Rose watched the dust settle from the driveway before turning her gaze toward the grand staircase. Her heart knocked against her ribs, She needed to isolate Grace before Tate returned from the airport, before the stranger's warnings took root. With her features smoothly arranged back into a mask of soft affection, Rose walked up the stairs, following Grace back into the master suite, and sat on the plush velvet ottoman near the edge of the bed.
Grace was sorting through a stack of soft linens, a quiet, radiant warmth softening her face. When she saw Rose sit down, she set the fabric aside and walked over, her eyes shining with an immense, fragile vulnerability. She took Rose’s hands, her fingers squeezing tightly. "I’m so glad you came up," Grace whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "
