Page 65 of The Beast of Beswick
His answer was to lean toward her, and she shifted out of the way, her heart in her throat. She’d fought off many overzealous men in her life. He wouldn’t be the first, though he was certainly the largest, and she did not want to be trapped against the stone railing.
Astrid whirled to leave. “You are too forward, sir. I am a married woman.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
The familiar smoky rasp curled around her, and she pivoted on her heel, disbelief making her clumsy as her brain took in his familiar height and the distinct shape of his shoulders. She’d been so fixated on the chilling mask that she hadn’t spared a thought to the man underneath.“Thane?”
“At your service.”
“What are you doing here?”
“My wife demanded my presence.” Astrid felt his smile, though she could not see it. “You are exquisite tonight, my dear.”
Pleasure at his words flooded her, but she was still in shock. “Isobel is here. And Beaumont. And my aunt and uncle.”
“I saw. She’s the belle of the ball, except for Queen Titania, of course.” He canted his head. “No dancing for the queen of the fairies?”
She smiled. “Not without risking the wrath of Oberon.” Her gaze swept him from head to toe. “Though my fairy king appears to have transformed into Hades.”
“Perhaps he has devilish intentions.”
God help her, every supporting bone in her body dissolved at the husky notes of his voice. “Are you going to lead me astray, Your Grace?”
“Only if that is your wish.”
She could merely nod her assent as his gaze burned into hers from the depths of his mask. “Take that thing off,” she said. “I want to see your eyes.”
“Not here,” he said. “Shall we take a turn in the garden, Your Majesty?”
Astrid glanced back at the ballroom, but it was such a crush that her sister wasn’t visible. “What about Isobel?”
“She only just arrived. She will have to make the rounds before she can find you without drawing notice to herself.” He reached out a hand. “Come.”
In a daze, Astrid slipped her hand in his and followed him off the terrace. Other couples had the same idea, as she guessed from the sounds of muted laughter filling the air. Her body felt on edge, simmering with sensation. A quick look over her shoulder showed that they were already some distance from the house, and the sound of voices had faded to silence. Her husband led her into an arbor where a narrow stone bench built inside a miniature marble folly surrounded a fountain that featured a handful of frolicking fairies.
Thane chuckled, the sound doing odd things to her confused senses. “Appropriate, no?”
She released his hand and went to examine the fountain. It was skillfully carved, the expressions of the fairies mischievous and bright, as if they’d only just been ensnared in stone. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” But he was looking at her when he said it.
Astrid turned toward him, her stomach a coil of nerves, and blurted out the question on the tip of her tongue. “Why did you come, Thane? What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
His reply was uncertain and it was honest. Much like how she felt. She didn’t know who she was when she was around him. He confused her, muddled her senses. Made her feel like flying and weeping in the same breath. Being with Thane was like being caught at the center of a hurricane while in a tiny skiff. She lost her bearings with one look. And those feelings didn’t make her feel weak. How did surrendering to someone make one feelpowerful?
Thane hadn’t moved from where he stood, watching her through the eye slits in his mask. Astrid moved toward him, standing until they were chest to chest, and reached her arms up to loosen the ties that held it in place. He inhaled audibly as the plaster mold came away in her hand, revealing his face. Those angular cheekbones, his finely molded lips, and that smoldering golden gaze that burned away every ounce of her resistance.
“There you are,” she whispered.
“I’m not certain that what’s underneath isn’t more monstrous than the mask.”
“Don’t do that,” she said, her fingers dropping the mask and returning to cup his jaw. “You’re…you.”
Maybe it was the moon or the stars twinkling above or the fairies cavorting in whimsical abandon behind her, but Astrid felt bold. The duke made no move to hold her, and she remembered what he’d said. She blushed, also recalling whatshehad said…that she wouldn’t ask him to kiss her if he was the last man in England.
He was theonlyman she wanted to kiss her.
