His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (10 page)

“What about your family? Your friends?” Incomprehension filled her voice. “Surely you must have seen some of them since your
return?”

“Only my father, my brother and my secretary,” he confessed.

“Surely your friends must have called on you, to welcome you home?”

Gently, he squeezed her hand. “I was reported missing. When I returned to England, I did nothing to change that status.”

“They think that you are dead.” The words were but a whisper in the dim light of the cavern. “Why?”

“Because it was easier than facing them, of having to explain what happened and subjecting myself to their shocked responses
to my altered appearance.” There was another reason as well, of course, but he had no intention of sharing
that
with her.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she said, surprising him with her level of understanding.

That spark of hope he’d felt when they’d first met, and then again last night when she’d mentioned that character was of greater
importance than looks, returned. “How long have you been singing?” he asked.

“For as long as I can remember.”

“And this particular style of music?”

“Just a few years,” she confessed. “I visited the opera for the first time with my parents when I was fourteen and was so
impressed by it that I could not help but make an attempt at that style of singing myself.”

Her openness impressed him. “It is a pity that nobody else will ever hear you, because in my opinion, you are the best soprano
that I have ever had the pleasure of listening to.”

She smiled, clearly pleased by his praise. “Thank you. That is very kind of you.”

He looked her straight in the eye, wanting her to know what he saw. “It is the truth.”

She said nothing in response as she stood there staring back at him, her eyes widening with deep understanding. “This is the
strangest thing,” she eventually murmured as if she wasn’t even talking to him but to herself.

“What is?”

Her hands moved, indicating the space between them. “You and me. I never thought that I would meet someone who would actually
see
me, but I believe that you do. Don’t you?”

Richard felt the atmosphere change around him, aware that they were no longer having a casual conversation. “I can tell that
singing is vital to your well-being, that it feeds your soul and that you would suffer without it. I suspect that this is
the reason why you are reluctant to marry, because you fear that if you do, you will have to sacrifice your greatest passion.”

“I would have no choice but to do so. No man would allow me, as his wife, to engage in such activity. Not to mention that
few men would even consider marrying me if they knew.”

“Then they are fools.” Lord, he’d give anything to be able to listen to her every day for the rest of his life.

She tilted her head a little. “Do you not realize how scandalous it would be if anyone were to find out?”

“Why would they? If you married, then I am sure that you would be able to find a private place on your husband’s estate where
you might practice.”

She smiled slightly in response to his suggestion. “And in London?”

He inclined his head, seeing her point. “You might have to refrain while staying in Town, but at least you would have a normal
life with children to love and care for.”

“I must admit that foregoing the chance to have children would be my greatest regret, but to choose a life without the freedom
to sing whenever I please, seems like an unbearable sacrifice to make.”

He studied her for a moment, frowning as he said, “I doubt that it would be so different from the life you are presently living.
After all, finding a place in which to practice whenever you are in London must be just as difficult now as it would be if
you married. At present, you have your aunt to worry about.”

She started a little at his words as if he’d somehow surprised her with his reasoning. Blinking, she said, “Of course.”

There was something about the way she spoke that gave him pause. For a second, he couldn’t help but wonder if she might be
hiding something else—another reason to avoid getting married. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from being curious. “Have
you ever explored the cave beyond this point?” he asked, deciding to change the subject for now.

Her expression relaxed, as did her posture. “No. I did not think that it would be wise to do so alone.”

He almost laughed, stopping himself at the last moment. “I see,” he said as he went to fetch his lantern. Returning with it,
he passed the spot where she stood and swung the light around. “There appears to be a small decline over here that continues
down toward another level deeper underground.” The adventurer inside him called out and he turned back to face her. “Is there
any chance that you might like to explore it with me tomorrow afternoon?”

“I would have to find a reasonable excuse to be absent from Thorncliff.”

“Perhaps after dinner then? You could feign a headache.” He held his breath, realizing how eager he was for her to say yes.

She nodded once. “I think I would enjoy that.” Her tone held a great deal of thought to it and then her eyes lit with excitement.
“Perhaps we will find something wonderful.”

“Like skeletons and pirate treasure?”

She scrunched her nose in the most adorable way. “The treasure would not be so bad, but skeletons?” A visible shudder raked
along her spine.

“They will not hurt you, you know.”

She gave him a look of distinct displeasure. “That certainly is a comforting thought.”

“You need not worry,” he said as he moved toward her, bathing her in the light of his lantern. “I will be there to protect
you.”

“Another comforting thought,” she said, her words dancing through the darkness, carrying with them a secret confession that
immediately stirred his blood.

Reaching out, he trailed his thumb along her jawline, his breath escaping him as she swayed toward him, eyes closing on a
sigh of pleasure. “Mary.” He spoke her name with reverence, foregoing the honorific without even thinking; loving the way
it curled over his tongue.

Unrest churned around his stomach, like a storm rising upon the horizon, drawing nearer with every aching beat of his heart.
His thumb continued across the soft ridge of her cheekbone, toward her ear where a strand of hair had come undone. Tucking
it back in place, he noted her shallow breaths and became conscious of his own.
If only . . .
There were a million ways in which he might finish that wish. “It is late,” he said, dropping his hand to his side. “I should
get you back to the house.”

“It is unlikely that anyone will notice my absence.”

“Nevertheless, I insist. We can come back tomorrow at a more reasonable hour. As we discussed.” He offered her his arm, which
she thankfully accepted after a brief hesitation. But when he moved to escort her out of the cave, she failed to follow, effectively
halting his progress. He looked down at her. “What is it?”

“It is just . . .” She bit her lip and looked away, took a breath and tried again by saying, “Forgive me, but I am having
trouble expressing myself correctly.”

“Take your time.” He placed his hand over her arm, hoping to offer support and courage—curious about what she might say.

Hesitantly, she met his gaze, concern and sincerity blending in her eyes like a pair of puddles flowing together. The effect
was one of complete vulnerability, tightening his chest until he felt his heart squeeze. “Am I imagining it, or is there more
between us than just a cordial acquaintanceship?”

He stilled, fearing the fragility of the moment. “You wish to know if I am attracted to you.” His pulse leapt with anticipation
the moment she nodded her response.

“Are you?”

God yes!

“I enjoy your company a great deal,” he said, afraid of where his honesty might lead.

She winced. “That does not tell me much, considering how little company you have had for the past few years. I daresay any
conversation would be welcome.”

“You may be correct.” Her face fell. “But I doubt that anyone else would be able to sing as well as you.” Fear stopped him
from mentioning her looks, how beautiful he found her or how desperately he wanted to kiss her.

“Is that all?” Hope clung to her voice.

“No. But it must suffice for now.”

She stared back at him. “I am sorry to hear you say that.”

“Why?” He could not help but ask—could not help but hope, just as he’d done from the very first moment he’d seen her—in spite
of everything. The odds against them were enough to discourage the most determined of men.

A crease appeared upon her brow. “Because although we have known each other for only a brief time, I rather imagined that
you were tempted to kiss me before.”

Lord help him, she was brave, bold and utterly divine. Heat exploded in the pit of his stomach while his chest expanded, a
rush of energy tumbling through him, filling him with want. “And?” He forced himself to take courage.

A miserable smile captured her lips. “And I found myself hoping that you might.”

Richard’s heart thudded against his chest, his breaths carefully measured as he stared down at her upturned face. He swallowed,
unsure of what to say in response to such a forthright confession.

She averted her gaze, began to turn away. “I am sorry,” she muttered, shame dripping from the voice that had been so confident
barely a second before.

It was more than he could bear. “You must not be.” When she tried to move away from him, he held her firmly in place, knowing
that he would be the greatest ass that ever lived if he failed to meet her honesty head on. “The truth is that I
would
like to kiss you, more than anything in the world. But I cannot.”

“Because you do not wish for me to see your face.”

“I am afraid of what will happen between us if you do.”

She frowned, her expression more serious than he’d ever seen it before. “You think that it would alter my opinion of you?”

“I am certain of it.” He knew he was being harsh and that he wasn’t giving her the chance she deserved to prove him wrong,
but it couldn’t be helped. He liked her too much to risk losing her on account of his appearance.

“I am not that shallow, Richard,” she said with conviction. “Far from it.”

His name upon her lips, spoken with fondness, prompted him to pull her into his arms. “I know,” he whispered against the top
of her head. “But I am not ready for you to see me. Not yet. Please, Mary . . .” He fought for breath as he wrapped his arms
around her, holding her close. “Try to understand.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she wound her arms around him too, hugging him back. Lord knew he needed this—the warmth and comfort
that she provided. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he’d missed physical contact with another person. Spencer
and his father had provided him with conversation, but this . . . the feeling of her heart beating steadily next to his, almost
brought tears to his eyes. “Promise me that you will not look.”

A brief hesitation followed, as if she wasn’t sure of what he was asking of her. She finally nodded. “I promise.”

Holding her against him, her cheek pressed into the black wool of his cloak, Richard raised one hand to push back the hood.
Taking a breath, he then tilted back the mask and dipped his head, allowing her hair to tickle his face as he inhaled her
scent. “You smell so good,” he whispered, realizing belatedly how ridiculous that sounded.

Her fingertips dug against the muscles spanning his back. “Chamomile mixed with lemons. It is my favorite scent.”

“Mine too,” he told her gruffly, to which she chuckled gently—a sweet sound filled with promise. Spreading her fingers, she
pulled him closer.

For a moment they just stood there like that, chest against chest until Richard decided to lean back a little so he could
look at her. Tilting her head, he saw that her eyes were closed, just as she had promised. He was grateful for that. Exceedingly
so. Staring down at her delicate neck and at the pulse that beat there, he carefully lowered his lips to the smooth skin that
awaited, pressing a series of kisses against her. She gasped in response to each individual one, and it was all he could do
not to press his lips more fully against hers.

Raising his head, he lowered his mask before pulling back from her embrace, adoring the befuddled expression that captured
her face as her lips parted with surprise. “One step at a time,” he told her softly.

With a dazed nod, she allowed him to escort her out of the cave, their lanterns lighting the path in the darkness as they
made their way back to Thorncliff like a pair of specters stealing through the night.

When he returned to his bedchamber, Richard expelled a deep breath as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
He deserved a medal for the degree of restraint he’d shown this evening. Which of course made him immediately wary. His situation
was complicated—more than Lady Mary even realized. The demons that plagued him demanded retribution, blackening his heart
while hers shone bright with purity. They were completely ill-fitted. There was no denying that. Nor was there any denying
the fact that he would be the worst possible scoundrel if he continued to seek her company. No good could possibly come of
it.

And yet . . . he still had hope that maybe . . . maybe she would still want him once she saw his face. He winced. But would
she be able to accept what he was doing? Women were sensitive creatures after all. Perhaps she’d judge him harshly for it.

Glancing down, he caught sight of a crisp piece of paper, neatly folded upon the floor; a letter, slipped beneath the door
while he’d been out. Picking it up, he tore open the seal and unfolded the missive. There were only a couple of lines.