by Gina Lamm
The first one Marilyn had seen was dancing with a lady dressed as a peacock. The brilliant blue-green of her gown and mask contrasted sharply with his lavender coat. Ew. Jamie didn’t have the heart to tell Marilyn that she was sure Mike would never be caught dead in a coat that color. It wasn’t his style.
When the orchestra finished their song and the partners bowed to each other, Marilyn hustled Jamie across the floor. The gentleman was speaking to an elderly lady in a rose gown and pink mask. Arm in arm, Marilyn and Jamie passed close behind him, and Jamie strained to hear what he was saying.
“…quite a crush, by all accounts,” he was saying in a nasal tone.
The older woman nodded her agreement. “Yes, Lady Wentworth must be quite beside herself. I say, Sir Andrew, have you seen Lord Somerset? I had so hoped he would dance with my eldest, Lydia…”
Marilyn looked at Jamie with a tilt of her head. Jamie shook hers in response. Not him.
They continued past the couple, and Jamie kept searching the crowd for a glimpse of those broad shoulders. The dark hair that curled around his collar. Those eyes that reminded her of Mexican hot chocolate. Rich, sinful, with the right amount of belly-warming spice.
The next man was in the card room: a gentlemen-only space that gave them a place to smoke, drink, and gamble away from the pestering presence of matchmaking women.
Jamie pressed her masked face to the crack of the open door. The men had discarded their own masks in the comfort and privacy of the room, so she was able to quickly see that Mike wasn’t among them. She was sort of hoping he’d be in there. At least there he couldn’t be dancing with some other girl. Jamie, you are a jealous idiot.
With two of Marilyn’s ideas down and the hour growing late, the two decided to split up to find the final gentleman.
“He was speaking with the hostess last I saw him,” Marilyn told Jamie in the quiet of the hallway outside the card room. “Dressed all in black with a deep red mask. He was the height of Lord Dunnington, as I recollect.”
“Thank you, Marilyn. I really appreciate this.”
She smiled at Jamie a little sadly. “I believe that my debt to you goes farther than helping you locate a gentleman in a crowded ballroom. I shall take the right side. You search the left.”
Jamie nodded, gave her a quick hug, and wandered off in search of Mike.
Jamie hadn’t exactly realized how much safety Marilyn’s presence had lent her until she wandered through the ballroom on her own. She should probably have waited outside for Mrs. K. Men that had only leered before felt confident enough to proposition her and let their hands casually brush against her body. When she’d stomped the third man’s toe, some of them started to get the message and gave her a wide berth. The lessons continued until she’d made a complete circle around the perimeter of the large room.
She flopped down on a bench beside a potted palm. No sign of the man in black with a red mask. No conversation about the dashing Lord Dunnington. Where the hell was Mike? He’d said he would be here. Had Mrs. K already found him? Were they looking for her?
But more important, what if she didn’t get the chance to say good-bye?
Her heart locked in the iron grip of desperate sadness, she stood. She couldn’t do this to herself forever. It hurt too goddamn much.
When she made it back around to the balcony doors without sight of him, she slipped outside. The cool night air blessed her cheek, and she tilted her head up to the moon.
“Your protector is inside. You should go to him.”
Jamie froze. That was Mike’s voice, coming from the ground beneath the balcony.
“Micah, my darling, it was only a foolish misunderstanding. A woman in my position must have security, you know. If you were to renew our acquaintance, then I would have no need for Mr. Waites. Please, do say that you want me as I do you, for we both know that it is true.”
Jamie nearly blew her cover when the silence extended for a long moment, fearing that Mike was kissing Collette, but then his voice stopped Jamie from running toward them.
“Collette, there was no misunderstanding. I have no wish to renew our acquaintance. I have not forgotten your betrayal. I merely sought you out to inform you that your actions very nearly gravely wounded a young woman in my care. It will not be tolerated a second time. Now, I must take my leave.”
“In your care? You cannot mean that the trollop lives with you?”
Jamie crept closer to the voices, keeping herself hidden behind another potted palm. Thankfully, the Wentworths had spared no expense on their patio plantings.
Mike lost some of his cool. “She is in my care, and I will not tolerate another attempt to harm her.”
Collette lost some of the sugary sweetness in her voice. “Have you forgotten so quickly the last time you flouted Society’s dictums? You were ostracized, treated as a pariah. I held you close, ignoring the others who said I’d meet the same fate as your former mistress. Does my sacrifice and love count for nothing? You let this baseborn trollop abide in your home when I was never allowed to darken the door?”
“Your comfort, madam, was short-lived and selfishly done. I regret that I allowed myself the dubious pleasure of your company then. Louisa…” He trailed off, and a lump came into Jamie’s throat at the subtle, ragged note in his voice. “Louisa was special to me, and in my grief at her death, I formed an assignation with you. It was a mistake, one that I have paid dearly for and has since been rectified. My relationship with Miss Marten is of no concern to you.”
“Can you not see that I was desperate?” Collette’s voice was thin with anger. “I had not a farthing to call my own, nothing that you did not provide. What you see as my betrayal was merely a business matter. You must know that letting such a creature live with you will cause a scandal the likes of which you’d never survive. In any case, she cannot please you the way I do.” When she composed herself again and groomed her voice into that bedroom purr, Jamie snapped. As she strode down the balcony steps she heard Collette say, “Micah, that baseborn whore will never…”
Jamie snatched a handful of raven-dark hair and yanked Collette away from Mike. The black-haired hussy had been pressing herself up against him like a Hustler girl on a pole. Collette flailed her hands, shrieking bloody murder as Jamie slung her to the ground. Jamie bent down to yell into Collette’s blue-masked face.
“So, I’m a whore? Really. You don’t know anything about me!”
“Let me go, you Bedlamite!” Collette tried to slap her, but Jamie grabbed an arm and twisted it down into the dirt first.
“Not until we get some things straight,” Jamie snarled, and plopped down on the woman’s chest. Jamie pinned her arms down with her knees. Collette cried out, thrashing her legs, but Jamie had her good. Jamie grabbed Collette’s chin and forced her to look into her eyes.
“You listen to me, and you listen good.” Mike’s hand closed gently on her shoulder, but Jamie shrugged it off without looking back at him. “Mike doesn’t want anything to do with you. Not last week, not now, not a month from now. You sold him out, and he doesn’t owe you a damn thing.”
Collette pursed her lips to spit at Jamie. She dodged it in time, not acknowledging Mike as he moved to stand beside the two women, blocking the view from the balcony.
“Oh, that was so not smart. Mike is a good man, a great man. He’s brilliant and gorgeous and way too good for either of us, to be honest. He’s trying to court someone who won’t give him a flaming case of syph.” Jamie pressed Collette harder into the dirt as the woman squirmed. “If you know what’s good for you, then you’ll back the hell off and let him have his life, okay? That’s what I’m doing, and I love the guy! So get the hell out.”
Collette glared at Jamie but nodded. Probably because she couldn’t breathe with Jamie sitting on her.
“Good.”
Jamie stood quickly, moving away from the courtesan before she could grab for Jamie. Collette stood, trying ineffectively to wipe the damp streaks of dirt
from the back of her skirt. Glaring at Jamie, she spoke instead to Mike, whose masked face was devoid of emotion.
“If this is the type of woman you prefer, then by all means, Micah, tup your whore. But you’ll regret it in the end.” With a longing look at Mike and a glare at Jamie, she snarled, “If you do not leave his house immediately, I shall see that you pay for this. Society’s bad opinion will mean naught in comparison to what I will see done to you. I do not make idle threats. You have been warned.” She limped away toward the front of the dark lawn.
Anger boiled inside Jamie as her chest heaved. She watched Collette go, wishing she’d slugged the bitch instead of sitting on top of her and threatening. It wasn’t even close to what she deserved. Too bad electric chairs hadn’t been invented yet. Man, this time is turning me into a bloodthirsty wench.
A quiet clearing of Mike’s throat reminded Jamie that she wasn’t alone. Her anger dissipated instantly, hot shame taking its place. So much for not embarrassing Mike. So much for making a beautiful memory to last the rest of her life. Now when she looked back on this night, she’d probably remember the giant lecture that Mike was sure to give her.
Time to face the music. She turned, her breath catching in her throat. Mike had removed his dark red mask and was staring at her with the strangest expression on his face. It wasn’t the anger she’d been expecting. Instead, his brows were slightly lifted, his mouth was soft, and his eyes were curiously tender.
Jamie froze. Mike pulled her to the darkened corner beside the balcony, dropping his mask to the ground. Her heart pounded harder with every inch she drew closer, beating like a hummingbird’s wings when he stood close enough to touch.
He reached out and removed her mask, lowering it gently from her face. She felt oddly naked when it was gone. There was nothing hiding her from Mike. She’d screamed in his ex-mistress’s face that she loved him. She hadn’t really planned to reveal that tidbit of info at all, let alone at max volume while pummeling a professional paramour. What would he think of her now? Was he angry, despite the gentle way his palm cupped her cheek? Why was he leaning closer to her?
“Jamie,” he whispered softly, then kissed her.
Seventeen
Jamie barely registered the soft thump as her mask hit the earth. Mike pulled her close against him, and she melted, completely boneless. Her arms wound around him, delighting in the feel of his lean muscles beneath his tailored coat.
His tongue traced the line of her lips, teasing her. She parted her lips for him. His tongue entered her mouth, and she moaned. She let him possess her, his mouth, his hands, whatever he wanted. She didn’t want to deny him anything.
While he explored her mouth, his hands ran down her back, cupping her ass. He brought her hips into sharp contact with his own, and she nearly cried out at the feeling of him against her lower belly. She cursed the thick layers of clothing that separated them. Heat grew low in her loins, a burning tingle that drove her to grind her hips against his.
He tore his lips from hers and gently guided her under the shadowed edge of the balcony. Before she could completely register their surroundings, he started kissing his way down the bare column of her throat. His teeth grazed the pulse that beat there, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. God, his mouth.
He nibbled at her collarbone, and she threw her head back to give him better access. Her hips were moving now, silently begging for the hard heat that pressed against her.
When his lips traveled downward, to the soft mounds of flesh that rose above her dress’s neckline, she thought she’d die. Mike’s mouth was on her breasts. He tasted her skin, running his tongue down her cleavage, as low as the dress would allow. His hand moved upward, cupping her breast, thumbing the hard peak through the silky silver material.
“Mike,” she whispered hoarsely, hitching her leg up against his hip. She tangled her hand in his hair, trying to keep him close to her. “Oh God, Mike…”
Her breath exited her lungs in a squeak when his hand delved into her bodice, lifting her left breast free of the material. Under the soft light of the moon, her nipple looked dark, its usual rosy color muted. Mike pulled back, his gaze captivated by the sight of his hand on her flesh.
“So beautiful,” he said, his voice almost a growl. Jamie shivered with anticipation. He flicked her nipple gently with a finger, the peaked point hardening further at his touch. It was so tight now, it was almost painful.
“I want to taste you,” he said, bending his head low. His breath blew against the point of her erect nipple as he spoke. “I want to put my mouth on you, Jamie. May I?”
Holy shit. In answer, she pulled his head down farther, eliminating the last inch that separated his lips from her breast.
She couldn’t stop the soft cry that escaped her when his mouth captured the aching tip of her breast. He sucked, licked, tasted, nipped, and almost drove her to the brink of insanity with his talented tongue. Her knees went liquid, and only the desperate clinging of her hands on his shoulders kept her upright.
He pressed a soft kiss to the hardened bud and lifted his head. He reached for the right side, fingers running along the neckline of her gown, gently dipping past the fabric to free her other breast, when loud voices suddenly sounded from the balcony. A burst of laughter came, and footsteps thumped just above their heads.
With a deep sigh that sounded suspiciously like regret, he helped her fix the front of her dress. He grabbed both their masks from the damp ground and then took her hand.
“Where are we going?” she whispered as he started walking toward the front of the house.
“Home,” he said over his shoulder, causing a little flip in her heart. “We must speak privately.”
After locating Mrs. K and sending the other carriage back home, Mike helped them into the shiny black conveyance with the Dunnington crest on the side. Jamie looked over her shoulder to the side of the manor house, and she could have sworn that she saw a woman’s pale face with dark curls surrounding it, watching from the veranda. Before Jamie could be certain of who it was, the face disappeared behind a column. She ignored the shiver that went down her spine and enjoyed Mike’s oddly comforting proximity. He sat next to her, cradling her hand, staring into her eyes. Neither of them said a word. With Mrs. K right there, Jamie didn’t know what to say. Anything she could think of immediately got lost in the delicious feeling of his thumb rubbing against her knuckles.
The bumpy ride was over with too quickly. He helped her down from the carriage and escorted her through the door that Thornton held open for them.
“That will be all, Thornton. You may retire for the evening.” Mike dismissed the butler curtly. The old man’s face registered zero surprise at the order.
“Yes, my lord.” After a quick bow, the elderly gentleman disappeared down the hall, followed by a beaming Mrs. K. Before Jamie could make a comment about the high-handed way he’d gotten rid of Thornton, Mike shuffled her into the front sitting room, closing the door behind them.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise, but Mike only used that to his advantage as well. He kissed her wildly, both hands cupping her face, his tongue exploring her mouth.
She took advantage of their privacy and let her hands run underneath his jacket, her fingers tingling at the warmth of his body. She let them trail lower, settling on his hips. He pushed them into her, and she moaned softly at the thought of his erection again. Too many damn clothes…
As if he read her mind, he stopped kissing her long enough to turn her around. Cursing the long row of buttons at her back, he dealt with them rather quickly. She tried not to imagine how much practice he’d had.
“Jamie,” he said roughly as he revealed the stays and petticoats beneath her dress. “You are so lovely.”
He kissed the nape of her neck, his breath gently blowing the small curls at her hairline. She leaned back into him, feeling suddenly beautiful and desirable. He pushed the shoulders of her gown down, and she pulled her arms through the short sleeve
s, letting the bodice fall. His hands wandered upward, reaching in front to lift her breasts free of her stays. Their only cover now was her thin shift.
Her breath hissed out slowly as he palmed her flesh, then softly rolled the nipples between his strong fingers. She pressed her ass back into him, wanting to be closer to him. She could never be close enough to Mike.
“Your body feels so exquisite,” he said, his breath blowing hot against the skin of her shoulder. “You have bewitched me.”
She laughed a little at that, twisting her hips slightly. “Well, thanks, but I’ve never been great at that nose wiggle. I’d prefer to think that we’re really compatible.”
With a sigh, he let his hands fall away from her breasts. He stepped backward, and a chill went through her, one that was only partway due to the loss of his body heat.
“What’s wrong?” She turned, trying to fight the urge to cross her arms in front of her breasts.
His brows were drawn in consternation but that look in his eyes warmed her blood again. Whatever he was thinking now, he still wanted her.
“I am sorry, Miss Marten. I should not have taken such liberties with your person.” He stepped closer, lifting her bodice to help her put it back on. She grabbed his hand, stopping him.
“Wait just a minute, sir. That was mutual, consensual, and downright delicious. No apologies for that. Well, except maybe for stopping it.”
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. His voice was rough when he spoke again.
“You do not know what you say. It would mean ruination.”
She shook her head, one corner of her mouth crooking up. “Mike, I’m not from here. I can’t be ‘ruined.’”
His eyes turned dark as he grabbed both her arms. “You are here now, Jamie. And whatever force has brought you here has not seen fit to take you back, has it?”
She looked down, unwilling to let him see the guilt on her face. She hadn’t told him about Mrs. Knightsbridge’s plan or her powerful relative. He didn’t know that she was still there because of him.