Masque of Enchantment

by Charlene Cross

  “What? Bored with Shakespeare?”

  “No. Just wanted a change.”

  “Did you miss me?” he asked, his emerald eyes smiling into hers.

  “Yes … uh, that is, Megan did.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “That, sir, will remain my secret,” she said, with a haughty tilt of her head.

  Jared’s hand rose to capture her chin. “I have no fear in admitting my loneliness,” he said, then his face lowered toward hers. “I missed you, sweet.”

  Realizing his intent, Alissa swiveled her entire body, hoping to escape, but Jared trapped her, his hands hitting the edge of the shelf behind her head. “W-what do you want?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Just one small wifely peck to say welcome home.”

  “I-if I give you one, will you let me pass?”

  Mischief danced in his eyes. “Of course.”

  She viewed him through narrowed eyes, wondering if she could trust him. Probably not, but she knew he would, undoubtedly, keep her here until she honored his request. Jared was just stubborn enough to wait hours, days, perhaps weeks. “All right, but remember it’s one kiss, then I can be on my way.”

  “Agreed.”

  Closing her eyes, she tilted her face to his and pursed her lips, waiting. Her lids popped open at the sound of his chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

  “You look … uh, never mind.”

  “I look what?”

  “I refuse to say, madam, lest you be offended.”

  “I know how I look; but remember, it is you, not I, who wish me to stay in this disguise, Mr. Braxton.”

  “I have reason, Alissa.”

  “To protect me, of course.”

  He didn’t answer. As his gaze traveled her face, he knew he could not tell her of Rothhamford’s confession. If he did, he was certain she would press for an annulment. She would be free to leave … leave Megan … leave him. And he did not want that. To keep her, he knew he must court her, woo her, seduce her with tenderness. “Shall we try again?” he asked, a lazy smile breaking his lips. “But this time, relax, sweet. Before you looked too much the martyr. All I want is a kiss from my wife.” Then his hand slipped around the nape of her neck. “Now, kiss me, Alissa.”

  The tender caress of her name drew her deeper under his spell, and she raised her mouth to his. The gentle meeting of their lips lulled her, soothed her, and before she was ready, his head raised, and she felt herself leaning toward him, seeking more of him.

  “Thank you,” he said, his heavy-lidded eyes searching hers. “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever,’” he whispered, then drew away completely, his finger tapping the book in her hand. “Keats.”

  Alissa blinked. As he stood there, smiling at her, she decided he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. The smart cut of his gray coat, the neatness of his perfectly tied cravat, the smooth lie of his waistcoat against his taut stomach, the long line of his gray striped trousers, topping his polished leather boots, all combined to create the flawlessly stylish gentleman whom every woman longed to have at her side. But as she mentally viewed herself, she knew no man would want to be seen with her. “When can I be myself?” she asked, not knowing she did so.

  “Tonight,” Jared whispered, taking her hand, “when we are alone.” Then he clicked his heels, bowed, and placed a soft kiss on her fingers. “Until then, love.”

  As she watched him stride from the room, a self-confident air about him, Alissa leaned against the bookcase, and as a soft smile curved her lips, she sighed. Then Ian’s words suddenly flashed through her mind—“Don’t tell me you have a schoolgirl’s crush on the dark master of Hawkstone?”—and she sobered from her childish reverie. She was acting like an enamored adolescent, barely out of pigtails!

  Tonight! her mind screamed, and she jerked erect. When we are alone. What did he intend? Surely, he didn’t … ? No! He’d promised her he would wait! Was he about to renege? Well, she’d just see about this!

  With a determined step, Alissa left the library, going in search of Jared. Stopping Mr. Stanley in the hallway, she demanded, “Where is your master?”

  At her waspish tone, Mr. Stanley’s eyes popped wide. “W-why, he be headin’ fer the stables the last time I seen him, mum.”

  “Thank you,” she said, curtly, and headed toward the alcove, her steps firm, purposeful.

  “Storm’s a brewin’,” Mr. Stanley mumbled to himself, then grinned, realizing his master had finally met his match. “Gots himself a fiery one, he has.” Then with a merry whistle, he toted the trunk to Jared’s quarters.

  When Alissa reached the stables, she was informed that Jared had taken Megan for a ride astride Thor. She’d just missed him. In fact, she found that that was to become the standard saying of the day—“You just missed him, Miss Pembroke”—and she began to wonder if everyone at Hawkstone was protecting him. The insidious rogue! Disgusted with the whole lot, she finally gave up and went to her rooms.

  As she sat on the settee, reading the volume of Keats, she saw a movement near the bottom of her door. A note had slipped under, and Alissa hopped to her feet. Jerking the panel open, she found the hall empty. The door banged closed, and she stooped and retrieved the note, recognizing the stationery as Jared’s.

  Sweet,—Since you cannot traipse the halls without your disguise, I asked Mr. Stanley to set a light supper for us in your room. I wish to spend time alone with you, so that we might become better acquainted. As promised, I ask no more, other than you wear the blue silk as on the night we wed. Until eight.—J.

  Alissa reread the passage, “As promised, I ask no more …” He’d not forgotten his vow after all, she decided, realizing she’d worked herself into a dither for naught. Yet, the thought that the two of them would be locked behind closed doors—in her bedroom, no less!—still frightened her and she wondered if she would succumb to his charms as Ian had predicted. According to her friend, no woman was capable of denying Jared anything … ever!

  Yet, why should she? He was her husband; she, his wife. Eventually, she knew, she must allow him into her bed. From the sound of his note, he was simply trying to build a rapport between them. There was no urgency on his part, no demands. Perhaps he wanted to court her. Alissa smiled at the thought. Marriage first, courtship second. Rather like the cart before the horse, she decided, but realized that at least he was willing to make those amends, knowing some men would not. It might be pleasant, she concluded, then felt a thrill of warmth spread through her. Perhaps, in his own way, he would eventually learn to love her, and she him. Or was she starting to love him already? No … yes … oh, tosh! It was an impossible situation, she decided, then headed toward the bell cord, ringing for Mary and hot water for a bath.

  At eight, Mr. Stanley having already set their supper for them, a light tap sounded on Alissa’s door. Smoothing the skirt of her blue silk gown, she walked toward the panel, her knees vibrating in tune with her heart.

  “Beautiful,” Jared breathed as he stepped inside and closed the door. His heated gaze assessed her at length; Alissa blushed. “Don’t be embarrassed, love, when your husband says you are beautiful. Nor by the look in his eye, when it says he is pleased with what he sees.”

  Alissa did not know what to say. She could quote impassioned words of love as she glided across a stage, but she felt it impossible to recite her own, and she wondered if he expected her to reciprocate.

  Jared laughed; its low, sensuous quality drew Alissa’s attention. “You seem to be at a loss for words, love.” His finger tilted her chin up. “Let me help. Tell me I am … handsome.”

  “Y-you’re handsome.”

  “Virile.”

  “Virile,” she repeated, and blushed anew.

  Jared smiled. “And a conceited bore.”

  “And a con—” She laughed. “Indeed, you are.”

  “Conceited, yes … boring, never.” He winked, then grinned, the dimple showing in his cheek again, and again Alissa suddenly wanted to
touch it. “Shall we make our way to our table?”

  Her gaze slipped upward from the indentation. “Yes. I’m famished.” She felt his hands settle at her waist.

  “So am I, Alissa,” he whispered. “So am I.”

  The husky tone of his voice rocked her to the core. For food? she wondered. Or did he hunger for her?

  Jared moved around her and pulled out her chair. “Madam.” He waved her to her seat. “Since our repast consists only of one course and dessert, might I offer you some wine now? Or will you tell me it’s the devil’s brew?”

  Alissa looked up at him. “If I were still in disguise, I’d have to spout the need for temperance. But I’d never do so as myself.”

  “A lush, you say?” he teased, pouring the wine, then sat across from her. “I hadn’t counted on this.”

  “I drink only on occasion, usually special ones.”

  “And is this one special?” he asked, raising his glass.

  “Yes, it is,” she answered, her glass rising, too.

  “Then I salute you, Mrs. Braxton. May our life together be long and happy.” Jared clinked his glass to Alissa’s, then drank; she did the same. “Did I ever tell you how wine shouldn’t be swallowed, but seduced?”

  Thankfully, the fluid had already cleared her throat before his words hit her ears. “You did, sir,” she countered, curtly, then noticed Jared’s grin. “You’re most fortunate, Mr. Braxton.” She noticed his quizzical look. “Wine is far better consumed than worn.”

  “Agreed,” he said, chuckling. “Now, let’s see what fare we have.” He snatched the covers from their plates and placed them on the tray beside the table. “Roast lamb with mint sauce, boiled asparagus, baked potatoes, and lobster cutlets, and … hmmm, strawberries and cream for dessert.”

  Their meal was enjoyed with good conversation, Jared ever attentive to Alissa’s needs. His words were teasing, then tender, then teasing; his gaze was always upon her. His deep laughter reverberated through her when she’d say a particularly witty thing. Never was he argumentative, not even when their views clashed on politics, religion, or women’s rights. “I’ve married a hoyden,” he announced, when she told him women should not be considered chattel. Then he chuckled. “Of course, you’re used to being independent. Perhaps, when you realize how wonderful it is to have a husband, you might change your rompish views.”

  “I do not consider myself a mannish female nor a bold woman. I do, however, believe women should have more rights than they do, at present. That way they won’t have to be so dependent on their husbands or families.”

  “Your pardon,” Jared said, a teasing light entering his emerald eyes. “I did not mean to offend. In fact, as a peace offering, I extend to you my word that you shall be my equal.”

  “In all things?”

  Jared frowned. “In all things,” he said finally.

  “Then I shall take Thor for a canter tomorrow.”

  “Over my dead body, madam!”

  “Then your agreement is worthless; we are not equal.”

  “Equal does not mean I will allow you to kill yourself! The stallion will tolerate no one on him, except me. Even I have trouble controlling him. His temperament is like—”

  “Yours?” she finished, smiling.

  Jared laughed, its deep rumble filling the room. “Exactly. Thor and I are a perfect match in that respect. You cannot ride Thor,” he stated with finality. “However, there is a gentle little mare that would suit you and your temperament perfectly. Her name is Sweet Honesty. If you’d like, we can go out tomorrow.”

  “I’d love to,” Alissa said, her eyes aglow with excitement.

  The sight of her lovely face filled with innocent, childlike expectation momentarily took Jared’s breath away. Such a simple gift, he thought. And she seemed overjoyed by it. Then he thought of Celeste and the mounds and mounds of jewels she’d demanded, never satisfied with a one, always wanting more. Suddenly he remembered his own gift to Alissa. “While I was away,” he said, pulling the velvet box from his coat pocket, “I got you a little something … a wedding gift.”

  Alissa accepted the box with nervous fingers. “I—I have nothing for you,” she said, embarrassed by the fact.

  “Alissa, this is my gift to you. I want you to enjoy it without thought of reciprocation,” he said, a sincere light entering his eyes. “Now open it.”

  The lid crested to reveal a set of pendant earrings. The blue sapphires, surrounded with diamonds, winked up at her and tears of joy filled her eyes as she gasped with pleasure. “They match my brooch,” she said, lightly fingering the stones, gazing at them in awe. “I—I never expected such a beautiful gift. How can I thank you?”

  Jared quaffed the golden wine and set down his glass. “A kiss will do nicely,” he teased.

  Alissa viewed him a long moment; then she rose and walked the few steps to his chair. He remained seated, his face unreadable, and she bent over to lightly brush her lips against his. Then she felt the pressure of his hand at her waist, urging her to him again. “Once more, Alissa,” he whispered, huskily, “please?”

  As she looked deeply into his hooded green eyes, she saw there were no demands, just tenderness and … expectation? Without thought, she moistened her lips, the tip of her tongue gliding along their softness.

  At the sight, Jared drew in his breath; lightning shot to his loins. Did she believe him made of stone? he wondered, then realized the action had not been meant to incite, her innocence being too pure to know what it had done to him. Then her face lowered a second time, and his parted lips received hers, soft and caressing. He felt the pressure of her breasts against his shoulder and chest, and the temptation to touch their fullness, fondle their perfection, rose inside him anew. Fighting his urge, forcefully keeping his desires in check, his fingertips tightened at her waist, like those of a man who hung at the edge of a cliff, ready to slip into a roiling surf below.

  As her kiss deepened, Alissa tasted the wine on his lips. Intoxicating, she thought, but it was not the wine that brought the word to mind. It was Jared. Knowing it, she opened her lips more fully against his, searching for that heady feeling only he could bring forth. At her waist, his hand gripped tighter and tighter, yet it felt painfully sweet, and wanting to sample more of him, her tongue tentatively touched his lower lip, then it slipped inside, savoring his own.

  With an agonized groan, Jared suddenly set her away and viewed her through heavy-lidded eyes. She seemed lost for a moment, not knowing what had happened. With a quick move, he shifted in his chair, to hide his arousal, then let out a low laugh, but to his own ears it sounded a bit stilted. “Thank you, my sweet,” he said, his voice strangely tight. “Your gift was much more impressive than mine.”

  A flush crept up Alissa’s face, for she’d just realized how very wantonly she’d acted. Trying to hide her embarrassment, she turned and walked toward the settee, where she stood, her eyes lowered to the carpet.

  Gentle hands squeezed her shoulders, a light kiss settled on the crown of her head. “I shall take my leave now,” Jared whispered, wanting to stay, knowing he must go. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, Alissa. We shall do this again tomorrow night. Until then, sweet.” With one last gentle pressure, his hands dropped from her shoulders.

  Feeling an emptiness overcome her, she turned to see him at the door. “Jared.” He turned to her. “Do I not get a good-night kiss?”

  “Not tonight, love,” he said, his hand on the handle. “You need time … and so do I.” He threw her a kiss. “Good night, sweet. Dream of me.” Then he was gone.

  Dream of me. That’s all she did of late. But dreams offered her no fulfillment … only the real Jared could do that. But he did not love her. Would he ever? she wondered, her fingers reverently touching the sapphire earrings. Perhaps someday, she would escape her dreams, her masque of enchantment, Jared becoming her reality.

  “Megan seems quite content,” Jared said as he watched his daughter pick a bouquet of wildflowers; then
he reclined on his elbow and looked up at his wife. “I never realized how very peaceful this glade is, until today. No wonder you and Megan picnic here so often.”

  “Y-yes, peaceful,” Alissa agreed, placing the last scraps of their meal back into the wicker basket.

  He perused her. “Why are you so nervous, love?”

  Alissa continued with her task, her eyes never leaving her hands. “Nervous? You must be mistaken.”

  “We have a chaperone, if that is what worries you. I shan’t take any liberties with my daughter so near.”

  “I never thought you would,” she said matter-of-factly, brushing a crumb from the skirt of Agatha’s brown dress.

  “Not even a slight hope that I might?” he asked in an expectant tone.

  She turned her face and smiled. “No, dear husband. I fear, sir, the anticipation of such an occurrence has been all yours. I hadn’t even thought on those terms until you just made mention of it.”

  Jared settled a playfully peevish look on her. “Rather dispassionate of you to say your husband sparks no secret yearnings within his new bride. My ego is crushed.”

  “Your ego, should you decide to lay it before the entire British army, would feel little ill effect, even after a six-month march.”

  “Ho!” he exclaimed, trying to fight back a grin. “You think my arrogance that audacious? Or is it the Queen’s own men you call weaklings?”

  The light of mischief danced in her eyes. “I say your cockiness becomes you … most of the time.”

  “And when does it not?”

  “When we have a disagreement.”

  “And have we had a disagreement since we wed?”

  “No, nothing of import.”

  “Then, that in itself should tell you I wish to make our marriage work,” he said, his tone serious. “You know I’m an impatient man, more often than not. My temper is worse than most—”

  “True,” she interjected, and he smiled.

  “Yet, Alissa,” he continued, gently, “I have not pressed you for other than a kiss in the three weeks since we’ve wed. Nor have I lost my temper.” He saw her dubious look. “Well, almost never. But when you do something foolish, like stepping behind Thor, I’m bound to explode. One thrust of his hoof, and you’d be permanently injured, if not dead!” he exclaimed, heatedly, thinking of this morning in the stables when she’d passed directly behind the skittish beast, gently patting his buttock. Thor’s hock had risen, and if he, Jared, hadn’t seen the roll of the beast’s eyes, heard the angry snort, and thrown his own weight into the stallion’s flank to knock him off balance, the hoof that had kicked upward would have hit Alissa squarely in the chest. Even now, as he envisioned the scene, he felt drained; a sick feeling settled inside.