by Unknown
Charity noticed at once that while he conversed with those around him, his eyes seemed to be searching the room with an air of restless curiosity.
Then they met hers, and she actually inhaled a ragged breath. She could have sworn that in some way he had reached out and touched her.
She did not see the fleeting look of black fury that touched Gregory's face, for her eyes remained on the man who was slowly making his way in her direction. She felt frozen to the spot, held by a magnetism she found impossible to break. He stopped within inches of her, and although he spoke to Gregory, his eyes never left Charity. She remained silent, looking up into eyes so blue she felt washed by the tides of the sea.
He could have been a romanticized version of the Devil. The handsome Lucifer before he was ejected from heaven. The most beautiful of all the angels.
"Hamilton," he said, his voice warm and deep. "Your choice of costume is so appropriate, I didn't have to guess it was you. Cardinal Richelieu was quite an interesting man. Loved to be the power behind the throne, didn't he?" The question was put with a mild smile, but the gaze he turned on Gregory was hardly mild . . . or warm.
"Morgan," Gregory replied, "I see you've just arrived. Is Anne not a bit put out with you?"
Ignoring the obvious meaning of his words, Noah smiled down at Charity. "Had I known you had brought such a delightful creature, I would have come sooner."
Charity was both intrigued and angered. Did he
think her a light-heels, who would be devastated by one smile?
"I hate to disappoint you if you're looking for an introduction, but I've been trying to find out the lady's name myself." Gregory smiled a wolf's smile. "Your luck is not serving you well. Perhaps you've lost your touch."
"Ah, a lady of mystery." Noah's smile grew broader as the music, which had stopped, began again. Noah took Charity's hand, and before she could protest, he was drawing her closer. His smile was for Gregory. "As for luck, I always bring my own with me."
Charity was close to him on the dance floor before she could think of something to say.
"You are impertinent, sir. Is it not custom to ask a lady if she cares to dance?"
"But, my lady," he said with false remorse, "a highwayman is not bound by custom. He must depend on wit and nerve."
"Well, you do have considerable nerve," she replied, but her lips twitched in a smile, and he responded with a low laugh.
"I have not seen you before."
"How do you know? Be careful, highwayman, I might be a lady you've kissed and deserted."
"Oh, no," he said softly, and Charity did battle with the warmth of the eyes that appraised her. "I have not kissed those lips, or I would not have deserted them."
"You really are very bold."
"And you are very beautiful. Where do you come from?"
"I am Aphrodite, recently come to earth to enchant a mortal."
"I'm quite prepared to be enchanted, sweet Aphrodite. But to remain on earth you must have a mortal name."
"Ah, alas, it is a secret. I am under a curse. If I reveal my name I will be whisked back to Mount Olympus . . . and I'm enjoying myself too much to go back yet."
"And I would not want to be responsible for your disappearance. At least not until I've seen behind that mask."
"But you may not. We do not unmask until midnight, and that is still some time away."
"Then I may be forced to keep you by my side until that time," he replied.
But her laughter was all he had left when the dance ended and another ardent suitor whirled her away.
Charity kept her eye on him. She knew he was intrigued, but was it enough to draw him closer? The more the hours ticked by, the more shaken she was at the idea that she had failed Gregory before she had even begun. It was only the first time she was to underestimate Noah Morgan.
The hour was past eleven when Charity slipped outside to inhale a deep breath of cool air. The black night sky was kissed by a million stars and a full golden moon.
She heard the music behind her and stood quietly listening, trying to form a plan that would draw Noah to her again. Then she stilled her breath and grew
rigid. She did not have to turn around to know he was there.
She smiled to herself, then forced herself under control.
"So, highwayman," she said softly, "you are persistent as well as bold."
"Did you doubt it, Aphrodite?" he asked quietly.
Only then did Charity turn to face him. Noah had seen and held many beautiful women, but when she turned to face him, the pale glow of moonlight turned her into a white and gold vision that took his breath away.
She watched him walk slowly toward her, and the thought of a stalking black panther came to mind unbidden. She fought for control by remembering that this handsome man was the one who threatened Gregory's future, and in a roundabout way, hers as well.
"I thought you were beautiful with all that light inside, but only moonlight does you true justice. It's almost time to unmask, Aphrodite, and to reveal your mortal name." He reached for her mask, but she raised a hand to stop him.
"Not until midnight, Mr. Bandit." She smiled and heard his soft chuckle.
She was about to laugh with him when suddenly she found herself bound against a broad chest that felt as hard as iron. She began to protest when his mouth found hers and took it in a fiery kiss. When he released her, she gasped for breath. The world had seemed to tilt precariously, while her trembling legs suddenly felt as if the ground had stirred beneath her.
''How dare you!"
"I couldn't help myself, I was enchanted." The sound of his voice was a whisper against her hair.
Charity tried to move away, but he held her with gentle yet unrelenting force.
"Oh no, Aphrodite. It will be midnight and I will have a name and a face to go with it."
"You cannot know when it's midnight," she replied. But her voice had trembled. None of this was going according to plan.
She could feel the length of his body pressed so intimately to hers that she flushed, feeling a heat uncoil within her. She had to do something! She had to!
But she didn't . . . Anne Ferrier did.
"Noah." Anne's voice was soft, deadly soft, but it carried across the terrace to where Noah and Charity stood in a very compromising embrace.
It came so unexpectedly that Charity felt Noah's hold loosen. In that moment she was gone. She ran toward the open French door, but Noah's voice accompanied her.
"We'll meet again, Aphrodite!"
When Charity entered the ballroom she was panting and deeply grateful to see Gregory there. He took her hand and together they left the ballroom. In the foyer he whispered hasty instructions.
"Go back home now, Charity. This has been more than excellent. He'll find you. I don't doubt it will be within a day or two. We've got him. You couldn't have done it better."
Charity left quickly. But on the carriage ride home she wasn't quite as certain as Gregory seemed to be.
Noah rested one hip against the balcony, crossed his arms, and watched an enraged Anne walk toward him. There was no doubt Anne was a lush and delicious creature, he thought. But he knew her well enough to know that she enjoyed the games she played, and no one would ever mean enough to her to stand between her and what she wanted. He couldn't help thinking of the mysterious beauty he had just held in his arms.
Anne was tall and graceful, and her blond hair was elaborately coifed. She wore the disguise of an Egyptian princess, which complemented her creamy skin and green eyes. Her smile, as always, held an invitation in it.
Anne Ferrier knew Noah much too well to vent her anger verbally. He would smile his ungodly devastating smile, bow to her anger, and walk out of her life, and that was the last thing she wanted.
She stopped within inches of him and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your rendezvous."
"Hardly a rendezvous, my sweet," Noah replied. "I don't, as yet, even know the lady's name."
"You've been away too long, Noah. You don't know all the newcomers."
"Who is she, Anne?"
The intent in his voice stirred her anger even more. She had been Noah's mistress for only a short while and had soon decided two things: Her marriage was a necessary inconvenience, and she wanted to be the one who held Noah Morgan longer than any other of
his rumored lights of love. She had been successful so far because, in bed, she was a tigress who could tame most any man.
"How you torment me, Noah," she said throatily as she moved against him. "Why do you want that child's name when you need only put out your hand to have a woman in your arms? Oh, Noah, you know how much I love you."
And Noah did. He almost smiled again. He was not the first lover Anne Ferrier had taken, and he knew quite well he wouldn't be the last. It seemed the lovely Anne tired easily of the men who threw themselves at her feetsome to taste her loveliness, and others to listen to careless words spoken in passion. The second had been Noah's purpose. Not for a moment did he believe that Anne knew what the word love meant. At times, when solitary thoughts overtook him, he wondered if he was too jaded to be able to see love if it did appear.
Tonight he was tired of the games he was forced to play, and he was irritated with the wisp of memory left behind by the elusive lady who had escaped him. She had felt so . . . different in his arms, and the taste of her soft lips was still on his.
He suddenly found it impossible to respond to Anne the way she so obviously expected him to. He moved away from her and looked out over the broad expanse of moonlit garden. He did not see her eyes narrow or her inviting mouth grow hard.
"I returned just an hour before your ball, Anne. I suppose that is why I'm so tired."
"Tired?" She laughed softly. "You? I don't believe I
have ever seen you tired . . . even after a long and strenuous night."
"Perhaps I am aging rapidly." He turned to look at her. "I came tonight only because I gave you my promise. But I cannot stay. There is something I have to attend to before I find my bed."
"Your bed? We will not meet tonight? Noah"
"I'm afraid by the time the ball is over the hour will be long past for us to meet. Would you have Rodger draw his sword against me because we were indiscreet?"
"You would kill him and he knows it," Anne replied and he wasn't sure he didn't hear a note of hope in her voice. But Rodger Ferrier was too important to him to let that happen.
He came to her suddenly and took her in his arms, his roughness eliciting a pleased gasp. Then he kissed her, deeply, forcing her lips apart and drinking in her moan of pleasure.
"I do not choose to kill or to die," he said quietly. "There is still too much pleasure to be had in living."
"Yes . . . yes," she whispered against his hard mouth. His rough hands and hard body filled her with heat.
"There is always tomorrow. Can you be free?"
"Rodger goes to court tomorrow."
"Oh? Something of importance?"
"I'm not sure, something about a meeting in London with Sir Ralph Waite."
He kissed her again, this time gently and so sensually he felt her melt against him.
"How can I know when we can be together if I don't
know when he is leaving and how long he will be gone?"
"He leaves tomorrow and he'll be gone for a week. He meets Lord Jemmison also, and they're going together."
"Then . . . there will be time," he whispered. "You had best go in before you are missed."
Reluctantly Anne backed away from him and rearranged her disheveled clothes. If he said the word she would follow him to the gazebo at the far end of the garden where she could find satisfaction in sating the heated need that was filling her. She looked at him hopefully, but she could see that he was regaining his cool and elusive attitude.
"You are a devil, Noah Morgan," she said with a smile.
"And you, my lady," he laughed, "are no angel."
"I believe, sometimes, that you do not understand how I truly feel."
"Our passion for each other is obvious to me."
"Passion? Is that all"
"Anne, we tread dangerous ground. You know as well as I do that this is all that we will have. You have everything you want. A prestigious name, position at court, a powerful husband, and wealth beyond your dreams. Do you think I would jeopardize that for you?"
She knew he was right, and yet he was wrong. She did not want to lose her grip on what she possessed, yet she wanted more from him . . . more, but what more even she didn't know. He was the most elusive man she'd ever known. There was a part of him she
had not seen, and a part that was always withheld from her even when they were in the grip of the deepest, hottest passion. That was the part she wanted revealed to her, and that was the part he seemed to guard with an iron will she could not get beyond.
The game they played had unspoken rules, and if she did not desire him so completely, she would have cut him from her life.
"Come dance with me."
"In a while. We can't be careless. Rodger is no fool."
"Yes," she said softly, "you just don't know what kind of a fool he is." She turned from him and walked toward the French doors. But just as she reached them she heard his voice again.
"Anne."
She did not turn around but remained still, hardly breathing in her hope that he would ask her to stay, to go into the dark garden with him, to . . .
"Yes, Noah?"
"What is her name?"
"Damn you!" Her voice was frigid.
"Her name."
"Charity Gilbert."
The name meant nothing to him.
"Where did you meet her?"
"I hadn't before tonight."
"Then you know nothing about her?"
"Only that she has let Stafford Hall and arrived with a retinue of servants. That she has a mysterious source of wealth . . . and that no one knows where she came from." She finally turned to face him. "And that interests you, doesn't it? Noah, don't betray me."
The last four words were spoken so softly he barely heard them . . . but he felt them and understood the warning.
"To ask her identity is not betrayal."
"If I did not know you so well, I might take your word for that. Be cautious." She turned and walked back into the ballroom.
Noah gazed at the empty doorway for several moments, then slowly turned his back to it. Anne was gone from his thoughts, but he was irritated that he could not similarly banish the mysterious Charity Gilbert.
He was more surprised at himself than at anything else. He had long ago divorced himself from a conscience he couldn't afford. He had also given up all hope of meeting a woman who could face him with honesty, who did not have her own devious goals in mind.
Still, the memory of her unwilling kiss lingered, lingered with such persistence that he made a decision.
"Charity Gilbert." He smiled a smile that might have frightened Charity had she seen it. "Who are you, and why are you here? Aphrodite . . . perhaps I have yet to remove your real mask."
Chapter Six
Charity woke early to the sound of birds and the rustle of the breeze through her window. Over breakfast she told Beth everything that had transpired at the party.
Beth was excited and listened as Charity described the meeting with Noah Morganall except the kiss they had shared and the still troubling effect it had had on her.
Charity hadn't slept well, fighting dreams that left her confused when she had wakened. All day long she expected to see Noah Morgan at her door at any moment, but the day passed with no sign of him. Charity spent the day alternating between hoping and fearing that he would find her.
By the time she went to bed that night she was filled with conflicting emotions. She knew that Gregory
couldn't come to her but she felt abandoned and totally inadequate to handle the problem.
Now she lay in her bed and, for a stolen moment, allowed he
r memory to slip back to the ball and Noah.
She licked her dry lips, feeling the pressure of his mouth lingering on them. A pressure that had, in all honesty, not been unwelcome. She had never before felt the way she'd felt when he held her prisoner those few seconds.
She was just beginning to realize how difficult this situation promised to be. How confident she had been! How simple she had thought it would be to find out where Noah had hidden what Gregory wanted, and take it. But when she had looked up into the deep blue ocean of Noah's eyes, it was the first time she truly considered the depth of the water she was in and wondered if swimming in it was going to be quite so easy.
Charity rose, bathed, and dressed in a golden brown riding habit. She hated to think of Charles Brentwood, but today she was grateful that he had had one of his grooms teach her to ride. She walked to the stables, where she found Minnow and Tiny already awake. The three of them had never shared a word the whole time she had been in the Round. She began to wonder if they had ever been able to trust anyone but Amiee.
"Minnow, will you saddle that mare in the first stall?"
He nodded and moved to comply with her wishes.
From the far end of the stable, Tiny, comfortable on a pile of hay, watched her.
Why she should care if these two trusted her or not was beyond her, but she did.
She waited until the horse was saddled and led to her side. Then she prepared to mount. But Minnow reached out a ham-like hand to grip her arm. His hold was surprisingly gentle, but she knew he could snap her arm in two if he chose. She looked up at him and waited to see what his reasons were.
"You ride far?" His voice rumbled like a bass drum.
"No, not really. I'll stay on Stafford property. I just need some exercise."
"Good. If you don't come back by the midday meal, I will come for you."
