“Honesty, Miss Danvers.” His voice was like a slow stroke of flames across her sensitive skin. “Going forward…let it be honesty that binds us.”
She took a quick breath of utter astonishment. “Your words imply a state of future entanglement for us, Your Grace. I question such a possibility. I will, however, at this moment endeavor to be honest…always,” she whispered.
He deserved it from her, considering how she had used his reputation without shame or regret.
The cold brilliant blue of the eyes behind the mask glittered with something fierce before his lashes fluttered down. When they lifted, only curious indifference stared at her.
“Tell me, why do you wish to see the face behind the mask?”
“I…” She laced her fingers before her stomach and considered the man who stared at her with such penetrating regard. As if he wanted to strip her of all facade and see the heart of the woman in front of him. Honesty… “Perhaps I want to see the face of the man who inspires such vexatious impetus inside me.”
A quick flash of intrigue and expectation before he canted his head left and said, “Oh?”
As their eyes met, she felt a shock of some undefinable sensation dart through her. Awareness flowered inside Kitty. He enjoyed the notion she was not cowering before him.
“My heart beats, my palms are sweaty, a thousand questions swirl in my mind, yet I feel more alive than I’ve been in longer than I can remember. I feel fear but also anticipate something I do
not understand.”
Pleasure lit in the cold blue beauty of his eyes. “Ahh.”
Such satisfaction in his soft exhalation.
Stupidly, shockingly, she stepped closer to the man. “Your Grace. Let me see your face.”
Kitty knew she would never be able to look back and know in what moment of this intimate encounter she had decided to abandon all sense of propriety and expectations of her position in society and all the gentle admonishments of her dear mamma over the years. The excuse of honesty felt like the reason she used to reveal the wanton and improper lady who had always existed within.
Silence lingered. Yet she sensed he was inordinately pleased with her. Was it her turn to be fanciful?
Embers sparked from a log in the fireplace. Unexpectedly, he reached up and removed the mask. The revelation was abrupt, the ensnarement of her complete regard immediate.
The twisted skin of his face was so macabre, yet the man so beautiful.
The release of her breath trembled on her lips and settled in the room.
The skin across his left cheek and down to his chin and neck was indeed roped with brutal scars. Kitty wondered how a man who seemed so self-assured and powerful could be wounded in such a manner. It was unsettling to see such imperfection in an otherwise stunningly masculine face.
Without the mask obscuring his features, the bold, arrogant slash of his cheekbones hinted at restrained power. Lips that had seemed full and sensual before now had a ruthless curve. And his eyes without the sunken shadow cast by the white mask…were exquisite in their dark blue brilliance and piercing intelligence. The unscarred side of his face was smooth, wrinkle free, clear of laugh lines or frown lines. As if he meandered through life expressionless, his heart reserved with no outward emotion to show.
This time when he moved closer, she stood her ground. They stared at each other. He had a quality of stillness that hinted at unfathomable depth. And helpless curiosity roiled through her, feeling as if invisible strings reached from him to her…
And pulled them closer.
Kitty tried to recall how many glasses of champagne she’d consumed.
He measured her with a cool, appraising glance. “The last ball I attended and showed my face at, at least nine ladies fainted. I believe I can still hear their shrieks of horror.”
How had she not uncovered that bit of gossip in her research on the duke? She lifted a shoulder in an inelegant shrug. “That must have been some time ago.”
“Seven years if I recall correctly.”
“I must say I know no one with such delicate nerves.”
The duke gave her an arresting stare. “So you are not frightened, Miss Danvers?”
“I would be the worst sort of lady to be frightened by someone hurt by misfortune, wouldn’t you agree?”
He remained silent, studying her with uncomfortable intensity, and she returned his regard with unabashed curiosity. It was then she observed grooves of discomfort bracketing his mouth. He’s in pain. His posture had also altered, and though now he leaned heavily on his cane, he did not seem less. The duke was the most virile and arresting person she had ever met, and her face heated for having such improper thoughts.