“May I ask you a question?” he asked, and she looked at him with curiosity. When she dipped her head to him, he asked, “Why are you most angry with me?”
At that, her gaze darkened. “Who said that I am angry?”
Alex couldn't help but laugh. She was quite adorable when angry.
“Is something funny?” she bit at him.
“How can you even attempt to claim you are not angry when you speak in such tones?” he asked, still biting back laughter.
There her arms went, crossing her chest once more, becoming defensive.
“Am I to be mocked and blamed for being angry when it is you who has been deceitful, Your Grace?” she declared boldly, her head held high. She met his gaze in a way that was utterly remarkable. “You lied to me. You deceived me. And now you mock me.”
Emmaline's cloak dropped from his grip. He stepped over it, leaving it sprawled and forgotten behind him as he took hold of her hands in his and met her gaze. “You must forgive me.”
“I must? How am I to do so?”
She was certainly brave. Alex couldn't remember the last time anyone had spoken to him so boldly. It was not at all the manner in which a wife should speak to a husband and yet, Alex found he liked it immensely, more than he ever cared to admit.
“Forgive me for not being the trustworthy husband that you deserve, Lady Emmaline,” he said, dipping his head. He closed his eyes, unable to look her in the eye. “My deceit was born out of desperation.”
“Desperation?” she repeated the word as if tasting it. The quizzical tone of her voice caused him to open his eyes and look at her again.
“I am entrapped by the terms of my father's last will and testament,” he explained, his throat constricting. He had never told another living soul about this save for Sean. And the only other souls besides him who knew were his uncle, his lawyers and his late father.
It felt odd to be speaking the words aloud now, especially to a woman. For he had spent a great deal of time trying to keep the fact from women so not to have every eligible miss banging his door down for his title and his fortune. Yet, it had made things impossible along with his injuries.
“How so, Alexander?” Emmaline asked. Her fingers squeezed his. Whether it was intentional or upon instinct, Alex did not know, but it felt exceptional to feel such sensation, to touch someone and have them look at him as if he were merely another person, not a monster.
“My father declared I must marry before my twenty-seventh birthday in order to produce an heir for the estate or my dukedom and everything else would pass to the next in line,” Alex explained. Unable to bear the pity he saw on her face, he closed his eyes once more before continuing. “All you need do is look at me to understand why it has been impossible for me to find a willing yet suitable bride.”
One hand slipped from his and he tensed, expecting her to step away at the revelation.
What happened instead, shocked him to his core.
Gentle, gloved fingertips stroked down the ruined side of his face, from the edge of his nearly nonexistent eyebrow, down to the silver scarred line of his lips.
He leaned into the sensation, surprised when she cupped her cheek in his hand.
“I struggle to believe that anyone should not find you handsome, Your Grace,” Emmaline whispered, and Alex was so shocked he took a step backward. She may as well have clawed his face or even slapped him for the way her words caused him to flinch.
“Now who is mocking who?” he demanded, so vexed that he struggled not to spit.
He was even more surprised when Emmaline did not flinch or avert her gaze. She looked at him, meeting his eyes, utterly undaunted as she said, “I am not mocking you, Your Grace. Far from it. When I first met you in your office two days ago, I do believe I thought you one of the most handsome men I have ever met.”
“You do mock me!” Alex bellowed, feeling like a raging bear. “How dare you mock me in my own home?”
“No, no! Your Grace!” Emmaline said and this time it was she who had closed the distance between them. “Please, Alexander...”
She gripped hold of his hands, her eyes becoming pleading. “You must believe me.”
Alex shook violently. His lips pursed to stop from saying anything else he might come to regret.
Unsure what to do, he stared back at her. When she dropped her hands from his, he was almost disappointed.
Then, she started to remove her gloves. Alex watched, entranced.
Her skin was flawlessly creamy, so supple that he suspected it was soft as a newborn baby’s. Like the rest of her, her skin was perfect. She couldn't be more his polar opposite if she tried.
