“My heart is outside myself tonight and far away,” Søren said, staring into the darkness.
“How far away?”
“Ten miles between here and Elizabeth’s house. I could run it in an hour.”
“I could run it in fifty-five minutes,” she said, grinning up at him.
“Behave yourself. You’re seventeen years younger than I am. Respect your elders,” he said, clearly trying not to smile at her.
“If I don’t will you turn me over your knee?”
Søren raised his eyebrow, and Grace blushed ear to ear.
“Good God, now you’ve got me doing it.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Be glad Kingsley didn’t hear that. He’d take you up on that offer.”
He smiled as he spoke but she saw sorrow in his eyes, sorrow and fear.
“Where is Kingsley?”
“The last place I want him to be.”
“He’s trying to get Nora back.”
Søren nodded.
“Both Kingsley and Eleanor are out there facing unknown terrors. I’m most content when they’re both near to me.”
“You love Kingsley?”
“I do. Does that shock you?”
“Not at all. He reminds me of Nora. Arrogant, cocky, dangerous, beautiful.”
“Those two—they’ve twin spirits, although they’d deny it with their last breaths. Kingsley’s parents died when he was fourteen. Eleanor’s parents were beyond useless to her as a teenager.”
“You were a father figure to both of them.”
“In a way. And now I’m a father who’d give everything to have them both back safely.”
“They will come back. You have faith I’ll have my child someday. I have faith you’ll have yours.”
“Thank you. Until then...” He raised the glass and took another drink.
“I should have thought of that,” she said, nodding at the wine. “Better than crying over a stuffed dog.”
Søren smiled subtly and held out the glass to her.
“Take it. I shouldn’t have any more.”
Grace hesitated a moment before taking the wine from his hand. It seemed an unbearably intimate thing to drink after him. Still, she took a sip.
“Merlot. Very nice.”
“Daniel has a decent cellar. His late wife, Maggie, was something of an oenophile.”
“Then I’ll drink it in memory of Maggie.” She raised the glass for another drink.
“Sláinte mhaith,” Søren said, his pronunciation of the Celtic words so perfect even her Irish mother would have been impressed.
“Sure you don’t want it? Happy to share.”
“I’ve already had five glasses tonight.”
“Five?” Grace repeated, aghast. “I’d be underneath a table in a coma after five glasses of Merlot.” Four glasses equaled an entire bottle.
“I rarely drink this much. One glass a day at most.”
“It’s wonderful for occasional stress relief. If it was Zachary trapped in that house, I’d have to have an alcohol IV inserted in my arm.”
“I usually find far pleasanter means to reduce my stress than alcohol.”
Grace laughed as she took another deep drink of wine, willing it to go to her head as quickly as possible.
“I’m sure you can. A night with Nora must make for excellent therapy.”
“You have no idea....” The smile that crossed his face was so amorous that Grace felt her knees nearly buckle. Potent wine. Must be the wine.
“I am a very happily married woman with a husband who’s a spectacular lover. And I’ve read all of Nora’s books. I think I have some idea.”
“I’ve read her books, too.”
“Scandalous,” she teased. “A priest who reads erotica.”
“Only Eleanor’s.”
“She’s certainly my favorite author.”
She sat on the ledge of the roof and put the forest to her back. She’d much rather look at Søren, anyway. Never in her life has she been attracted to blond men but something about him was so utterly arresting. Even at night he cast a shadow. Strange to see him like this—a white shirt and no Roman collar and yet still he seemed priestly to her, sacred.
“May I ask you a question?” Søren gazed down at her.
“Of course. Anything.”
“Why don’t you hate Eleanor?”
“I might need a lot more wine to answer that.” She tried to laugh but it didn’t quite come out. Søren waited, his eyebrow raised. “All right... My marital problems with Zachary began long before he met her.”
“But they were lovers,” he reminded her.
“I’m well aware of that. She hits on him every time they talk. I know this because she tells me my husband is being mean and won’t put out for her anymore.”
“And that’s not infuriating?”
“It would be if I genuinely thought she was a threat. I think she would be heartbroken if Zachary and I broke up.”
“She would be. She loves you both.”
“She flirts with him and she flirts with me, and if given the chance I think she wouldn’t say no to another night with him but it’s only a game with her, it’s play.” Grace stopped talking when she realized what she’d said and to whom she said it. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want to hear is about Nora flirting with—”