Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(25)

‘How the he– how did you know it was me?’ He had thought his disguise perfect. Black breeches, shirt, neckcloth and stockings and a masterpiece of a coat from the last century that he had picked up in Venice, unable to resist the sheer glamour of it. It was of black velvet embroidered thickly with silver, with whale-boned skirts that flared from his hips and a matching waistcoat. He had scraped back his hair under a white powdered wig from the same period and wore a black Venetian mask of pressed leather traced with silver. It covered his face from brow to just above his mouth. Impenetrable. He would have wagered on it.

‘The way you move.’ Sophie tipped her head to one side, as she studied his masked face. ‘Your eyes, now I am near to you. I do not know anyone else with eyes of that silver-grey.’

She was so close that he could smell her scent, light and teasing, something with citrus and spice to it. And warm woman, still flushed from the heat of the ballroom. His body, already hard and primed, became harder. There was a trace of wine on her breath and beneath that the innocence of toothpowder. Her costume, with its flirty skirts and swooping draperies looked almost naughty, but it was cut cleverly to preserve her modesty, showing only a maidenly swell of white breasts and shoulder, bare arms adorned with fine kid gloves and a tangle of aquamarine bangles. But he had seen that length of slender stockinged leg, glimpsed the beginning of her white thighs above her garter and every sense was attuned to the naked woman beneath the draperies.

His palm was still towards her, the back of his hand to his chest. He only had to relax his wrist and his fingers could caress those smooth white curves, slip under the loose layers of silk to find her nipple. Lean towards me, take the guilt away from me. Kiss me. Touch me.

‘Who is Ralph marrying?’ he asked, his voice harsh with the effort of not saying all those other things, the words he wanted to whisper to her as he pulled her down with him to the wide stone bench.

‘That is Ralph’s secret.’

‘I am the head of the family,’ he said, wincing at the sound of his own pomposity. On the other hand, pompous heads of families did not ravish young ladies in the shrubbery…

‘I am sure he will tell you when he is ready. He has to ask her first.’ Sophie was still looking into his eyes, hers like tiny pools of deep ocean waters behind the mask. They narrowed as she smiled. ‘He is in love, Cal.’

‘Then what the blazes has he been doing hanging around you?’ he demanded.

‘He thought she was… lost to him,’ Sophie said. That was not the truth, or, at least, not all of it. He was coming to know her and she was hiding something, or, rather, simply not saying it. ‘He had resolved to make a marriage of convenience.’

That made sense of a sort. It certainly explained Ralph’s half-hearted attempts at courtship. ‘You have been matchmaking.’

She made a little humming noise that might have been agreement, might have been amusement. ‘I know I think it is foolish to marry for love, or what one deludes oneself is love, but I had to make it up to him after I told him I was beginning to think that his interests did not lie with the female sex.’

‘You hussy.’ He grinned at her. ‘What does an innocent like you know about such things?’

‘I am not as sheltered as you seem to think, Your Grace.’ The laughter had gone from her eyes even as her mouth continued to curve in her enchanting half-smile.

Kiss her. Just kiss her and stop fantasising about it. She is more than capable of boxing your ears if she doesn’t like it.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Sophie was suspicious now, her eyes narrowed not in laughter, but in mistrust.

‘A voice in my head.’

‘You hear voices?’ Now she was all concern. ‘You must have hit your head the other day and not realised.’ She stepped back, caught his hands in hers and tugged him towards the seat. ‘You shouldn’t be in this noisy place drinking alcohol. Rest a moment and then get a footman to call your carriage. You should see your physician in the morning. Or perhaps tonight.’

‘No, Sophie – ’ On the other hand… Cal kept hold of her hands as he sat and she perched close beside him, anxiously scrutinising as much of his face as she could see.

‘Take your mask off, that cannot be helping.’

Obediently he untied the strings and put it down beside him. ‘Perhaps I have a fever.’

‘Oh, yes, you have. You are very warm.’ Her hand, cool and gentle touched his forehead, heated by the mask he had been wearing for over an hour. Her fingers trailed down his temple, under his jaw and rested lightly his throat. ‘And your pulse is beating very strongly. Yes, that’s right, close your eyes, Cal, rest a little. Perhaps we should loosen your neckcloth.’

Bliss. Her fingers worked at the knot and she pulled the ends loose. Cal could feel her body pressing against his as she worked, the warmth of her breath against his cheek, the cool of the night air as the fabric came free, the scent of her… The choking sensation as the ends of his neckcloth were drawn sharply together, strangling him.

‘Sophie!’ Cal hooked his fingers into the tightening fabric and pulled enough to get some air into his lungs.

‘You, Your Grace,’ she said, giving the ends a little jerk with each word by way of emphasis, ‘are a rake and a flirt and I know exactly what that voice in your head was talking about to produce that smirk.’ She released the ends of the neckcloth and treated him to a smug smile of her own.