Page 94 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Yes. Yes he was. Thorne washers.
And when this was over, when they’d trapped her father and sent him to prison for the horrible things he’d done, then she’d do her best to figure out how to give Thorne the future he deserved. She loved him, and if he still wanted to be with her as much as she ached to belong to him…
Well, then they’d figure it out.
God willing.
“Lass, they’re so fooking jealous.”
She snorted under her breath. “I can see the ladies seething,” she murmured. “If that blonde could, she’d be murdering me on the spot. With her fan.”
“Are ye daft?” When she glanced at him, Thorne was smiling down at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “They’re jealous ofme. Kit, love, ye’re the most exquisite lady in this room.”
Kit’s brows rose at the compliment.
Sheknewshe looked lovely tonight; she’d seen herself in the mirror in Ellie’s room. Her cousin had insisted on helping her prepare for the ball, and Bull had been there to fuss over the dress, making sure every drape wasjust so. Yes, Kitknewhow she looked; she was just as elegant, just as dazzling, as her mother had ever been before stepping on stage.
But just like her mother, her mouth was too wide, her teeth too big, her eyes too wideset. Mother was beautiful, yes, but she was remembered for beingstriking, not delicate. Kit, looking so much like her, had used that to her advantage when it came to dressing as a man.
The most exquisite lady in the room?
That wasn’t the truth. But the fact that Thorne couldsaythat…the fact he was beaming down at her as if he loved her—
He did.
Hedidlove her.
And she loved him.
Her return smile wasn’t soft, wasn’t delicate. That wasn’t who she was.
“Well, if nothing else, Thorne, at least the ladies will think you’re taken for the evening.”
“Dinnae fash, love, they’re looking atyemore than me.” He affected a high-pitched tone. “Oh, I declare, whoisthat mystery woman, dancing with Stroken? She’s beautiful, and he’s clearly smitten.”
Her smile turned teasing. “Smitten, Your Grace?”
“Smitten,” he announced firmly, moving her hand from his arm and clasping it in his. “Brilliant idea, to be introduced merely asMiss Katherine Pastorino.” He pulled her closer. “They’ll figure out where they ken that name soon enough, and in the meantime, ye’re far more interesting than the betrothed couple.”
Kit realized he’d maneuvered them toward the dancing. “Have you seen them?”
“Lady Emma is with her mother, and yer father is under that bank of windows.” He inclined his head to the left, smile never faltering. “Shall we dance?”
“So you can maneuver us closer to him?”
“No, love, so I candance. I’ve been dreaming of having ye in my arms, where everyone can see, for weeks.”
Well, really, how could a girl say no to that?
After all, Thorne was a beautiful dancer, she had to admit.
Kit remembered him telling her of the lessons he’d taken as a child—from instructors of all sorts of dance, from ballet to tumbling. She supposed it would have served him well in his position as Blackrose’s burglar.
He was strength and grace and speed personified, and all she needed to do was hold on.
The joy of the movements, of thefreedom, caught in herthroat, bubbling from her chest. As Thorne swept her through the final turn, Kit felt her feet leave the ground, and knew she was completely, utterly safe with him.
Her head fell back, and her laughter burst from her lips as the music—played by the orchestra on the dais—crescendoed. She felt the music, the dance, in her very soul.
