Masque of Betrayal

by Andrea Kane

Dane’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower, raking her hungrily, seeming to see clear through to the internal turmoil raging inside her. “I never thought of you as a coward, love.” His voice was husky … knowing … erotic.

  “I am not a coward!”

  “Then why have you been avoiding me?” Dane stalked her slowly, his broad shoulders eclipsing the sunlight, leaving nothing in Jacqui’s vision but his advancing, magnetic presence.

  “Nor am I a fool.”

  He stopped. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that I do not intend to be seduced. Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Westbrooke?”

  Dane chuckled at her intentionally formal address. “Very clear. Miss Holt,” he added with a twinkle. He closed the space between them, placing his hands on her narrow shoulders and stroking his thumbs over the fine material of her lime-green gown. “You are frightened by what is between us. I understand. But you have no cause to be afraid. I have no intentions of harming you, sweet. Not ever.”

  Jacqui could feel his words, his touch, burn a path straight through her to an unknown place deep within. “But you do plan to seduce me,” she clarified in a guarded whisper.

  “No.” Dane cupped her face tenderly between his hands, wondering at the ferocity of his craving for her, aware, on some level, that it transcended the mere physical. “To the contrary, love. I plan to allow you to seduce me.”

  Jacqui caught his wrists and shoved them from her face, nearly sputtering with indignation. “You plan to … what?”

  Dane wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her still so she was forced to hear his words. “I won’t let you go, Jacqueline. I want you too much. What’s more, you want me too.” He ignored her furious protest. “But I do not intend to take what you don’t willingly offer. So you see, love,” he freed one of her hands to bury his fingers in the soft masses of her hair, “you have nothing to fear. I won’t coerce you into my bed. However, if you choose to come to me on your own, I could never turn you away.” He brushed her lips with his. “And you will come to me, love. I promise you, you will.”

  Jacqui jerked free of his iron grasp. “You are the most arrogant, conceited, contemptible blackguard I have ever had the misfortune to meet!” She massaged her wrist, trying to eliminate the tingling that was a result, not of pain, but of Dane Westbrooke’s touch.

  Dane smiled slowly. “But I excite you.”

  “You infuriate me,” she shot back.

  “That too.” He lifted her hand and gently kissed the wrist she had been vigorously rubbing. “Did I hurt you?” he murmured.

  “You insulted me.” She snatched her arm away.

  Dane’s dark brows rose. “By telling you that I want you? By saying that you are, by far, the most breathtaking, desirable woman I’ve ever known?” He raised her chin with a strong, tanned forefinger, forcing her to meet penetrating silver eyes that branded her with burning possession. “By confessing that I actually dream of making love to you?” he added softly, brushing her lower lip with his thumb. “No, mon chaton, that is not an insult, but the highest of compliments.”

  Jacqui swallowed, caught between the heat of her fury and the telltale truth revealed by the accelerated beating of her heart. She loathed the fact that Dane’s words alone could affect her so powerfully; still she drank in the excitement accompanying the stirrings of her newly awakened body. The conflict tore at her, clouding her reason, yet she could no longer deny that Dane forced her to feel things she’d never before experienced. But was it desire she was feeling? Or was it simply anger coupled with the clever manipulations of a very charming, very experienced man?

  Only one thing was certain … Jacqui was in way over her head.

  Dane felt a wave of sympathy at the utterly bewildered look on her expressive face. He was pushing her too hard, too fast, and he knew it.

  Reluctantly, he released her chin. “You were on your way out?”

  “O-Out?” Jacqui stammered. The man’s technique for dropping her from the height of an emotional precipice to the mundaneness of a casual conversation was incredible.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” Dane repeated gently, “out.”

  Jacqui licked her lips, battling her way back to reality. “I was just going to get some air. I haven’t strayed from the house since …” She broke off, flushing, as she realized that he knew exactly how long it had been since she’d left the house. He also knew why.

  Seeing her discomfort, Dane resisted the urge to taunt her. “Then may I join you?” he asked instead.

  She sighed. “Dane …”

  “At least you recall my name,” he teased. “So there must be hope after all. I am, indeed, a fortunate man.”

  She tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. “You, sir, could charm a serpent into sacrificing its prey.”

  “In that case, can I charm you into taking a simple walk with me?” he pressed, grinning a sly, devilish grin. “Think carefully before you refuse. For if you do, I shall have no choice but to convince you in the only way I know how … to continue where we left off scant weeks ago.” His grin widened at her blush. “This time, however, we will not be able to savor the privacy your dining room afforded us, but be forced to … enjoy each other right here on your front lawn,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “in plain view of the whole neighborhood.” His look was pure innocence. “The choice, my love, is yours.”

  Jacqui shook her head in amazement. “You would do it, wouldn’t you?” She glanced up and down the quiet street, nearly giggling aloud at the thought of the reactions she would receive if the neighbors saw her passionately kissing a man in broad daylight.

  “I would.” Dane watched her, fascinated. “And it wouldn’t bother you in the least, would it?” he asked incredulously.

  “The fact that you kissed me or the fact that others might witness it?” Her eyes danced with mischief.

  Dane chuckled. “I know my kiss would bother you. I was referring to the latter.”

  “Not particularly.” Jacqui shrugged. “If I spent much time worrying about what people thought of me, I would be as most other women I know: totally bored and utterly tiresome.”

  Dane threw his head back and shouted with laughter. “What a delightful description of the female sex.”

  “Not delightful, but accurate.”

  “And you, of course, are the exception.”

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “Of course.”

  Without warning, her smile invaded his heart and exploded in his loins, igniting a passion so fierce that it staggered him. All humor vanished from his handsome face. “Walk with me.”

  Dane’s words, their implicit meaning, washed over Jacqui like a tidal wave. There was no fighting the primitive, raw sexuality he effortlessly exuded.

  Jacqui walked.

  With each step, she assured herself that it was curiosity and not desire that made her agree, that it was their challenging banter and not his overwhelming magnetism that made Dane Westbrooke’s company so intriguing.

  Then she was in his arms.

  Sheltered by the tall pines beside her house, they came together with an urgency that was as fervent as it was natural. There was nothing even remotely tentative or teasing about this kiss. It was hot and hungry and out of control before it began.

  “How I’ve missed you,” Dane breathed, lifting her off the ground, fitting her against him, pressing her close enough to feel her full length.

  Jacqui wrapped her arms about his neck, welcoming everything he’d taught her the last time … the intimate probe of his tongue, the blatant hardness of his body against hers. She kissed him back, gliding her fingers through the silk of his hair, opening her mouth to deepen his presence within her body.

  Dane tangled his fingers in her thick curls, bending her backward so his mouth had access to the bare skin of her neck, her throat. He nuzzled the fragrant pulse behind her ear, whispering her name, then biting on the soft lobe until she moaned aloud. He kissed his way down the side of her neck to her sho
ulder and lower, to the top of her breast. “I want you,” he whispered against her racing heart. “I want all of you.” He lifted his head, met the fathomless midnight of her eyes and felt triumph surge through him at the longing that was so clearly revealed to him. “Jacqueline … I have to have you.” Dane was stunned to realize that he was actually shaking.

  Jacqui couldn’t quite catch her breath. “No,” she managed.

  Dane kissed her flushed cheeks. “Yes,” he contradicted softly, struggling to master his rampaging desire. “But not yet. Not until you want it as badly as I do. Not until the moment is right.” He lowered his head briefly and pressed a lingering kiss on the upper slope of each breast, murmuring, “Your first time has to be as wildly intoxicating … as magnificently unforgettable … as thoroughly exquisite as you.”

  Jacqui fought the flash of heat that shot through her at Dane’s explicit words, his intimate caress. She licked her swollen lips, still clutching his shoulders for balance. “How do you know it will be my first time?”

  He raised his head and looked at her tenderly. “I just know.”

  “Damn you, Dane Westbrooke,” she whispered, unconsciously caressing the nape of his neck. “Damn you to hell.”

  “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” He tugged her to him for another kiss. Running his fingers up and down her back, he stroked the fine material of her gown, soothing her and arousing her all at once.

  “Stop,” she ordered, her arms still locked about him, her eyes heavy-lidded with passion.

  “Soon,” he promised. He continued to kiss her for long minutes; deep, drugging kisses that left them both breathless, hungry for more. When he lowered her to the ground, he kept his arms about her, her head pressed against his chest. “Don’t be afraid, sweet,” he repeated softly into her disheveled hair. “I’ll never hurt you.”

  “You confuse me dreadfully.” Jacqui’s confession was muffled against his coat.

  “I know I do.” He kissed the top of her head. “But that won’t be forever.”

  She looked up at him. “You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  Absently, Dane rearranged her tousled curls in the hopes that Greta wouldn’t notice her mistress’s rather rumpled state. Even if Jacqueline cared nothing for her reputation, Dane was determined to spare it. At last he shook his head. “It has nothing to do with being sure of myself, love. What I’m sure of is that you will belong to me. That is innate knowledge, not conceit.”

  “But only if I come to you,” she reminded him.

  He grinned. “Yes, mon chaton colereux. Only if you come to me.”

  “That is quite a challenge you are issuing, sir,” Jacqui said, silently promising herself that he would never win, then assuring herself that she would pull free of his arms … in just a moment.

  Dane kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “But one I do not plan to lose.” He eased her away from him, keeping one arm locked about her shoulders.

  Jacqui glanced down at his gesture. “I assume you believe that by continuing to hold me you will influence my decision?”

  Dane chuckled. “No. I believe that by continuing to hold you I will keep your knees from giving out and tumbling you to the grass.”

  Bristling, Jacqui slapped his arm away and promptly teetered unsteadily, forced to grab hold of his forearm to regain her balance.

  “Better, love?” Despite his resolve to the contrary, his lips twitched. He tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow. “I shall assist you to your front door.”

  He took a step forward, only to trip over a solid object in his path. Looking down in surprise, Dane saw a small black ball of fluff that sprang to life, hissing and arching its back in response to the unappreciated assault.

  “Who is this?” Dane appeared unintimidated by the less-than-pleased kitten.

  “This is my cat.” Jacqui leaned over and scooped Whiskey into her arms, kissing his soft fur with an uncharacteristic warmth Dane had never seen her display. Deeply touched, he watched, fascinated.

  “It’s all right, little one,” Jacqui murmured, her customary guard lowered. Unaware of Dane’s tender scrutiny, she spoke softly into Whiskey’s fur. “I know he is quite large and the impact of his feet must be painful, but he did not intentionally harm you.” She stroked the tiny length of the kitten, which began to purr contentedly.

  “I most assuredly did not mean to hurt you,” Dane solemnly concurred, bending over to scratch Whiskey’s ears. “Next time I shall be more—”

  Dane never finished his sentence. The moment his hand touched Whiskey’s fur, the kitten sprang into action, leaping forward with an angry hiss and slashing his claws across Dane’s cheek. Ignoring Dane’s furious expletive, he bounded to the grass and raced off, like a naughty child who did not intend to remain for his punishment, and disappeared around the front of the house.

  “Whiskey!” Jacqui called after him, appalled.

  “Bloody hell!” Dane cursed again, pressing his fingers to the deep gashes now covering his left cheek.

  Jacqui went to him, still stunned, staring after her now-vanished pet. “Dane, I apologize profusely for my cat’s actions.” She removed Dane’s hand, standing on tiptoe so she could see the ugly wound. “Whiskey has never done anything like this before. He’s always so friendly with people.”

  “Well, he obviously does not feel friendly toward me,” Dane grumbled back, feeling the sharp sting of the cuts.

  An image flashed through Jacqui’s mind … an image of the night she’d adopted Whiskey. She fought back a smile, remembering. This was not the first time Whiskey and Dane had met … nor the first time Whiskey had attacked Dane.

  “What the hell is so funny?” Dane demanded, further irritated by Jacqui’s amused reaction.

  “Nothing,” she assured him. She frowned at the blood now trickling along Dane’s jaw. “Come into the house and I’ll treat those scratches.”

  Instantly, Dane’s irritation vanished. “All right.”

  He allowed himself to be led into the Holts’ spacious sitting room, leaning back and closing his eyes as Jacqui tended to his cheek. The brush of her hands was heaven.

  “Am I hurting you?” She paused, assuming that his tightly closed eyes implied pain.

  “No, sweetheart.” Dane gave her a slow, devastating grin. “If this is the only way to convince you to continue touching me, it was well worth the price.” He opened teasing silver eyes and caught her hand in his. “In fact, I only wish that your wretched little cat had done his minor damage to those portions of my anatomy that truly require your attentions.”

  Jacqui flushed and yanked her hand free. “You are not supposed to say such things to me,” she informed him.

  One dark brow lifted in amusement. “Really? And why not? You obviously liked hearing them; your face is flushed and your eyes are sparkling.” He dragged her hand back to his face, this time bringing her fingers to his warm, open mouth.

  She didn’t deny his words, nor did she reclaim her hand. “That is not the point.”

  “Then what is?” He kissed each of her fingertips, then her palm, letting his tongue stroke her soft skin. “You have already informed me that you are nothing like other women, nor do you care what people think of you.”

  “Yes … but …”

  “But?” he prompted, feeling the pulse in her wrist throb frantically.

  “But this is totally irrational,” she tried, tingles running up her spine as Dane’s warm breath caressed her arm.

  “This?” he questioned softly.

  “Yes, this.” She gestured from herself to him. “What is occurring between us. We hardly even know each other.” Her token protest was uttered in a small, bewildered voice.

  Dane kissed the delicate veins on the inside of her wrist, then lifted his head, giving her a look of tender understanding. “Some things, my beautiful little scholar, defy logic. Our attraction”—he frowned at his own choice of words—“our mutual fascination,” he corrected, “is one
of those things.”

  “But it is only a physical fascination,” Jacqui qualified.

  Dane pressed her hand to his cheek. “Is it?”

  For a long moment there was silence as he held her gaze with his.

  Acutely aware of Dane’s warm skin beneath her hand and mesmerized by the intensity of his probing silver stare, Jacqui could barely remember what they’d been talking about. She licked her lips nervously. “Would you like a drink?” she blurted out.

  Taking pity on her, Dane released her hand. “A drink would be splendid, both for pleasurable and medicinal purposes.” He moved his jaw gingerly. “Not only will I be able to enjoy your exceptional company, but perhaps a drink will take my mind off my injuries.”

  Jacqui rolled her eyes heavenward. “It is only a scratch, Dane, not a fatal wound.” Seeing his disappointed expression, she smiled. “You will find that my sympathy is not so easily attained.”

  “Nor is your affection,” he noted with a mock sigh. He leaned forward, catching a soft fold of her gown and using it to tug her closer to him. “Tell me then,” he asked, tracing the contours of her slender waist with teasing, suggestive fingers, “what will you offer me, if not sympathy or affection?”

  “I will offer you a glass of brandy,” Greta announced loudly, stalking into the room and thrusting a drink at Dane. She stood, glaring, until he had released Jacqui’s gown and taken the proffered glass. Then, without waiting for thanks, Greta slapped a newspaper down onto the table beside Dane and placed a small tray of food next to it. “Your newspaper, Fräulein Holt,” she barked. “Also some homemade white gingerbread, still warm, for you and your guest.” She shot Dane a pointed look. “The refreshment should appease both your pain and your voracious appetite, Herr Westbrooke.” With a reproachful sniff, she left the room.

  “I believe I have just been duly chastised,” Dane said dryly. “Also put in my place by yet another female in the Holt household.” He took an appreciative sip of brandy and reached for a slice of gingerbread. “Ah, well, at least this offending woman feeds me.”

  Jacqui couldn’t argue his point, and its truth astounded her. Greta, who never doted, who rarely even smiled, had for the second time indulged a flagrant, notorious rake who was a stranger in their home and who was taking unprecedented liberties with Greta’s mistress. It was nothing short of astonishing.