Page 27 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)
“Dear wife,” Aaron soothed when he noticed her obvious distress. He stepped closer and put a hand on her cheek. “There is no way you could embarrass me, even if you stepped on the foot of every dance partner you may have tomorrow.”
“I do not want any other dance partners,” she protested. “I only want you.”
“Then that suits me just fine. I shall keep you with me all evening. I do not much care for the house parties thrown by Lady Sophia.”
Theresa was not surprised at his distaste for parties. According to the Dowager Duchess and Juliette, they were ostentatious affairs. These parties were like nothing she could have envisioned attending just a few short weeks ago. Now, they were a fixture on her schedule.
She thought about the difference between what was required of her now and what she had been required to do with Margaret each day. They would scrub the stone floors of the common areas and tidy their own spaces. They would garden and pray.
It was, admittedly, a dull existence.
However, there was very little at stake if she were to miss a spot while scrubbing the floors. Now that she was a duchess, she had to think about her husband, his family, every lady and lord in the ton . She had a responsibility and image to uphold.
That was what she was thinking about as Aaron led her through the steps of the dance in his study.
“You look as if you are a thousand miles away,” he noted when she missed her steps once more. “Tell me what you are thinking.”
“I was thinking about Margaret,” she said, which was partially true. She then paused to gather her thoughts. “I never imagined that I would have so much to learn about high society. So much has changed in such a brief period.”
“It would do you good to have some fun, then,” Aaron said. “Come, step on my feet.”
Theresa looked at him hesitantly, but he held up his arms in the frame that would hold her while they danced. She stepped closer to him and put her right hand in his and her left hand on his shoulder. He pulled her close, his hand lower on her waist than she thought was decent.
“Your feet, dear wife,” he reminded her. “You had trouble with the steps, so I will walk you through them.”
After another moment’s hesitation, she stepped as delicately as she could on his feet. He started counting the steps again, but this time, they did not have to stop for her clumsiness.
She laughed as they twirled around the room, the dance finally coming alive for her in a way it had not before. Aaron’s face seemed to light up at the sound of her laughter.
How handsome he was when he looked happy. How much she would like to see him without his mask on.
“Now that you have experienced the dance for yourself, try it on your own,” Aaron said as they came to a halt.
Theresa took a deep breath and tried to remember the sensation of moving in sync with Aaron when she was atop his feet. He guided her steps, counting slowly so that she could follow his lead.
With no memories of the convent to haunt her, she found that she could indeed remember the steps of the dance this time. She was light on her feet, with a surprising touch of grace.
“Faster this time,” Aaron urged, speeding up the steps.
They repeated the set a few times until she got the hang of the dance and could finish it several times.
Theresa collapsed into the chair in his study, trying to catch her breath. She could feel dampness at her hairline, sweat beading on her forehead from the exercise.
It was the first time she had ever broken a sweat doing something she enjoyed so much, apart from riding. Before, the only strenuous activities she partook in were chores.
Now, she felt nothing but exhilaration at her mastery of the dance.
“Do you think I will be able to handle myself well at a party when I have had so little practice?” She asked as her breathing evened out.
“I think you will do just fine, dear wife,” Aaron replied. “May I say that you are quite graceful when you want to be?”
“Thank you.” Theresa smiled. “Not just for teaching me, but for letting me steal you when you wanted time alone. I know that your rule was that I should never set foot in the tower, but I needed you.”
“You should not apologize for wanting to spend time with your husband.”
“All the same, I have enjoyed our afternoon together, and I am sorry that you did not get to enjoy your bath.” She paused and took him in. He was sweating just as much as she was. “All of this exercise and the heat in this study cannot be good for your scars.”
“You should not concern yourself with them,” he assured her.
Theresa was already reaching for his hand, refusing to take no for an answer. She thought about what might make him more comfortable and alleviate the discomfort from his mask, even for a little while. She would make him a poultice to put on his scars before she drew him a fresh bath.
They walked into the kitchen, which was blessedly empty of the cook and maids. Theresa was grateful to prolong their time together for a little while.
She was thrilled that she might finally see beneath his mask, the one thing holding them back from true intimacy.
Without a word, she started to dig through the cabinets in search of the ingredients she needed for the poultice she had learned to make at the convent. She found honey and the other ingredients and mixed them in a small bowl with her fingers.
When she was finished, her fingers were sticky with honey, and she licked them clean.
“Where did you learn this?” Aaron asked as she sat beside him at the table.
“At the convent. Sister Edith taught me how to make it,” she answered. “She used to put it on my… scars. To help me.”
Aaron’s eyes flashed beneath his mask, a frown on the lower half of his face not obscured by the mask. The joy vanished from his face at the mention of her life in the convent, something she was certain she had never seen.
She had no desire to explore what he thought about her life before they were wed, though. Her only goal was to heal him with the poultice she had learned to make in that very place he scorned. Theresa would remove his mask and see him, truly see him, once and for all.
“Let me help you apply the poultice to your scars,” she said gently. “We can take it back to your tower if you are worried about the servants.”
“Thank you, but I can apply it myself. You can go and refresh yourself,” he replied.
“I really don’t mind. I am your wife ,” she stressed. “I am here to help you. It is my duty.”
Aaron paused and took her hand in his own. She loved the tender way he intertwined their fingers. It seemed as if they could go back to the lightheartedness of earlier, but he would not meet her gaze.
“I do not want to scare you,” he sighed.
“There is nothing you could do to scare me. I assure you that I have seen worse than whatever is under your mask.”
Theresa thought of the scars that crisscrossed her back. Could his scars be worse than her own?
“It is bad enough that you are married to a beast. I will not have you terrified to be in the same room as me.”
“I am not your wife yet, am I?”
“Careful, wife,” Aaron warned, an edge to his voice.
Theresa sensed that she was treading on dangerous waters, but she could no longer hold back her thoughts about their marriage.
“It’s true!” She insisted. “A marriage is only valid when it has been consummated. You could take me back to the convent today, and there would be no harm done. I could still take my vows.”
“Oh no, wife,” he growled. “You are not getting away from me so easily. You will not be going anywhere. You are mine. ”
Theresa remembered in a flash how possessive he had been at the garden party and saw the same glint in his eyes now.
She opened her mouth to retort when his lips crashed onto hers. His teeth sank into her lower lip and pulled it into his mouth, sucking on it. A quiet moan tore from the back of her throat.
Aaron’s breath caught at the sound.
“I could do this all afternoon,” he murmured against her lips.
His hand was on the back of her head, pulling her in, closer and closer, but she was resolute in this one demand.
Theresa would yield to his strange rules, but she would not allow hers to be broken. She would not bend, no matter how much she ached and yearned for his touch.
She broke the kiss suddenly, causing him to lean into the space she had just occupied. He caught himself and pulled back.
“Is something wrong, wife?” He asked, breathless.
“The next time you touch me, I want all of you. Or nothing at all.”
She rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to sit by himself and stare after her.