more than the left half of his face. Was he joking? This was one of the most sumptuously embellished rooms she’d ever been in. Not what she was used to, but most people she knew didn’t do much decorating in velvet and gold leaf.
“Of course it matters,” she responded, beginning to feel some of her usual fire returning. “I may not look like much right now, but I’ve got manners. I know how to act in polite company.”
“Polite company?” He gave a little grunt, not even sure himself if it were partly a laugh or not. “Is that what you’re expecting? We’ll have to see if we can muster some up for you.”
He was pacing about the room in a restless way and she turned to keep him in her line of vision. She was pretty sure she knew who he was by now. After all, she’d seen him all those years ago at the hot springs. If only she could get a full view of his face she would know for sure, but he seemed to have a talent for keeping in the shadows.
“You’re making me dizzy,” she said, reaching out to steady herself with a hand on the back of an overstuffed chair.
He grunted again, but he didn’t stop moving. She watched nervously, wondering what he was planning to do with her. Luckily, he didn’t seem inclined to lock her in a cell, so Susa was wrong there, but she supposed he could call the police and have her arrested if he wanted to. This was his castle and she didn’t belong here.
She watched and waited. She liked the way he moved. There was a controlled, animal strength to him, and every action, every turn, presented with a certain masculine grace. And yet there was the sense of something more to him, something hidden, something leashed and waiting. He was new to her, unpredictable. Once again she realized that she was in a presence she didn’t know how to handle. That made her heart thump.
Stopping to look out into the hall, he muttered something she couldn’t quite make out, but it sounded slightly obscene.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, tensing as though to be ready to run for it.
He started to turn toward her, then stopped. “My cousin is taking his own sweet time about it,” he said evenly. “I’d like to get this over with.”
“So would I,” she said, her tone heartfelt. “Listen, why don’t I just go and—?”
“No,” he ordered firmly, glancing at her sideways. “You stay right where you are.”
That put her back up a bit and sparked a sense of rebellion in her soul.
“Much as I appreciate your warm and welcoming hospitality,” she began with a touch of sarcasm, taking a step toward the door, “I think it’s time—”
“No.”
He took a step closer and his hand shot out and circled her wrist. “You’re staying right here until I permit you to go.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” Her lower lip jutted out and she pulled hard on his hold but he wasn’t letting go. “Your rules are on the medieval side, you know. These days one doesn’t take orders from another person unless they are being paid money.”
He pulled her closer, his face half turned her way. “Is that what you’re after?” he asked harshly. “Is it money you want?”
“What?” She stared up at him, shocked by the very concept. “No, no, of course not.”
“Then what do you want here?” he demanded.
She swallowed hard. Somehow this didn’t seem to be a good segue into asking for monthly access to his hillside. “N…nothing,” she stammered.
“Liar.”
She gasped. He was right but she didn’t like hearing it. “You…you wouldn’t understand,” she stammered senselessly. “But I meant you no harm.”
He gave a sharp tug to her wrist, pulling her up close. “Harm.” He said it as though it were a pointless word. “All the harm’s been done years ago,” he added softly.
She winced at the bitterness in his voice. It was clear something about his life just wasn’t going well. The gloomy, bleak atmosphere was only reinforced by his dark attitude. Negative people usually turned her off but there was a lot more here than a bad mood. She felt it like a vibration in the air, and her heart began to beat just a bit harder.
He felt her pulse quicken under his hold on her wrist and he knew what he had to do. Slowly, very deliberately, he turned and faced her, the light from the lamps and the fire exposing his horrible scars.
Was it pride that kept him from showing this to anyone who didn’t know him intimately? Was it conceit, arrogance, egoism? Was it really that hard to think that his face, which had once been considered quite handsome, was now so repellent, people turned away rather than be forced to look at him?
It was probably all those things. But he’d known from the start there was something deeper and harder to face than that. He knew very well there was a large measure of guilt mixed into his motivations. His scars were retribution for his sins, but, even more painful, they were his own fault. That was the hardest thing to live with.
He’d spent years now, hidden away, traveling in limousines with tinted windows, moving anonymously from one house to another. It was a strange, lonely existence, and he was sick of it. But in order to change things, he would have to get used to people seeing his face, and he wasn’t sure he could do it. Or that he deserved to.
But tonight, he wasn’t going to dodge anything. It was high time he accepted his fate and learned to live with it. He was going to stare directly into her huge blue eyes and read every scrap of emotion that was mirrored there. No more avoidance. His jaw tightened and he steeled himself. And then he presented himself to her, scars and all.
Her eyes widened as she took in the totality of his face. The shock was there. He tensed, waiting for the disgust, the wince, the hand to the mouth, the flood of pity, the eyes darting away, looking anywhere but at him. He’d seen it before.
The only mystery was—why did he still let it bother him? It was time to harden himself to it. And so he stood his ground and met her gaze.
But things weren’t going quite as he’d expected. The quality of her surprise was somehow different from what he was used to. No curtain of instant distance appeared, no revulsion, no reserve tainted her manner.
Instead of dread, instead of a cold drawing away in repugnance, a warm, curious light came into her eyes. Rather than pull away, she was coming closer. He watched in astonishment as she actually cocked her head to the side, then reached out for him.
He didn’t move as she edged closer and touched his face, her fingertips moving lightly over the scar, tracing its path down his cheek and into the corner of his wide mouth.
“Oh,” she said, letting it out in a long sigh.
But there was no pity. Maybe there was a hint of sorrow. But other than that, only a touch of confusion along with much interest and curiosity. It seemed almost as though she’d found a wonderful piece of statuary with a tragic flaw that deserved a little exploring. And she felt no inhibitions in doing exactly that.
CHAPTER TWO
ISABELLA was
