Page 21 of A Duchess to Unravel
“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 wouldverymuch 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.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Your behavior last night was completely inappropriate, Theo,” Tristan stated, “I told you. Itold youhow important last night was to us, and yet you still had to interrupt and make a scene!”
Theo’s face remained impassive at her brother’s early morning tirade, but on the inside, she flinched. Yes, she knew last night was important. It was why she wanted to sit it out in the first place.
She calmly picked up her fork, plucked up a bit of fish, and daintily chewed on it, as if she did not have a single care for what he said.
“Did I make a scene?” She asked innocently, “Or did you and your other guests make a scene by not allowing a woman to enter your conversation? Seems to me if you all had not been so old fashioned there would have been much that could have been learned by all.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes at her, and she noted the dark circles under them. It caused another bout of guilt to wash over her stomach, taking away her appetite. She had not spoken to anyone, even her friends, after she went back inside last night, just simply walked up the servants’ stairs as not to be seen and sequestered herself in her bed. She had not slept, though, her mind too busy mulling over Alistair’s offer. And his touch.
Now she wondered if her brother had been unable to find rest as well.
“Perhaps if you had not barged in on the conversation and been more polite, you would have received a better reaction,” Tristan replied, his tone biting. “You could have been softer, more demure, like all of the other ladies.”
Theo tsked her tongue and grinned.
“Allof the other ladies?” She asked. “Since when has Ophelia ever been demure? Or Ambrose’s wife, Barbara?”
