Dangerous Masquerade

by Peta Lee Rose

  He went over to the window. Reflected in the glass, he could see his own image, a pale, ghostly, insubstantial shadow. Beyond his image he could see the swiftly flowing stream at the bottom of the nearby hill. That stream marked the border of the two estates. Ever since he was a boy, he’d looked at his uncle’s estate and known that one day it would be his.

  Geoffrey set his jaw. No thieving jade was going to stand in his way. Nor was a backstabbing servant.

  Going to his desk, he unlocked the middle drawer, took out a vial, and put it in his pocket. Grabbing a bottle of wine from the sideboard, he left the room by the doors that opened onto the terrace.

  In the dim twilight, he made his way through the gardens to the small cottage on the banks of the stream.

  Blackwell opened the door as he heard him approach. “It’s about time you got here,” he said brusquely.

  Rather than berate him for his lack of respect, Geoffrey fingered the vial in his pocket, smiled sweetly, held up the bottle, and said, “Would you like some wine?”

  14

  “I dismissed my estate agent yesterday.” Ria looked along the slender barrel at the target.

  “For any particular reason?”

  “We did not agree on estate matters.” She paused, concentrated on the center of the target, and pulled the trigger.

  A direct hit.

  Turning to look at her tutor, she saw he was smiling slightly. His insistence on her practicing over and over was paying off. Basking in his approbation, she swiftly reloaded her pistol.

  She eyed the target. Pretending it was John Blackwell, she once again took aim.

  She had no regrets about dismissing him. None at all. She felt confident it was the right decision. Geoffrey’s appearance soon after proved that. Not that she’d needed proof.

  Luc’s elegant hand moved to cover hers. He adjusted her arm. “Like this. You need to keep it straight but not too stiff.”

  She shivered at the feel of his warm breath on the back of her neck.

  “Don’t lose control. Use your emotions—don’t let them use you.”

  Gently she squeezed the trigger and once again hit the center of the target.

  He nodded in approval. “Very good. Anger seems to suit you.”

  He took the gun from her, then asked, “I presume you are now in need of an estate agent?”

  She nodded. “Yes. There are some good people on the estate but none with the experience needed.”

  Thoughtfully, he told her, “I know of someone. He is young but has spent the past five years learning from my agent at Arden. He is ready to go out on his own. Shall I suggest he come for an interview?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  On the surface, their conversation was perfectly calm and ordinary—two landowners discussing estate matters. Underneath, for her at least, it was a different story.

  While talking, Luc had cleaned the weapon and packed it into its mahogany case. The shooting lesson was clearly over for the day.

  By the time they reached the orangery and the secluded clearing, her nerves were tightly stretched. He hadn’t yet touched her, but she felt breathless. The anticipation was unbearable.

  Her gaze heated, she watched him remove his gloves, coat, and cravat.

  He then turned his attention to her. She could barely stand still as he gently removed her gloves and sucked on each of her fingers, one by one. As he swirled his tongue around her little finger, she felt her legs crumble. He caught her, reached down, and pulled both her legs around his waist.

  Dizzy, she was only dimly aware of his movements. She only realized he had sat down when he disengaged her feet from behind his back and moved them so they were on the sides of the armless chair.

  A caress of warm air on her thighs made her aware that her dress was around her waist. To her shock, she was sitting astride his lap, his erection—contained by his buckskins—pressing against her.

  His eyes met hers. Without saying a word, he was clearly challenging her. Daring her to object. They both knew what was going to happen here today.

  This was her last chance.

  Without breaking off his gaze, he began to unbutton her bodice, lowering it to expose her breasts. She arched her back as he brushed his fingers over them, each time just missing her nipples.

  Frustrated by his teasing, she grabbed his hand and held it over one breast. He smiled at her and moved his fingers deliberately, once again avoiding her nipple. Growling, she leaned forward and nipped at his lower lip.

  He chuckled, the sound vibrating in her mouth and through her body. “Anger really does suit you.”

  Smiling wickedly, he gave her what she wanted. The fingers of one hand danced over her breast and stroked the nipple. Then he bent his head and licked first one, then the other. Ria sobbed, unable to prevent the slight sound from escaping.

  Luc raised his head, “You like that?”

  She nodded.

  “Would you like me to do it again?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Always so polite.” He smiled then repeated his actions before turning his attention to her neck.

  She was barely aware that he’d undone his trousers, released himself, and slipped on a sheath. He shifted slightly to allow his hand to move between her legs. When he touched her, she cried out and arched her back.

  His voice shook as he said, “This time you can lose control. Don’t fight it. Let go, dearling.”

  As he lightly stroked her, the increase in tension made Ria arch her back further. She whimpered as he once again licked her nipples, then moaned when he moved his hips and gradually entered her. In this position, it was more intense, more intimate than at the masquerade.

  The sparks dancing within her were starting to merge and seemed ready to burst, but then he stopped. Afraid he was about to leave her, she clutched his shoulders.

  “Please, don’t…”

  “Sssh. It’s all right.” He reached down and lifted her feet up onto the sides of the chair.

  For a moment, she felt incredibly vulnerable. In this position, she was completely open to him. Then, rocking her hips slightly, she realized she could control the rhythm of their movements.

  Arching her back, she slid down on him, enjoying the feeling of warmth and slickness. At first her movements were shallow; then teasingly she thrust deeply but immediately withdrew to give more shallow thrusts before plunging deeply once more. With this final movement the sparks completed their merger and showered them both.

  Panting, completely boneless, Ria rested her head on his chest. Slowly she came back to earth.

  A slight pulsing within led to another realization. He was still inside her. What should she do? She was worried about moving in case she did the wrong thing.

  Just then his hand began to make lazy circles on her back. Raising her head, she looked into his forest-green eyes. In them was a look she couldn’t quite define. Passion and… possession?

  She shivered when his hand began to travel up and down her spine. To her immense surprise, something began to grow within her. Her eyes grew wide as she asked him, “Again?”

  His eyes heavy-lidded, he nodded and huskily said, “Again.”

  Well then, Ria thought, it’s time to even the field. Reaching up, she unbuttoned his shirt, opened it wide, and pushed it off his shoulders.

  This was the first time in her life she had ever been able to study a man’s chest and arms, to touch and feel. At the masquerade she hadn’t paid that much attention. Now she made up for it. She stroked her fingers up the side of his arms, paying particular attention to his muscular biceps.

  A thin layer of perspiration glimmered on his bare skin. Unable to resist, she leaned further forward and kissed his shoulder, then moved up and nibbled on his neck. His skin tasted slightly salty. Sitting back up, she met his gaze and slowly licked her lips.

  Remembering how he had touched her, she trailed her fingers up and down the sides of his sweat-slick torso. Then, making small circles
, she skimmed his chest, avoiding his nipples. Finally, meeting his eyes once again, she tweaked his nipples between her thumb and third finger.

  The next moment she felt him grasp her tightly by the waist and surge into her. With a little laugh she met him stoke for stroke until they both shuddered in unison.

  Luc left the manor decidedly more physically comfortable than he had felt in a long time. Though having Ria twice had only taken the edge off his hunger. He still wanted her. He wanted more. Much more.

  But why?

  She was far less experienced than his previous lovers. He frowned then shook his head. That, surprisingly, just added to her attraction. The past few weeks, he’d enjoyed taking her on a voyage of discovery, teaching her about her own body and his.

  Today he’d remained as still as possible during her investigation of his body, fascinated by her actions and the look on her face. He would swear she had never seen a man’s torso before.

  It was possible she hadn’t, given the age of her husband. They probably did it once a month, if that, clothed in nightgowns, in the dark.

  Luc groaned as the recollection of her intent exploration of his chest caused a swift reaction in his body.

  Trying to ignore it, he gave thanks for ancient husbands. She’d been married but in a lot of ways was still innocent. He felt a surge of satisfaction that she was experiencing things with him for the first time, that she’d felt free to indulge in her curiosity and explore his body.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. What the hell? This was supposed to be a simple seduction, a casual affaire. He’d planned on seducing the widow and moving on. Why was he so possessive? Why did he want even more?

  The strength of his feelings alarmed him. Never had he felt like this with a woman.

  So what should he do about it?

  15

  The following Tuesday, Ria visited her solicitors in Little Bridgeton to sign the trust papers. Just as she was about to leave, she heard raised voices from an adjacent office. The door burst open, slammed against the wall, and Geoffrey stormed out. He stopped dead when he saw her.

  She sucked in her breath. Never had she seen someone look at anyone with such hatred. He stalked past her out onto the street, jostling her elbow as he passed.

  The little man who had followed Geoffrey out of the office looked at her with dismay tinged with embarrassment. “Mrs. St. James, I apologize. I am sorry you witnessed such a scene.”

  Truth to tell, she was somewhat shaken, though more by Geoffrey’s look than his shouting, but she hastened to reassure the solicitor. “I am fine, Mr. Perwick. Thank you for your concern.”

  The solicitor smiled. “I am also sorry I was not free to see you. I trust Mr. Brownley was able to see to your needs satisfactorily, and the papers were all in order?”

  “Yes, thank you. I have signed the papers.”

  After taking her leave of the solicitor, she went out onto the street, followed by her maid.

  In the doorway of the solicitor’s office, she looked up and down the street. The last thing she wanted was another encounter with Geoffrey.

  Little Bridgeton was particularly busy due to the races held earlier on the outskirts of town. The race traffic was squeezed onto narrow cobbled streets barely wide enough to cope with the normal traffic generated by day-to-day business.

  Her gaze skipped over laden vegetable carts, carriages, and men on horseback. Finally she saw Geoffrey in the distance, riding along the street, talking to another gentleman. He appeared to be all smiles and charm, with no hint of the fury he had displayed only moments before. How could someone change so quickly from sheer unadulterated rage to a picture of amiability?

  Well, at least she didn’t need to be concerned for her safety here in town with so many people around. All the same, she decided to return home and complete her errands another day. “I think we are finished for today, Mary. We can go home now.”

  As they began to walk back along High Street toward the inn stables, they had to be careful to avoid the traffic. Skirting around a cart laden with cabbages, she saw Luc walking toward her.

  She hadn’t seen him for two days. Not since their last shooting lesson. Ria blushed as she remembered what had happened afterward.

  When they parted, no mention had been made of any further lessons. She hadn’t expected to see him on Sunday but had thought perhaps he might visit yesterday.

  As he strolled toward her, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. What should she say to him? How should she act?

  Wishing she were as self-assured as the women at the masquerade, she had to content herself with giving him a small, shy smile when he drew near. He paused, but not for long. He merely nodded in acknowledgement, apologized for being unable to stop, and continued on his way.

  Eyes wide, she turned and watched him as he walked down the street. He hadn’t cut her, but his actions came awfully close. Why?

  Was it the way she behaved after the shooting lessons? Having got what he wanted, was he no longer interested? She had a final, horrifying thought—surely he hadn’t realized she was Persephone?

  Ria swallowed to stem the rising wave of sickness threatening to swamp her. Blinking to hold back tears, she turned toward the stables.

  She didn’t see the chestnut horse. The first she knew of it was hearing a high-pitched squeal, the curses of a rider, and Mary’s scream.

  As Luc walked away, he knew Ria had been surprised then hurt by his aloofness. For a brief moment, he considered turning back. But no, this was for the best. He turned his neck to stretch his tense muscles.

  During his slow seduction of her, he’d come to realize Ria wasn’t mistress material. She was what wives were made of. He didn’t want to get married, though he must unless he wanted his foppish cousin to inherit. But when he did, it would not be to a woman like Ria. Not when she made him feel this way.

  He tugged at his suddenly-too-tight cravat and collar. He didn’t want a wife he was addicted to, and the widow was very, very addictive.

  He didn’t want a wife who could make him jealous when she so much as smiled at another man, even when that man was his best friend.

  He didn’t want to recreate his parents’ marriage. Disappointment, anger, and jealousy had made them such bitter enemies they continually strove to embarrass and humiliate the other. Publicly.

  He couldn’t marry Ria.

  Luc attempted to quash the hollow feeling welling up inside him at the thought of never seeing her again.

  He tried hard.

  He failed.

  Just as he turned, intending to find her and apologize, there was a commotion behind him.

  He looked back to see a horse bucking and Geoffrey Danielson trying to stay in the saddle and regain control of the chestnut. The horse began to calm, though it neighed nervously, sweat making its light ginger-brown flanks gleam.

  As Luc watched, Danielson reached down to pat the horse’s neck, brushing aside the blond mane just as, behind him, a vegetable cart was wheeled out of an alleyway.

  Suddenly almost unseating its rider, the horse moved sideways in a crablike motion, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. With a loud squeal, it recommenced bucking, its hind legs catching the edge of the cart with enough force to turn it over, spilling its contents. The chestnut danced amongst the potatoes and carrots until they were mashed into the cobblestones.

  Danielson shouted at bystanders to move out of the way. He pulled hard at the reins, but the horse started to rear.

  And the two people most in danger of being struck by the flailing hooves were Ria and her maid.

  Luc’s breath caught as he realized Ria wasn’t getting out of the way of danger. Rather, she was trying to pull away her maid who was standing transfixed in the street, seemingly incapable of movement.

  Swiftly Luc crossed the road, angling his approach to avoid the horse’s legs. Just as he reached Ria, he saw one of the hooves descending right above her head.

  There was no time for gentlenes
s. Lowering his left shoulder, he tackled both women, sending them flying to the cobblestones.

  He landed on his back with Ria on top of him. Over her shoulder, he could see the horse’s belly. He was close enough to smell its sweat and see the line of light brown hair running down its stomach. He could also see a hoof once more descending, heading directly for Ria’s head.

  He caught her around the middle, then twisted them both away.

  But he hadn’t been quick enough.

  As he got to his knees, he saw her maid being helped up by bystanders.

  He looked down at Ria, lying still and pale on the cobbles. Her hat had fallen off, and her hair had spilled across her face. Ripping off his gloves, he crouched down and tenderly brushed it away.

  Behind him he heard rapid footsteps, then a person asking, “Oh, my God! Is she all right?”

  At the sound of Danielson’s voice, Luc whirled. “Keep away from her. You’ve done enough damage.”

  His savage tone was enough for Danielson to raise his hands defensively and quickly back away, fear flickering across his face.

  Luc was barely able to resist the urge to wring Danielson’s neck. His fingers opened and closed tightly. Gritting his teeth, he focused back on Ria.

  She was unconscious.

  As he smoothed back her hair, he felt something damp. He held up his hand, and saw his fingers were red.

  Blood.

  When Luc looked around for help, he saw the portly publican rushing toward them, exclaiming loudly, “You can bring her inside, sir. I’ve asked my wife to prepare a room.”

  He nodded in thanks. Gathering Ria in his arms, he effortlessly stood. As he brushed past the publican, he ordered, “Send someone for the doctor.”

  16

  Luc laid Ria on the bedcover and couldn’t help but think how many times he had wanted to do this these last few weeks—but not like this. Never like this.

  Gently he pushed back a lock of blond hair that had fallen across her white cheek.