I stare forward smugly as the man outside opens the door for Malachi. “Oh, don’t worry, cariño. The people of Corwick are going to love me.”
He harrumphs as he steps out of the car and offers his open palm like the fake-as-fuck gentleman he is now, and I take it.
The flashbulbs start going off before I even set my stiletto on the pavement, and yep.
Corwick will love me. But they’re one day’s worth of press from realizing their Honorable Duke is a wife beater.
WE’VE BEEN MAKING the rounds at this party for about fifteen minutes. It’s so obvious that a lot of people are trying not to stare at my face, but Malachi is so oblivious that he hasn’t noticed anything is wrong yet.
Malachi is leading me around the space with his hand on the small of my back, playing the part of a loving, doting, newlywed husband while he offers everyone he speaks to a bright and charming smile—but he doesn’t even glance at me.
“Darling,” he says, guiding me to stop in front of a middle-aged couple, and I turn to them in a way that it’s impossible for them to miss my bruised face. “Allow me to introduce you to Weston and Elizabeth, the Marquess and Marchioness of Kenderson.” I switch my flute of champagne to my opposite hand to offer the other to Weston and then Elizabeth as Malachi continues. “Lord and Lady Kenderson, my wife, Isla.”
Elizabeth’s pale green eyes widen for a microsecond before her brown lashes flap twice, and she appears to swallow.
Weston clears his throat and cuts a glance at Malachi before looking back at me. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
I lean into Malachi’s side and tilt my head as I offer my best duchess smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Lord Kenderson.” I nod at Elizabeth. “Lady Kenderson.”
Elizabeth clasps a glass of champagne with both hands at her waist, clearly fighting the urge to stare at my cheek. “You are from America, is that correct, Your Grace?”
I nod politely, focusing on her eyes. “Yes, I grew up in Southampton, New York. My family’s estate is next door to the summer home of their Royal Highnesses, and our families are very old friends.”
“Ah.” Elizabeth nods. “And how are you enjoying Corwick so far?”
“I love Corwick,” I gush. Malachi’s hand does a slow, firm rub up and down my back while he sips a scotch and drifts his gaze beyond Elizabeth and Weston’s heads. “Though… I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to see much of the country yet.” I pause for effect. “The wedding was only last weekend, as I’m sure you know, and I only arrived the day before.”
Weston gestures at Malachi with his glass, clearly fighting the urge to stare at me. “You should take her to Kinsdale, Your Grace.” He looks back at me, but his eyes flit all over the place. “It’s on the eastern coast, and you’ll never see another sunrise like it.”
I suck in a tiny, delighted gasp and clutch Malachi’s bicep close to my side. “Oh, cariño, we should go there. I would love to see the sunrise.” I release his arm to stroke my nails over the back of his hair, all lovey-dovey style, and he stiffens against me. “Sería muy romántico,” I add, turning my face toward his for the sole purpose of putting my cheek on full display, just in case the Lord and Lady have missed any part of it.
Malachi downs his scotch, passing off the glass to a waiter nearby, and then clears his throat as he maintains his charming smile. “Of course, sweetheart.”
“If you’ll excuse my candidness, Your Grace,” Elizabeth says.
I turn to smile at her. “Not at all.”
Her mouth parts and closes a couple of times as though she’s attempting to meticulously plan her words. “Did you have an accident?”
In my periphery, I see Malachi’s smile fade to neutral, and he slowly turns his head toward me.
I stare blankly for a second, playing dumb, and utter a breathy, “Ohh,” as I lightly pat my cheek. “I did. Just yesterday. I was… um…” I release Malachi to twirl my wrist in a circle, making a big show of searching for words. “There’s a um… these…” I blink rapidly as I offer a disarming laugh, but Elizabeth and Weston are both cutting their concerned gazes between my injured face and Malachi’s. “Steps,” I blurt out. “We have some stone steps that lead from the… the um… the courtyard. And I slipped. I mean… I tripped… because, you know… they’re much… wider than I’m used to.”
I smile brightly while they both look at me with expressions like they know it’s a load of bullshit—which is exactly what I was hoping for.
There is absolutely no mistaking what caused the marks on my face. And now, there’s also not going to be anyone at this party who doubts the fact that Malachi is the type of man to hit a woman.
Good.
“That sounds…” Elizabeth swallows. “Dreadful. It looks quite painful.”
“Oh it was,” I say with emphasis, “It was—”
“Terrifying,” Malachi cuts in, his voice suddenly warm and soft the way it always was before. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close to him, pressing a long, tender kiss to my forehead. “It was terrifying. I was crossing the room to meet her outside, and she tripped and fell while I was too far away to reach her.”
He gently takes my face in his hand, turning it so he can trace a line of soft kisses across my battered cheekbone. I can’t avoid looking right into his eyes. I know he is faking all of this to save face after being exposed in front of his cohorts, but the way he’s looking at me right now is deceptive.
His thumb strokes the line of my jaw, and along with a massive pang in my chest, I feel my brows knit together and the sting of tears on my eye rims.
“There, there, my sweet Isla,” he murmurs before kissing my bottom lip, which now is on the cusp of trembling.
My sweet Isla.
He hasn’t called me that since before.
Malachi continues to hold me close to him as he turns back to Elizabeth and Weston, acting as though he forgot they were still standing there. “You’ll have to excuse me. It was quite upsetting. I can’t help but think of the fact that I’ve been making promises to this sweet young woman since we were children that I’d always keep her safe, and only a few days into our marriage, I dropped the ball in an awful manner.”
Part of me wants to scoff loudly.
But I don’t.
Fake as it is, he’s holding me against him, cocooned in his arms like he has ever since childhood, and I miss it. He has a scent… not a cologne or some other artificial scent, just something innately Malachi. Something that smells like home. And safety. And love. And it’s all around me right now, and I just want to weep.
Weston gives a hearty chuckle just as Elizabeth offers a quiet, “Aw.”
“No need to apologize for that, Your Grace,” Weston says, saluting Malachi with his scotch glass. “Enjoy the honeymoon phase while it lasts. It’s all downhill from there.”
Elizabeth tsks and swats his forearm. “You’re terrible, Weston.”
Weston chuckles again and reaches his face to kiss her cheek. “I’m teasing, my dear.” He nods at Malachi and me. “If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to escort my very tolerant wife to our table. It was lovely meeting you, Duchess Isla.”