Page 57 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“I asked your mother to send me a list the other day. I thought having something familiar for dinner might make you feel more at home your first night here.”

A warm emotion blossomed and unfurled inside her at his thoughtfulness. It was as unexpected as it was touching. Amalie licked her dry lips as he entered her room, then pulled out a chair from the small table close to the fire.

“If you don’t come join me, I’ll not hesitate to eat…what Mrs. Stubbins has taken most of the day to prepare.”

The brief pause in his statement made the butterflies in her stomach madly beat their wings. She trembled at the sensation. Slowly rising from the dressing table bench, she moved toward the chair he held ready for her. When seated, she inhaled the warm smell of steak pie, and her stomach growled hungrily. Valeran didn’t say anything, but she heard him chuckle softly. She ignored him as her gaze settled on the dish of mashed potatoes, and her eyes widened.

“Rumbledethumps,” she exclaimed with delight.

“You mother said they were a particular favorite of yours.” The almost boyish expression of pleasure on his face made her heart sing. He’d done this for her, and the thoughtful gesture yielded a small measure of hope inside her.

“It is,” she exclaimed. Happiness became a smile as she stared at the dishes. “Thank you, Valeran. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“You’re welcome.”

Valeran’s grin broadened at her words, and he reached out for the spoon resting in the dish of rumbledethumps, and without thinking, Amalie reached out to stay his hand. Fire singed her fingertips as it sparked a path across her skin then spread out to dance on every nerve in her body.

Her gaze swept upward to see Valeran’s eyes focused on the spot where her hand rested on his. Mesmerized, she remembered the first time they’d been introduced at Lyndham House. He’d been the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but she’d barely had time to study his face before the an dara sealladh took hold of her. Now, with no one to see how enthralled she was, Amalie took her time memorizing his features.

The evening shadow edging his hard jaw line gave him a rakish appearance, while his sharply defined cheekbones and narrow nose only enhanced that impression. Amalie’s gaze flitted over his sensual mouth, and her heart skipped a beat at the memory of his lips teasing her body into a frenzy of need and desire. Swallowing hard, she continued to study him without him being aware she was doing so.

Long, sooty black eyes lashes were visible with his gaze focused on her hand, while his high forehead, slightly wrinkled at the moment as if puzzled, disappeared beneath ebony locks free of the oil so many men used. She was grateful for that. It would be a sin to use anything on hair created just for Valeran when God had molded him.

Amalie wanted to slide her fingers through it to see if it would be like silk brushing over her skin. Her gaze slid downward to where his shirt was open at the base of his throat. Instantly, her mouth grew dry as she remembered the night her fate had been sealed. The memory of Valeran’s splendid, naked form framed in a darkened doorway still had the ability to constrict her lungs.

For the first time, she realized why his beautiful male features were so devastating. It was his inner strength that enhanced the power of his magnetism. Everything about him defined him as a man who pulled from his inner depths to be seen as more than a blind man.

He’d even learned how to focus his blind gaze on someone giving the impression he could see every nuance of emotion on their face. It was a power he used with the skill of a magician weaving a spell over others, including herself.

Valeran’s head moved slightly as his sightless gaze lifted to focus on her face. Amalie’s breathing hitched as she remembered the first time they’d met. Spellbound, she’d been transfixed that night at Lyndham House, unable to look away from him, just as it was impossible to do so now. His piercing blue gaze made her believe he could probe deeper into her heart than anyone had ever done.

Amalie’s heart started to race as she remembered what the an dara sealladh had shown her. The erotic images rushed out of the deep recesses of her mind, tantalizing and teasing her just as they did in her dreams. Now, they called to her, whispering to surrender to him, and damn the consequences.

Staring into the masterful gaze he’d perfected, her heart skipped a beat as she realized Valeran had yet to move his hand away from hers. Was the electricity setting fire to every inch of her doing the same to him? Was that why he remained frozen beneath her touch? Of course not, she scoffed, then swatted the possibility aside as despondency wrapped an increasingly tight vise around her heart.

Only a fool would dare to hope for such a thing. She was nothing but a plump, little country mouse who’d been foolish enough to be caught in his rooms, forcing him to marry her for the sake of honor. Why did it matter so much? All she had to do was give him an heir and then he would be done with her.

An invisible hand squeezed her heart so hard she wanted to cry out from the pain. Worse, she didn’t want to contemplate why it hurt. There was only one thing she was certain of. Every minute spent in Valeran’s company had her speeding toward an outcome that terrified her. It would tear her apart in ways so unfathomable she wasn’t sure she would survive.

Never had she ached so badly to hide in the shadows. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the deepest, darkest levels of obscurity. If only she could seek refuge in the darkness where he would never find her. It was impossible. Gulping back a small cry, Amalie pulled her hand away from his in a sharp movement.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I simply wanted to offer to fix you a plate.”

“I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

Flinching at the flat, emotionless reply, he revealed far more than she was certain he’d intended. The most prominent was his anger at what he’d clearly believed was pity on her part. It was the last thing she would ever feel for him. Amalie admired him for the way he maneuvered about in a world designed solely for those who could see.

“It was nothing more than a courteous gesture to express my gratitude, Valeran. Think of it as if a servant was holding a dish in front of you at a dinner party.”

Slightly cocking his head to one side, he pinned her beneath his piercing gaze. The tension in his body eased as his mouth twitched. Reclining back in his chair, he studied her for a moment before chuckling and flashing a brilliant smile in her direction.

“I think I rather like the idea of a subservient wife.”

Angry with herself for even craving his touch, Amalie glared fiercely in his direction, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see it.

“I am nae offering tae be ye servant.” A puff of air blew harshly past her lips. In angry silence, she filled her plate, the serving spoons clanging off the china. With each dish, she allotted herself only one small spoonful.

“What are you offering then, Amalie?” He asked nonchalantly, but she could hear the wicked invitation in the question.