‘Be still, sweet,’ he murmured, his voice low. ‘You are testing my resolve with all this squirming.’
Her eyes widened at his words. Heat coursed through her. Her breath caught as an unfamiliar sensation stole over her, weakening her limbs. She was acutely aware of the hard planes of his chest, the warmth of his body against hers. Her legs threatened to give way, but his arms held her firm.
No. She could not succumb to this madness.
Summoning her defiance, she tilted her chin. ‘Let me go. You are an imposter and a deceiver.’
To her fury, he smiled.
She glared at him, her breath shallow with indignation.
Chuckling, he loosened his hold just enough to free one hand—then, to her utter shock, he reached up and plucked a pin from her hair.
Her long tresses tumbled free, cascading in dark waves down her back.
Mr Stone’s hazel eyes darkened, flickering with something dangerous—something unmistakable.
Desire.
For the first time, she realised—she was no longer wearing her disguise.
Her anger faltered—slightly.
He tilted his head, his voice dropping to a smooth, lilting murmur. ‘Careful who you call a deceiver. From where I stand, you’ve been concealing quite a bit of yourself.’
Grace bristled. ‘I may have disguised myself, but I did so for my protection. You, however, have no such excuse, sir! Now, unhand me!’
Summoning all her strength, she shoved against his chest.
This time, he let her go.
With an air of deliberate ease, he strode to the nearby table and lit several candles, their golden glow flickering across the room. Shadows danced along the walls, stretching and curling like ghosts.
When he turned back to face her, his expression was unreadable—his gaze, unwavering.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the table, his eyes slow and assessing as they roamed over her.
A quiet exhale left his lips. ‘There you are,’ he murmured. ‘I knew you would be beautiful, but I had no idea just how much.’
His gaze lingered, trailing over her as if committing every detail to memory. ‘I can see why you chose to disguise yourself—and I must say, rather cleverly done.’
Grace's breath hitched, but she quickly smothered any reaction. She had no time for his idle compliments.
He tilted his head slightly. ‘What if I told you that I, too, have concealed my identity for my own protection?’
A chill swept through her.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as suspicion and disbelief warred within her. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded. ‘Who are you?’
His gaze locked onto hers. ‘My name is Gabriel Arthur Stone Averton.’
The name struck her like a physical blow.
Averton.
Her lips parted, but no words came. The name carried weight—dangerous, damning weight.
She took an unsteady step back. Panic surged within her. She frantically glanced around, searching for an escape, her mind racing with the terrifying possibilities.
