by Amelia Grey
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About the Author
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Chapter 1
Brina Feld should have known a lady wasn’t safe from rakes, rogues, and scoundrels at a masked ball in Paris. It was a scoundrel who currently had her in his sights as she raced down one of the dimly lit corridors in the chateau with hopes of getting away from him.
A proper gentleman never forgot who he was, no matter if his face was hidden. Even in Paris. Which only confirmed that the one chasing her was no gentleman at all, and she should have never agreed to attend this grand masquerade.
Intent on finding a hiding place until it was time to meet her aunt, Brina started searching for a room. From somewhere behind her, she heard the drunken man call out to her once more, his wine-soaked voice echoing against the marble walls.
Fearful of being cornered again by him, she quickly opened the first door she came to and slammed herself inside. Feeling beneath the knob, she found the key and engaged the lock. Smugly, she turned toward the opulent room, only to stop cold.
There in the center of the classical French sitting room with its bee and acorn motifs embroidered on the draperies and cushions, a man sat in a throne-like chair in front of the fireplace. He seemed to be as startled as she. Neither of them spoke. He was clothed in a white shirt and black trousers. No coat, waistcoat, or even shoes were in sight.
With an uptick in her already racing heart, she glanced about. It appeared that aside from the exquisite figures in the sweeping murals on the walls, they were alone. Concern jolted through her. Had she escaped one menace only to find another?
But concern turned to surprise when he snapped in perfect English, “Don’t just stand there, come untie me.”
Untie him?
Brina peered more intently. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he was tall and wide through the chest and shoulders, yet his waist gave no hint of overindulgent suppers. Unlike some of the flamboyantly painted masks she’d seen throughout the evening, he wore a simple black satin cover over his eyes and bridge of his nose. More importantly, he really was tied to the chair. His wrists were secured to the arms of the chair with a long scarf.
Although she was somewhat unnerved by the power she sensed within him, she took a tentative step toward him.
“My heavens, you’re bound. Why?”
“This isn’t the time for questions,” he stated, his commanding voice clipped as his hands turned into white-knuckled fists. “Hurry.”
He struggled and strained against what held him, like a panther pulling against bindings.
In the glow of lamp and firelight she saw his muscles bulge against the fine linen of his shirt. Her heart beat a little faster. Her trepidation waned as curiosity grew.
She had always been far too enquiring and told repeatedly when younger that curiosity was not an admirable trait in a lady. Usually, she could tamp that down, but she’d never seen a man in such a state.
“Are you a thief and wanting to get away?” she asked, ignoring his command.
“A thief?” He sounded more than a little outraged and stomped his feet in frustration.
“There’s the matter of your hands being bound, and you are wearing a mask.”
“You’re wearing one too,” he answered tightly. “Everyone at the party has one.”
Her fingers came to the silken demi mask her aunt had given her. That was true. The only reason she’d agreed to wear the outrageously bright pink gown and come to the masquerade ball was because identities were hidden. Which was why she wouldn’t ask his name and certainly didn’t want him to know hers.
“True, but not everyone is trussed up like a goose bound for the Christmas dinner table.” She then considered him for a moment. “If you are not a thief or common footpad, then certainly someone caught you trying to do something you shouldn’t have been doing and now has gone for the magistrate.”
He glared at her. “I assure you I am no thief or criminal of any kind. Now come untie me. I don’t have time for this,” he said, urgency lacing every word.
Of course, the sensible thing for her to do was leave the room. She was clever enough to know it would stir an unrecoverable scandal if she were caught with a half-dressed man, even in forward-thinking Paris. But then, from behind her, the doorknob and key beneath it rattled, jarring her.
Tension coiled tightly inside her. The oaf was still looking for her.
She glanced about and saw no other escape. Clearly, fleeing back to a man who was accosting her wasn’t an option. Instead, she moved closer to the stranger, deciding she was better off with this man who easily commanded a room, even tied up, than the brandy-faced scoundrel on the other side of the door.
Moments later she heard him softly call her name again, farther down the corridor and away from the door. Satisfied that threat was behind her, she stepped around a settee and noticed a black coat, red waistcoat, and white neckcloth strewn across the floor. There they were!
Her gaze swept to the man’s face. His wide inflexible mouth was set in a grimace. There was a hardness to his jawline and chin. Even with the mask, she could see his eyes were a dark, deep shade of blue. Thick hair, almost as black and shiny as his disguise, fell across his forehead, down past his ears, and brushed the back of his neck.
She was unbelievably aware of him, how strongly masculine he looked and attractive he was. If one were inclined to fall for the massively arrogant type who could probably make a lady blush to the highest degree. Which, of course, she wasn’t.
Though she had to admit this man stood out and piqued her interest with his unusual situation.
“Hurry,” her stranger barked again.
Her stranger?
What was she thinking? Brina shook the thought away as ridiculous.
“Maybe you’re not a thief, but a swindler or someone equally dishonorable. You certainly didn’t tie yourself to that chair, sir.”
He made a growling noise that left her no doubt he was nail-spitting mad at being in such a desperate position.
“You obviously did something, and you must be dangerous. You look strong and…” She felt a fluttering in her chest at the thought of just how strong he did look with his shirt parted at his throat and his trousers molding to his hips and legs in a most fitting manner. “Anyway, as if it would take several men to get the best of you.”
“Yes, but unfortunately only one devious woman,” he muttered past clenched teeth.
“A woman?” Brina’s cheeks warmed and her heart started pounding again. She could barely get her breath. Still, she stepped closer and nudged the exceedingly well-tailored waistcoat with the toe of her dainty slipper. “Well, she must have had good reason.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” he grumbled and renewed his struggle against the fastenings that held his wrists. “I told you I don’t have time for this.”
She considered him, tapping her finger to her lips, as if he’d said nothing at all. “Are you going after the woman who tied you
?”
He sucked in an exasperated gulp of breath. “Certainly not. If you must know before you will give me assistance, I am going after my foolish cousin. He is about to ruin his life, and I must stop him. Now, can we get on with this?”
Brina studied him more carefully, searching what she could see of his countenance in hopes of determining the truthfulness of his words. She had to admit, she was fascinated by his predicament. After drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly. He wanted very badly to be freed, and it was within her power to do that for him.
Oddly, she didn’t feel threatened, and it wasn’t because he was tied. Despite his gruffness, she felt drawn to him in a way she didn’t understand. And frankly, that he’d captured her full attention at all was unusual. She’d been a widow almost five years and, in that time, hadn’t given any gentleman a second glance. In truth, she’d simply never expected to be attracted to a man again. And by no means, one who was bound to a chair, brash as the day was long, and barking orders at her like a general directing his soldiers.
But there was something that pulled her in to his situation and made her want to be a part of it, if only for a short time, and even though he looked much like the drawings she’d seen of plundering pirates. She couldn’t conceive of the possibility that she’d ever have the opportunity to be so close to a rake again. Certainly not to aid one.
How could she walk away without giving this further thought? Too, if she freed him, she could lock herself inside until it was time to meet her aunt.
“Before I decide whether to help you, tell me what dreadful thing your cousin is going to do?”
“He’s running off to get married,” he said with a hasty scoff and a stomp of his bare foot. “Would you please untie me now so I can save him?”
Curiosity struck again. “What do you have against marriage, sir?”
He blew out a deep sigh of impatience before flatly stating, “In general, nothing. When it comes to my impressionable and impulsive cousin, everything. His father should never have allowed him to come to Paris unattended. Or worse, expected me to look after him once he arrived.”
It was Brina’s turn to scoff at the man, and she quickly did so. “I happen to believe in love, sir.”
A breath hissed through his teeth. “Love has nothing to do with this. It’s his name, prestige, and money the woman is after. Specifically, his family’s money and name.”
Brina noticed the discarded clothing again and something occurred to her. A gasp caught in her throat. He must, indeed, be a rake and of the highest order. And he expected her to help him.
“You said you were tied up by a woman. Were you seducing your cousin’s fiancée?” she exclaimed in an unladylike volume.
“What?” he asked on another sizzling breath of exasperation. “I wasn’t seducing anyone. Hell’s teeth. The woman in question was seducing me. And no, it was not his fiancée. Her older, wiser sister. The minx was stalling me so I wouldn’t find out about the elopement until it was too late to stop the young buck. There may still be time if you will do the right thing and untie me so I can go after them. I have been a guest in the chateau many times and know of a hidden passage that will lead me out to the grounds quickly.”
Hidden passages that led outside?
That aroused her interest even more. Brina wavered. By his own admission of how he became tied, she knew he wasn’t a respectable man. There wasn’t a reason in the world she should feel any sense of responsibility to help him, but she believed the story about his cousin. And that was what made the difference. More than most, she could understand someone wanting to protect their loved ones and keep them from making a mistake that would alter their life forever. Brina had almost made one that certainly would have changed hers.
Her gaze drifted down to the open neck of his shirt. The cadence of her breathing changed again. What she didn’t want to think further about was the manner in which he became tied or how he looked in his state of half-dress. He was stirring desires in her that she couldn’t possibly entertain. Such a thing wasn’t for ladies to dwell on.
Not even a widow.
However, she felt a little amusement knowing it was a woman who’d gotten the best of him—no matter the reasons or means.
Nerve-racking silence stretched between them while she contemplated what to do.
“Enough of this!” he demanded fiercely. “What must I promise you in order to be released from this chair?”
A shiver stole over her, daring and courage surging together inside her. For a moment she had the unimaginable thought of kneeling before him and kissing the base of his throat. Brina had never done a reckless thing in her life, and she had the feeling he knew that. Knew of her sudden and unexpected desire to have his strong-looking arms wrapped around her, his hard body pressed against hers.
Another wild, forbidden idea suddenly entered her mind. It thrilled her down to her toes. Something that shouldn’t have occurred to her. What if she told him she would untie him if he would agree to take her with him on his journey through the hidden passages to find his cousin?
But as quickly as the exciting thought surfaced, she shook it away. She couldn’t entertain anything so drastic and unlike her. It would be madness. But the fleeting contemplation had sent an exhilarating rush of anticipation shooting through her that wouldn’t soon pass.
“All right,” she answered on a breathy sigh, knowing she was going out on a very shaky limb but willing to do it. “No promises are necessary. I’m going to have faith you are telling the truth and that I am doing the right thing in freeing you.”
She hurried behind him and knelt at the back of the chair, feeling the tension in his muscles and sensing his excitement to finally be liberated as she worked the tight knots in the long, narrow scarf.
Her trusting him might be the biggest mistake of his cousin’s life and quite possibly hers too, should anyone in London ever find out she was in the room with this man. Or, heaven forbid, that she had willingly freed a man who had broken the law.
He brushed off the last of the bindings and rose, standing six-feet tall or more. He was as formidable as she had suspected, with ruggedly masculine good looks. His wide shoulders narrowed to a hard-muscled waist. Just the kind of man she normally ignored. Now, she watched him move quickly and jerk back into his garments and shoes. But when she thought he would hurry away without a backward glance, he stopped, turned, and stared at her.
Brina felt a shivering awareness pass between them. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in years, and it left her feeling as if something startling, luscious, and magical had happened. Desire wasn’t an appropriate emotion for this situation or for her.
Ever.
Without warning, he took the steps that separated them and caught her up into his powerful embrace. She felt the firmness of his hard chest and warmth of his taut, solid body. His hands pressed into the middle of her back, bringing her closer to him. She knew he was going to kiss her.
Sudden fear and anticipation made her heart seem as if it were trembling rather than beating. She couldn’t move but watched the sensuous curve of his lips as they descended toward hers. His hold was tight, possessive, and thrilling as he bent his head to hers.
He gave her a hard, quick kiss that felt as if he were settling his claim on her. That shook her to the core. She heard a catch in his breath and knew the potency of the brief contact had surprised him too.
“Thank you,” he whispered huskily, looking deeply into her eyes as if to remember something he saw in their depths.
For a second or two his arms tightened even more, and she was certain he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he let go and rushed from the room.
A flush heated her cheeks, a fluttering filled her chest, and her stomach quivered like a delicate leaf in strong wind. His scandalous behavior was shocking and exhilarating at the same time.
Brina had just been kissed by a masked rake. And she’d never felt anything so wonderful in her life.
The road to perdition was easy compared to the road to redemption. Zane Howard Veldon Dormer Browning, eighth Earl of Blacknight, should know. He’d traveled on both in his near thirty years of life. His name alone had been enough to make him want to find his own way and not be subject to long-held traditions and stiff manners he cared naught about following. Why work so hard to become the standard bearer for gentlemen when just being a man came so naturally?
And was infinitely more enjoyable.
The first thing Zane had done when he arrived in London late yesterday was to pay his respects to the Dowager Countess and offer sympathies. Her sorrow and grief were still evident and enormous. Out of regard for her suffering, he hadn’t stayed long.
The second thing he’d done was find a distraction. That had come in the form of spending all night at the Brass Bull Gaming House. The sun had come up hours ago, yet he and three other men still assembled around a table in the private card room. Raucous laughter and lively scores played on the pianoforte from the night had settled down. He could now hear sounds of horses, carriage wheels, and occasional chatter from people passing by filtering in from the open windows below. The streets outside were busy with Londoners going about their usual daily lives—as was Zane.
But he couldn’t forget that things had changed for him now. For the better or worse was yet to be known.
Two months ago, one of Zane’s uncles, who was the Earl of Blacknight at the time, his only son, and a cousin who had been in line for the title, were killed when the bridge over Blacknight Canyon gave way and their coach tumbled to the bottom of the dry ravine. In the blink of an eye, the succession of two heirs to the earldom were gone, and Zane had become Earl of Blacknight.
After the horrific news finally reached him in Vienna, he and his errant cousin Robert had left immediately for London. Their journey had been long, beset by an enormous amount of late winter snow and followed by torrential rains that flooded roads, streams, and villages.