by ANDREA SMITH
“Is your man gonna be able to find your legs under all of that?” she asked, laughing.
“Yep,” I replied, lifting the layers of ruffles up to present my silk-stockinged leg.
“You’re good to go then,” she said with approval. “Don’t forget your gloves,” she said. “Hands are to be covered, too.”
I slipped the white lacy gloves on and Jo Anna helped me put my masquerade mask on, making sure to free the red ringlet curls from the elastic band in the back.
An unmasked gentleman in a tuxedo escorted me out to the grand ballroom where all of the other women, decked out in similar antebellum gowns and wigs, were enjoying the start of the festivities.
I was handed a flute of champagne as I took a few moments to look around for the others. By the time the double doors to the grand ballroom were opened, allowing the men to enter, I was pretty sure I had identified Lindsey. She was decked out in a ruby red silk dress, with puffed out sleeves and a black wig with a coiled braid wrapped around the crown of her head. She was standing next to a taller woman who was wearing a dark blue gown, and a wig that had a blonde cascade of curls flowing from her head. I was fairly certain that was Ronnie.
I started over toward them, sipping my champagne and noticing some of the men that were obviously on a mission to find their women and be done with it. The costumes were fantastic.
Just as I was approaching the woman I thought was Lindsey, a tall gentleman, wearing a powdered wig and looking like someone from the Revolutionary War, bowed before her and presented her with a black silk garter that matched his scarf.
“Raise that dress, baby girl.”
I heard Lindsey’s unmistakable giggle as she lifted her crinolines, allowing Taz to slip the garter up to her thigh.
“Taz,” she gushed, taking his hand as they walked off together to find his name card at one of the tables.
More gentlemen were entering the ballroom and I had decided I needed to work fast to locate Easton and be done with this part of the game. I downed the rest of my champagne, my eyes darting around the room anxiously to see if he’d come in yet.
There! I saw him. At 6’ 3” it wasn’t all that difficult to pick him out in a crowd. I hitched up my dress to make sure I didn’t trip and crossed the room to where he stood, sipping amber-colored liquor in a glass with ice.
That’s his bourbon—ah hah!
He was dressed in a dark mocha brown frock coat, with black, brushed-cotton trousers. He had salt and pepper hair, with an impressive black top hat perched on his head. His dress shirt was starched white, with ruffled sleeves, and he wore a rust-colored, silk puff tie. He had a dapper chap walking stick as an accessory. That had probably been his way of letting me know it was him. It totally resembled a crop.
My Easton. Totally predictable if nothing else.
I stifled a giggle as I walked by him, waiting for him to make a move. Maybe he’d pick up on my pheromone scent like Taz had immediately done with Lindsey.
Nothing.
I wondered if he was still pissed at me for snapping at him earlier. I sashayed by him again, brushing my ringlets back from my mask, so at lease he could see the lower half of my face easier.
Nada.
Fuck this shit. I walked over to wear he was leaning against the back of a chair and proceeded to prop my leg up on the seat of the chair, raising my skirt and the petticoats underneath to give him a clear shot at my leg.
“Put the garter on, Easy-E,” I whispered loudly. “Let’s be done with it, okay?”
He shrugged and dug down into the pocket of his frock coat and pulled out a silk, rust-colored garter. I lifted my foot a bit, allowing his gloved hand to shimmy the garter up over my knee to my thigh. He gave my thigh an appreciative rub once the garter was in place.
“Cad,” I whispered, giggling and lowering my skirt back down.
Now I could relax and watch the others find their mates. It was comical to watch as some of the females got perturbed when it appeared obvious their mate was having difficulty.
I grabbed another flute of champagne as a server walked by with a tray, sipping and watching as Jo Anna was now trying to facilitate getting everyone coupled up.
Within a few minutes, everyone had found their mate with the exception of one woman left over.
Huh?
Just then, the ballroom door opened and the missing mate came in, looking resplendent dressed in a black waistcoat, black trousers, and a puffy silk shirt with a royal blue cravat. He looked to be as tall as Easton in those polished black boots.
Jo Anna directed him over to his mate and I watched as she lifted her dress, allowing him to fit the frilly royal blue garter up over her slender leg.
Everyone clapped as the game finished.
Finally.
I was so ready to lose this mask and start some real New Year’s Eve partying.
Jo Anna took the microphone and instructed all of the gentlemen to take their ladies arms and find their name placards at the table they had been assigned.
Easton took my arm and led me over to a table in the center, pulling my chair out for me so that I could take a seat. Each table was large enough to accommodate six people.
I took my seat, scrunching my gown underneath me so that Easton could easily slip into his chair next to me. Then I noticed the name placard in front of his chair. It read: Roscoe Bitters.
The hell…?
~ Easton ~
Bloody hell! I’d over-slept this afternoon after Darcy had stormed out all pissed off at my suggestion—and of course, my choice of words hadn’t helped matters any. I damn near slept through the happy hour of this festivity, getting there just as one lonely female with no mate was standing looking a bit perplexed I imagined, only because I couldn’t actually see the majority of her face because of the mask.
I slipped the bloody garter onto her leg, knowing damn well it wasn’t Darcy, which meant that some prat had gone and claimed my wife as his. Fuck me.
I was instructed to take ‘my lady’ to the table with my name on the placard, which was easy to find since everyone else was already seated. As I held the chair out for whomever it was I’d claimed, I heard a recognizable hiss from the table behind ours. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was definitely Darcy’s voice.
“Okay everyone,” the lady at the microphone called out. “You may remove your masks now. Someone will be by to collect them and then dinner will be served. We have an open bar here, and champagne for everyone as well. So, feel free to mingle and to start enjoying your evening with your New Year’s Eve mate!”
I pulled my mask off, glad to be rid of the bloody thing. My “mate” did the same and I could see she was fairly young and extremely pretty. She looked to be in her late twenties or possibly thirty. She was obviously wearing a wig so I had no idea what her natural hair looked like, but the wig she was wearing was about the same color as Darcy’s natural hair.
“Hello,” she said, sweetly, holding out her gloved hand. “I guess there must’ve been a mix-up since you’re obviously not my hubby,” she laughed. “I’m Carly Bitters.”
“Easton Matthews,” I said, shaking her hand. “So, should I presume that your husband ended up claiming my wife?” I tried to take the edge out of my voice, but any man that had married the lovely Carly was probably a young, handsome stud as well. I didn’t need the aggravation of worrying about Darcy all evening, especially since it was my own damn fault that someone had gotten to her first.
“Well actually, Easton,” Carly said coyly, “it was more like your wife claimed my hubby.”
Do tell?
“I beg your pardon?”
She laughed, showing her dimples, and then proceeded to replay my wife’s antics that had landed her with Carly’s husband. I wasn’t finding the humour in it whatsoever.
“But you see,” she continued, “I bet she thought Roscoe was you because he’s every bit as tall as you, and built the s
ame way. I mean he really does look great for his age.”
“His age?”
She blushed, turning to the table behind us and waving at whom I could only presume was Roscoe. “Hey sweetie,” she called over, blowing him a kiss.
I followed her gaze and saw Darcy sitting next to a man that had to be seventy-five years old if he was a day. His mask now removed, you could see the lines and creases of age, along with a saggy jowl. His eyebrows were snowy white, and he’d removed his salt and pepper wig, showing that he was nearly bald, sporting a comb-over of what was left of the snowy white hair on his scalp.
Roscoe must be loaded.
My eyes quickly averted to my wife, who was fairly fuming now that she realized Roscoe had robbed the cradle and that his wife was a young, beautiful and delightful creature.
Roscoe waved back, blowing Carly a kiss, which then sent him into a coughing spell.
“You know,” I said, turning back to Carly, “I have no issue if you’d like to swap mates.”
“Absolutely not,” she replied. “The rules say we have to enjoy dinner with whoever claimed us. Even though you got me by default, I’m still pretty sure it counts.”
“I see,” I replied, looking back over at Darcy and giving her a shrug.
Everyone at our table introduced themselves as the waiter took our drink orders. I noticed that Colin and Ronnie had matched up, as well as Taz and Lindsey. There had been an apparent faux pas with Slate and his wife, I realized, as Samantha was actually seated at our table with another man named Luke. She seemed to be taking it in stride; however, Slate was another story. He was constantly making his way over to our table and shooting daggers at poor Luke.
He came over to where I was sitting with Carly; clearly pissed that Samantha wouldn’t swap with the mate he had erroneously claimed. My money said she was giving him his due for not being able to stake his claim correctly.
FBI agent…Pffft!
“This is a bunch of shit,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Sammie says we can’t swap back until after dinner, even though the chick I claimed by accident is all for it happening right now.”
No doubt.
“I see you’re in the same predicament, huh, Easton?” he continued, glancing over at Darcy’s table. “Who’s the old fuck with your wife?”
“My husband,” Carly replied, testily. “And he seems to be taking it in stride like everyone else.”
“Oh sorry, ma’am,” Slate replied, looking appropriately sheepish. “I have a feeling I’m not going to hear the end of this,” he said, glancing over at Sammie who was talking to Luke. “I guess I’ll head back to my table. Later.”
On the fifth day of vacay, my true love gave to me…The gift of my being able to laugh my arse off over this for years to come…
chapter 6
On the sixth day of vacay…
~ Eli ~
“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!!”
I grabbed Cain and laid a New Year’s lip lock on him as the confetti rained down from the light show on the dance floor. The clock had struck midnight and it was officially our sixth day of vacation and a new year to boot.
“Here’s hoping for another great year,” I said to him, my arms wrapped around him in a hug.
“Yeah,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Another great year, Eli. You wanna head back to our suite and celebrate more privately?”
“I’m down with that,” I replied with a wink.
We grabbed our suit jackets, grabbed a bottle of champagne from the iced tub, and headed out to the deck. I was whistling in the cool breeze off of the ocean. What a perfect night for lovers.
We had docked in Martinique earlier in the day. Cain and I had spent a quiet day together, and when I say quiet, it was because he had done very little talking for the past couple of days. Something was bothering him and I really wasn’t all that sure why he wasn’t in the mood to share it with me. I was under the impression that people in love did that.
Once we reached our suite, I tore off my tie, and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on my shirt, rolling my sleeves up to get comfortable. I poured each of us a glass of champagne, and Cain retreated to the open balcony to do some star-gazing alone, apparently.
I liked giving him his space, because Cain was an introverted type of guy. He didn’t necessarily appreciate having his moods and emotions picked apart. I knew that much. But this had gone on too long for me not to at least ask what was going on in his head.
I took my flute of champagne and joined him on the balcony. He was leaning against the railing, deep in thought, not even enjoying the starry night sky.
“You want to clue me in on what’s going on in your head, Cain? I feel like an outsider, man. There’s this distance…”
I noticed his shoulders slump as he breathed out a deep sigh, his hands clasped in front of him as he contemplated his response.
“It’s not you, Eli,” he began, “It’s us. We just don’t work anymore.”
What. The. Fuck?
“I think you owe me a little more explanation than just that,” I said, my anger coming into play now. My heart was starting the familiar ache that I hadn’t felt since I had ended my relationship with Seth.
“And Eli, if you would chill, I’ve got more to say, alright? I need to explain and I will, but not with you fucking interrupting me every two seconds.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding in and sat down on one of the wrought iron chairs, clasping my hands behind my neck, willing myself to take slow, even breaths. Cain was going to tear my world apart. That much had been made clear already.
“Remember the other day when I told you about Ronnie and me going to the beach, and her getting stung by the jellyfish?”
“Yeah,” I replied, nodding. He wasn’t looking at me while he was talking. That was so not good.
“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that I was drawn to her. I mean, I don’t know why I was, but I was. I tried to kiss her because I wanted to feel her lips on mine. I mean, Eli, I told her about me being bi and she was like, cool with it. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, except that I had wanted her.”
I remained silent only because I had no friggin’ clue what kind of a response he was expecting from me, or what kind of response I could give until I wrapped my head around what he was telling me.
Cain continued. “She pushed away from me, so the kiss didn’t happen. She avoids me now and it’s like she always makes sure that Colin is with her when she’s out and about on the ship. God, I apologized for trying to kiss her and she acted like it was no big deal, but I think it was. I think she might be drawn to me, too.”
Is that it? Can I speak now?
When the silence lingered on between us, I finally asked the question. “Is that it? Or is there more to this story?”
He finally turned to face me. “I know it sounds strange, and I know you probably think I’m whack, but I still have this need to find out if Ronnie is drawn to me. Even if she isn’t, the fact that I was so easily captivated by her, speaks volumes about us,” he finished with a whisper.
“Leave it alone, Cain,” I growled, hurt and pissed at the same time. “You’re delusional if you think she’s interested in you. Why would you even consider it?”
I saw the flicker of anger in his eyes at my obvious dismissal of his feelings, but what the fuck? Dude had just wrenched my heart out, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that Ronnie would in any way reciprocate those feelings to him. He was delusional in that respect.
“I see, Eli,” he replied. “This is about you now hurting me back, right? Well, go ahead if that makes you feel better. But you know damn well that our relationship hasn’t worked for a while.”
“Just one goddamn minute!” I said, jumping to my feet. “You’re the one that can’t decide what your sexuality is from one day to the next. I can’t fucking keep up w
ith you, man! I shoulda never gotten involved with someone who is totally clueless as to what he really is.”
He brushed past me, stopping in the doorway to look back over his shoulder. “I may not be perfect, Eli. But I know what I want and it’s not you anymore…”
I heard him leave our suite as my hands, now balled up into fists, landed against the steel encased doorway.
“Fuck!” I shouted, feeling my knuckles crack upon impact, knowing that I’d broken at least a couple of them. “Fuck him.”
chapter 6a
~ Colin ~
Ronnie was leaning against me as we left the grand ballroom to head to our suite. I was hoping the night air might sober her up just a bit, because I had planned on giving her a New Year’s tumble just as soon as we got back to our suite and I’d be damned if she passed out before that happened.
Ever since she had shared with me earlier in the evening about that uphill gardener, Cain, making a fucking pass at her after the ordeal with the jellyfish, I’d wanted nothing more than to find him and beat the daylights out of him. She most likely wouldn’t have told me if she hadn’t been under the influence, and though she had assured me that she had thwarted his unsolicited advance, I was still feeling a slow burn to kick his arse.
We finally reached the deck by the swimming pool and fountain.
“Oh Colin,” she said, looking up at the clear sky that was blanketed with stars, “isn’t it so beautiful tonight? Can we please stay out just for a little while and enjoy the stars? We barely see them back in the city.”
“Of course, love,” I said, pulling out one of the chaise lounges and lowering myself down on it. Ronnie had changed out of her costume and back into her shorts and tank top she’d worn before dressing up.
I pulled her down with me onto my lap as I lounged back, running my fingers through her long, dark hair.
“God, I’m glad to get out of that wig,” she sighed. “But it really was fun, wasn’t it? Getting all dressed up like that, I mean.”
