Page 58 of The Phantom Duke
“Will you also remove that?” she asked. “And let me see you fully? I have seen your face, and there is nothing to hide.”
“It is not for fear of disgust that I hide it,” Damien said.
“Then what?”
“It is enough that I say it is so.”
“It isnotenough.”
“Itisenough!” Damien snapped, clearly unused to being challenged.
Maria stared at him silently. She wondered if he could see the fear in her eyes and the control she fought to exert over it. She did not give in to panic or being brow-beaten. It was not enough to shout and glower.
I am a duchess, not a servant. A duchess should not be so easily intimidated.
“Do not try to cow me,” Maria whispered. “It will not work.”
Damien caught the edge of a tremor in her voice, smiled, the barest upraising of his lips.
Does he think he has gained a victory over me?
“It will work. If you do not wish to be cowed, do not push me.”
“I merely want to know you. To know something about you. By your choice, we are chained together. I live in your house, and my future depends upon you. I think it’s my right to know something of my…”
“Captor?” Damien said, wryly.
“If you will have it so.”
“I will remove the mask, and you will close your eyes,” Damien said.
She saw the quickening of his breath, the slight widening of his lips. He frowned deeply, and she could see his apprehension but also his excitement. He stood on the verge of revealing himself to another human being after so long in the shadows.
Strangely, the prospect of him being so vulnerable and revealed to her eyes was enough to make her core pulse with neigh unbearable need. He would not penetrate her, would he? Thus far, Damien had chosen not to consummate their marriage. Could it be that he had changed his mind? Did she want him to?
“How can I learn to swim with my eyes closed?” she whispered.
“I will support you in the water.”
The suggestion nearly undid her. Maria had to stifle a little groan before it could escape from her.
“Do as I tell you, and all will be well. I do not believe that any good comes from the sight of my stain. My scar,” Damien said. “Nothing good has come of it thus far.”
“In other parts of the world, no one would look twice at a birthmark. It’s only here that people cling to appearances.”
“Well, here, a child born with red stains across his face is called cursed. Disfigured. And sometimes… that mark alone is enough reason to let him die,” Damien said.
“Die?” Maria said with surprise.
He could not really mean it, could he? Her chest tightened. She thought of Damien’s mother and his assertion that she had been murdered by her own husband. Maria’s mouth was dry. Was it possible that Damien had also been threatened, been harmed, by such a wretched man? Had the father ever threatened to murder his son?
“Forget I spoke. This has been a mistake,” Damien grated, beginning to turn away.
The threat of his absence was a slap of cold wind against her heated skin. “No!” Maria cried, clutching him to her.
She kissed him with all the passion she could muster, entwining her fingers through his hair and pulling it tight. He started just a little, hesitated only a heartbeat before devouring her. Maria drank him in, tongue probing into his mouth and his into hers.She bit his lip and gloried in the sharp intake of breath that was his response. Her fingers slid over the leather cords holding the mask in place. She tugged at the knot, and his hands engulfed hers, forcing her still.
“Do you care nothing for your child?” he whispered, desperately.
