Page 37 of The Haunted Duke

He moved closer again, unconcerned about invading her space, and wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck so that his eyes were only an inch away from her skin. Even in the dim light, he could see it—the faint circle of bruising around her delicate throat. It was not from him. He knew about bruises, how long it took for them to form and surface. Someone else had done that to her—and the thought filled him with rage.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, his gaze snapping up to her eyes.

Her green orbs glimmered with tears, but not a single one escaped as he felt her pulse kick wildly against his palm.

“I… It is no concern of yours,” she replied calmly. “I am all right.”

Her pulse betrayed the calmness of her voice. She was lying to him. The realization struck him hard—but why would she trust him? He had been behaving so ghastly from the very moment they had met. He leaned back, giving her space to breathe, and let the moment fade into silence. He would not get any answers by growling at her like some beast.

“Could you not sleep either?” he asked, his tone gentle.

Helena, who was still massaging her throat, shook her head.

“Too much to think about, I suppose,” she murmured. “You?”

“Same,” he muttered. “This week thus far has been utterly…”

“Chaotic?” Helena offered, and he huffed out a laugh as he braced his hands on his hips.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Chaotic. And I am afraid I have taken out my chaos on you. I am sorry, Helena. Not just for grabbing you as I just did, but for how I have been treating you. You are not the one who deserves my wrath.”

Silence answered him for a long moment before Helena sighed and let her hand slip away from her throat.

“Maybe not,” she replied. “But I am guilty of pushing you to discomfort.”

Through the darkness, he saw her give him an apologetic look as he raised a questioning brow.

“I cannot have made it easy on you,” she went on. “Taking off your gloves. Taking your scarf away. My actions were downright scandalous, and I cannot even fathom what came over me.”

She bowed her head, as if she felt guilty, and suddenly Evander wondered if she was drawn to touching him as well.

Could she be… Is it possible?

“What I have done and how my brother spoke to you last night…” she went on. “It all must surely remind you of your ordeal. I cannot imagine what it would be like to battle both the present and the past at the same time.”

Evander’s brows lifted in surprise as his heart skipped a beat. No one had spoken of his troubles so eloquently or precisely, and what was more, she said it without pity in her eyes. Just pure acceptance.

“How can you know about it?”

“I do not, but… Is that what happened a few minutes ago?” she asked, tilting her face up to his with searching eyes. “Were you afraid I was someone out to hurt you?”

Evander swallowed the lump that had suddenly grown in his throat and let out a shuddering breath.

“Yes,” he forced out.

Helena nodded, her eyes glimmering with understanding.

“It can be troubling at times,” he confessed, shifting into a more comfortable stance. “Constantly caught between two timelines. But that does not excuse the way I have treated you. I implore your forgiveness; however, I understand if you cannot give it.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Helena replied, her hand drifting to her throat, then falling still when she caught the way his gaze followed it. “I believe I am the one who should apologize to you.”

Evander cocked his head, confused. Whatever could she have to apologize for when it was he who had pinned her to a wall and demanded answers like a madman?

“Whatever for?”

Even in the darkness, Evander watched a blush bloom on Helena’s cheeks.

“You can speak to me plainly, Helena,” he encouraged. “I know all about secrets. I can keep yours just as I can keep mine.”