilarious joke. “You’ll be lucky to last an hour.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Are you accepting?”
“I’m here. I’ve already accepted.”
He raised his hands to the back of her hair and pulled out the ponytail holder that tied the end of her French braid. Slowly he worked his fingers through her hair, freeing it from its confines. She almost always wore her hair up, wore it back, wore it in a braid or a ponytail. Only in the shower, only in bed, did she take her hair down. She always knew Zachary was in the mood for sex when he took her hair down and ran his fingers through it.