He was quite capable of doing such things. Besides, Sean was usually close behind him and the two were quite capable of seeing to each other.
With his best friend long since in bed, Alex sat in the armchair beside his own bed, unable to bear the thought of sleeping. He would only dream of her as he had every night since their meeting, of her soft and silky cream skin and her dark hair, her gleaming green eyes and their lack of fear when they looked upon him.
Everything about her had been utterly intoxicating from the moment that they met and yet, all he had managed to do was capture her and keep her at arm's length.
It was the most foolish thing he had ever heard. She was his. They were married, until death they did part, and still he could not bring himself to take advantage of that.
With a huge, regretful sigh, Alex placed his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. The tension there was growing deeper by the day.
One hand still rubbing his head, he leaned down with his other and worked off his boots. The supple leather creaked as he did so and the boots thudded to the hardwood floor, forgotten.
This time, a relieved sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned back in order to try to relax a little.
Just when he was considering getting up, putting on his slippers, and heading down to his study to find his favorite bottle of liquor, he heard the gentle rapping of knuckles on the door.
Curious, he pushed himself up from his armchair. He hadn't passed anyone in the halls. Save for saying good night to Sean, the house had been deathly silent. Even the usual creaking of the old building hadn't sounded as he walked the halls to his chambers.
His fingertips itched with interest as he reached out and gripped the doorknob. Twisting, he pulled the door open, most surprised to find Emmaline standing on the other side.
“Emmaline!” he exclaimed, unable to hide his shock. “I would have thought you abed by now.”
“I was,” Emmaline responded. She released her hands where they had been clasped before her and played with the curls at the end of her long plait. It hung over one shoulder right down to her waist and not for the first time, Alex wished to touch her hair, to feel whether it was as soft and silky as it looked, to wrap it tightly around his fingers and pull back her head to expose her throat, to kiss her hard on the mouth and feel her flesh burn with the same desire as his own.
It was foolish, he knew, how could she ever share his desire when he looked as he did?
“I could not sleep,” she admitted, gesturing past him, “Might I possibly come in?”
Alex gritted his teeth. He considered declining. Taking this woman, this beautiful and intoxicating woman, into his bed chamber might be the best and very worst mistake he ever made. He wasn't certain he would be able to contain himself if he did.
But he stepped out of the way and gestured her in. “Please.”
She swept in with a flutter of pale pastel blue silk. The robe she wore was sheer and had already started to slip open at the front, revealing her lace trimmed chemise beneath.
Alex could imagine all too easily what lay beneath it. The way the material hung on her body left very little to the imagination and when she stood before the candle upon his desk, it made things all the worse.
Averting his gaze, he left the bedroom door ajar in the hopes it might prevent him from doing something he may come to regret.
“Emmaline, I wish to apolo—”
“Please, Your Grace, it is I who have come to apologize to you,” Emmaline insisted, and Alex's gaze flew back to hers. “I never should have cornered you in your study like that, especially as I could sense you were angry after arriving back from whatever business you had with your uncle.”
Alex shivered at the reminder. He would rather forget entirely what had happened at Lord Wells home but like all the other times he had been forced to play the devil, he remembered it all.
“Please, do not trouble yourself,” Alex protested. “It is I who should apologize. I never should have spoken to you as I did. It is a regret I fear I shall never recover from.”
He crossed the room toward her where she had stopped by the end of the bed and was surprised when she came to meet him.
It was even more shocking when her hand came up to his face and her fingertips gently brushed over the scarred side of his face.
He flinched, not out of pain but out of the fact that nobody had ever touched him quite so gently before. The way she recoiled made him angry with himself.
“I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?” she exclaimed but quick as lightning, Alex grabbed her wrist and urged her hand back up to his face, leaning his cheek into her palm.
“No, I… I have simply never been touched so gently, physically nor verbally. I was a fool to run from you earlier. I can see you mean me no harm.”
Emmaline's eyes narrowed. “Why should anyone mean you harm?”
Alex sighed. “Look at me. Even without the mask, I am a monster.”
