Midnight Masquerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  Dominic's eyebrows rose. "Have you forgotten that not everyone feels as you do? There are some who would welcome the British. Aren't the Felicianas often called 'English' Louisiana because of the many British who have settled here? You are of British extraction—wasn't your grandfather a British officer?"

  Zachary looked startled. "Well, yes, but that was long ago, and Lissa and I are American. We have no loyalty to England!"

  "Which reminds me," Royce interjected with a pointed glance at Dominic. "Were you aware that our friend from London, Julius Latimer, is currently visiting the country? That he is, at present, staying with some friends who live a few miles south of Baron Rouge?"

  The change in Dominic at the mention of Julius Latimer's name was dramatic. No longer did he lean indolently against the tall back of his chair, and wiped from his face was the expression of lazy good humor that so characterized him. Something savage leaped in his gray eyes, and his laughing mouth was held in a forbidding line, the very bones of his face seeming to suddenly have been molded from steel.

  "Julius Latimer is here?" he asked silkily. "And you just happened to remember it? The evening before we are to leave?"

  Watching Royce and Dominic, Zachary was aware for the moment that they had forgotten his presence, and in astonishment he kept his gaze locked on Dominic's dark face, unable to connect this dangerous-looking stranger with the smiling gentleman who had charmed him all evening. Even the long, elegant body seemed to have changed, and Zachary was reminded vividly of a sleek panther preparing to leap upon its prey.

  Into the tense silence, Zachary asked, "Do you know Mr. Latimer?"

  As if recalling his presence, Royce and Dominic both stared at him, and before Zachary could blink, Dominic's face changed again, the handsome features once more showing only warmth and congeniality.

  Dominic replied, "Yes, you could say that I am acquainted with Mr. Latimer. However," he added dryly, "one of the last times I saw him I was looking at him down the barrel of a rather fine dueling pistol!"

  Zachary gasped, his youthful face alight with questions he was too polite to ask, but Dominic took pity on him. "In London some years ago, Mr. Latimer and I had a disagreement over a particular, ah, lady, and we vented our mutual feelings of dislike for each other on the field of honor."

  "Dominic put as pretty a hole as I have ever seen right through Latimer's arm," Royce said with obvious relish. "But unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it. Two nights later Dom was ambushed as he came home from one of the gaming clubs and was beaten very badly. We have always suspected, but could not prove, that Latimer had hired the blackguards who attacked him."

  "Oh!" Zachary breathed in a sigh. Sending a shy look at Royce, he said, "I've wondered why you never seemed to care overmuch for Latimer—he has always been very polite to Lissa and me, especially since we owe him that money. Your manner toward him has puzzled me."

  "You owe that swine money?" Dominic demanded.

  "Regrettably," Zachary admitted, flushing a little. "Mr. Latimer holds a note that my father signed when he was in England. The note is long overdue, but Mr. Latimer has been very kind to us and has not sought an immediate payment, although it would be within his rights to do so." Reluctantly he added, "If he does demand his money, I have no idea how we would ever be able to raise it, since the sum is quite large."

  "I wouldn't worry," Royce said carelessly, "but if he begins to pressure you for it, come to me immediately."

  "Or me," Dominic drawled. "I have a few debts of my own to settle with Mr. Latimer, and it wouldn't bother me a bit to settle yours as well."

  Gratified and embarrassed at the same time, for the debt rankled, Zachary stammered, "Th-th-thank you! But Lissa says we shall come about under our own power."

  "Just keep my offer in mind," Dominic said. Then, seeking to divert the conversation, he added teasingly, "As for that sister of yours—why in the hell won't she even let me see that horse of hers, Folly?"

  Zachary grinned. "You put her back up. She was really in a fury after you left. Etienne and I couldn't go near her all afternoon without having our heads bitten off!"

  "Not her usual attitude?" Dominic asked with patent disbelief.

  "Oh, no!" Zachary replied with a laugh. "Lissa is a great gun... except when she gets her feathers ruffled, and the one thing that will set her off for sure is any mention of selling Folly." His expression becoming serious, he added, "Even if our entire future were not dependent upon what we can earn from the stallion, Lissa would never countenance selling him—he is her horse and she has raised him from a foal and truly loves him."

  "What mawkish sentimentality," Dominic said disgustedly. "I don't know what you plan, but I can tell you that without a great deal more money, you are not going to be able to fully take advantage of the horse your Folly is reputed to be." Giving Zachary a sympathetic look, Dominic continued, "No breeder of any prominence will bring his best mares to a place that is run as Willowglen appears to be. I do not mean to offend you, but unless your entire establishment takes on a more affluent air and your stables are run more professionally, you are not going to have serious breeders flocking to your stud." A grin lurked at the corner of his mouth. "Especially not if they are greeted by a shovel-wielding, tart-tongued apparition, as I was this morning!"

  Dominic's observations stung, but Zachary could not deny the wisdom in what he said. Dispiritedly, he admitted, "I know, but Lissa and I have no choice but to try. Lissa says—"

  "Spare me what Lissa says," Dominic interrupted with a shudder. "What do you think?"

  Never loath to give his own opinions, Zachary plunged into speech and the hours continued to pass enjoyably.

  Unfortunately, neither of the two older men had taken into account that Zachary's drinking abilities did not match their own, and to their dismay, when at last they decided to call an end to the pleasant evening, they discovered that Zachary was foxed. It was apparent that he could not be allowed to ride home in such a condition—if, in fact, he could even remain on his horse.

  Royce and Dominic wrangled amiably over who would escort their youthful inebriate home. Dominic finally said, "There is no need for both of us to go with him, and since my valises are all packed and yours probably aren't, you're the one who should return to Oak Hollow."

  Royce's consumption of the potent brandy had not been light, and somewhat owlishly he regarded Dominic. "You think I should rouse my servants at one o'clock in the morning and ask them to pack for me?"

  Dominic grinned, haphazardly grabbing Zachary's limp form as the young man reeled in the saddle. "No, but I do believe that you have had more to drink than I, and if I didn't know for a fact that you have a remarkably hard head, I would be concerned about your ability to find your way home without mishap!"

  Looking offended, Royce wheeled his spirited chestnut gelding about. "I am," he said, enunciating each word cautiously, "quite, quite unaffected by tonight's drinking. But since you seem determined to escort my cousin home by yourself, I shall not keep you." Giving his impatient horse a swift kick, Royce galloped away.

  Smiling to himself, Dominic urged his own horse forward, keeping an eye on Zachary as the young man ineptly rode off into the night. From the way he swayed in the saddle, Dominic wondered if they would reach Willowglen before Zachary disgraced himself by falling out of the saddle.

  Fortunately, Zachary was a better rider than Dominic gave him credit for, and they arrived at Willowglen without any mishap. The night air had sobered Zachary a little and his step was only a trifle unsteady as Dominic helped him up the stairs of the house.

  Dominic had hoped that he could get Zachary inside and in bed without incident, but they had barely taken two steps across the wide gallery when one of the double doors flew open and Melissa whispered, "Oh, Zack! I am so glad you're home. I've been worried about you—do you realize that it is almost three o'clock?"

  Although he might have recovered slightly, Zachary was not in full command of himself, and in thick
ly slurred speech he began to apologize.

  Melissa hadn't been aware of Dominic's presence until he interrupted Zachary's incoherent words by saying softly, "I believe that he is too foxed to explain things at the moment."

  There was only a partial moon, and in the shadowy darkness Melissa had not realized that someone else was on the gallery with Zachary, but with a funny little leap of her pulse, she recognized Dominic's voice instantly. Her first concern was for her brother, though, and she hissed, "And whose fault is that? Must you attempt to corrupt him to your libertine ways?"

  Melissa might have been unaware of Dominic's presence, but he had been all too aware of hers from the moment the door had opened. It was too dark to see clearly, just outlines and shadowy forms, but he was conscious of her tall, slim body beneath the paleness of her night rail. From the silhouette barely discernible in the waning moonlight, it was obvious that her hair was loose and tumbling about her shoulders and that she was not wearing the hideous spectacles. He could not see her features, but he was startled by an extraordinary, overwhelming desire to do so. Without thinking, he reached for her, his only intention to pull her out into the weak glow of the moonlight, to attempt to satisfy his sudden curiosity. But her hot words infuriated him, and with a low growl he tightened his fingers on her slender arms and jerked her up against his muscled length.

  "Libertine!" he snarled softly. "If it is libertine ways you wish..."

  Perhaps it was the brandy or the lateness of the hour, Dominic couldn't have said, but he was driven by a fierce, unexpected emotion that he had no control over. His mouth caught hers, his strong arms quelling Melissa's very natural struggles to escape. He hadn't meant to kiss her and certainly he hadn't expected to derive any particular pleasure from it, but to his intense astonishment, her lips were incredibly sweet, her young body warm and soft as he held her next to him, and he was suddenly gripped by a wave of baffling, heady passion.

  Melissa had been unprepared when his hands had closed around her upper arms, and the descent of his seeking mouth came as a total surprise... as did the hot rush of excitement that surged through her when his mouth pressed against hers. She made an instinctive attempt to break free, but she could not, and as the seconds passed and Dominic enfolded her even closer to his powerful form, she was dimly aware that she didn't really want to escape... that she wanted him to kiss her, that she had thought of little else but him since this afternoon...

  What he had intended to do, Dominic had no idea; he was conscious only of the soft, quivering lips under his and of the long, slim legs pressed against his own, of small, hard breasts pushing against his chest. Oblivious of the place and time, he groaned with pleasure and his hands traveled to her firm buttocks, pulling her closer to him, forcing her warm softness against his burgeoning manhood.

  Lost in a dream, awakening to passion for the first time in her life, Melissa was unaware of anything but Dominic, of the sheer pleasure his touch gave her. Her arms crept around his neck and her fingers tangled in his dark hair, her mouth shyly opening before the demanding pressure of his. Fire seemed to leap in her veins, a shiver of excitement coursing through her as his hands caressed her hips and she felt the obvious sign of his desire against her belly. This was what her cousins had tried to tell her about, she thought hazily, helplessly arching herself closer to him, wanting this moment to last, wanting his hands to continue to evoke their magic on her body.

  It was Zachary's voice that shattered the spell as he said confusedly, "I say, Dominic, are you kissing m'sister?"

  Like scalded cats, Dominic and Melissa sprang apart, sanity reasserting itself. Ashamed and bewildered, Melissa reacted blindly. Catching Dominic by surprise, she slapped him with all her might, the blow rocking him on his heels.

  "You monster!" she spat. Her voice shaking with anger and embarrassment, her fists pounding on his chest, she raged, "How dare you touch me in that disgusting fashion! How dare you try to corrupt my brother with your disreputable ways."

  One moment she had been sweet, yielding fire in his arms, and then she had changed so swiftly into a spitting wildcat that Dominic was dumbfounded. His brain fogged by brandy and the incomprehensible passion she had aroused, he did not react as quickly as he would have done normally. Her slap had effectively killed his desire, but he was still reeling from the astounding knowledge that a woman he had freely stigmatized as a dowdy, overbearing shrew had quickened his body with a feverish passion that he had never felt for any other woman.

  Absentmindedly, he touched his cheek where her hand had connected, so amazed by the situation that his usual quick wits deserted him. Even the small fists pounding on his chest didn't impinge on his consciousness as he stood silently before her, unable to believe what had happened. I don't even like her, he thought stupidly, so how can I want her?

  Melissa was having no such conflicting thoughts and giving him a violent shove, she said wrathfully, "You, sir, are a blackguard, and if you ever come near me or my brother again, I shall shoot you on sight!"

  Dominic had been standing near the edge of the steps, and as she gave him one last, brisk shove he toppled down the stairs. He bounced and slid down the three steps, landing with a thud on the soft ground. In stupefaction he lay on his back, staring up in her direction.

  But Melissa had vented the worst of her rage. Grabbing the equally dazed Zachary, she whisked him inside, slamming the door behind them.

  Dominic lay for several seconds in the darkness, his cheek smarting and a rueful grin curving his mouth. "Well, I'll be damned!"

  Inside the house, reaction had set in for Melissa and she trembled, her knees feeling weak and her hands shaking. Appalled at what she had done, she almost relented and went back outside to see if Dominic was hurt, but then she pushed the notion aside. He deserved it, she thought mutinously. He had no right to treat me like some... some slut found in an alehouse!

  Zachary stumbled in the darkness, reminding Melissa that she was not alone, and groping her way through the pitch-blackness of the interior, she grabbed his arm.

  "Come along, Zack," she said. "The stairs are this way."

  "Have to say something," Zachary replied with quaint dignity. "Dom is m'friend." He spoke with a great effort, his words still thick and indistinct. "Don't think you should have hit 'im."

  Exasperated, Melissa retorted, "But it was all right for him to get you drunk... and kiss me against my will?"

  Blearily, Zachary peered at her through the darkness. Stiffly he said, "My business if I get drunk—I'm not a child. As for kissing... appeared to me that it wasn't against your will."

  Repressing an unsisterly urge to box his ears, Melissa jerked him toward the stairs which led up to their bedrooms. In a low, fierce voice, she said, "Well, it was! And I don't want you to have anything more to do with Mr. Dominic Slade."

  "Will if I want to." Zachary insisted. "Like 'im! A real gentleman. Could learn a lot from a man like him. Knows horses too."

  Biting back a furious denunciation of Mr. Dominic Slade's gentlemanly traits, Melissa grimly guided Zachary's faltering steps to his bedroom. She left him at the door, deciding sourly that he could manage to undress and put himself to bed.

  In her own bed some minutes later, Melissa lay staring into the blackness, reliving those passion-filled moments in Dominic's arms. How could she have acted in that reprehensible fashion? She who prided herself on her lack of romantic interest in men. On her ability to remain unmoved by the most ardent admirer.

  Stifling a groan of self-disgust, she rolled over onto her stomach in an effort to escape the images that danced across her brain. What had possessed her? And after all of Uncle Josh's warnings about the man, what did she do? The first time he touched her, she fell into his embrace like a ripe plum. How shameful! And how, she wondered uncomfortably, was she going to look her brother in the eye tomorrow morning?

  Fortunately for the relationship between the siblings, Zachary remembered very little of what had happened the previous night. H
e woke up late in the morning with an aching head and the firm conviction that never again would he allow himself to imbibe so freely. How embarrassing. Dom and Royce must think him the greenest cawker of their acquaintance. They'd never invite him to join them again.

  Discovering that the slightest movement made his head feel as if it were splitting apart, Zachary made his way carefully down the stairs. A cup of steaming black coffee, served by an unsympathetic Ada, and a cold biscuit were all that he could face for breakfast.

  Knowing there was work to be done and realizing that he had slept almost the entire morning away, despite the lurching of his stomach and the pounding in his head, Zachary doggedly walked toward the stable. The walk didn't help his condition, but when he saw Melissa under a large oak near the stable, grooming one of the new mares, he was able to send her a weak smile.

  That he was not feeling well was apparent from the grayish cast to his face and the lack of jauntiness to his step, and looking at him, Melissa felt her heart melt. She loved him so much, and in spite of the chagrin and discomfort she was experiencing, she smiled back warmly.

  Sitting himself gently down on the grass a little distance from the mare, he held his head in his hands and said, "Lord, Lissa! I feel terrible. I can barely remember how I got home." Glancing up at her, he asked, "Did you put me to bed?"

  "Don't you remember?" she inquired , hope springing within her that her disgraceful behavior had indeed been forgotten by him.

  Slowly, very slowly, he shook his dark head. "I remember getting on my horse outside the tavern..." He frowned. "I think Dom rode home with me, but I'm not sure."

  Her mouth tightened and she brushed the mare's already shiny chestnut coat with unneeded vigor. "He did escort you home... I met you both on the gallery."

  Nervously Zachary looked over at her. "I didn't disgrace myself, did I? I wouldn't want Dominic or Royce to think that I am not up to their weight."

  An angry sparkle lit her amber-gold eyes as Melissa rounded on him. "Is that all you're concerned about? Whether or not those two rakes think you are capable of keeping up with their licentious activities?"