Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(15)

What if he didn’t want her? He had assured her that men could be aroused by almost anything. But what if once he saw her he no longer found that true? What if only the mystery of the situation had intrigued him? What if he didn’t want to go through with this?

“Unbraid your hair.” He spoke with command, the voice flowing from just behind her head.

Butterflies took flight in her belly. With trembling fingers she reached and drew her braid over her shoulder, unfastening the tie. Why did he want her hair loose? It would only get in the way. She hadn’t worn it loose since she was a small child. It was such a mess. He was sure to find it displeasing, unattractive. She hesitated, prepared to question.

“Continue.” His voice rumbled about her. “You must learn to do as I say if this is to proceed as planned.”

“But—”

“No buts. Surely it is not that hard a task.”

Her fingers worked quickly through the plait, freeing it inch by inch until her hair sprang about her in a cloud, covering her upper back and shoulders. She bowed her head farther, letting her hair fall forward to cover her face.

She felt tears well in her eyes. There was so much emotion running through her that she didn’t know how to act.

The barest brush of his hands ran over her hair, not pressing down but skimming, the way one might caress a bird’s wing.

“Very beautiful,” he said.

Her hair? That was all he could see. Nobody had ever praised her hair—not that there had ever been anybody besides her mother and John to praise her. John had often remarked that she was pretty, but he’d never been specific.

“Are you ready?” His hand brushed with more pressure, the sensation exquisite.

It was hard not to move her head into his touch, but she could not risk her face being seen.

“Yes.” Even to herself she did not sound sure.

“Hold out the blindfold. There. Now I am going to place it about your face. You may use your hands to move it into position so that it covers your eyes and as much of your face as you wish. I do require that your lips be free. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The dark silk passed around her head, across her eyes, and back. She felt it tighten, obscuring the world from her. Tentatively she reached up and pulled it slightly down her nose, but not so far that it covered her nostrils. With care she arranged it across her cheeks and pulled it up higher on her forehead. He must never know who she was—not that they would ever meet again after this one night.

He gave a tug, pulling the fabric until he held it tight about her eyes and ears. She felt him tie the knot.

The whole world turned black.

She was his to do with as he wished.

She could only trust.



She was his to do with as he wished. The thought did nothing to cool the body he had only just gotten under control.

Gods, she was tiny. Ruby had not warned him about that, had not told him anything beyond that he would not be disappointed.

Stepping back, he took her in. A halo of dark curls sprang about her shoulders and draped most of the way down her back, the light of the fire filling the ringlets with reds and golds. He longed to bury his fingers in those curls, to use them to pull her against him even as he relished their softness—for after only the barest of touches he’d known they would be soft.

Her shoulders were narrow, draped in white silk, the barest edging of lace, nothing to scratch. It was hard to tell much beyond that as she knelt there, her body hunched forward. But he could see the tension in her, see her unease, her fear.

He would have to calm those fears, slowly and with care—and yet, while being true to himself.

She was beautiful—and so vulnerable, so trusting. Even in her fear she knelt before him, a virgin waiting to be conquered.

And he would conquer.

He took another step back, looked about the room, selected a chair, moved to it and set it a good ten feet from the fire. “Stand,” he said.

Without a word, she slowly rose to her feet, bobbling only a little, her arms spread out as she sought her balance. Once steady, she stood still, facing the bed.

“Move before the fire. Do you remember where it is? Do not get too close. It is not my desire to harm you, only to warm you, to stop your shivering.”

“It is not cold that makes me shiver.” She sounded hesitant, her bravery having deserted her with her sight.

“I know, but still the fire will help. Do you need my help to move? To find your spot to stand?”

He felt her pause, think.

“No,” she answered. “I can see where the fire is. Oh, not really—do not worry. But I can see a glow, a light that must be the fire. Surely a candle would not burn so brightly through the silk.”

“There is nothing between you and the flames. You are safe to walk.”

She took a half-step forward and then another, her toes shuffling along the carpet, helping her feel her way.

“You can stop now. Turn toward me,” he directed her.

Her soft breaths echoed in the quiet of the room as she turned, stopping when she faced him. She dropped her hands to her sides, and then brought them in front of her, clasping them together. Her chin dropped down, teeth nibbling on succulent red lips.

“Lift your chin. It is my turn to look at you.”

She gave a small gasp but complied. The teeth continued to worry at her lip.