“Do you think whoever it was might have overheard our conversation?” she asked, coming up behind him.
“I am certain of it.” Without another word, he started back toward Thorncliff at a brisk pace while Mary hurried after him, her skirts tangling around her legs now that the wind had picked up.
“So then my secret...” Panic began to rise inside her, tightening her chest at the thought of how reckless she’d just been. “I should have been more careful.”
“And you were doing precisely that by confiding in me in a secret location,” he shot back angrily. “You did not know that we were followed anymore than I did.”
Biting her lip as she reached the top of the slope and pushing past the bushes before stepping out onto the damp lawn, she felt her heart pound painfully against her chest. “I am very much concerned that it might have been Rotridge.”
“It is a possibility,” Richard agreed, “but whoever it was, he or she is gone now, so we cannot be certain.”
They continued on in silence until they reached the door to the antechamber and he ushered her inside. “What should I do?” She really had no idea. If Rotridge was aware of her secret identity, then there was every possibility that he might try to use it against her. In fact, she was confident that he would.
“For now, there is no proof that you are also Lucia,” he whispered. “The best thing you can do is to refrain from returning to the cave and from practicing your singing.”
Raising one hand, she started to reach for him, but changed her mind and hugged herself instead, too afraid of how he might answer her next question. “What about us?”
“What you have just told me...” She looked away, but he caught her by the chin and angled her face toward his own. “It changes nothing, Mary. If anything, I admire your courage.” Turning his hand, his palm met her cheek, cradling it softly while his thumb caressed her skin. “Denying the world with the opportunity to hear your voice, would have been a tragic shame.”
Her eyes, so honest and pure, gazed up at him with transparent hopefulness. She lifted her hand, and Richard’s chest contracted with the realization of what was to come. He wasn’t ready, but he was also acutely aware that he never would be.
“My secret in exchange for yours,” she whispered as she carefully drew his hood back, her hands skimming over his hair with such fragile gentleness that his entire body ached. “I trust you, Richard, with my heart and with my soul. But can you trust me?” Skimming the sides of his neck, her fingers found his shoulders and then his chest. “Will you let me see your face?”
Having infiltrated enemy ranks and faced what he had believed would be death at their hands, Richard knew that the level of fear he felt now, in response to such a simple question, was out of proportion. And yet, he could not help the chill that made his skin tremble or the knot that tightened in his stomach at the thought of possibly losing her. But how could he hope to win her—trulywin her—without reciprocating with the same level of truth that she’d just given him? He had no choice. And so, in spite of every apprehension and the sick feeling that settled over him, he nodded.
It took a moment before she responded, and when she did, it was with the utmost of care. Richard sucked in a breath as her fingers left his chest, climbing higher until they touched the edges of the mask. They hesitated there while he made every effort to stand completely still and not turn away. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“No,” he said, speaking the truth. Seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, he quickly said, “But I doubt that I ever will be.”
“It is the only way forward.” She sounded almost regretful, which in turn pained him more than the thought of what she wanted to do.
“I know. Which is why it must be done.” Raising his own hands, he placed them against hers and began lifting the mask away, her eyes holding his while he continued to wait for her to drop her gaze. She didn’t. Not even once the mask had been completely removed.
Instead, she did something that both confounded and humbled him. Without a word, she rose up onto her toes, leaned closer and placed a tender kiss upon his lips.
Richard blinked, startled by the unexpectedness of it. “I...” He really wasn’t sure of what to say, so he glanced around the small room instead, wondering if perhaps the light was too dim for her to see him properly, because surely that could be the only explanation.
“Regarding your appearance...”
Ah!
“You are the handsomest man that I have ever seen, and if you do decide to venture back out in public, I would be proud to be seen on your arm.”
He stared at her, utterly speechless until he finally managed, “But the scars!”
“They are not as bad as your mind has convinced you that they are. And since I did not know you before and can draw no comparison, they have no influence on the way in which I see you.”
Unwittingly, Richard felt the corners of his eyes begin to moisten while his throat began to close. His heart, aching with the beauty of her words, unfurled like the petals of a blooming flower, spreading joy throughout his veins. “You say that you have never been kissed.” He stepped hesitantly toward her. “But you deserve to be.” Unable to resist the pull of her, his hand found the back of her head, moving her until she was at just the right angle. “If I may?”
Nodding, she leaned toward him and her eyelids drifted shut. Desperate for the closeness she offered, he lowered his lips to hers—carefully at first, so they could grow accustomed to each other, and then with greater urgency. Moving closer—so close that no space remained between them—he kissed her as if he were drowning and she was his lifeline, as if she were the oxygen he needed in order to breathe. He poured every painful moment of solitude he’d endured for the past five years into that one singular moment, savoring her sweetness while imparting his own everlasting affection to her. She was like a burst of sunshine warming his heart and soul and yet there were still too many barriers between them—barriers that kept him from taking more than he’d already done.
Resisting the urge to give in to temptation, he struggled against the deep craving that she instilled in him, determined to win against it, for both their sakes. “If only we could stay like this forever,” he said, trailing kisses along her cheek. “I never thought...” Allowing his words to drift off into the shadows, he hugged her closely against him, relishing the soft welcoming warmth of her body and her complete acceptance of him.
“These last few days with you have been the best of my life,” she murmured. Her fingertips dug against the wool of his cloak, accentuating the point she was trying to make. But then she released her hold on him and drew back, her eyes meeting his. A moment later, he felt her hand upon his cheek, the smallness of it so seemingly fragile that it fairly stole his breath.
With the utmost gentility, the tips of her fingers trailed carefully over the side of his face where the skin rippled like dry sand on a stormy beach. “I can understand your reluctance to show yourself in public.” A brief hesitation followed before she said, “And to me as well. But I am glad that you finally have, because hopefully, you will now understand that your scars would never be enough to frighten me away. Especially not after I have gotten to know the man that you are.” Lowering her hand, she pressed it firmly against his chest, covering his heart as she spoke. “You are both noble and good, Richard. I hope you realize that.”
It was difficult for him to breathe, let alone speak. So he said nothing in response to her words, his eyes struggling against the burning sensation of unshed tears. “Come,” he eventually managed, his voice rough like gravel. “You must return upstairs.”
