by Burke, Darcy
On the other hand, perhaps there was no reason to be dismayed. Miss Pemberton was, in fact, Phoebe’s closest friend…
“Good evening, Miss Pemberton.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
He heard the uncertainty in her voice and suffered a moment’s conflict. If he told her who he was, she could, and likely would, tell Phoebe. “If I tell you who I am, do you promise to keep it secret?”
She hesitated. “Lord Ripley?”
He exhaled. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. It was purely a guess, though your size and breadth match his, even if your head is almost entirely covered with that mask. It’s stunning.”
“Thank you. I’m still shocked you guessed correctly. You’re the first this evening.”
“To be fair, I had a bit of help. I knew you were trying to disguise yourself beyond recognition.”
“Miss Lennox told you.” Which meant Miss Pemberton was aware of their wager. What else did she know?
She nodded. “You’re the only two people who are taking this masquerade so seriously.”
He laughed. “Wagers are serious business.”
“Indeed they are, and Phoebe plans to win. Don’t bother asking me how she’s disguised.”
He exhaled again. “I suppose that was too much to hope for.”
“Don’t give up, my lord,” she said encouragingly.
“Oh, I shan’t. That she hasn’t yet found me out gives me great hope.”
“How do you know she hasn’t?” Miss Pemberton asked slyly. “Perhaps she’s waiting for the right moment to strike.”
Diabolical. He loved it. “Do you know that for certain?”
“Not at all. I just know that’s what I would do. In all honesty, I haven’t spoken with her this evening. She’s been very careful to keep herself from people she knows.”
Very diabolical. Marcus hadn’t been so careful. He’d spoken to Graham, of course, and then briefly to Anthony. If Phoebe had been watching, she likely already knew he was the golden eagle.
“I’m glad you’ve become friends,” Miss Pemberton said, drawing his curiosity.
“Why is that?”
“I think you’re good for her esteem.” Her mouth pulled for a brief moment. “Forget I said that.”
He wouldn’t. “Is it too much to ask that you don’t tell her how I’m dressed?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. Since she’s avoiding me, you needn’t be concerned.” She smiled, and Marcus bowed before taking his leave.
A table of refreshments stood near the door to the patio. Marcus swiped a glass of wine and took a sip before stepping out into the warm spring night. They’d been most fortunate with the weather. The hide-and-seek in the maze and the fireworks would be well attended.
He looked out over the torchlit garden. It wasn’t as crowded as the ballroom, but there were a great many people strolling along the paths. To the left lay the maze. Surrounded with torches, the outer reaches were illuminated, while the center was rather dark. The perfect place for a tryst, especially given the number of slim nooks built into the shrubbery. Marcus had memorized the layout—it was good to be prepared.
Not that it seemed to matter, for he was without anyone to take into the maze. Oh, he could likely find any number of women who would be willing, but he wanted only one.
He finished his wine and gave it to a footman on the patio, then walked down onto the main path. He looked for fair-haired women, but those he saw were not Phoebe. He began to despair of finding her. They hadn’t planned for not coming into contact with each other at all. He hadn’t even contemplated such a travesty. To think he could go this entire splendid night without seeing her carved a hollow of disappointment in his chest.
The majordomo came out onto the patio and announced that it was time for hide-and-seek in the maze. As the hosts, Graham and Arabella would find as many people as they could in fifteen minutes. Guests had ten minutes to enter the maze and find their spot. When the bell rang, they had to stop where they were, whether they were hidden or not. People who moved would be disqualified. The last guest to be found would win the honor of being the Master or Mistress of the Masquerade.
People flowed out from the ballroom. Some walked straight for the maze, while others, most of them, actually, lingered on the patio to watch.
Marcus swore silently. He should have found her by now. He’d hoped they might hide together. Now there was no reason to even bother playing the game.
“Aren’t you going to hide, my lord?”
His blood went cold, then instantly heated as a shiver of desire danced across his neck. He knew that voice.
He turned to see a woman gliding quickly away, her sparkling dark green skirts swirling over the path. Her pale blonde hair caught the light, as did the peacock feathers attached to her mask.
A bloody peacock. He wasn’t surprised that she’d dressed as the male of a species. She wasn’t content with her lot as a woman, and by damn if that wasn’t one of the most attractive things about her.
Marcus took off after her, nearly running to catch up to her. She dashed into the maze, and he just caught her veering to the right. Good, that was the way toward the center. Toward darkness and privacy.
In his haste, he ran into another woman. She wavered on her feet, and Marcus steadied her.
“Oh my.” She giggled, looking up at him from behind a small red silk domino. Some people had no imagination, no sense of fancy. Or, perhaps more accurately, no wager with another guest. “Thank you.”
“Excuse me,” he murmured, hurrying past her. Damn it, he’d lost Phoebe.
He continued toward the center, looking every which way. He came upon the first nook and looked inside. “This is taken,” came a deep voice.
Marcus put his hand out to the right, feeling along the narrow passageway of leaves until he found the next opening. That alcove was also occupied.
Fearing he might not find her, he searched three more nooks, two of which were occupied and one of which was empty. Now he was in the darkest part of the maze. Faint light helped him make out the shape of the walls around him and figures up ahead, but nothing that would identify them. He paused, and a hand clasped his, pulling him around a corner.
“Looking for me?”
* * *
Phoebe’s heart beat fast and hard in her chest, both from her hurrying to the center of the maze and the anticipation of Marcus following her. She’d lost sight of him and worried he wasn’t coming. And now she was worried she’d grabbed the wrong man.
Except he smelled like Marcus, that arousing spice-and-sandalwood scent that identified him as precisely the man she was looking for. Still, she’d lowered her voice to disguise herself in case it wasn’t him. Not that some random gentleman would recognize her voice, she realized.
He tipped his head up just enough that she saw his golden eagle mask. Yes, it was him. She grinned to herself.
“I am looking for someone.” He didn’t sound as though he knew who she was.
Oh, this was too wonderful. She kept her voice low. “Who?”
“Maybe you. I’m not sure. Who do you think I am?”
They were playing a game. Excitement curled in her belly and spread lower, igniting a delicious sensation. “The man I’m going to kiss in this maze.”
He steered her into a narrow space tucked behind the hedge wall. “Unfortunately, the woman I’m looking for doesn’t like kissing.”
“That’s too bad. Do you like kissing?”
“Immensely. I think I would like kissing her most of all.”
Phoebe’s breath caught. Tucked into the small space, she pressed against his chest. He swept his mask off, and she could just barely make out his features when his head was tipped up.
“Does this mean I win?” she asked, pulling up her own mask to expose her face. If she removed it entirely, she might dislodge her wig.
His lips hovered above hers. “I don’t know. I am beginning to feel like I’m winning.
”
“Maybe we can both claim victory.”
“Do you really want that kiss?” Now he was the one who sounded a bit breathless.
Phoebe put her hands on his chest as the bell sounded. “As it happens, we’re stuck here. Can you think of anything better to do?”
“No.” The single word was low and deep, reverberating in her chest like a thunderclap.
“Tonight, I’m a bird,” she whispered. “Help me take flight.”
With a sweet groan, he pressed his lips to hers. Instinctively, Phoebe tensed. The only other time she’d experienced this, things had gone very, very badly.
Marcus’s arms swept around her, his hands pressing softly into her back as he held her close. She’d no idea where his mask had gone once he’d removed it, but she wasted no time thinking about it.
Not that she had the capacity to think of much beyond the gentle caress of his lips moving over hers. Kiss after kiss, each one lasting just a bit longer, wound her into a keen state of desire. This was exactly what he’d promised. She felt weak and quivery—in the most delightful way—her body poised for what came next.
He trailed a hand up her spine and brought it over her shoulder so that she moved her arm beneath his. His fingers traced her jaw.
“Are you ready to fly?” he whispered.
“Yes. Please.”
He pressed his thumb against her chin. “Open for me.”
Then he angled his lips over hers and licked into her mouth. She went rigid, for she’d experienced this before. No, she actually hadn’t. There was no revulsion, only delight. No fear, only longing.
Phoebe clutched at his coat and then moved her hand up around his neck. She pressed her body against his as he expanded the kiss. His tongue glided against hers, and she floated into the air.
Or would have if she wasn’t holding on to him as if her life depended on it. Or, more accurately, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.
He curled his hand around her neck, cupping her nape, tilting her head to the side so he could lick deeper into her mouth. He kissed her with a gentle persuasion, stoking the passion that had ignited the minute she’d approached him outside the maze.
She’d chosen her advance on him with meticulous care since spotting him almost two hours ago. She’d waited on the fringe, watching for him to go outside, for that was where she’d planned to make her move.
Kissing, however, hadn’t been part of her scheme. But now that she was here, locked in his rapturous embrace, she knew there was no avoiding it. Nor did she want to.
His fingers dug into her back as he tipped her back, cradling her against him. She clung to him, her hand on his neck and cravat. How she wished she wasn’t wearing gloves so she could feel his bare flesh with her own.
He held her easily in one arm while the other skimmed down her back and along her side to clasp her waist before gliding backward to press his hand on her lower back. The movement brought her against him, their hips colliding.
Sensation exploded in her core, and for the first time, she understood the appeal of an affair. She sensed not just the ability to take flight, but the chance to fly around the world and touch the sun.
He pulled his lips from hers but didn’t leave her. He kissed along her jaw and then her neck, his tongue leaving a delicious trail of want. Phoebe shivered and clasped the back of his head, her fingers twining in his hair.
“Phoebe.” He murmured her name like a plea. “Phoebe.” A prayer. “Phoebe.” An urgent demand.
He skimmed her waist again, moving his hand forward to her rib cage and bringing it up to the underside of her breast. He lingered there, barely cupping her. The caress sent another shock of desire through her.
Suddenly, she was upright, and he turned her, pressing her against the hedge and blocking her from the narrow entrance.
“Someone’s coming.”
Phoebe saw the light coming through the maze, and it was almost upon them. She quickly pulled her mask down over her face. Marcus completely obliterated her view of the passage. Good, that meant no one could see her either.
“Found you! Number thirty-four. Remember that, if you please,” came Arabella’s voice before the light moved on.
Another light followed, and this time, a man spoke, but it wasn’t Graham. “If you’ve been found, you must leave the maze.”
“Of course,” Marcus answered. The light dimmed, and it seemed they were alone once more. “We need to go.” He bent, and she realized he’d dropped his mask. When he had it back in place, he offered her his arm. “Now we can say we encountered each other as we left. If anyone asks,” he added.
Phoebe curled her hand around his coat, eager for more of his warmth, not because she was cold but because he felt divine. Particularly pressed up against her. “It’s almost as if you planned this rendezvous.” She walked closely beside him as they left the nook.
“You’re the one who found me.”
Phoebe grinned. She couldn’t help herself. A giddy excitement tripped through her. She wanted to dance out of the maze. Take flight, indeed. “I did. I suppose that means I win.”
“I thought we decided we both win.”
She heard the humor in his voice. “Someone has to pay thirty pounds.”
“I already paid a hundred,” he said with a laugh. “Fine, another thirty. Same place?”
“If you please.”
He escorted her from the maze, turning her along the path that led to the patio. “Your disguise was superior. I didn’t recognize you at all. And even when you approached me, I wasn’t entirely certain.”
“When did you know?”
“Absolutely? Not until you mentioned kissing me.”
Phoebe laughed gaily. “You assume you’re the only man I would invite to do so?”
“I hope so.” He slowed his pace and turned her onto a side path. “Do you mind taking a detour?”
“Where to?”
“Heaven?” When she sucked in her breath, he amended his answer. “Richmond, maybe?”
This provoked her to laugh again. “My lord, you’ve plied me with exceptional kisses. I may allow you to take me anywhere.”
“Phoebe.” He groaned her name. “Please, have a care for me. You are sorely trying my self-control.”
That sounded dangerous. Deliciously, wonderfully, tantalizingly dangerous. Even so, she needed to be cautious. Otherwise, she would allow him to take her anywhere.
“Your mask was also excellent,” she said as they walked to a darker part of the garden.
“How long did you know who I was?”
“As soon as you walked toward Graham.”
“Damn. You were far smarter about this than I was.”
She wasn’t sure that was the only reason for her victory. “Perhaps less arrogant.”
He let out a loud laugh, then quickly quieted himself to a chuckle. “I’m not the one who swore I would win.”
“Did I do that?” she asked innocently.
“Maybe more than once.”
“I like winning, apparently. I didn’t know that about myself.” She also hadn’t expected to like kissing. “Thank you,” she said softly, stopping on the path. Though they were in shadow, there was a clear line of sight to the patio.
He turned and tipped his head down. It was hard to tell if he was looking at her, but she assumed he was. “For what?”
“I wish I could see your face.” She reached up and touched the underside of his jaw. “For showing me what kissing can be. I don’t dislike it anymore. At least not with you.”
“Good.” He moved closer, so that their clothing touched. He brushed his hand along her forearm down to her hand, his fingers briefly tangling with hers. “I wish I could see your face too.”
Her heart fluttered, as if it too wanted to fly. She still held his arm, her anchor to the earth—to him.
“I’d be happy to repeat the demonstration any time you find yourself doubting the pleasure of kissing.”
“I’m
not sure I could ever do so again. Not after tonight. But I appreciate your offer and will keep it in mind.” She’d think of little else.
Their masks covered most of their faces, but their mouths were exposed. She swayed toward him.
Yelling sounded from behind her. They both turned. Marcus swore. “It’s Anthony.”
At that moment, a loud boom rent the air, followed by light exploding in the sky. The fireworks!
Marcus paused to look up. Then he looked at her. She grinned at him. “They’re magnificent.”
Pulling his gaze from hers, he started back along the path. She hurried alongside him, periodically glancing up at the display as she went.
In the middle of a patch of lawn between their path and the patio, Anthony rolled on the ground with another gentleman. Spectators had gathered. They looked from the fight up to the sky and back again. Wagers were exchanged amidst the light and sound.
Marcus withdrew his arm from Phoebe’s hand and strode into the fray. He bent down and hauled Anthony off the other man, nearly toppling backward with the effort. Managing to keep his footing, Marcus kept hold of Anthony’s arm. It was a necessary thing, for Anthony tried to pitch forward.
The other man scrambled to his feet. “I ought to call you out, Colton!”
Anthony responded by bending over and casting up his accounts all over the lawn. The crowd gasped and made sounds of disgust before beginning to dissipate. The other man snorted in derision before taking himself off the lawn.
Marcus cast a quick glance at Phoebe, and she knew their evening was done. Anthony required his assistance.
“I’ll send a footman,” she offered.
Marcus winced as Anthony vomited again. “Thank you.”
Phoebe started toward the patio but didn’t have to find a footman. A pair of them were already rushing to provide aid.
It was a rather ghastly end to their lovely interlude, but probably for the best. She was certain they’d been about to kiss again, and right where anyone could have seen them. Except would anyone have known who they were? The peacock kissing the golden eagle would surely escape notice.
“Good evening, Miss Peacock,” Jane said as Phoebe stepped onto the crowded patio. The ballroom had emptied to watch the fireworks. “I see you found Mr. Eagle.”