Chapter Ten #2
Dante poured out a cup of tea for himself.
“Well, she didn’t throw it at me. And then later yesterday afternoon, she made inroads into decorating this room for Christmastide, as you can see.
” Even as he spoke, he moved his gaze around the room where the greenery had been arranged.
Tin bells and glass balls were interspersed throughout as well as candles.
Red velvet ribbons provided a pleasing contrast to the dark green boughs.
“She did splendid work, honestly, yet I’m still not convinced I wish to celebrate. ”
“Does she?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling she’s not fond of the holiday.” For long moments, they each took refuge in their tea. Then Dante spoke again. “Suffice it to say, Anne and I are working past our mutual anger. Slowly.” So damned slowly.
Blackhawke nodded. “That’s all to the good.” He narrowed his gaze. “Do you think you’ll be able to rub along well with her?”
“There is certainly an opportunity there. Yesterday, we spoke about her brother. Her accusations that I killed her brother proved true, for I remembered the man in question.” Hot guilt collided with cold dread in his chest. “It was during one of my clandestine operations where it was critical I maintain my hidden identity. He’d been drunk and was waving a pistol around, putting everyone in the tavern in danger.
I had no choice.” It was something else that would haunt him, especially since the man he’d killed was his wife’s brother.
Will there ever be a time when I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done?
“That’s a bad stretch of fate, having to marry the woman related to a kill.” The duke shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
Blackhawke watched him from over the rim of his teacup. “Would there be a time when you might come to love her in the future?”
“I don’t know.” He blew out a breath. “It was too painful the last time, and I’m rubbish when one digs too deep into who I am.”
The duke shrugged. “You could always lie. You’ve had plenty of practice.”
Oddly, he didn’t’ want that any longer, didn’t want to lie anymore.
“I’ve had enough of that over the course of my life.
” The hand holding his cup trembled. “I want to tell Anne the truth of who I am and why I did what I did. I…” What?
Wasn’t what he wanted too far out of the realm of possibility to even speak aloud?
He sighed. “I want her to love me for who I am, if she can.”
Love? He was talking about that now? Is that what he truly wanted from someone? From… his wife?
Blackhawke drained his cup. “It’s a tall order.”
“Agreed. She’s quite spirited.” Dante tapped the scabbed-over cut where she’d tagged him with the vase of flowers. “Threw a crystal vase at me that first night.”
A trace of a grin lifted the corners of the duke’s mouth. “Which means she’s made of stern stuff. Be honest with her. She might surprise you.” He took another sip of his tea. “If your tastes run to scandalous during sexual congress, perhaps that will help you.”
He choked on his tea. “You refer to kinks during intercourse or foreplay?”
“Yes.” The duke nodded. “Take Thornton, for example. He grows aroused by exhibitionism. Having intercourse in public spaces or where someone can see gets him off.”
“And you? What do you do?” Why the hell was he even having this conversation?
“It depends on my mood.” The other man shrugged. “But I wouldn’t say no to restraints, blindfolds, or the occasional bout of voyeurism.”
Before he had a chance to respond, Anne came into the room, looking for all the world as if she belonged there. Which she did. And damn but that navy dress did nothing to bring out the warmth or life in her skin. Perhaps he should tell her to order new dresses and gowns…
“Anne.” He sprang to his feet and simultaneously put his teacup in the saucer that rested on the table nearby. “You’re back.”
“I am. My shift at the clinic ended for the day. Peterson said you wanted to see me and that you had company.”
“Right.” He cleared his throat as the duke stood with the help of his cane. “Anne, this is the Duke of Blackhawke.”
“Oh!” The dear woman executed an awkward curtsey. “I’m not certain that I’ve ever met someone so high on the instep as you are, Your Grace.”
To Dante’s surprise, Blackhawke grinned, and it was both amazing and horrible at the same time due to his scarring.
“You may refer to be as Blackhawke, or if you wish to be intimate, I’m James.” Then he came forward, took one of her hands, brought it to his lips, and kissed the back. When a blush stained her cheeks, he said, “Udolpho didn’t tell me you were such a looker.”
“Do stop, Blackhawke.” The sound of her giggle went straight to Dante’s stones, yet when the two of them held a low-pitched conversation that clearly excluded him, a few stabs of sharp jealousy went through his chest.
In that moment, clarity broke through the confusion circling through his mind. He might not know how he wished to go about forging a new path for himself, but he sure as hell wouldn’t lose his new wife to some charmer who held an actual title of duke.
“Well, thank you for stopping by, Blackhawke, but no doubt you have your own matters to attend to, don’t you?” he asked as he charged over the floor and gently but firmly pulled Anne away from the other man.
“Ah, perhaps you are correct, my friend.” The duke offered a grin to Anne. “I hope we’ll meet again. It has been fascinating to talk with you.”
She nodded. “I don’t know any of Broderick’s friends. Perhaps after the Old Year celebrations, we can have you over for a dinner party along with some of the others.”
And give Blackhawke another chance to try and steal her away? I’d have to be six feet under before I allow that to happen. “Anne, could you give us a moment of privacy?”
“Of course.” With a parting smile for the duke—why the hell wouldn’t she act as cheerful and disarmed around him?—she left the room.
Then the duke chuckled, and the sound sent chills up and down Dante’s spine.
“Can’t see yourself falling in love again, hmm?
To my way of thinking, if you could have, you would have killed me where I stand for having the audacity to speak with your wife.
” Then he winked. “I wish you nothing but good fortune with your wife and your new union, Udolpho,” Blackhawke said as he limped toward the door.
“But I’d better receive an invitation to that dinner party, else I have a feeling I’ll slip into my own vale of darkness before too long. ”
“I’ll make certain yours is the first that is delivered.” Even more odd than not wishing to lie any longer, he wanted to show the ton that he deserved his place there as a gentleman and he wanted to do that with Anne standing proudly at his side.
“If I don’t see you before then, happy Christmas, my friend.”
Dante nodded. “To you as well.” But would his be if he and Anne couldn’t find common ground beyond the satisfaction they gained during carnal play?