He took a deep breath, let it out in a slow, pain-filled sigh. “Very well, Kristine, it shall be as you wish.”
“You mean it?” She turned around, her green eyes sparkling with hope. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Thank you, my lord husband.” Smiling shyly, she took a step toward him. “Will you not tell me why you wear a mask?”
“No. You have told me what you want. Now I shall tell you my terms. You will never again ask about the mask, and you will promise to respect my privacy in this matter.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“I shall do my best to be your husband in every way, but I cannot stay the night in your bed.” He lifted a hand to still her protest. “I do not wish to sleep with the mask on,” he explained. The hours of darkness were the only time he was free of it; he could not sacrifice those hours of freedom, not even for her. “If you wish, I shall stay with you, in your bed, until you fall asleep.”
She nodded, hoping her disappointment didn’t show. She had thought she might be able to sneak a look beneath the mask while he slept, but he had neatly forestalled the possibility.
“Very well, I agree to your terms.” Kristine held out her hand. “Will you join me in my bed, my lord husband?”
It was too soon. He needed time to adjust to her demands. “We will start our new life together on the morrow, Kristine.”
“As you wish, Lord Trevayne,” she replied. “Sleep well.”
Their new life started the following morning. Mrs. Grainger stared at Erik, obviously stunned by his presence as he entered the dining room.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said when she had gathered her wits. “Will you be dining with Lady Kristine?”
He nodded curtly as he sat down at the head of the table. He had avoided his servants as much as possible since he had started wearing the mask; had not eaten a meal downstairs in four years. He was aware of Yvette’s furtive gaze as she hurried to set a place for him, of Nan’s wide-eyed stare as she poured him a cup of tea.
“Good morning, my lord husband,” Kristine said as she swept into the room. “Did you sleep well?”
“No,” he replied candidly. “Did you?”
Twin flags of color rose in her cheeks as she lowered her gaze, her reply a barely perceptible shake of her head. She wondered if he had spent the night tossing and turning, as she had.
“Will you take me riding this morning?” she asked, determined to draw him out, to make him talk to her.
“I had planned to spend the day going over the household accounts,” Erik replied, his voice cool.
Kristine glanced away, but not before he saw the disappointment in her eyes. He did not understand her, he thought. Why did she want to be with him? For all that they were man and wife, she knew nothing about him, would be horrified to know what kind of monster sat at the table with her.
He picked at his food, unable to enjoy the meal while she was watching him. It had been years since he had taken his meals anywhere but in the privacy of his room. He was acutely conscious of his mask. With its silk so lightweight, he managed to forget its presence from time to time. But not now, with Kristine sitting across from him, with the housemaids sending furtive glances in his direction each time they entered the room.
With an exasperated sigh, he pushed away from the table. “Be ready in an hour,” he said gruffly.
They rode in silence for a time. Erik studied her, noting her stiff posture, her iron grip on the reins.
“Relax your hold,” he said quietly. “The mare has a soft mouth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Her mouth is tender, sensitive to the pull of the bit. You needn’t hold the reins so tightly. Nor sit so stiffly. Let yourself move with the mare.”
Kristine tried to do as he said. It was hard at first. She wasn’t at ease on the horse and it was hard to relax. But, gradually, she did as he said. Erik told her how to hold the reins, how to guide the mare not only with the reins, but with the pressure of her knees, how to bring the mare to a smooth stop. It amazed her that two strips of thin leather could control so large an animal, but Misty responded instantly.
As Kristine grew more at ease, she found that riding was quite pleasant. The countryside was beautiful, the rocking motion of the mare was restful.
Erik drew his horse to a halt near a narrow stream shaded by silver birches. He dismounted in a fluid motion, then turned and helped her from the saddle.
Kristine stared at his hands at her waist as he set her on the ground. His gloved left hand felt different from his right, though she couldn’t quite explain why.
Abruptly, he drew his hands away and took a step backward. “I thought you might like to rest awhile.”
“Yes, I would, thank you.” She sat down on the grass, spreading her skirts around her.
Trevayne felt a sudden tightness in his throat as he looked at her. She wore a forest green riding habit that emphasized her sweet womanly curves and made her eyes glow like emeralds. A wide-brimmed hat with a matching green feather shaded her face and helped hide her shorn locks. She looked beautiful, he mused, beautiful and desirable. If he were a normal man, he would take her in his arms. He would kiss her and caress her, perhaps make love to her there, on the grass, with none but the sun to know.
But he was not a normal man, and she would turn away from him in horror, repulsed by his face and body, by the thought of giving herself to a monster.
“My lord?”
The sound of her voice brought him back to the present. “What is it?”
“Is something wrong?”
Wrong? He almost laughed out loud. She had no idea just how wrong things were. The good Lord willing, she would never know.
Kristine stared up at him, at his eyes, which looked dark and haunted behind the mask. “Why will you not confide in me?”
His eyes narrowed. “Confide in you? About what, pray tell?”
“Why you feel the need to wear a mask.” As soon as she spoke the words, she remembered her promise not to mention it again, but she forged on. “Why that witch woman called you a demon and urged me to leave with her before it was too late.”
He stared at her, his hands clenched at his sides, his breathing suddenly harsh and uneven.
“What did she mean about every tear and every drop of blood her daughter shed?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. For a moment, Kristine thought he might strike her; then he turned away, his shoulders shaking.