by Gaelen Foley
The big, sun-tanned hands had begun slowly stroking her bare arms, up and down, seductively. She swallowed hard and succumbed to a violent shudder. Goodness. His touch bespoke total self-assurance, and if there was any doubt left in her mind who had captured her, it fled when she caught the faint whiff of some exotic incense that clung to his uniform. Sandalwood, maybe.
Just arrived from India…
Dear Lord, she was out here alone with “the stud of the Season.”
Major Derek Knight.
“So, are you going to kiss me or what?” he whispered, and Lily simply melted at the question. Her heated blood and her heart answered in reckless unison—how could she not?
This was madness.
She was not the woman he had come out to meet, but he had her full attention at the moment, and, God help her, her attraction to him was painfully acute. Oh, yes. In that moment, she made the conscious decision to let him do it if he wished. How wicked, how wonderful, what a perfect dream to be kissed by a handsome stranger in the moonlight, a bold hero from faraway lands—just this once, taking this one chance, before she had to do her duty by her family and marry someone she could never love.
There was no danger of him finding out who she really was—she wore a mask! she reasoned above the drumbeat of her clamorous pulse. Edward need never learn about this, nor anyone else in all of gossiping London. What else were masked balls made for but these kinds of naughty little adventures? It harmed no one. She could enjoy this secret, indulge the rampant curiosity this man had aroused in her on sight, and keep this memory locked away to get her through the cold, long years ahead.
Just this once…
With a gentle pressure on her waist, Major Knight began turning her around. She yielded willingly to his guiding touch, her pulse a staccato. When she faced him, she looked up and, oh, yes, to be sure, it was he—Derek Knight, conjured from a dream, looking truly like the embodiment of every woman’s fantasies.
Now that they were so close, she could appreciate how impossibly handsome the man really was. Her gaze traveled over his chiseled face with its marvelous, strong bone structure. His eyebrows were thick and black, gracefully feathered, his sculpted lips fashioned for temptation. Most magical of all, however, were those magnetic eyes, piercing, pale blue-silver in the night and full of mystery. She looked into their glittering depths and saw the moment that Derek Knight realized his mistake.
He furrowed his brow, moving back slightly, then one eyebrow shot up as he stared at her in amazed recognition. “You!” he breathed.
Lily smiled mischievously at him, and his fine lips parted in surprise, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. He let out a soft laugh. “What a fortunate mistake!”
“Not who you were expecting, Major?” she taunted, lifting her chin.
“Better. Much better.” His potent glance skimmed downward over her, but he seemed hesitant about coming close again. Somehow she found his sudden caution endearing.
“I saw you on the stairs,” he informed her.
“I know. You were staring.”
He frowned at her in mock reproach. “You ran from me.”
Lily held his gaze. “Well, I’m not running now.”
“Who are you?” Derek whispered, entirely bewitched. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She shrugged her delicate shoulders and leaned back a bit against the railing behind her, swinging the folded fan that dangled from a strap around her wrist. “Nobody in particular.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he murmured in frank admiration, mesmerized by her languid motion and suddenly longing to kiss that elegant wrist. “Have you got a name?”
She favored him with a coy smile. “Of course I do.”
“I see. But you’re not going to tell me what it is.”
She shook her head, her eyes dancing behind her pale-colored half-mask. “It wouldn’t really matter, would it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your fame precedes you.”
“Hm,” he said sardonically, realizing that could mean any number of things. Still, Derek found himself charmed by her refusal to tell him her name. Any sort of denial from a female was indeed a novelty. Back in the ballroom, her beauty had first arrested his attention, but now that they were face-to-face, he quite liked her sly confidence and her air of cool grace.
He folded his arms across his chest and studied her in roguish fascination. “You seem to have the advantage of me.”
“Yes. Major Derek Knight, newly arrived from India.”
“I’ll be going back there soon,” he replied with a nod, offering the information as a pretty bald hint that if she wanted to know him, she’d better act fast and cough up her name.
“Why?” she inquired.
“Fortune and glory, love. Same as any man, Miss—?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Stubborn,” he murmured, smiling. “Very well, then. Keep your lovely self a secret if you must.” If he had to kiss it out of her, he’d learn her name eventually, but for the moment, he could enjoy playing along with her flirtatious game. Indeed, this whole situation appealed to the naughtier side of his nature, arriving for an illicit tryst only to find the garden folly already occupied.
Must be a popular spot.
He angled a discreet glance casually over his shoulder, but he saw no sign yet of a jealous suitor on the way, nor of his own companion for the night. He was suddenly in no hurry for Lady Amherst to arrive.
It wouldn’t be long before she appeared, but in the meantime, Derek decided he certainly would not mind tasting this lovely vixen if he could get away with it—a most intriguing savory, a dainty hors d’oeuvre before the main dish.
He assumed she was here for the same reason he was, an illicit garden tryst, and he concluded without much thought on the matter that she must be either a widow like Lady Amherst or some ancient peer’s neglected young wife.
Either way, she was fair game.
What a beauty. He let his stare travel over her in rich pleasure. The moonlight kissed her pale blond tresses with a white-gold glow, her upswept coiffure the height of elegance, with a few alluring tendrils kissing the curve of her neck. Above the floating cloud of her sequined skirts, her bodice drew his appreciative gaze to her slender waist and sweet round breasts, a lush, enticing body full of sensual promise. If he wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to fancy him, too, the inviting arch of her body sending him cues that hinted at her willingness to let him come closer—despite, of course, her refusal to tell him her name.
Well, he could hardly blame her for that, he thought wryly. Mistaking her for another woman had not exactly helped him make a good impression. He felt a bit foolish for his mistake, but she did not appear offended.
“No costume for the masked ball, Major?”
“I would never misrepresent myself as something I’m not. What you see is what you get.”
“Ah, an honest man? Fancy that.”
“Brutally honest, according to my sister. Why do you sound so skeptical?” he inquired. “Haven’t you met many honest men, Miss—?” he prompted, fishing for her name again.
“Nonesuch,” she supplied with a lift of her chin. “Mary Nonesuch. At your service.”
“Mary Nonesuch?” he echoed dryly, shaking his head at her cheeky jest. “Very well, then, Miss Nonesuch. As you stand there and lie to me with such a pretty smile, I suppose you’re going to tell me that all men are liars?”
“Not all, perhaps, but certainly some.”
“At least you’re a fair-minded nonesuch.”
“Major,” she said softly.
Some breathy note in her voice brought all his senses to attention. “Yes, lovely?”
“Are you going to kiss me or not?” she whispered. “I don’t have all day.”
He stared at her, riveted.
Impertinent minx, throwing his own impertinent words back to him! Words intended for Lady Amherst.
Well, maybe he was a bit of
a liar, because if he was perfectly honest, he would have to admit that this beautiful stranger’s cautious smile turned him inside out.
No, he did not know her name. But if she thought that little mask concealed the hunger in her eyes, she was wrong. Her mask hid nothing, not from him. Nor did her practiced air of cool bravado. He saw her uncertainty, felt her longing to be touched; he sensed her trembling need and realized how much courage it had taken for her to utter her seemingly nonchalant request.
She wanted a kiss? he mused. Then she must have one.
He would give her a kiss she would never forget.
His pulse throbbing, Derek closed the space between them with one step, cupped her face between his hands, and captured her mouth hungrily with his own.
As his warm, silken lips caressed hers, Lily wrapped her arms around Derek Knight in a mix of helpless craving and wild relief. His kiss blurred the lines between reality and fantasy, but if this was naught but a decadent dream, then why did she feel wide awake for the first time in years?
Freedom sang through her veins. Joy thrummed along every tingling nerve ending. All the while, she could not believe she was doing this.
His hand curved tenderly around her nape, his gentle touch so skilled and reassuring it could have melted the defenses of the most reluctant maiden. His lips beguiled hers slowly, moving back and forth with such determined coaxing that she tilted her head back farther and parted her lips for the velvet stroke of his tongue. Her pulse was a reckless rhythm as she clung to him. She could feel his mighty heart pounding against her chest.
His desire was all-encompassing as he ravished her mouth, transporting her to a state of dazed delight. When his palm inched down her side and his fingers clasped her hip, she caressed the back of his hand, unsure herself if she was trying to stop him or urging him on.
She wanted this so badly, even though she knew that she should not. As his tongue glided against hers in warm, seductive expertise, heady intoxication bloomed inside her, clamorous want and throbbing confusion. The fiery need that rose up from the depths of her being took her completely off guard.
For so long she had managed to ignore the lonely ache to be touched, caressed, held. Just like this. So dangerous. He seemed to know exactly what her body yearned for. Her senses exalted in the masculine solidity of his broad chest pressed against her womanly softness. Her tongue reveled in his virile taste. She molded her hands over his massive shoulders adorned with the gold epaulets, and a moan escaped her as he lifted her up without warning and set her on the railing behind her, his hips crushing the tulle of her skirts as he pressed closer into the angle of her parting thighs.
He left her gasping his name as his wayward mouth descended along the side of her neck. She stroked his chest and flat stomach while his kisses traveled down the neckline of her dress. Oh, God. This was growing hotter and quickly going further than she had anticipated, but she could not compel herself to stop.
She raked her fingers through his silky black hair, mussing the neat queue that bound it. He didn’t seem to mind, focused as he was on exploring her cleavage. This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
Entranced by his passion, she let him play. Dizzy with pleasure, she wrapped one hand around the nearby post and braced herself, arching against him slightly. He groaned down into the valley between her breasts. “Oh, God, don’t do that,” he said swiftly.
“Don’t you like it?”
“I like it—far too much.” He straightened up again and cupped her face between his hands, gently drinking once more from her lips.
Lily was on fire. The tender way he touched her now made her want to tear him apart.
“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested in a husky murmur. “There’s a boat over there. I could take you out on the lake.”
She looked into his flaming eyes and longed with all her heart to go with him. What did he mean by “take you,” exactly? she wondered. In any case, she didn’t dare. “I-I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“’Course it is.” He gave her a smoldering half-smile, still panting a little. “I’ll row, you navigate.”
That smile was so hard to resist.
“Major, you don’t row a gondola,” she informed him, struggling for clarity, and fighting the urge to grab the delicious pagan and kiss him again. “You push it. With a pole.”
“Right. Forgot.”
Still breathless, Lily snapped her fan open and began waving it in a valiant effort to cool her blood. “I believe it also involves some singing—in Italian.”
“Singing? Now that falls beyond the call of duty.”
“You won’t sing for me?”
“You won’t even tell me your name. Which is very cruel of you. Besides, I can’t sing and I don’t know a word of Italian. Only a little Latin—and tempus fugit, darling,” he said urgently. Time flies. “If you’re game for this, we’ve got to hurry.”
“Oh, I forgot. You have a prior engagement,” she teased in mild reproach, brushing off a twinge of jealousy.
“I can cancel, believe me. Let’s go before she shows up. We’ll sail off to the other side of the lake. And take a moonlight swim. Naked,” he specified with a smoldering look.
She laughed at the playful emphasis he gave the word, though she got the feeling that he was quite serious.
“You are a thoroughgoing rogue, aren’t you? Major!” she suddenly exclaimed as he lifted her off the railing and swept her into his arms. “Put me down,” she scolded half-heartedly.
“No. I am taking you with me,” he announced, carrying her across the garden folly. “Somebody’s got to help you escape, after all.”
“Escape what?”
“You tell me. All I know is I’m here to rescue you.”
“What makes you think I need rescuing?”
He snorted. Was it so obvious? “You can’t have been enjoying yourself at the ball very much if you were out here,” he pointed out.
“Well, you’ve got me there. For heaven’s sake, put me down!” she ordered, laughing as he carried her across the garden folly. “I cannot possibly go for a moonlight swim with you. However intriguing your proposition might sound, I can’t. I have to go back.”
He stopped and looked at her, still holding her in his arms. “To whom?”
Lily just sighed.
“Husband? Lover?”
“Derek? Darling? Where are you?” A female voice softly calling his name interrupted just then from somewhere in the garden, fair warning that they were about to have company.
Good God, Lily thought, realizing belatedly the danger to her reputation.
“Damn,” said the major under his breath.
“Put me down!” Lily whispered.
He obeyed, but held onto her wrist. “Wait.”
“Let me go before we’re seen! I have to get back to the ballroom!”
“At least tell me your name,” he insisted softly. “I want to see you again.”
“No.” Lily blanched behind her mask. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just—can’t.”
He stared at her. Lily gazed at him imploringly.
Awareness hummed between them, but when he reached out and took the edge of her satin mask gently between his fingers, intent on stripping it away, Lily stopped him in distress, laying a hand over his. “No.”
She needed her mask more than he knew.
“So, you’re just going to walk away and I never get to see you again? You won’t tell me your name. If you won’t let me see your face without that silly mask, then in future days, I could walk right past you and not even know who you are.”
“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.”
His eyes asked why, but he shook his head and shrugged off what he apparently interpreted as a rejection of him. “Very well. Suit yourself.”
“Derek, darling, are you there?” His companion was not yet in sight, but they both could hear her coming closer through the garden.
>
Lily sent a guilty glance in the direction of the woman’s voice. Good God, if the lady discovered her out here alone with the “stud of the Season” it could lead to universal gossip, ruin, and the wreck of all her marriage plans. Failure. How would she ever explain it to Mother?
When she turned back to him in panic, he was staring at her, as though memorizing every detail of what he could see of her face, her hair. She shook her head to discourage him and mouthed a regretful, “No!”
Then she yanked her hand out of his light hold and fled.
Derek furrowed his brow, watching his lovely mystery girl race away.
Everything in him wanted to chase, but he knew it would only upset her, and besides, still stung and rather put out by her rejection, he did not grovel and plead for any female.
She turned a boxwood corner by the maze, and even after she had disappeared, he remained mystified. What an eccentric young lady!
No doubt she was trouble. Her secrecy made him suspect she was some sort of schemer. She certainly seemed to have something to hide.
So, very well, then, she wanted no part of him. No matter, Derek thought with a snort. He had plenty of others to choose from.
He wasn’t sure why he had bothered to use that final moment with her to memorize the details of her that were visible despite the mask: the exact wheat-blond shade of her hair, the elegant line of her neck, the shape of her honeysweet lips, and the winsome curve of her smile. Now he had it, and God, she was beautiful. He did not think he could ever forget the likes of her.
Indeed, he might well know her the next time they passed each other in Society—though, no doubt, she would try to hide from him.
For his part, irked by her rejection, he wasn’t sure how he’d react—if he would pretend to have no idea who she was or reveal his knowledge secretly and torment her with it for a bit of roguish sport.
The latter option was a lot more his style.
“Derek! Oh, darling!”
He let out a low, rather bored sigh as Lady Amherst’s voice drew closer. He pondered escaping before she found him, but then, suddenly, a tiny sparkle on the floor of the garden folly caught his eye.