Duchess of Sin (32 page)

His tongue lightly traced the curve of her lips, and she opened for him, meeting his kiss with her own. She wound her arms
around his shoulders, holding on to him tightly so he could not vanish from her. He tasted warm and sweet, like springtime,
and she felt her long-cold heart melt.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his lips trailing over her cheek.

“I—I thought such things could never be mine,” she said. “I thought they could only belong to the young.”

He laughed and held out his hand. “I’m trembling, too. Oh, Katherine, I never thought I would find you, but here you are.”

“Find me?”

He pulled her close, and she felt him rest his cheek on top of her head. She heard his deep, ragged breath as he inhaled the
scent of her hair. She closed her eyes and curled her hands tightly into his coat. How she wished she could stay like that
forever. Just him and her, and no one to judge them.

“I used to dream of a woman like you,” he said. “Beautiful, kind, wise. A muse. An angel.”

“Angel?” She laughed harshly. “Everyone is so very wrong about that.”

“
Non,
Katherine.” He pressed a fevered kiss to her temple. “You are an extraordinary woman. You have made me see life in a new,
glorious way. Not just art but everything. I was in despair before, angry, drifting, always searching for some purpose. Some
reason. Then I saw you.…”

Katherine tilted her head back to study his face, amazed at his passionate words. “I did all of that?”

“And more. I have never known anyone like you, Katherine. You are—amazing.”

She dropped her head to his shoulder. How she wished she could believe him! His words filled her with such joy and hope. All
her life she lived for others—her parents, her husband, her children, the people of Killinan. When Nicolas looked at her she
felt beautiful, and young, and whole, with a world of possibility before her.

But those were only feelings, wild hopes. She could give him nothing. She was older than him and bound by her duties. He surely
was caught in some infatuation, just as she was.

It was very sweet while it lasted, though. And why should she not have a little, secret moment for herself?

She slid her hands up his neck, into his hair, holding on to him so that she could look deeply into his eyes. She read no
artifice there, no flash of hesitation or doubt. He looked at her as if she were indeed an angel.

“Kiss me again, Nicolas,” she whispered.

He smiled at her. “With the greatest pleasure, Katherine.” And he did, his lips covering hers hard, as if he would not ever
let her go.

A
nna stood in the shadows of the little minstrels’ gallery high above the Connemaras’ ballroom. She rested her elbows on the
railing and stared down at the brilliant whirl of activity far below. Usually she adored such gatherings, loved being a part
of the music and dancing, especially at Christmas. Tonight, though, she felt strangely reluctant to join in.

The elaborate pattern of the polished parquet floor was covered by a kaleidoscope of blues, greens, whites, and purples, in
shimmering satins, lustrous velvets, and soft, floaty muslins. Jewels flashed and sparkled in the glow of hundreds of candles.
The air was thick with the scents of evergreen, red roses, and holly. Wreaths and loops of red ribbon were draped along the
white walls.

The orchestra played a lively rendition of that omnipresent “Wren Song” as the dancers twirled and skipped over the floor.
Everyone who did not dance crowded around its edges, the laughter growing louder and rowdier as the punch flowed.

Anna didn’t know where Lady Connemara had found
so many people on Christmas Eve or how she had lured them out into the cold night from their own holiday hearths. Along with
the house party guests, there was all the Kildare gentry and more from even farther afield. She saw Caroline sitting in the
corner with Lord Hartley, the two of them actually ignoring the dance to study a book. Her mother talked with the local vicar
and his wife by one of the large holly wreaths. Jane danced with Lord Connemara, clad in another enviable gown of amber-colored
silk.

But there was no Duke of Adair.

Anna carefully studied every newcomer who crowded through the doors and down the stairs to the ballroom, and none was ever
him. She was quite disappointed.

She tugged at the Christmas-green sash of her white silk gown, fiddling with the corsage of artificial holly tucked into its
satin folds. She had taken even greater care with her appearance than usual, filled with dreamy visions of dancing with him
in front of everyone. Of celebrating Christmas with him, forgetting their troubles for one night, just being with him. Pretending
they belonged together.

She couldn’t do that if he did not even show up.

The door behind her clicked open, and she spun around in a flare of wild hope. But it was not Conlan. It was Grant Dunmore.

Her heart sinking again, Anna leaned back on the marble balustrade as he shut the door behind him. She could see why all the
ladies loved him so much. He was so perfectly handsome, like a hero from a book, so impeccably stylish, so admired and well-connected.
Everything she herself should want, had once thought she
did
want.

Yet she felt nothing when she looked at him or when he smiled at her. She could no longer summon up even a halfhearted desire
for him and the glittering life they could have together. Not even for duty and expectations.

He gave her a dazzling smile. “So this is where you are hiding, Lady Anna.”

“I was not hiding, Sir Grant,” she said, taken aback by his sudden appearance and by a certain quality to that smile she had
not noticed before. A certain smugness, as if she was a pretty child that he meant to indulge. “I merely did not feel like
dancing.”

“You? The finest dancer in all Kildare? I find that hard to believe.” He joined her at the balustrade to peer down at the
party.

“I cannot rival Lady Cannondale for dancing.” She gestured to Jane, dancing so beautifully in the patterns of the reel, full
of vivid life. “Or our hostess.”

“Nonsense. You are famous for your grace and beauty, Lady Anna, and everyone knows it.” He leaned his elbows on the railing,
as she had done. Even in that, he looked like casual perfection. “Perhaps you are imagining what your own Christmas ball would
be like, if you were the hostess.”

“I doubt I would have a house as grand as this,” Anna said carefully.

“You would make any house grand. And attract the cream of Society to all your gatherings.”

She laughed, suddenly uncomfortable in his presence as she never had been before. She couldn’t explain it, but the gallery
felt too small and close. “I have no such ambitions, Sir Grant.”

“Do you not? You could rule this world if you wanted.
You could have anything at all you desired.” He caught her hand in his, startling her. She tried to pull away, but he held
on tightly. “I could give you that, Anna. Together we would be the most sought-after, most powerful couple in Dublin. Maybe
in all Ireland. London, too, if that was what you wanted.”

“I—I don’t think…” she stammered, confused. She had refused proposals before, but she had never been caught so off her guard.
“I don’t think so.”

Grant, usually so smooth and charming, so correct, scowled at her. His hand flexed on hers. “What do you mean? I am asking
you to be my wife,” he said. “Surely you have been aware of my intentions toward you. Our situations in life are so suited
to each other, by fortune and connection. You must know that.”

Their situations—not themselves. Not their hearts. He did not even seem to
see
her, and she remembered Caroline’s warning in the garden, and her own fears. He wanted her for an ornament, a piece in his
puzzle of social advancement and ambition.

“I’m sorry, Sir Grant, but I had no idea you had a—a regard for me,” she said. She carefully tried to tug her wrist away,
but he held on to her. “I thought you were only polite to me, as to any lady.”

“Of course I was not being polite!” he said, his silken charm turning rough. “There is no lady better suited to be my wife.
You are beautiful, of good family. I can give you a home where you can shine.”

Anna shook her head. “Where I can be an ornament?”

“A diamond.”

“I don’t want that, though,” she said. “I want to be useful, to have a real purpose.”

“Useful? You would be useful to
me,
” he said impatiently. “I have ambitions in politics, as I’m sure you know, and I need a suitable wife and hostess to help
me in that.”

“Many ladies could be that for you,” Anna said. Grant had many feminine admirers, and he admired them in return. Surely one
of them would be most happy to grace his table, as well as his bed, lead his political salon. She could not. Even to make
her family happy, she could not. She would wither and die.

“But there is no one as beautiful as you,” he said.

“Of course there is! I am very honored at your proposal, Sir Grant, but I fear we would not suit. I am sorry.” She twisted
her wrist again, hard, and at last he let her go. His golden eyes darkened, like thunderclouds, and she whirled around to
hurry to the door.

“Is it because there is someone you prefer?” he called to her.

Her hand froze on the door handle. There was such fury in his voice, tightly leashed anger that she could not have imagined
he possessed under his perfect surface. But she knew she shouldn’t be surprised, not after seeing the way he confronted Conlan
on St. Stephen’s Green. A man who would try to steal his own cousin’s ancestral estate was not a man to be thwarted.

“I am not ready to marry anyone,” she answered.

He laughed harshly. “I cannot believe that, Lady Anna.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Sir Grant, it is the truth. Now I must return to the party.” She rushed out the door,
slamming it behind her. She had the strongest urge to pick up her skirts and run, but there were people strolling in the corridor,
so she made herself slowly walk to the
staircase. He didn’t follow her to press his suit, thankfully, and when she slipped back into the ballroom, it seemed more
crowded than ever. Surely there was safety in such a press.

The reel was ending, and she made her way through the laughing throng in search of her mother or sister. Her head ached; some
of the brightness of the holiday dimming as her fear lingered. She had closed the door on one path, the path everyone expected
her to take, and she didn’t know what to do now. She hadn’t expected Grant’s anger, and the chill of that lingered, too.

She couldn’t find her mother, but she glimpsed Caroline walking toward the dance floor with Lord Hartley. So the two of them
could
abandon their books sometimes. As Anna glanced back, she saw the ballroom doors open again, and Conlan appeared there at
last. He stood still for a moment, at the top of the steps, and everything else faded to a blur around him.

Anna realized that she had only rarely seen him as the Duke, and when she had it did not go very well, but here he fulfilled
his position entirely. Tall, powerful, and dressed in stark, perfectly tailored black and white, he surveyed the company with
casual confidence as Lady Connemara hurried to greet him. He didn’t even seem to notice all the curious stares and the whispers
that turned his way.
The reclusive duke, here!

But he did notice her. He gave her a quiet and intimate smile and then disappeared into the crowd. Still in a daze where everything
seemed slow and silent, Anna pushed her way past the laughing, tipsy people, searching for him.

She found him standing beneath one of the kissing boughs.

“So you came after all,” she said breathlessly.

“You did say I should cultivate connections with my neighbors,” he answered. “That I should not hide away like an angry bear
on my estate, an old recluse.”

Anna laughed. “I did not exactly say that, Your Grace. Angry and reclusive you may be, but a bear—well, yes, you can be that
as well.”

“Now that I am here, though, I scarcely know what to do next. You must help me.”

Anna could hear the orchestra tuning up for a scandalous Viennese waltz, just like at the Olympian Club. There was the great
rustle of silk, footsteps, and laughter as couples hurried to take their places. “I think you should begin by dancing with
me.”

“Dancing?”

“Of course. You cannot pretend you don’t know how, for we have danced together before. Now you have to show everyone here
your graceful, refined side.”

He snorted. “Grace and refinement will always be beyond me, I fear. Yet I would never turn down the chance to dance with the
prettiest lady in the room.”

He offered her his arm with a bow, and she let him lead her onto the dance floor. This time there were no concealing masks.
They were only themselves, together in full sight of everyone.

And everyone certainly did watch. A place was made for them at the center of the floor, right next to Caroline and her Lord
Hartley. Anna’s sister looked mischievously delighted, but Anna ignored everyone. She watched only Conlan as he slid one arm
about her waist and took her hand in his. She rested her other hand lightly on his shoulder. Even though they stood the proscribed,
correct
distance apart, she couldn’t help the rush of excitement that shivered through her.