Page 33 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“ I sent a messenger to my country house last night,” Alistair stated. “The staff was alerted of your arrival and should have the house ready to receive you by the time you arrive.”
Head down, eyes to the ground, Theo pressed her lips together and nodded.
“That was very kind of you, thank you. I did not even think about that,” she answered stiffly.
It was the next morning and judging by the deep lines beneath Alistair’s eyes, Theo was certain that neither of them had gotten a wink of sleep.
There were several times throughout the night that she could have sworn someone had entered her sitting room, yet every time she opened the door between her bedroom and sitting room to check, she found it empty, and presumed it was just her foolish broken heart playing tricks on her.
“It is no problem at all,” Alistair replied, not sounding at all like himself. “If you have need of anything--anything at all. Send for me, and I will provide it.”
She nodded, and with her eyes still on the ground, she watched his fine, large black leather shoes take another step toward her.
The pull to bring her body closer to his was like a gravitational force, and she swayed.
When his hands came to her shoulders, Theo was caught between shouting at him to stop touching her and sagging forward into his hold.
“Theo,” he said, his usually calm, deep voice, sounding unsure, “you do not have to do this, you know. We still have a month-and-a-half left. You may stay here. We can continue your lessons.”
It was a compelling thought, but as she felt her heart break at his words, Theo knew she needed more than an offer.
She needed him to want her to stay. It was against their deal, against what they had both originally wanted, but it was the truth all the same.
She had changed. And now she wanted him.
Theo forced her eyes up, unable to draw on even a pretend smile.
She tried to meet his eyes but could not do that either.
Instead, she focused on his Adam’s apple, hoping it would help.
It did not, and instead only reminded her of how only less than a week ago she had pressed her lips to that very spot.
“It is a generous offer, Alistair, but no,” she answered. “Like you said last night, my stay at your country home will provide us safety from rumors while giving you the freedom to attend whatever else you need to accomplish before you return to Scotland.
Theo did not like the woman that spoke those words. She sounded tired, defeated. Hollow. It reminded her of the woman she had become after her mother’s death.
“Theo,” Alistair’s voice brought her back. She realized her shoulders had slumped defeatedly, and she straightened her posture, meeting his eyes without thinking about it. It was a mistake.
The moment their gazes met she felt his warmth and attention flood her.
“If this is about the Devil’s Masquerade … what I did to you there … if I was too rough ….”
The blatant worry in his eyes was too much for her to bear, and she could not help but reach for his face with both hands and cup his jaw. Alistair’s broad, straight shoulders slumped and his lashes closed the moment she touched him--as if he’d missed her touch.
“No,” she answered softly, unable to stop herself from comforting him. “It was not too much. That night, everything about it, was the purest bliss I have ever experienced.”
It was how you acted after that has hurt me so much.
Alistair pulled her into his arms, and tears pricked at Theo’s eyes as she relished in the closeness.
She’d missed his embrace so much more than she’d let herself believe.
Pressed so tightly to his chest, Theo took a deep breath of his scent as she slipped her hands around his neck and curled her fingers into his hair one last time.
She was not sure if the embrace had lasted a few seconds or a few hours, but when Alistair finally drew away, her entire body begged for him to come back.
Maybe I should tell him. Maybe if he knew what feelings I was struggling with we could--
“Well,” Alistair said, cutting off her thoughts, “If ye wish to attend the Masquerade again before I leave for Scotland let me know. I would be honored to take ye.”
Mental anguish blasted through Theo’s sadness. That was all he wanted. That was all he thought she wanted. Nothing more.
She gently untangled herself from his embrace and put one foot in the carriage, using it as a barrier between them.
“I will keep that in mind,” she forced out, feeling her tears threatening to spill. “I should go. I have sent for my friends, and I want to arrive at the house before they do.”
Alistair’s look was almost pleading as he gently bit his lower lip and nodded. He took a step toward her again. Then he stopped himself, took a step back, and buried his hands in his pockets.
“Have a pleasant journey, Theo,” he said at last. “Please, do send a messenger as soon as possible. I want to ensure that ye have arrived safely.”
Theo forced herself to nod as she swallowed the growing lump in her throat, and before Alistair could change his mind and move toward her again, she pulled herself completely into the carriage and shut the door herself.
She was able to hold her breath and tears until she was sure the carriage made it to the end of the drive, then immediately began to sob.
Alistair was not a man that shed tears. Even as a boy and through the loss of his family, the concept of crying was foreign to him.
Yet as he watched Theo’s carriage disappear down the drive, he felt an awful clawing at his throat.
A terrible itch at his eyes. An ache that had formed the night before grew larger and heavier inside as he was left alone--the likes of which he had not experienced since his family’s death.
He cleared his throat, suddenly annoyed with how his body was reacting, and turned away from the shrinking carriage and walked back inside. In the foyer he found Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie, both looking reticent with their brows furrowed up and their hands clenched tightly before them.
“What is it?” He barked, his grief transforming more into anger by the second.
Both of his senior staff jumped and bowed to him.
“Not a thing, Your Grace,” Mrs. Mackenzie replied hurriedly. “I believe I shall go to Her Grace’s room, tidy it up myself.”
“Leave it,” Alistair commanded, and Mrs. Mackenzie froze mid-step. She gave him a worried glance, then bowed again.
“Very well, Your Grace, I shall go see my usual duties then.”
Alistair gave her a curt nod and turned to Mr. Mackenzie.
“Send me one of your staff to my office,” he commanded, “The fastest rider. I need to get a message to London.”