Masque of Enchantment

by Charlene Cross

  Alissa looked at the golden liquid. If she picked up the glass, as she was tempted to do, she’d be acting out of character. But it had been so long since she’d tasted a good wine, not that she’d imbibed frequently as herself, but an occasional glass had been a pleasure she’d enjoyed.

  “I won’t press you, if you feel it’s against your nature,” Jared said, softly, his gaze holding hers, “but I promise you’ll feel no ill effects from one small sip.”

  Oh, tosh, she thought, knowing he was right. But it had been the soothing quality of his voice, plus the gentle light in his eyes that had actually convinced her. They had acted like a magnet, drawing her, tempting her. She lifted the glass and held it toward his.

  Jared smiled lazily. “To an exceptional woman. May she remember this night always.” Leaning toward her, he clinked his glass to hers and drank from the fluted vessel.

  After she’d taken a small sip, Alissa couldn’t decide if it was the wine or if her chair had always been this close to Jared’s. “I—I,” she stammered, then she felt the brush of his leg against her skirt. “Mr. Braxton—”

  “Jared.”

  Alissa stared at him, then blinked. “Mr. Braxton—”

  “Jared,” he insisted, smiling. “What is it?”

  Alissa’s mind raced. Not knowing what was wrong with the man, she thought he seemed … odd. Again she felt the caress of his leg against hers and jumped. Unthinkingly, she gulped from her glass.

  “Tsk, tsk,” Jared whispered teasingly. “A fine wine should be treated like a beautiful woman. One never takes it too quickly. No, it should be … seduced.” Seeing Alissa’s shocked expression, he fought for control, lest he laugh aloud. “One must inhale its fine bouquet … much like a woman’s perfume. Did you know each woman has her own special scent? One that does not come from a bottle or a jar?” Her mouth agape, she shook her head; Jared’s smile grew bolder. “You have your own,” he said, in a smooth, almost husky whisper. “It’s a mixture of lavender and wild rose, but beneath is the scent of woman, pure and sweet, untouched by worldly desires or the passions of men.”

  Caught up in Jared’s silvery words, Alissa felt herself leaning toward him. Then she saw his hand raise, his finger nudged the base of her glass.

  “Now, smell the bouquet,” he said, and she did. It was heady, intoxicating, but she couldn’t tell if it was the wine or if it was Jared that made her feel so giddy. “Take a sip and hold it in your mouth.” Alissa complied. “Now let it flow over your tongue.” She did. “Wine must be tasted to enjoy it, not just swallowed. The taste is a vibrant sensation,” he murmured, softly, mesmerizing her the more. “From experience, I tell you, to taste your lover’s skin is to inflame your desires. There’s no emotion like it, sweet … Agatha.”

  The sound of the woman’s name hit Alissa like a slap in the face; the wine rolled down her throat, choking her. Immediately, Jared jumped to his feet and thumped her back. His face split into a wide grin as he chuckled to himself. “Better now?” he asked, when her coughing fit had subsided.

  “Much,” she responded with a croak, then turned a narrowed, watery eye upon him. “Sir, I hope the vein of your conversation will take a different slant, or I shall have to excuse myself, and you may dine alone.”

  Jared looked taken aback. “Why, Miss Pembroke, I had not realized I had offended you. I was simply trying to evoke the senses.”

  Angered with herself for allowing him the ability to evoke hers, Alissa was determined not to let it happen again and encased herself in haughtiness. “I found your subject matter rather indecent,” she said, with a sniff. “It was certainly not polite conversation one normally shares at dinner.”

  “Your pardon,” he said, smiling to himself. “I did not wish to offend. Perhaps some food will pacify you. Might I be entrusted to serve you?”

  Alissa eyed him as he stood just to the side of her chair. “Your kind offer is accepted,” she said regally. “I will leave the choice to you.”

  “My pleasure.” Jared turned on his heel and strolled to the buffet. Lifting the tops on the chafing dishes, he began ladling up the fare, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “Here we are,” he said, placing the china plate heaped with food before her.

  Gazing at it, Alissa’s eyes widened and she grabbed her fork to chase the sauce that threatened to overflow the plate. The man must think her a glutton! “Thank you,” she said, frowning, then wondered how she could possibly capture a morsel without causing an avalanche onto the linen tablecloth.

  Jared returned to the table with his own plate to see her puzzled look. “I’m afraid I’ve overdone it,” he said, nodding toward her food. “Here.” He took his fork and stabbed a piece of salmon from the conglomeration in front of her. “Open, please.”

  Alissa looked down her nose at the pink flesh, not an inch from her lips. He was treating her like a helpless child! Her mouth opened in protest, but the fork slipped inside before she could say a word.

  “Cook prepares a most excellent fish, doesn’t she?” he asked, as he broke a leaf from the artichoke, dipped it in a butter sauce, then held it for her.

  “Really, Mr. Braxton—”

  “Jared, remember?”

  Alissa drew a long breath. “Jared … I believe I’m old enough to feed myself.”

  “Just one more bite.”

  She glared at him, but he refused to remove the leaf, so she opened her lips and sank her teeth into the tender end, while Jared slid it from her mouth. Some of the sauce trickled down her chin, and she reached for her napkin, but her host moved faster than she.

  “All neat and tidy,” he said, settling his napkin onto his lap. “More wine?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, then noted Jared’s raised brow. “I’ve had quite enough … thank you.” Indeed she had! But it wasn’t the wine she was thinking of. If he made one more false move, she’d take her plate and sit at the far end of the table!

  “As you wish.” Wisely, Jared left her alone. He didn’t particularly want to wear her meal. “I was thinking perhaps you might enjoy a small shopping spree,” he commented, and took a bite from his own plate.

  “With Megan?”

  “No, with me … for yourself, of course. My treat.” He leaned back and gazed at her over his wine glass. “I’m tired of seeing you in the same boring dresses. I think silk would suit you better, perhaps blue to match your eyes.” He referred to the dress he’d seen in the armoire. “They’re a lovely color blue … soft, inviting,” he said in a husky whisper, his smoldering gaze penetrating hers.

  Dumbfounded, Alissa stared at him, and her fork clattered to her plate, splashing her bodice with sauce.

  Jared hopped to his feet. “Here, allow me.”

  As if in a dream, she watched his deft hand slowly dab the napkin across her breasts, then her gaze slipped upward. With Jared hunched down, his face only inches from hers, a magnetic current passed from his eyes to hers, and she felt its forceful pull. An enticing smile crossed his lips; a dimple appeared in his cheek. Never having seen it before, she was tempted to touch it, and her hand lifted.

  “There,” Jared said, coming to his feet, breaking Alissa’s trance. “The damage seems minimal.”

  The realization of what had just transpired hit home, and she fitfully twisted the napkin on her lap. Unbelievably, she had allowed this man to intimately touch her! Embarrassed, she kept her eyes on her plate.

  “Would you care for dessert?”

  Jared’s heated breath brushed her ear, and Alissa almost jumped from her skin. “N-no, thank you.” Then she felt the gentle squeeze of his hands on her shoulders.

  “Perhaps it’s just as well,” he said, sighing. “I’ve some bookwork to complete before I retire. It’s been my pleasure to entertain you. I hope we might do it again in the near future … the very near future.” Unable to find her voice, Alissa gaped at him incongruously, and Jared bit his lip to keep his chuckles inside. Then, taking her hand from her lap, he knelt on one knee. “‘Go
od-night, good-night! parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good-night till it be morrow.’ Shakespeare.” He grinned. “But I’m certain you know his works far better than I.” With a quick kiss on her hand, he rose and left the room.

  Alissa stared at the closed door. He’s a buffoon! Daft! An idiot! she cried silently. Waiting several minutes until she was certain the halls were cleared, she fled to her bedroom.

  Locking the door behind her, she expelled her breath. Unable to fathom what had come over the man, she finally decided that the wine must have caused his strange behavior.

  Although it was nearly half past nine, Alissa didn’t bother to light the lamp, for daylight lingered seemingly forever in Scotland. She moved to the window and gazed at the patches of blue still lighting the late spring sky. Then with a sigh, she decided to retire for the night.

  Fetching the cotton gown from the wardrobe, she threw it across the bed, her fingers working at her buttons.

  “I’ve always wanted to see you in other than that frumpish sack.”

  Gasping, Alissa spun toward the sound of Jared’s voice, nearly colliding with him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, backing her knees to the bed, her hand gripping its post for support.

  “Silk and satin would suit you better,” he continued, his voice low, sensuous. “Undress for me.”

  Hopefully this was a continuation of the game he’d been playing in the dining room, some sort of devilish prank. Certainly, he didn’t expect her to comply! “Leave my room, at once, Mr. Braxton, or I—”

  “Or what?” he asked, stepping closer, trapping her.

  “I-I’ll scream! You wouldn’t want Megan to know what kind of man you really are!” she cried in desperation.

  “Scream away,” he stated with a cynical laugh. Her mouth opened, and he clamped his hand over it, jerking her against him, his arm tightening like a vise around her waist. Her body pressed to his, she struggled, but Jared’s next words stopped her. “My sweet,” he whispered sarcastically, “I’d think twice if I were you. Should you scream, I’ll have little choice but to call the sheriff.” He felt her stiffen against him. “It seems there’s been an imposter in our midst, a fugitive from the Crown, who’s gone undiscovered until today. There’s a price on her head. A tidy sum, I hear. Is that not so—Alissa Ashford?”

  Suddenly her knees gave way, and he pulled her tauter against him. His hand dropped from her mouth, and he settled her onto the bed. Lighting the candle, he turned to see her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “It was all for naught,” she whispered weakly. “I can only beg your forgiveness.”

  Jared felt an odd twist of sympathy for her, but he immediately steeled himself against the emotion. She’d not get off so easily. His revenge wasn’t complete. “Disrobe,” he said, standing above her, and Alissa’s gaze snapped to his face. “I want to see you as you really are.” Her head shook in denial, but Jared pulled her from the bed. “Wash your face,” he ordered, setting her in the direction of the small alcove and the basin.

  On rubbery legs, Alissa slipped behind the screen. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she desperately fought to control them. He had not hurt her, physically, yet he was purposely trying to punish her. What had she expected? A mere tap on the wrists? Then she wondered how he’d discovered her true identity.

  When she reappeared, his eyes drank in her healthy coloring. Her skin looked as soft as a babe’s. “Take down your hair,” he said, and watched as she slipped the pins from the tight knot. A wealth of shiny tresses fell around her shoulders and down her back, and he felt an odd tingle in his fingers, wanting to touch the silken threads. “Come here,” he bade, his voice low, soft. “Put this on.”

  Alissa caught the wadded piece of material he’d thrust toward her. It was her costume. “You searched my things?”

  “You gave me reason.”

  “What reason?”

  Jared laughed, harshly. “My dear young woman, you act as though it is I who have committed the crime. Now put the dress on.” When she turned to escape behind the screen, he stopped her. “Do it here!”

  She cast him a mutinous look. “No!”

  Jade eyes turned cold, hard. “You’ll do as I say … or I’ll do it for you.”

  Through tremulous fingers, the dress slipped to the floor. Tears pricked her eyes as she raised nervous hands to the back of her neck, slipping the buttons free. Her weak limbs quaked unsteadily, until she actually shivered, as if she were in the throes of a violent chill.

  Viewing her lowered head, Jared saw her reaction. His eyes closed as he drew a deep breath. Although she no longer portrayed the prim Miss Pembroke, she retained a modesty of her own, and he couldn’t allow her to go through with it. Expelling the air in his lungs, he spun her around, shoved her hands aside, and grabbed the material. Buttons shot everywhere, and Jared rammed the costume into Alissa’s hands. “Get behind the screen and be quick about it!”

  She ran to its security, several tears spilling down her cheeks, but with a swipe of her hand, she rubbed them away. The dress donned, she stepped into view, her hand holding the torn bodice in place.

  Like a butterfly climbing from its cocoon, its jeweled wings unfurling to show its exquisite beauty, she, too, had changed into a vision of perfection, and Jared was astounded by her transformation.

  “Come here,” he ordered, and as she slowly walked toward him, he felt a hot stirring deep in his loins. Then she stopped before him, and his hand rose to thread through her silky hair, while his fascinated gaze traveled over her face.

  Beautiful, he thought. And real. His thirsty eyes absorbed the look of her soft glowing skin. Like a babe’s, he repeated in his mind, wanting to touch it. Huge sapphire eyes, topped by delicately winged brows and framed by long dark lashes, stared up at him, and he felt himself drowning in their alluring depths. His gaze slipped down over her straight, slender nose, to her soft lips, trembling with uncertainty, and he felt the need to gently caress them with his own. As he took in her entire length, he saw her as the wood nymph who had tormented him day and night, always leaving him wanting, never to be fulfilled.

  “You’ve escaped me long enough,” he said in a husky whisper. Then no longer certain she truly was real, he pulled her to him.

  A raging fire scorched his veins as his fiery lips blazed over hers, his hot tongue probing their softness, urgently begging a response. His muscular arm slipped around her small waist, hauling her fully against him, while his long fingers splayed at the nape of her neck, pressing her face to his. Resisting the strange emotions clamoring through her tremulous body, his masterful mouth working its magic on hers, Alissa fought against his powerful hold. Her weak struggles inflamed him the more, as she writhed against his hardening body, and his hand slid down her spine, forcing her closer. Frightened by his masculine strength, his virility, her lips trembled; a whimper escaped her throat.

  Hearing it, Jared suddenly realized this was not one of his dreams. Gently, he set her away and turned his back, fighting for control. “That was part of your punishment,” he gritted out, knowing he’d punished himself, as well. Collecting himself, he walked to a chair. “Have a seat, Miss Ashford. We need to talk.”

  Warily, Alissa followed, her eyes surveying his every move. Then she lowered herself to the settee and watched as Jared folded his long frame into the chair, opposite her.

  His emotionless eyes pinpointed her. “Explain why you have been impersonating Miss Pembroke.”

  Her concentration on her tightly clasped hands, Alissa told her story, relating how Charles Rhodes had accosted her, how she’d used the disguise to escape London, even how she’d studied the late Miss Pembroke’s journals, hoping to help Megan.

  “You expect me to believe you had my daughter’s interests at heart?”

  “I may not be as qualified as Miss Pembroke, but you cannot deny that Megan is far better now than when I first came here.”

  “No, I cannot,” he conceded. “But when she learns
of your deception, she may withdraw. In fact, because of it, she may very well be worse off than before.”

  “She’s known for some time I wear a disguise. Likewise, she knows I am her friend, no matter what name I call myself. I have grown very fond of Megan. I would never hurt her … not intentionally. I told her once that I held a secret within me, and when I was ready, I would share it with her. She understood, and I’m certain she won’t hold it against me, once she knows my reasons.” She looked at Jared. He seemed unconvinced. “How did you discover my true identity?”

  “That April night, when I was to retrieve Miss Pembroke, I, too, was at Covent Garden.” He saw Alissa’s eyes widen in disbelief. “A young actress caught my eye, but when act three had begun, she’d disappeared to be replaced by another. The portly little man in Stilton gave me a clue that she was in serious trouble, especially when the Crown had every man in England looking for her. But it wasn’t until I went to the cottage today that I realized she’d been under my protection all along.”

  “Y-you were at the cottage?”

  He smiled, knowingly. “‘Help me, Lysander, help me!’” “You watched all of it?”

  “Hardly. I take my Shakespeare seriously, Miss Ashford, and your portrayal of Hermia was exceptional. I remembered it well.” He did not elaborate. Nor was he about to explain his dreams. “I’d heard enough to become suspicious. So I searched your rooms.”

  Alissa became suspicious in her own right. “You’ve been spying on us.”

  “Spying? Let’s just say, I’ve been observing.”

  She wondered if he’d seen them with Ian and decided he hadn’t. For, if the rift between the two men was as serious as Ian had intimated, then Jared would have confronted her when he’d first discovered the fact.

  “Mr. Braxton.” Her teeth worried her lip. “D-do you think it might be possible for me to remain at Hawkstone?”

  “What?”

  “I—I was thinking of Megan. I’ve made some progress with her. She’s able to make sounds. Given time, I’m certain she’ll be talking.”