As Lord Clifford spoke, a slow smile spread over Arthur’s face. At last, some excitement. An impromptu masquerade. Eagerly, he pushed through the crowd to retrieve a mask from one of the servants. Maybe it wasn’t going to be such a dull evening in the Bath district after all.
***
Having secured his mask to his face, Arthur slid into the crowd without looking at anyone. He would wait on the side lines until everyone who was so inclined had secured a mask and then slip back into the mix to make his choice.
He felt a frisson of excitement shudder down his spine. Masquerade balls were one of his favourite forms of entertainment. He loved the anonymity the masks gave everyone. Masquerade balls had been raised to a fine art in London. They were often themed, and could turn rather risqué. Only two weeks ago he had attended one at a grand Regent Street townhouse where everyone had been in ancient Roman attire. Togas and vestal virgins had abounded. It had been a great romp.
He watched the crowd covertly. There was an expectant air in the room. Those that did not wish to partake were hastily leaving the main room, with disapproval on their faces. Most were older ladies and gentlemen who thought the sport immoral. They did not like that the young people could freely mingle and dance without proper introductions. Why, their precious sons and daughters could be dancing with anyone.
That is part of the excitement, thought Arthur, grinning to himself, a chance to be someone not quite yourself. The endless possibilities…
He slid into the crowd, weaving amongst them, his eyes as keen as a hawk. Suddenly, he spied a tall lady with gold ringlets, dressed in a glaring magenta gown. Her face was covered in a lacy white mask, but he could clearly discern the features of Miss Diana Harrington. He smiled slowly. Diana was the bluestocking daughter of an old associate of his, Mr. Edwin Harrington, who frequented London’s gambling dens. Harrington happened to owe him quite a bit of coin from the card table. Perhaps he could ascertain where exactly her father was to shake him a bit. As well as having a bit of fun on the way. Diana was a free thinker, believing in the emancipation of women in all areas of life.
She was also rather gorgeous.
He struck out towards her determinedly. If only he had known that Diana was in attendance this evening, it might not have been so dull in other ways. A private walk in the gardens, beneath the moonlight before whisking her into a secluded spot…?
But just as he was almost upon the lady, his vision was arrested by another who had strayed into his path. He stopped short with a jolt, gazing upon her.
She was of average height with a lithe figure. Long arms, and a swan-like neck. A tumble of glossy, caramel coloured curls framed her face and her skin was flawless with a slightly rosy tint to it. She was dressed in a lilac silk gown which emphasised her creamy bust, which was almost spilling from her neckline. At that moment, she turned warm, brown eyes the exact shade of melted chocolate towards him, regarding him almost quizzically. She was wearing a black mask which completely obscured most of her face.
His heart stopped beating for just a fraction of a second as he beheld her.
She is so luscious, he thought. Those eyes. An invitation to sin.
Abruptly all thoughts of Miss Diana Harrington drifted out of his mind entirely.
Her chin tilted upright as she opened her fan, waving it in front of her face. With a slightly disdainful glance at him, she turned away.
Haughty too. A challenge?
He simply could not resist.
He stepped forward quickly, blocking her path.
“Madam,” he said, bowing low and ostentatiously. “You are like an angel fallen from heaven itself.” A pause as his eyes swept over her almost insolently. “A most divine creature indeed. Can I persuade you to dance…just for a little while?”
Her chocolate brown eyes widened with surprise. He saw the hesitation within her. This young lady was obviously not used to being addressed in such a blatantly sensual manner. Would she slap his face and march in the opposite direction? He braced himself for the sting.
But it never came. Instead, she took a deep breath as if for courage and nodded slowly.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes, I shall dance with you.”
He felt a stab of triumph. Before she could change her mind, he held out his arm to her and swept her onto the dancefloor, just as the orchestra started playing the last song of the evening.
There were couples everywhere, safely anonymous in their masks. Fittingly, it was a waltz. The most intimate of dances, and the most perfect excuse to pull a lady just that little bit closer.
Arthur didn’t hesitate for a moment. With another shiver of excitement, he drew the young lady close and spun her around the floor.
Chapter 4
Sarah could feel herself tremble ever so slightly in the man’s arms. As soon as he had touched her, drawing her into the waltz, it was as if a thousand tiny ants were crawling over her skin. She had never felt such a thing before and hardly knew what to make of it. Was it pleasant, or unpleasant? Only time would tell.
Covertly she gazed up at him. Most of his face was obscured by the white masquerade mask. The only exposed parts were his lips, chin and eyes. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated all of them in turn.
A strong jawline, with a whisper of dark hair beneath it. Firm lips. Dark brown eyes, which held a hint of amusement as he gazed down at her. He was tall and broad-shouldered with raven black hair. She certainly wasn’t acquainted with him, and thought that she had never seen him in company before. Was this a stranger in their midst?
“What are you contemplating, Madam?” He bent low, whispering the words into her ear. A half-smile was playing on his lips. She felt a shiver go through her.
She took a deep breath. “I was contemplating who you might be, Sir. I do not recognise you. Are you a stranger to the district?”
His smile widened. “Indeed I am, Madam. I have no home but the bowels of a rickety ship.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “You are a sailor then?”
He did not answer her for a moment. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down again to whisper into her ear. She felt his breath graze her cheek.
“I am whoever you wish me to be,” he breathed, gripping her waist tighter. “Perhaps I am a sailor this evening. Yes, that is exactly who I am.” He smiled. “Lieutenant Jonah Desmond at your disposal, Madam. Newly arrived in Bath after completing a voyage to the West Indies on a galleon ship.”
Sarah gaped at him in astonishment. He had admitted that he was lying to her. He was no sailor at all, and it was all a tall story. She didn’t know whether to slap his face for his impudence and march away, or lean closer to him to hear more.
Sarah, she scolded herself. It isn’t proper. This man is lying to you. Mama and Papa would be appalled.
She knew what the right course of action was. But somehow, she just could not bring herself to do it. She was intrigued by this man in a way that she had never felt before. It wasn’t just his powerful physical aura, which she felt drawn to like a moth to a flame. It was also the delicious pull of pretence. It was exciting in a way that she had never experienced before.
Everything was so very proper in her world and always had been. She knew just about everyone in good society in her district, and if she met anyone outside of it, introductions were made immediately. It was all carefully monitored. Rigid, dull, and so very boring.
She took a deep breath, thinking it through. She had just been complaining to Mary that she was bored to tears by it all. And then this handsome, dashing stranger had brazenly stood in her path and swept her onto the dancefloor. It was as if God himself had decided to smile kindly upon her and grant her wish for just a little excitement to break the monotony of it all.
She had a choice to make. Walk away or play along. What would it be?
She smiled slowly. “A galleon, sir? How perfectly lovely. And pray, what is the name of your good ship?”
His eyes met hers for a moment. It was as
if they were silently exchanging information. As if he was seeking her consent to go further.
She didn’t flinch. She met his eyes steadily as she felt another wave of exhilaration sweep through her.
“The Princess Elizabeth,” he stated slowly, his lips curling into a smile. “She is a venerable old girl indeed. Battle scarred from all her run ins with pirates in the high seas. It is a wonder she is not wrecked and lying at the bottom of the ocean, Madam.”
Sarah laughed outright. “Pirates, is it? What an exciting life you do lead, Lieutenant.” Her voice turned droll as she emphasised the word.
He gripped her tighter. And suddenly, she felt his hand trail slowly down her back. Lower and lower until it was right on her derriere. To her utter shock, she felt him squeeze her as if he was sampling a piece of fruit.
She gasped. It was shocking. Entirely indecent. But it also felt so very nice that she felt rooted to the spot. She could barely breathe.
He was watching her carefully, gauging her reaction. When she didn’t pull away, he did it again, in a leisurely fashion. She gasped, swaying towards him.
“I do lead an exciting life, Madam,” he whispered. “Terribly exciting. But I am weary of talking of my exploits. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
His hand lingered on her derriere, before travelling upwards again and resting on the small of her back. Slowly, he stroked her, in a circular, rhythmic motion. She felt herself falling towards him in her eagerness for it to continue. It was as if he was bewitching her in some way.
“Me?” she breathed, momentarily flummoxed. “Oh, I do not lead such an exciting life…”
“Do you not?” he whispered, into her ear. To her shock, he suddenly caught her earlobe between his teeth, sucking on it.
She gasped again, pulling back slightly. The pupils of his eyes had dilated so that his eyes appeared almost entirely black. She felt a trickle of warm wetness seep out of her. Something so unusual that for one alarmed moment she thought that her courses had arrived early.
“Remember,” he whispered, “you can be anyone that you want to be.”
She took a deep breath. He was inviting her to lie about herself, just the same as he had to her. And suddenly, the delicious freedom of this game of pure pretence bubbled in her chest, almost overwhelming her.
“I have had excitement in my life, Sir,” she said slowly, thinking quickly. “Alas, I am a widow whose husband perished in a tragic fashion a year ago this very day.” She giggled slightly, amazed at her own audacity.
He smiled slowly. “An ace of spades, are you, Madam? And how did your poor dearly departed husband shuffle off this mortal coil?”
She sighed heavily. “We were seated at the breakfast table when he quite suddenly started choking on a long rind of bacon. The servants did their best to retrieve the offending strip out of his throat, but I am afraid it was all too late.” She paused, gazing up at him in a mock sorrowful fashion. “I declare I have not been able to abide even the smell of it since. It makes me positively nauseous.”
He burst out laughing, gripping her tighter. “Can you not, Madam? I will make very sure that if we ever have the pleasure of breaking our fast together that the offensive flesh shall never make an appearance.”
“I would be most appreciative of it, sir,” sniffed Sarah, enjoying herself enormously.
His mouth was suddenly at her ear. “I would like to break my fast with you,” he whispered. “But there are other things I would like to do with you first, though. Would you like to hear them?”
Sarah stilled. Her heart was beating so rapidly in her chest that she felt like there was a small frantic bird trapped within it. What was he going to say to her?
Stop it, Sarah, she admonished herself. You have gone quite far enough with this man; much further than decency allows. You are playing with fire and you shall surely be burnt.
“I would.” The words had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Very well then.” He leant closer. “I would like to kiss you until you are begging me for more. Would you like that, too?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, almost sagging against him.
His breath was hot against her ear. “Good. Very good. And then…I would like to slip my hand beneath your bodice and feel your bosom…feel your nipples harden instantly at my touch…”
She gasped with shock, feeling her nipples tingling at his words. It was so deliciously shocking that she couldn’t speak at all. She imagined him slipping his hand beneath her bodice now, slowly stroking her flesh.
“Do you wish me to stop?” His voice was like a caress.
She gazed at him. Her chest was heaving now.
“I am a lady,” she whispered. “This is not…decent.”
“Yes, you are a lady,” he whispered back. “A most beautiful lady who is also so very alluring. I will stop if you wish me to. But do you truly want me to?”
She trembled against him. She knew nothing about this man. He was an utter stranger to her who had spun a web of pretence about himself. And he was treating her like no gentleman ever should. She should be appalled and outraged that he had taken such liberties.
But she wasn’t feeling outraged. Instead she was feeling so desperately aroused she could barely stand it. She had never felt even a glimmer of such desire for a man before. It was scandalous and naughtily delightful all at the same time. Her head was spinning with confusion.
“I…do not want you to stop,” she whispered, almost waiting for a bolt from heaven to come and strike her down for her wanton wickedness.
He looked strangely triumphant. “Oh, you are simply divine. An utter peach.”
But before he could continue, she became suddenly aware of figures moving swiftly towards her. She gasped in horror. It was her parents, looking grim. Behind them were Mary and her brother James. They both had a slightly bewildered air about them, as if they could not quite work out what was going on.
“Sarah,” hissed her mother, grabbing her arm, “it is not seemly to be dancing with this…stranger.”
“Come along, daughter,” rapped her father, his face thunderous. “It is well beyond time for us to leave this assembly.”
She was dragged away through the crowd before she could utter a word. What had they all seen? She had thought that she and the strange dashing gentleman were well hidden within the crowd of dancers, but perhaps she had been mistaken.
Blushing furiously, she gazed back at him. He was still standing in the middle of the crowd, peering after her. His dark eyes were inscrutable.
Well that is that, she thought, her heart sinking. The odd game is over. And I shall probably never see him again in my life.
***
She was still trembling as the carriage took off with a sharp crack of the whip. She gazed disconsolately out of the window as the entrance to the house started to recede.
Suddenly, a figure emerged, gazing after the carriage. Her heart lurched violently. It was him; she would be able to pick his physique out of a thousand now. The same raven black hair and strong chin. He was still wearing his white masquerade mask.
Her heart lurched once more. He had followed her out into the night. He wanted to see her depart. What could it mean? Did he admire her, even though it had all been just a playful game?
The carriage rounded the corner. She couldn’t see him any longer.
She sat back in the carriage. She had never felt such an array of conflicting feelings in her life.
Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 3