Midnight Masquerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  Her mouth set in a stubborn line, she contemplated the future. It was not a pleasant task, and she was conscious of the fact that not only would she be battling the influence of Dominic's attractiveness, but battling the dictates of her treacherous heart and body too. She began to consider ways to accomplish her aims, finally hitting upon a scheme which she hoped would keep him at a distance.

  The seesaw of emotion that had kept her awake until nearly dawn did not diminish as the hours of her wedding day sped by. She had dutifully allowed Frances and Aunt Sally to coo and flutter about her as they decked her out in the lovely high-waisted muslin gown with its delicate silver threads and wound sweet-scented orange blossoms through her tawny curls. It was difficult not to share their excitement, and despite her best efforts to the contrary, when Zachary finally placed her hand in Dominic's as they stood before the local preacher to say their vows beneath one of the soaring mimosa trees near the house, her cheeks were attractively flushed, her eyes shining and there was an endearingly tremulous curve to her rosy mouth.

  Dominic looked devastatingly handsome in his wedding finery, the dark blue cloth coat fitting his broad shoulders admirably, the snowy whiteness of the fine cambric stock and ruffled shirt enhancing the natural darkness of his skin. Short, buff kerseymere trousers revealed the lean, muscular shape of his thighs, and his white silk stockings fitted snugly against his elegantly formed calves. But it was his face which captured Melissa's gaze, the full force of those sometimes haughty, sometimes laughing and at all times strikingly handsome features hitting her like a blow. His black hair was neatly brushed, but one errant lock persisted in waving near his temple, and Melissa knew an impulse to reach up and brush it back. As soon as the idea crossed her mind, her heart sank. Oh, dear! How was she going to resist him if at the very sight of him she could feel all her hard-won resolutions crumbling?

  The ceremony was brief and the kiss they exchanged before the assembled family and guests was chaste, betraying none of the hot surge of passion that Dominic experienced when his lips touched hers. The blood hammering in his veins, he lifted his head and tucked her hands beneath his arm and turned to present his bride. In seconds they were engulfed by a laughing, congratulating mass of relatives and friends.

  During the festivities that followed, Dominic tried hard not to reveal his growing impatience for the moment when he would have his bride to himself; when he would not have to share her attention with others, especially what seemed to him an inordinate amount of gentlemen who appeared determined to wrest his bride from him. Every time he sought her out, invariably some rackety fellow would be there to claim her regard—and to his jaundiced eye, the fellow was always young and handsome. Even Jason Savage, who was in attendance, had deserted Catherine's side to spend several moments in teasing conversation with Melissa. Not that he blamed him; Melissa's radiant loveliness left him breathless, and no matter whom he was talking with, no matter how interesting the conversation, his eyes kept searching the milling crowd for her tawny head, his ears constantly attuned for the sound of her voice.

  No matter what she had vowed to herself in the darkness of her room, as the afternoon passed Melissa discovered that Dominic could tangle her emotions without even lifting a finger. All he had to do was smile at the various, clinging females or bend his dark head confidingly to speak to this one or that, and she would be certain that he was a scoundrel weaving his dark spell on unwary innocents. But then across the room his gray eyes would meet hers and she would find herself beset by a melting desire, a desire for the numerous toasts to be over, for the congratulations to be said, for Dominic and her to be alone....

  Finally her wish was granted. The last toast, the last congratulation, had been given and she and Dominic drove away with shouts of good wishes and laughter ringing in their ears. They had not gone fifty feet before the realization hit her that this man, this tall, distinguished stranger sitting beside her in the smart new gig, was actually her husband and that he now virtually owned her. Legally he now had the right to control her possessions; even more frightening, he had the right to do anything he wanted with her body....

  She stared at the strong tanned hands as Dominic expertly guided the high-stepping gelding along the red-dirt road, visualizing those same expert hands on her body, removing her clothing, touching her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach, her... Melissa's heart pounded and she wrenched her gaze away from his hands and stared stonily ahead. This must stop, she berated herself. She had to remember not to weaken, not to let him bewitch her.

  If Dominic noticed that his bride was stiff and silent, or if he had thought to comment on the way it had seemed to him that she had smiled and flirted with every man under the age of one hundred on her wedding day, he kept it to himself. He slanted a glance in her direction, noting with a sense of pleasure the sweet curve of her cheek and the delicate line of her jaw. She was enchantingly lovely, he thought not for the first time today, remembering the way his pulse had leaped when he had watched her approach him before the preacher. He had told himself repeatedly that she was a deceitful, conniving baggage and that this was simply a marriage of convenience, that it was only her manipulations that had brought it about. Yet he could not help the wave of possessiveness that flooded his body whenever he looked in her direction or the odd feeling of pride he felt when he saw how effortlessly she charmed his family... and, he recalled blackly, any man who came near her. That, he vowed, was going to stop. She was his wife and he wasn't going to have a bunch of pining, lovesick fools hanging about his household. Jealousy was an emotion he had always scorned and one that he had never before encountered. That might have been why it never occurred to him that for a man who scoffed at the green-eyed monster, he was displaying clear signs of having been bitten—badly.

  It had been a long day for both of them, and Melissa was almost glad when the cottage came into sight. Dusk was beginning to fall, and she welcomed the slight coolness that the increasing darkness offered from the humid heat of the day. Longing for nothing more than a refreshing wash and a soft bed, she said unthinkingly, "Oh, I can hardly wait to be out of this gown and in my bed."

  Flushing when she realized how her words might be interpreted, she waited in an agony of embarrassment for Dominic to reply. There was a suspicious twist to his lips, but he only murmured, "Yes, I imagine so. I have taken the liberty of hiring a maid for you, and I trust that she will have everything you require ready and waiting for you."

  Melissa digested this information in silence. She hadn't had a personal maid in years and she didn't know that she necessarily wanted one now, but against her will, she was touched by his thoughtfulness. Then she sighed. If he was going to continue to be nice, he was going to make her task of withstanding him even harder than she had imagined. Perhaps, she decided bleakly, this was how he had managed to enslave Latimer's sister.

  Determined to let him see that she was unaffected by his actions, she gave a toss of her honey-colored curls and said, "Thank you—that was very kind of you."

  Although Dominic might have hoped for more of a response than a casual thank-you, he was not dissatisfied with her acceptance of his gift. She baffled him and he never knew what to expect from her; she could just as easily have been offended by his gesture. It was her changeability that both fascinated and infuriated him; one moment she could be all melting smiles and the next she would flash him a look that would have sent a lesser man staggering to his grave. She had planned and schemed to entrap him, and yet once the deed was done, she had pretended that marriage to him was the last thing she wanted. He shook his head at her contrary nature, wondering, as he had so often since he had first laid eyes on her, precisely what sort of game she was playing. At least tonight, he thought with a sudden tingle in his loins, he'd reap some reward for having allowed himself to be caught in a snare so conspicuously baited that even now he was positive that his wits must have gone wandering.

  The next hour or so they were busy settling into their new hom
e. Preoccupied by the visions of physical delights that were soon to be his, Dominic voiced no objection when, after a light repast served in the dining room by one of several new servants he had engaged, Melissa disappeared upstairs to her bedroom. A lazy smile on his mouth, he lingered over his brandy, imagining his bride undressing and donning some flimsy apparel for his detection. Increasingly aware of the insistent demands of his body, after several moments he set down his brandy snifter and left the dining room.

  In his bedroom, he stripped out of his wedding finery, and after a hasty rinse in the tepid water left in a china bowl on a blue marble washstand, he shrugged into his dressing gown, which had been laid out by his manservant, Bartholomew. His heart beating faster in anticipation of what was to come, he crossed the tiny dressing room that separated their bedrooms. With fingers that shook slightly, he grasped the crystal doorknob and opened the door.

  He'd furnished Melissa's chamber with her in mind, and he was pleased with the results. The room was large, and the soft yellow and pale lavender colors that he had selected gave it an inviting warmth. A satinwood armoire and a delicate dressing table of rosewood had been introduced into the room, as well as two pretty chairs covered in willow-green silk. The bed he had chosen did not have the sumptuous decadence of the one he hoped would be waiting for them at Thousand Oaks, but he was not displeased with it. The canopy was a graceful swathe of gauzy material which gave the tall, carved posts an airy look, the gleam of the deep lavender coverlet hazily glimpsed through the misty folds of the gossamer curtains that draped all four corners of the bed. Seeing that his bride was not waiting for him in the bed, Dominic scanned the room for sight of her, his gaze finally finding her where she stood by one of the long, narrow windows which lined one wall of the room.

  Melissa had not been idle in the time since she had left her husband in the dining room. Suspecting that Dominic would linger over his brandy, she had indulged in the refreshing bath which had been waiting for her and had even succumbed to trying one of the many containers of powder that Dominic had bought for her use. Liberally dusting herself with a sandalwood-scented powder, she then began to prepare for bed... and Dominic. Scandalizing the proper and efficient maid, Anna, whom Dominic had hired for her, Melissa had dismissed the young woman, stating firmly that for tonight, at least, she had no desire or need for Anna's services. Once Anna had gone, Melissa had wasted a few minutes searching for the trunk which held the meager items she had brought with her from Willowglen. Finding it at the back of the armoire, she had dragged it out and began to prepare for her wedding night, wishing with a pang that she had not been tempted by the bath and the powder—smooth, silken skin, enticingly scented, was not what she had in mind for Dominic tonight.

  Precisely what she planned to do she didn't know; she only hoped to keep a barrier between them. To accept his presence in her bed and in her arms would be to acknowledge defeat, to admit for all time that she was his property and that her purpose from this day forth would be merely to serve him. Her spirit rebelled against such an idea and her mouth tightened into a stubborn line. No matter what ultimately transpired tonight, she must salvage something for pride's sake.

  She had few illusions about her ability to withstand Dominic's sensuous appeal to her senses. After all, wasn't it that same inability to resist him that had gotten her into this situation in the first place? If she'd been made of sterner stuff, wouldn't she have slapped his face and pushed him away the instant he had touched her in his room at the tavern? Remembering the way she had melted beneath his kisses, she grimaced. The really damnable thing, she thought glumly, was that she had no indication which way her treacherous body would react tonight.

  Her defenses were frail, and the most she could hope for was a postponement of the inevitable, for if Dominic touched her, if he took her into his arms and kissed her and awoke that sweet fire she had experienced only in his arms... She sighed. No matter how she protested to the contrary, she was dismally aware that her wretched body would betray all her plans, and she was desperate to prevent that from happening.

  The effect upon Dominic when he entered the room and saw the results of her ministrations was everything that Melissa could have wished for, and for one moment she was certain that he would erupt into fury—which, of course, would give her the excuse she needed to create a disagreement of epic proportions. The moment his eyes found her, the lazy smile that had curved his mobile mouth was wiped clear and the warm light in his gray eyes vanished. He looked, Melissa thought with satisfaction, exceedingly displeased.

  Her heart pounding with a queer excitement, she waited breathlessly for the explosion of wrath she was certain would occur. She wanted him to be angry, because then it would be simpler for her to be angry too; but to her consternation, a slow smile of sheer appreciation spread across his face, and with a thread of amusement in his voice, he drawled, "Miss Melissa Seymour, I presume?"

  It was indeed the sour-faced, prim and spinsterish Melissa Seymour of his first meeting with her at Willowglen who faced him across the short distance of the room. Staring at her, knowing now what lay behind the disguise, he wondered how he had ever been taken in so easily. Even with her hair pulled back into that ridiculously unattractive bun, the fragile beauty of her face would have been obvious to anyone who knew her. Naturally the scowl she was bestowing upon him made that beauty a trifle harder to see, but to him, at least, she looked utterly adorable. He was going to take great enjoyment in discovering, layer by layer, the loveliness and the warm, yielding body he knew lay beneath this absurd disguise.

  At his expression of amusement, Melissa felt a tremor of pure fright skid down her spine. Oh, dear! she thought distractedly, her eyes helplessly caught by Dominic's dark, compelling features, this isn't going to work. She made a game attempt to press on. Tearing her eyes from his mouth, she said frostily, "You know very well what my first name is! And since we were just married this afternoon, you are perfectly aware that I am now Mrs. Melissa Slade!"

  Not the least put off by the haughty tilt of her gently rounded chin or by the icy tone in her voice, Dominic gave her slender body a long, thorough appraisal, his gaze lingering on the rise and fall of her bosom. He closed the distance which separated them. "How could I forget," he said huskily, "when I've thought of little else for the past several hours."

  Melissa's pulse gave a funny little leap at his words, and a feeling of breathless anticipation eddied through her. She knew she should do something, she should move or speak, do anything but stand frozen in one spot, staring at him as if mesmerized by his approach. Against her will her eyes clung to him, skimming over the unruly black hair which persisted in waving near his temples. She avoided meeting the stare of those long-lashed gray eyes, her wandering look sliding down the length of his regal nose and remaining for a breathless moment on the wide, long-lipped mouth. Unwillingly she remembered the taste and texture of that warm, exciting mouth, remembered the heat of it, remembered the slight abrasiveness of his tongue as he had kissed her deeply that night in the tavern....

  Only when he stopped directly in front of her was Melissa able to gain some remnant of control over her unruly thoughts, and it was then that she realized that she had chosen her site of confrontation badly—she should have stood in the middle of the room, where she would have had easy maneuverability. As it was, her back was pressed against the wall and Dominic was planted squarely in front of her, cutting off all avenues of escape, standing so close to her that the lapels of his dressing gown nearly touched her breasts. She bit her lip and glanced away, unwilling to see the triumph she was certain would be on his face.

  "Shy, Melissa?" he asked softly, the faint breath from his mouth brushing against her cheek.

  "Of course not!" she maintained, sending him a freezing glare.

  "I'm pleased that you are not shy. Seducing virgins has never been to my taste and as for bedding a shy virgin..." A rueful gleam appeared in the gray eyes. "Bedding a shy virgin might very well tax even
my ingenuity!"

  In confused astonishment Melissa stared at him, only vaguely aware that he had placed a hand on either side of her head, very aware of the heat and power that radiated from Dominic's deceptively relaxed body. "Since virgins aren't to your taste," she began recklessly, "perhaps we shall simply dispense with consummating our marriage!"

  With a frankly sensuous curve to his mouth, Dominic shook his dark head. "No," he said. "The thought of being your first lover, of simply being your lover, has kept me awake for far too many nights. Now that there are no longer any impediments to that taking place, I shall not deny myself...."

  Chapter 14

  Her mouth suddenly dry, the blood in her veins thudding through her body, Melissa watched dumbly as Dominic slowly lowered his head, the slight brush of his lips against hers sending a jolt of feverish excitement down her spine. Ignoring the eager response of her body, she turned her head aside, breaking the contact of their mouths. In a stifled tone, she asked, "Suppose I don't want you to be my lover?"

  She wouldn't look at him, finding it far easier to concentrate without his handsome features blocking out every other sight from her gaze. But his lips were still faintly touching her cheek, and she felt rather than saw the smile that curved his mouth. His breath, warm and brandy-scented, wafted against her skin as he said softly, "Oh, you will, sweetheart, by the time I'm finished with you."

  Melissa tried hard to be insulted by the confidence in his voice, but mingled with her feelings of insult was a giddy sensation of anticipation. Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, she risked a glance at him and then wished she hadn't—the teasing expression in his gray eyes increasing her agitation. Desperate to break the spell that he was weaving about them, she said breathlessly, "That's arrogant of you!"

  "Mmm, it might seem so, but you forget that I've kissed you and held you in my arms before—on at least two occasions that I can recall quite vividly—and you didn't seem averse to my advances then," he commented.