Page 17 of A Duchess to Unravel
Alistair ran his eyes down her face. As if wanting to stare back at him better, she brought a hand to her hair and swiped at her bangs in a gesture of annoyance, revealing a small scar. Again, he felt that spark of familiarity.
Her position was tight, tensed up like a feline about to swipe her claws.
Alistair knew it right then, he had certainly met her before, and the specific memory of when flashed vividly in his mind. A black cat mask hiding a scar.
That is because you cannot see my face, Sir. It is … scarred.
“I only ask because ye are acting like the petulant pet they are. I agree with ye and ye swipe at me with claws, bare ye teeth. It is almost as if you are simply…disguisedas a lady.” He could not help but taunt.
Theo was none other than the woman he’d kissed at the Devil’s Masquerade. The one he could not stop thinking about it.
Her lapis lazuli eyes narrowed further at the emphasized word, making them appear even more cat-like. Yet her gaze remained locked on his, searching him as he searched her. Then suddenly she was out of her seat, moving so abruptly that it forced her chair to screech along the floor and call even more attention to her.
“If you will excuse me, brother,” she said, her tone icy as she and Alistair stared one another down. “I have lost my appetite. I shall let you continue the evening without me.”
“Theo,” Tristan groaned, reaching for her.
But she moved quickly, darting out of the room before his hand could reach her.
Tristan let out an exhausted sigh and shook his head.
“Forgive me, Alistair, gentlemen,” he implored, “My sister has not been herself as of late.”
“Do not apologize for her,” Ophelia stated, throwing a disapproving look over the men as she rose to her feet as if to follow her. “She would not have spoken so if you would have not laughed at her inquiry.”
Alistair put up a hand as he stood.
“Miss Ophelia is right,” he stated, earning him a surprised look from the self-proclaimed spinster. “Please, all of you. Stay and continue with dinner. I shall go and make my apologies.”
“She needs a friend,” Ophelia insisted, still standing.
“Then I shall wave a white flag,” Alistair replied, looking toward Tristan for help.
Her brother studied him for a moment, then nodded.
“Ophelia, do sit,” Tristan stated, “If His Grace wishes to apologize, let him do so. Perhaps it is what she needs to hear.”
Ophelia looked as if she were about to ignore Tristan’s word, a clear dislike for him shining in her eyes. Then Amelia reached for her wrist, tugged her down, and whispered something to her. Begrudgingly, Ophelia nodded and returned to her supper without another word.
“She is probably in the back garden,” Amelia said to him then.
He nodded, grateful for her help and left the dining room.
Well,he thought, moving quickly toward the back terrace,At least now I have an excuse not to finish dinner.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Miss Theo,” Theo heard Alistair call from behind her.
She continued marching down the small, torch-lit path lined with lilies and tulips, waving a dismissive hand in the air.
“Go away, Your Grace,” she warned, “I have no wish to speak with you.”
His deep chuckle only served to annoy her further.
“Oh, but I believe you do.” He replied, sounding closer.
“No!” She quipped back.
