Page 27 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“ F or me?”
Theo accepted the prettily wrapped box from Alistair and stared up at him with surprised eyes. He could not help the smile of satisfaction that slid across his lips and nodded.
“I have conducted all of the business I had wished to here, but there is one more thing we must accomplish before we depart from London and return home,” he replied.
He led her to the mirror that was braced atop the vanity in her room and moved behind her slipping his arms around her waist, unable to hold back from touching her any longer, and placed a kiss on the nape of her neck.
“Go on,” he urged, “Open it.”
In the mirror, Alistair watched as Theo set the box down and untied the bow atop it.
His anticipation grew as she removed the lid and folded back the layers of tissue paper ever so carefully.
Satisfaction roiled through him as he watched her lips drop into a delicate O and her blue eyes widen with disbelief.
“Oh, Alistair,” she breathed.
His grip on her waist tightened, and he nuzzled into her neck.
“Do you like it?” he asked, his deep tone almost a whisper.
Theo’s thin, delicate fingers reached into the box, and she carefully grasped the mask inside, pulling it out of the bed of tissue.
He had thought hard on the design. He wanted something that embodied her.
Even though he’d grown fond of teasing her with his pet name of little kitten, he had always thought that her cat mask had not been the proper disguise for her.
It was too plain for a woman of such depths.
So, he had the artist carve delicate fairies and flowers into the mask.
“It is so …” Theo breathed. She shook her head, as if lost for words, and traced her fingers along the carvings. “It is a work of art.”
Pleasure stroked through Alistair’s veins at her apparent happiness, and he placed several more kisses along her neck before reaching for the mask.
“It is made from one of the rarest woods in the world,” he explained, carefully fastening the black mask with violet streaks to her face. “African Blackwood.”
The mask sat perfectly along Theo’s features, hiding her most recognizable attributes but still displaying the beauty of her jawline. The blue of her eyes only emphasized the natural dark colors of the mask, making it look as if the person and piece had always belonged to one another.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. And meant it.
He reached for the pins holding her curls in place and took them out. Her long, dark curls cascaded down her shoulders, past the middle of her back. With care he fluffed them out, framing them down the sides of her face.
“I want you to wear your hair like this,” he told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “No pins or baubles. And cosmetics. Keep them light. Some kohl around your eyes, to blend more into the mask. But no red on your lips. Something with a purple hue, perhaps. Dark, but not gaudy.”
Theo nodded, as if mesmerized.
“I believe I have something,” she answered, her tone breathy. Then something like shame crept into her eyes, and she looked away.
“What is wrong?” He demanded, his tone gentle but firm.
“With the mask? Nothing,” she replied, her tone reticent. “It is beautiful. I just--I only have two black gowns. The one I would wear to the Masquerade, and the one I wore to my mother's funeral. I do not believe either would do my new mask justice.”
Alistair nodded.
“I agree. Which is why I had one made for you.”
Theo’s look of surprise was evident and he could not help but chuckle.
“It was not that difficult a feat,” he went on. “The modiste already had your measurements. I simply had to go in and pick out the fabric and the design. It is finished and will be sent over in the next hour or so. Which is perfect, as we are going to the Masquerade tonight.”
Excitement swirled with the surprise in Theo’s eyes, and she turned around in his arms.
“We are?” she asked, circling her arms around his neck.
“Now that I have dissolved the threat, I believe it is safe for us to return,” Alistair replied. Then added with a smirk, “As long as you agree to my rules, that is.”
“The threat?” she asked, then suddenly realizing she added, “You mean you found my stalker?”
Alistair gave her a triumphant nod.
“Who was he? How?” Theo began to question.
“All you need to know is that he is no longer in the country and will never return. As promised, I took care of it.”
Theo’s eyes shifted to the floor, and even through the mask he could see her thoughts churning over. For a moment he felt regret in telling her so casually, then she gave him a mischievous grin that relieved him greatly.
“And pray tell, what are these rules?” she asked, then yanked at his hair.
The small pain sent a shot of pleasure through Alistair’s body, and he grunted as he dragged her closer, and pinned his hands tight to her buttocks, happy the tense moment was over. He was rewarded with a gasp and even under her mask, he could see a flush take over her face.
“You are not in search of release at tonight’s Masquerade,” he told her, trailing his fingertips up her spine.
“That is something I will provide. Therefore, you will not be seeking out any further attention from anyone else. You will stay by my side. Follow my orders, and you will not dance or flirt with anyone else.”
Theo pulled away from his grasp and removed the mask, her disappointment evident on her face.
“Why are we even going if I am to act the same as I must act everywhere else?” She asked. “These rules are no different then the ones I must always follow.”
Alistair’s brow rose.
“You want attention from someone else?” He asked, his tone calm.
Inside though, he felt a well of jealousy slam against his chest. Their marriage might be of convenience but still, he did not like the idea of her going to anyone else to meet her needs. The realization startled him, and he took a step back, working to put his new feelings into check.
Theo nibbled her bottom lip as she considered his words, then shook her head.
“Not necessarily,” she replied, “I just enjoyed going because there were no restraints. Now I have many. The freedom of it is gone.”
Alistair’s jealousy cooled at her answer, but he was not going to change his mind about his rules. Even if the danger was gone, sent away to the Americas, Alistair still wanted to protect her. He crooked his finger under her chin, urging her gently to look at him.
“Try it my way tonight, little kitten,” he urged, then caressed his bottom lip over hers. Not a full kiss, just enough for her to lean toward him for more.
“If you truly do not like it, we can discuss a change. For tonight though, my rules are law. And it will bear you no good fortune to disobey them.”
The impish smirk that graced Theo’s face alarmed him, but she rose to her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips.
“Very well, Your Grace,” she replied, making him shiver with power as she called him that. “I shall try your rules. This time.”
She moved away from him then, humming something as she sat down at her vanity and began to comb her long hair.
“Why do I not believe you?” He murmured, watching her with growing curiosity.
She looked up at him through the mirror, mischief sparkling in her eyes.
“I do not know, Your Grace,” her tone far too innocent to be genuine. “I guess you will have to trust me to obey you.”
Alistair groaned, caught somewhere between wanting to shake her and lick her into submission. A knock on the door stopped him from doing either and he went to answer it.
“Pardon, Your Grace,” the servant said, holding out a large box. He felt nothing when she called him that. When anyone else called him that. Yet when those words came from Theo’s lips ….
“This just arrived. I thought I should bring it to you straight away,” the servant finished.
He took it, mumbled a curt thanks, and brought it to Theo.
“Here is your dress,” he said, his tone more terse than he intended as he sat it on her bed. “Be ready in two hours. Not a second longer.”
She turned from the mirror to look at him, that same impish grin on her face as she batted her lashes.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied sweetly.
It taunted him to no end, and Alistair left without a goodbye. As he shut the door, he heard the lilting of Theo’s laugh, and it flooded his heart with warmth.
The masked members of the Devil’s Masquerade all seemed to turn toward Theo and Alistair as they walked in.
Whispers stilled. Gasps inhaled. Theo felt a tingle of pride move along her skin as she stood by Alistair’s side.
She’d received attention at the Masquerade before, but not like this. Not with such … reverence.
The gown Alistair had made for her fit like a dream along her figure. It was held up by an off-the-shoulder design that hugged her silhouette then flared at her ankles into a small train. The black silk with hints of blue, purple and green felt delicious against her naked skin, cool and soft.
It matched Alistair’s suit perfectly. His black-on-black ensemble was highlighted by dark purple cravat, dark blue cufflinks, and a single teardrop emerald attached to his lapel.
His mask, carved of the same wood as hers, depicted not fairies, but a satyr on either side, and true to his alter ego, a horn was present near both ears, curving upward. He looked … perfect.
“Let’s get you a drink before we start,” Alistair leaned down and whispered into her ear.
Theo smiled and looked up at him, thrilled that he’d kept his word and brought her back to the Masquerade.
“And pray tell, what will you have me drinking this evening?” She asked playfully. It was a subtle reference to his many rules, and she knew by the deep, dark-sounding chuckle that left him that he picked up on it.
“You think I would bring you something you would not like?” he asked.
“You are testing me, so therefore I shall be testing you,” she teased back.