Page 9 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)

“So, both of us are under threat of being discovered, and I believe we can help one another. A way to make sure ye never have to worry about ye reputation ever again. Or worry ye brother ever again.”

Theo, having come back to herself, was rearing up for a nasty retort, but stopped when Alistair mentioned her brother. He seemed to catch the shift of emotion in her eyes and went on.

“Even if he chastises ye, it is because he worries for ye. Cares for ye. That much is plain, Theo.”

The way he said her name. So casually, so intimately. As if they’d known another for years, had her losing more of her urge to fight. He truly was perceptive.

“What is this plan?” she asked meekly.

Alistair studied her a moment before he answered, his gaze seeming to look right through her.

“The other night you spoke of wishing for freedom,” he began. “What if I can give that to ye? I need a duchess. In name only. For the remainder of my time in London.”

“You are not staying?” She interrupted. The question surprised them both. She had no idea where it came from, why she cared, or why the thought instantly disappointed her. Alistair shook his head.

“I am only here to set my affairs in order as the new Duke of Caldermere and restore some order to his failing businesses. All of which has already been delayed as I have only been here a few days and am surrounded by pushy mothers who wish for their daughters to marry up.”

He looked truly perturbed as he said so, Theo noted.

“I dinnae wish for such distractions,” Alistair went on, “The dinner tonight was fine as it had to do with business and befriending some like-minded men, but I have no intention of consorting at boring balls or eating another piece of fruit-flavored meat if I can help it.”

“You do not like our food?” Theo asked, saying so with a laugh.

Alistair smiled at the sound, the furrow of his brow disappearing.

“Apologies. But no.”

“So, you do not like our food or our women,” Theo replied, feeling emboldened.

“I like ye. Which is why I want ye to marry me.”

Though Theo had seen the question coming as she was no fool, the outward way he’d said it still surprised her.

“Nothing about you has been proper, do you realize that?” she countered.

“Courting and tradition only matter when it comes to traditional partnerships or love,” Alistair countered quickly, “I believe we have established we have neither.”

“No,” Theo answered, crossing her arms.

“That was quick.”

“I did not need to think about it,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders.

“Perhaps ye should,” Alistair replied, “I need ye as me wife for three months at the most. Just three months. After that, I can go back home. And ye? Ye can stay here if ye wish. Live out the freedom ye spoke about the other night. Never have to worry about finding a boring husband or appeasing ye brother or society again.”

Theo paused. That part did indeed sound appealing. She’d no longer be forced to go to balls, to participate in boring societal traditions. She could buy a house in the country, as she and Ophelia often talked wistfully about. She could have her dream of being completely unbothered.

“Ye say ye dinnae need to think about it,” Alistair stated, drawing her attention back, “But maybe ye should. A decision is not needed tonight. Take a week. Truly think it over.”

“And if my answer is still no?” she asked.

Alistair pressed his lips together, fighting a smile as he lifted a brow.

“I am not a man who prefers to put pressure on anything,” he stated. “Business or people. I prefer to use other methods of getting what I want. Saying no is your right. I just ask that ye consider it first. If at the end of seven days ye still not interested, fine.”

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Theo could not help but ask, “What other methods?”

She expected another quip, but instead Alistair’s eyes flared with desire as he reached out to caress her hair away from her eye, revealing her scar.

Her body responded before her mind could, and she sank into the touch, almost whimpering as his fingers stroked from her cheek down to her neck.

Thoughts of their kiss had her mind going weak with need and she did not stop him when he stepped closer, and laced his fingers around her throat.

Alistair turned her head gently, then brushed the tip of his nose along the curve of her ear, then his lips.

“I prefer exchanges,” he whispered, “a want for a want. Ye liked my lips upon ye the other night. I liked yours upon mine. If we are married, there’s nothing stopping us from exchanging such pleasures again.”

Even as desire laced through Theo’s veins, imploring her to tilt her lips in an invitation for kiss, Theo’s mind slammed shut to the impulse.

She stepped out of his grasp, glaring at him.

Alistair was practically a stranger, yet his stating what she liked with such certainty felt like the most intimate betrayal.

“Do not tell me what I like,” she warned, taking in his look of surprise. “I am my own person, Cernu--Alistair, and such proclamations are for me to make, not you.”

She turned to walk away, but Alistair’s voice had her pausing mid-step.

“Aye, ye are right. But I would very much like to know fully what ye like, Calypso.”

Theo shivered, torn between moving forward and rushing back to him.

“Seven days,” Alistair said, his voice growing more distant. She turned and saw him walking away from her. “Think it over.”