Ah, but he’d always had a weakness for strays.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Tomas said at last, sounding stung, but he withdrew with a slight bow. “Where should we bring her?”
“My bedchamber,” Rafe added barely audibly.
“Naturally. Come on,” Tomas muttered to Adriano.
Rafe wet his dry lips in anticipation. Would she fight or flee…or yield? A good game, a very good game.
His friends had only taken a few steps away when Adriano abruptly whirled around.
“What about Chloe?” he burst out with his usual air of torment.
Rafe continued watching the girl. “What about her?”
“She cares for you, Rafe!”
For a long moment, he didn’t move, then he merely looked at Adriano, keenly feeling the huge gulf that existed now between him and even his closest friends.
True, he had often felt isolated in their midst, perhaps because of his rank or perhaps because so many of them had no vision for their lives beyond the pleasure of the moment, but at least he had never lacked for company. Now, no matter what comfortable posts he gave his loyal friends in service to Ascencion, he knew they could never contemplate the burden, the weight of responsibility, that rested solely on him. He was only beginning to grasp the full enormity of it himself. He was certainly in no mood to admit to Adriano or anyone else that his new role had him scared as hell.
“I’m waiting,” he said coolly instead.
Adriano turned away in disgust. “I don’t even know you anymore.”
As they walked away, Rafe felt more alone in that moment than he ever had in his life. He didn’t move from his spot at the rail, but his gaze fell and with a familiar, hollow feeling in his chest, he wondered if this was the prize he had been waiting for.
Dani had just slipped out of the ladies’ lounge, where she had snagged an emerald necklace off a woman who had imbibed so much wine she had passed out on a divan. Slipping the necklace into her pocket, she made her way toward the exit, her heart pounding wildly, when two of the prince’s friends stepped into her path.
She drew in her breath, the way blocked before her.
She didn’t know the brown-haired one, who was smiling uneasily at her, but the other was the raven-haired demigod Adriano di Tadzio.
He looked her over in arrogant contempt. “Is this the one?” he asked his friend.
“Good evening, miss,” said the brown-haired fellow with a short, gallant bow, though his smile was a trifle sheepish.
“Come with us,” di Tadzio growled, grasping her about the wrist.
Horror flooded her. My God—I’m caught!
Before she could react, they each took one of her elbows and began propelling her toward the edge of the ballroom. “What is this about?” she cried frantically—guiltily.
“You’ll see.” When she tried to yank her arm away, Adriano merely tightened his grip.
She struggled, her heart pounding, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end in sheer terror. People began staring as she was all but dragged away.
“Please don’t make a scene, miss,” said the brown-haired man apologetically. “That would be embarrassing for all of us.”
She fought to compose herself. “Am I under arrest?” she asked with forced calm.
They looked at each other and laughed.
“Am I?” she cried.
“Let’s just say there’s someone who’d like to make your acquaintance,” Adriano growled. “Up the stairs. Walk!”
“Easy, di Tadzio! She’s just a girl,” said the other in annoyance.
Sensing a possible ally, Dani stopped on the steps and gave the brown-haired young man a beseeching look. “Please let me go. I won’t make any trouble—”
Adriano pulled her hurt arm. “Come on, you little slut.”
She gasped. “How dare you! You’re hurting me!”
“Di Tadzio, there’s no need to be rough!”
Adriano ignored the other man and leered at her. “Rough? Wait till he gets his hands on you. Then you’ll see what rough is. He’s a beast with his women, you know.”
“Who?” Dani cried, aghast.
“Leave her alone, di Tadzio!” said the other in annoyance. “Ignore him, miss. He’s temperamental and he’s just trying to scare you. Nobody’s going to harm you.”
Adriano’s gaze flicked derisively over her. “This, over Chloe Sinclair.”
Dani said nothing, going cold with fear. She made a mental note of her surroundings and the path they took through the sumptuous corridors. Whatever their plans for her, she was determined to escape. The two men brought her to the third floor, where Adriano opened a door, staring at her with a smirk as the brown-haired man gestured her into the room.
“Please, wait! Tell me what’s going on!” She struggled, wedging herself in the way as they tried to pull the door closed. “I haven’t done anything wrong! Don’t leave me here!”
Adriano laughed apathetically, but the brown-haired man shook his head and pressed her back into the room. “Don’t worry, miss. You’ll be compensated.”
“What do you mean?”
But with a mild look of regret, he closed the door in her face. Crestfallen, Dani heard the lock click from the outside. She listened at the door and heard them arguing idly as they walked away. Her heart sank. She turned around slowly, leaned against the door, and surveyed her cell. She was alone.
Compared to the brightly lit ballroom, the chamber was dim in the flickering glow of one candle. She could make out a couch, a small table, and an armchair. A sitting room of some kind, she thought. A deep, heavy quiet hung in the room. Only the orchestra’s music seeped up, muffled, through the floor.
Looking around, she saw a doorway and instantly wondered if she could escape through there. She ran for it, dodging the furniture in the dark, but as she flung into the doorway, she froze, her eyes widening.
Soft candlelight revealed an enormous bed with high, carved posts and a towering Baroque headboard inlaid with mirrors. Rose-colored satin sheets were turned back invitingly, and an opened bottle of wine with two glasses waited on the night table.
“Hello.”
She nearly screamed. Leaping back a step, her gaze whipped around the large, dim bedchamber.
The commanding figure of a man sat in a wing chair in the shadowy far corner. As she watched, wide-eyed, he rose and sauntered slowly toward her, but even before she saw his face in the candlelight, she knew that combustible presence, that deep, caressing voice.
She stood mesmerized as Prince Rafael emerged from the gloom, princely and golden and huge, a mighty, fallen angel sauntering toward her from the shadows.
His stare was fixed on her. The candlelight contoured his angular face with shadow and flame, and reached tawny depths in his tarnished-gold hair. Chips of gold glowed in his marble-green eyes, and though his sculpted face was austere, his mouth was voluptuous. She gazed at him, transfixed, as he slowly approached, hands in pockets. Moving casually and with deceptive laziness, he crossed the room to her, advancing relentlessly until she found herself flattened back against the doorframe.
He towered over her, mere inches away, his beauty and sheer size humbling her, his aura of physical strength overwhelming her.
She dropped her head, her breathing shallow and quick. Flustered, confused, she could not bear to look up at him. Her whole body blushed, going hot, cold, hot again under his unnerving, silent perusal.
Had he found out she was the Masked Rider? If Gianni had been bullied into revealing her identity, surely the child would have warned her.
What should she do? Confess? Throw herself on his mercy? Grovel—to him? Never! she vowed, finding courage enough at last to tilt her head back and hold his gaze, though inwardly she quaked. Until she knew for certain she was caught, she would blasted well keep her mouth shut.
“I’m so pleased you decided to come, Daniela. I was having a dismal birthday.”
Prince Rafael slid his right han
d out of his pocket and traced his fingertip over her blue satin half-mask with a tiny caress down the slope of her nose. His fingertip trailed enticingly over her lips, her chin, and down along the line of her throat. “Do you know,” he murmured, “what I want for my birthday?”
“W-wasn’t a country enough for you?” she whispered, trembling at his touch.
He smiled faintly with a satyric glint in his eye. She looked away, flustered and blushing, her heart beating rapidly in her throat. Was this his manner of punishing her for her crimes? It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, what he intended, what he knew, but the spell of his potency made her head spin.
“I have a confession to make,” he whispered. “I’m a little drunk, I’m afraid, and can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“Good Lord!” Paling, she tried to back away from him, but could only flatten herself back against the doorframe. His big, lean body blocked her escape.
He gave her an intimate half-smile. “That said, may I kiss you? You see, I am really…dying to kiss you, Daniela.”
“S-sir! Your Highness!”
“A royal command, my lady. I am your sovereign lord, am I not?” he asked softly.
She lowered her head, heart pounding, her cheeks hot with shame. “I—I am not that kind of girl.”
“You’d make an exception for me, wouldn’t you, sweet?”
“I will not.” She jerked her chin upward again and glared at him, angry and frightened.
He smiled enigmatically, the calculating intelligence in his eyes churning, layer upon layer of complexity. He lifted her trembling hand from her side and raised it to his lips with flawless self-assurance. He paused, smiling slightly as he held her gaze.
“What I want for my birthday—what I really need,” he mused, “is a lovely new mistress. She must have red hair and stunning eyes of aquamarine, and she must know how to make gunpowder. Know anyone who might fit the bill?”
“You are shocking!” she breathed.
“My dear,” he whispered, “I have not yet begun to shock you.” With that, he dipped his tawny head and kissed her hand—not her knuckles, but the juncture of her thumb—and she gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue flick lightly into the V of her fist. She pulled her hand to her chest and stared up at him in openmouthed bewilderment.
He smiled serenely, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. “Would you like a drink before we begin? The wine has had a nice chance to breathe and I daresay you look like you could use it.” He turned away, strolling to the small night table where the wine waited.
Dani was frozen like a garden stature.
Staring at his broad back that tapered down to his lean waist, she felt faint.
He was toying with her. Surely. He knew she was the Masked Rider and he was just cruelly toying with her, cat and mouse. Wasn’t he?
She heard the wine splash softly into one glass, then the other.
“Has the cat got your tongue, my dear? Well, no matter. I didn’t bring you here for conversation, did I?” He cast her a roguish wink and held out the glass of wine to her. “Come along, take it.”
If he had been Lucifer offering her a glass of human blood, she couldn’t have cringed from him more.
Abruptly she found her voice. “What is the meaning of this?”
He chuckled softly and sat on the bed, loosening his cravat. “My, you are young, aren’t you? How old are you, Lady Daniela?”
“One and twenty.”
“You look sixteen. Eighteen at the most.”
Heart pounding, she glanced at the turned-back sheets, the chilled wine, then at him—the confirmed libertine. She blinked in disbelief. Could it be true? Was she in the clear? She had seen him up there on that narrow gallery, surveying the crowd. Was that what he had been doing up there—selecting his prey?
She nearly laughed aloud in disbelief. All those beautiful women down there and he had picked her? He must be drunk. But Lord, he was gorgeous enough to tempt her.
As though he had read her mind, he gave her a lazy, knowing half-smile, trailing his wineglass teasingly across his lips, then he took a long drink.
Rather fascinated as he swallowed, she watched the lift and fall of his Adam’s apple where he had undone his cravat. His throat was golden, as was the inch or so of his chest visible in the V at the top of his pristine white shirt.
He lowered his glass from his lips and licked them slowly as his gaze moved seductively over her. She leaned back weakly against the doorframe, disturbed by a strange, quivering sensation in her belly. The room was much too warm, so hot it was hard to think. All she could seem to focus on was the simple realization that she was not, thank God, under arrest.
Yet.
He crooked a finger at her, calling softly to her in a velvety murmur. “I’m waiting, ginger cat. Come here and let me stroke you.”
His invitation jolted her out of his spell with a small gasp of shock. “Good Lord, I’m getting out of here,” she muttered. Spinning away, she marched into the other room on legs that quaked beneath her.
“Only if you can walk through locked doors, I’m afraid,” he called after her in wicked mirth. “Go on, shout as loud as you please. No one is going to help you.”
She banged on the door. “Somebody let me out of here! Help! Let me out of here!” she yelled, jiggling the doorknob for all she was worth. She suddenly remembered her hairpin, which she had used to free Gianni. She pulled it out of her coif, but try as she might, her hands were shaking too badly to pick the lock.
In the other room, she could hear him laughing. “What’s wrong, Daniela?” he called. “Was it that peasant lad that you wanted? My dear girl, why settle for him when you can have me for your protector? Really, have you no feeling for your rank? One takes affront.”
She stopped and turned from the locked door, glaring over her shoulder. Now he would insult Mateo as well as her? That did it.
Leaving her hairpin in the keyhole, she marched back to give him a piece of her mind. “What a high opinion you have of yourself, Your Highness! As it so happens, Mateo is my friend, and I neither want nor need a protector. What a disgusting idea! It so happens I am quite capable of protecting myself, and believe me,” she shouted because she couldn’t hold back, “you’re not such a prize! Furthermore, you cannot simply go around seducing people whenever it strikes your fancy!”
“Of course I can,” he said idly, swirling his wine in the glass.
“But why did you have to pick me?” she cried.
He smiled broadly and nodded. “Yes, it is a great honor, is it not?”
“One I would prefer you bestowed on someone else!”
He began unbuttoning his waistcoat, laughing at her as he shook his head. “Ah, my little cabbage, how many virgins do you really think are down there?”
“Cabbage!”
“It’s only an expression.”
“I have a name!”
“I’m sure you do. Come drink your wine. You’ll be glad you did. It’s been a while since I’ve had a virgin,” he mused aloud. “What a treat. I was afraid I was going to have to buy one.”
“Buy one? Oh, you are despicable!”
He gave her an apprehensive frown, yet there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her wonder if this was all a joke to him. “You’re not going make this difficult, are you?” he asked. “I should hate to have to restrain you. Ah, well.” He opened the drawer of the night table. “There should be some velvet cording in here somewhere….”
Dani suddenly narrowed her eyes as he dug through the drawer and laid a gleaming silver key on the table beside the bed, next to the sweating wine bottle. Aha, he wasn’t very bright after all, to have left it sitting out where she could snatch it. Cabbage, indeed!
Rafael shut the drawer. “Well, it’s not in here. I must have used it on somebody else.”
“Alas,” she retorted, smugly noting that he was too drunk to remember to put the key back where she could not see it. Now all she had to do was g
et to it. Her path would take her dangerously near him, but having already had difficulty with her hairpin, the key was her best hope.
Holding her elbows behind her back, she swayed nonchalantly toward the bed table. In silence, he watched her edging closer. He looked not at all fooled as to her true intent, but he merely patted his muscled thigh.
“Why don’t you come over here and sit on my lap?” he cajoled her softly.
Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Why?”
His voice was wicked, soft. “I want to tell you a bedtime story.”
“It isn’t bedtime, Prince Rafael,” she said with a slight, unwilling smile.
“Delightful,” he murmured, watching her. “I believe that is the first smile you’ve given me.” The look in his eyes was changing, the color turning dusky green.
When he called to her again, his voice was velvet, nigh impossible to resist. “Come to me, Daniela. We’ll take it very slowly. I promise. It will be wondrous.”
She glanced at him from under her lashes, nearly tempted. “I don’t know….”
“One kiss,” he whispered, and as she held his stare, the playful look faded from his eyes entirely. Leaning forward where he sat on the edge of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, staring at her. “You’re very beautiful, actually.”
“And you are a silver-tongued liar. It was wicked of you to bring me up here.” Heart racing, she trailed her fingertips over the slightly dusty surface of the nighttable as she came dangerously near him.
“I know. But I wanted to be alone with you.” He watched her with an expression of quiet intensity. “You don’t believe me. Why not?”
With another step, the night table was by her hip, the key close enough to grab. “Well, there is Ms. Sinclair,” she pointed out.
He dropped his head with a vexed groan. “There are always Ms. Sinclairs.”
“Do you love her?”
“That wouldn’t be very smart,” he said flatly.
“You don’t want me, I’m sure. I’m nothing special. Let me leave. Please? You could have anyone else down there….”
He lifted his head and gazed at her for a long moment with a distant, shadowed flickering in his eyes. “You move beautifully, Daniela,” he murmured. “You are as graceful as the wind on the sea, and as shy as a dove, aren’t you?”
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