Page 55 of The Phantom Duke
Why does this dratted house have to be so large?
Damien turned, noticing the slight grunt of pain.
“Sit down,” he ordered, moving to her side.
“I can manage,” Maria protested.
“I noticed. You can manage to fall into a hole and almost spear yourself on a caltrop. You can manage to drive yourself into a dead end and almost into the clutches of brigands. You manage very well.”
His arm went about her waist, and she leaned on him. There was no obvious sign of effort as he bore her weight and helped her to the chair, which was the room’s only furnishing. She sat with a sigh, and Damien crouched in front of her, arms hanging over his knees. He watched her with eyes that caught the firelight and sparkled.
“None of that is funny,” Maria said.
“I disagree.”
“You are certainly in a happier mood than I am used to seeing.”
Damien stood, looking around the room. She saw warmth in his eyes as his gaze slid over the paintings, ending at the self-portrait of his mother.
“You find me in my sanctum where I am at my most…relaxed. Had you ventured here a week ago, I would likely have flown into a rage.”
“What has changed?”
Damien pursed his lips. “One of those managing moments when I realized I had driven you to do something exceptionally dangerous. When I believed you might die.”
“Would that matter to you? Have you achieved what you wanted from our marriage?”
“It seems so,” Damien replied.
Maria hid the chill that ran down her spine. She had wanted to hear him tell her how far off the completion of his objectives was.
If he has achieved what he set out to do, then how long do we have left?
“My gamekeeper has reported no fresh incursions onto the grounds. It may be too early to declare victory, though. You need not fear that I am seeking annulment anytime soon.”
“I did not fear it,” Maria said stoutly.
“Ah, you believed I was smitten and could not live without you?” Damien said, lips twitching.
Maria tossed her hair, knowing how it bounced when she did so. She smiled coquettishly.
“I did make you blush, after all,” she said.
Damien chuckled. “You did that. Quite the achievement.”
Silence settled between them. Damien’s eyes drifted to the self-portrait of his mother, and his expression softened so much that it took Maria’s breath away. Never before had she seen her husband gaze at anyone or anything with such a gentle countenance.
“What happened to your mother?” Maria asked, suddenly.
Damien was silent, his gaze still fixed on the portrait. He went to the fireplace, tending the fire unnecessarily. Maria stood, following him. She stood just behind him.
“I am sorry to pry, but I must know something of the man I… am connected to,” she said, torn between curiosity and contrition, for the subject was clearly one which pained her strange husband. “The man whose house Gilbert will share.”
There! She had said it, stated her foremost concern quite clearly, so her husband could avoid the subject no longer. After this conversation, she would know without a doubt if Gilbert would be allowed to remain at the estate with them.
Damien turned, and Maria was once again struck by the full force of his magnetism. His eyes stripped away her clothes and then her body, exposing her very soul.
She stood naked before him, gazing into his eyes and trying to see beyond the walls he erected around himself. Her eyes fell to his lips, so manly and yet so soft and inviting. Their touch was surprisingly gentle, she knew that. Their taste was intoxicating.
