He glanced up, his gaze snaring hers. “Why are you trembling?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Maura looked down where his fingers encircled around her wrists. His hold was strong, yet somehow gentle.
Suddenly he pulled the ring from her left hand, the plain gold band he’d slipped on her finger in Ireland. Almost before she knew it, he’d exchanged it for another.
Maura turned her hand over and stared. The ring was simple but beautiful, a large sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds that winked in the light.
Her lips parted. “Wh-What is this?”
His expression was solemn. Intent. “For over two hundred years, every Duchess of Gleneden has worn this ring.”
“But…your mother—”
“Is now the Dowager Duchess. Once my mother came out of mourning, she replaced this ring with another given to her by my father, one she treasures greatly for the sentiment it represents. But as my bride, this ring belongs on your finger.” He paused, then said softly, “It looks lovely on you, Duchess.”
Lifting her hand, he bent his head and kissed the inside of her wrist. There was a catch in her heart. Somehow it was as intimate as if he’d kissed her mouth.
Suddenly she wanted to cry. Her throat grew hot. The tenderness of his touch, the way he looked at her—it meltedher insides. Was she falling in love with him? She couldn’t…shouldn’t!
The truth was like a betrayal. She despised herself. Her deceit. His ring made her mission here all the more unpalatable. She had no right to wear it. Alec would hate her when he discovered the truth—and it was killing her. She hated that she must hide her deceit.
He rose to his feet, their fingers still linked. Taking a deep breath, Maura rose, too.
A glimmer of a smile touched his lips. The serious moment was gone. “What do you say to a glass of wine in the gold parlor, Irish? Or perhaps the great hall. It’s quite cozy to sit in front of the fire with a glass of brandy.”
“That might prove difficult. Despite the rain, it was quite warm today and thus there is no need for a fire,” she found herself teasing back.
“Then perhaps you’re ready for your other present.”
Her smile wavered. “But this—”
“Is your wedding ring,” he finished, “not a gift. As Duchess of Gleneden, it is your right to wear it.”
A maelstrom of emotion churned in Maura’s chest. In her mind, a silent conflict warred. Her deception tore at her more and more each day. But, dammit, she had no reason to feel guilty. The Black Scotsman had stolen from her clan. She was here to reclaim the Circle, and she was close—so close! When she thought of all the items of value in this house…But a fractionof their worth would feed every family on McDonough land for many a year.
Damn the Black Scotsman. Damn, damn, damn him!
“Are you ready for your other present?”
She had no idea that Alec took note of every emotion that played across her features.
She shook her head. “Your grace, I have what I want—my silk stockings. Many pairs of silk stockings, if you recall.” She forced a laugh. “I have no need for anything else.”
“You cannot renege. A bargain is a bargain. Yes, you have your choice, but you’ve yet to see mine, which you’ll find in your room.” A rakish brow climbed high. “Aren’t you curious?”
Aye, she decided. Curious, yes. And most certainly dubious.
“Go,” he said softly.
She knew she had no choice. What had she been thinking, to make such a foolish promise? Gathering up her skirts, she gingerly climbed the stairs to her room. With every step came the urge to turn and run. But if she ran, it would be right back into his arms. And if she awaited him upstairs…
There would be no evading him.
In her room, Maura went straight to the bed. Laid out upon the counterpane was a sheer lace nightgown. She decided she’d never seen anything quite so lovely in her life. She ran a hand over it almost reverently, the gossamer lace so fragileand delicate she was almost afraid to touch it for fear it would disappear.
“Do you like it?”
