Page 34 of Unbound Duchess

“I do not understand,” she confessed.

“You are Benedict’s cousin, and the betrothed that got away,” Laurence explained. “Your presence can get Solomon and me into parties that we’ve been excluded from, even if you are not on the guest list. The gossip your presence would fuel would be enough alone to get us where we need to go.”

Ellen’s nose wrinkled as she balked at the idea.

“Solomon and I would protect you. I swear,” Laurene insisted, moving a little closer to her. “You would never be left alone.”

“I am not afraid of that,” she clarified. “I believe you.”

“And yet?” Laurence asked.

Ellen sighed.

“I do not…I do not do well at parties. I have never, even before this debacle with Benedict. I suppose I was hoping that being married to you would protect me from having to attend them, as well as protecting me from Benedict,” she confessed.

“What do you mean you do not do well?” he asked, lifting a curious brow.

Ellen shook her head.

“I become a different person in our society. Meek. Quiet. Unsure of myself.”

To her surprise, Laurence chuckled. Even his lips lifted toward a smile that had butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “I have seen you at a party, and you were certainly none of those things.”

This time, it was Ellen who smiled as she cocked her head and looked at him more closely.

“This is twice now that you have alluded to the fact that we have met before,” she pointed out. “The first time you denied it, but you certainly cannot now after that statement.”

Laurence snagged the left bottom corner of his lip between his teeth as a flush crept up his corded neck.

“You truly do not recognize me?” he asked, the light in his eyes now dancing with amusement.

Ellen shook her head as her smile widened. Laurence cocked an amused brow, then slid closer until their bodies were brushing up against each other. Heat spiked along Ellen’s veins and pooled in her lower belly as she felt the solid warmth of his chest against the side of her arm, and as he reached his free hand toward her, she found she could not breathe.

“I suspect true beauty hidden beneath this layer of paint,” Laurence said, his tone husky as he slid his thumb gently over her mole and down to her lips. His eyes lingered on her lips a moment longer, then snapped up to hers, so quick and so full of heat that she gasped. “I was right.”

Those words. The way he touched her. The way he looked at her, as if she was the only person that mattered. The night of the masquerade came rushing back with vivid detail, and suddenly she understood.

“It was you,” she breathed, as Laurence caressed her cheek. She then let out a soft laugh as she reached up and placed her hand over his. “I cannot believe it! The man I gave my first kiss to is now my husband?”

Laurence’s chuckle was deep and genuine as he nodded.

“You were not meek that night,” he said. “You were not quiet. You stated proudly who you were and what you did not like.”

“You scolded me for my boldness,” she giggled.

“True,” Laurence agreed, smirking as a soft playfulness settled into his gaze, “but only because it seemed your friend…What was her name? Judith? Had to all but force you into the situation. My point is, you impressed me because you were not trying to impress me. It was you having a moment of understanding. Not just with me but with yourself, and it was beautiful.”

Ellen’s pulse spiked at the word.

“Beautiful?” she asked. “Even in that garish dress and mask?”

Laurence chuckled, the sound brushing lovingly against her mind.

“I lost sight of what you were wearing the moment you lost your fear and became yourself,” he explained, softly dragging his thumb over her bottom lip. “I think you could do that again.”

Boldly, Ellen slid her tongue between her lips, letting just the tip brush across the pad of Laurence’s thumb. She reveled in the way his breath caught the moment he felt it.