The Ugly Duchess
“The savage, sunburned man on the dais could not, simply could not, be her James.
The way the man stood in front of all those lords, shoulders wider than anyone else’s, the way his eyes calmly moved over the room, the color of his skin, his tattoo, and the way his hair didn’t even touch the nape of his neck . . .
James didn’t look like that, and he didn’t act like that.
But, of course, she was wrong. It was actually the scar on James’s neck that convinced her. She gasped at the sight, her heart gave one huge thump, and the room turned hazy.
She climbed back from a pool of darkness to find herself clasped in James’s arms as he walked across the chamber. Something deep inside her instantly recollected the windy, outdoors smell of him, even though his voice was nothing like what she remembered.
As her head cleared, she became aware of a sardonic note of amusement in her husband’s voice as he conversed with the peers on the dais.
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