“Herbarth again?” He released a low growl under his breath. “That man simply won’t stay away from you. Does he continue to propose marriage as well?”
“Only the three proposals so far, but since he’s certain I’ll capitulate one day, there will likely be more.”
“Bastardo.” He slammed one fisted hand into the other. “I will warn him tonight to remain clear of you once and for all. I will not tolerate—”
“No, that will only cause a great deal of gossip if you do, not that I don’t appreciate your offer.” Her captain sometimes forgot when he wasn’t at sea that he couldn’t simply dispatch his enemy by wielding his blade.
“Olivia, dear!” Mama’s call reached her from the foyer.
“Coming,” she called back. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
“No, we shouldn’t.” He extended his arm. “I brought my carriage. May I escort you to it?”
“You certainly may.” She’d allow him to escort her anywhere.
If only he would but ask...
Chapter 5
Anteros walked down the driveway with his angel at his side and motioned for her to step into his awaiting coach. With his sister and Lady Winterly already seated on the rear padded seat together, he eased onto the front seat of plush golden velvet padding and with a tap to the roof, called out to his driver, “To Brightson House.”
The slap of the reins echoed, and they lurched forward. The horses soon settled into a smooth gait as they journeyed the streets toward the hive of stately homes near St James’s Park. Out the carriage window the skies darkened further, the moon rising behind a layer of cloud.
“Are the night skies you sail at sea the same in beauty as the ones upon land?” Olivia asked in his ear, her hand on the squabs between them, her fingers so close to brushing against his fingers.
“The sunsets in the Mediterranean are the most radiant I’ve ever beheld, particularly when the array of colors along the horizon ripple across the surface of the sea as well.” He kept his gaze out his window for fear of looking into her eyes again. If he did, he’d likely sink into the sweet oblivion of them, just as he’d done when she’d arrived in the drawing room.
He’d tried to prepare himself on the ride to her home for when he first saw her again, but when she’d swept around the corner, he’d gotten completely lost in the returned sight of her. She’d glided toward him with her heavenly body clothed in what had appeared as naught more than white lace and nothing underneath. A trick of the eye. It wasn’t until he’d caught the glimmer of her skin-colored lining that he’d finally been able to breathe again. Hell, she’d dressed as an angel—incredibly fitting.
Right now, her glittery wings were pressed to the padded backrest, one of them currently trapped behind his own back. Somehow that brought a sense of comfort to him, that she couldn’t move any farther away from him unless he moved first.
Carefully, from the corner of one eye-slit, he chanced a look at her. The full swell of her breasts rose higher with each breath she drew in, the golden locket engraved with his insignia nestled so sweetly between both creamy mounds. No woman had ever attempted to align herself so physically with him the way she’d done. Her eldest brother had complained about it once. Winterly had taken him aside after learning his sister held his diamond inside her locket. He’d been quizzed about his relationship with Olivia, Winterly stating no lady should accept jewelry from any man other than her husband. He’d stated quite clearly in return that he had no intention of ever requesting the diamond be returned, not when it adorned the neck of such an exquisite angel.
“Oh, look at that,” Olivia pointed as they rounded a corner, her hand brushing his chest as she reached across toward the window. A long line of carriages graced either side of the street. “Well, there will certainly be a large crowd tonight.”
“Brightson House is magnificent and will do justice to such a crowd.” Adrestia scanned the palatial building up ahead, their coach moving slowly forward in short spurts as they awaited their turn to draw up to the entrance. “One cannot attend such events as these when sailing the seas.” His sister smiled sweetly at him. “I’m glad you returned in time for the masquerade, Fratello.”
“As am I, Sorella.” Particularly after seeing Olivia in her costume. He needed to keep the gentlemen who would be inundating her with requests to dance, as far away from her as possible. Breathing deep, he pushed the window open a notch. The snorting of the horses and the rattle of the wheels traveled to him. Brightson House stood a magnificent three stories high, its front windows ablaze with candlelight and liveried footmen attending to guests as they stepped clear of their carriages.
When they came to a complete halt, he opened the door and stepped down before offering each of the ladies a hand onto the cobbled pathway. The excited chatter of the guests ahead swept over them as they walked together and entered the front doors.
The grand foyer stood two floors high with radiant chandeliers and a sweeping staircase either side. A mosaic of stained-glass windows shimmered with vivid reds, yellows and blues, the white tiled floor crammed with people. Carefully, he led the ladies toward the grand arch leading into the ballroom where a veritable crush circulated around the edge of the dancefloor. Olivia and his sister accepted dance cards from a uniformed servant, then the four of them entered the main room and eased around the fringes as couples took their places for the first dance of the night.
“Oh, I see Lady Foxeworth at the refreshment table.” Lady Winterly squeezed Olivia’s hand. “I must speak with her before I lose her in this crowd.”
“Go right ahead, Mama. You’ve been meaning to speak to her all week.”
“Thank you, my dear. I knew you’d understand.” Lady Winterly bustled away, heading directly toward an older woman wearing a bold peacock-colored costume with a spray of peacock feathers adorning her mask.
His sister cooled herself with her delicate white-feathered fan before accepting a fluted glass of champagne from a passing waiter, although Olivia declined as her dance card fluttered to the floor. She scooped it up and valiantly tried to tie the laces more securely to her wrist.
“Allow me.” He slipped the card from her gloved fingers and looked into her stunning golden eyes as he tied the laces into a bow. With so many people surrounding them, it was easy enough to lean in closer, his next words only for her. “You must reserve every dance for me.”
“I couldn’t possibly do that.” Her lush lips lifted into a brilliant smile, the corners of her mouth disappearing up behind her pretty mask.
“I will wield my blade against any gentleman who dares to sign your card otherwise.” He shoved one side of his robe clear of his belted saber and rested his palm on the gilded hilt. He never went anywhere without being incredibly well armed. Daggers were sheathed at his wrist and his ankle, a pistol tucked away in his pocket.
“I believe you would too.” She pressed a hand against his chest, nudged him gently back.
Which he didn’t care for, not one bit. He wanted to be closer to her, not farther away.
“Fratello.” Adrestia touched his arm, pulled his attention to her, the music and chatter from the crowd drifting over them. “Bruno is here tonight.” She gave him a subtle cue with an arch of one brow toward the far shadowed corner.
Beyond the dancing couples twirling under the shimmering candlelight, his father’s man indeed stood in the far shadows wearing a black satin cloak over black evening attire, the jagged scar which slashed one side of his face clearly evident above and below his eye mask.
As soon as he and Giovani had arrived home, he’d taken his sister and right-hand man aside and spoken to them both at length about his conversation with Father. Neither had been surprised about Father’s demand, or that Bruno had been placed on board his ship to tail him. They had though been surprised when he’d outlined his plan about speaking false marriage vows with Olivia, about making Father believe he had wed her even though he hadn’t. He needed time, and this c
oming ruse he intended on instigating would provide that.
“I want you to waylay Bruno for me.” He cocked a brow at Adrestia. “I’ll whisk Olivia away so I can speak to her in private about my plan.”
“You should consider proposing to her in truth, not offering her a false engagement which she can’t speak about to another. Think about it.”
“I’m not changing my mind on the matrimony front.” He’d never take a wife, not when he’d only be exposing said wife to the dangers that surrounded him.
“As you wish.” A long sigh as Adrestia reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Where is Giovani?”
“Securing the library for me.”
“Very good. I’ll go and keep Bruno busy.” A little deflated, his sister disappeared into the crush as she weaved her way around the fringe of the ballroom toward their spy. He understood her subdued look, particularly when she considered Olivia more than a friend. Olivia was like a sister to Adrestia, the two of them as thick as thieves whenever here in town together.
“Come with me, mio angelo.” He caught Olivia’s gloved hand, hooked it through his bent arm and steered her through the closest side door.
“Where are we going?” She gasped as she glanced back at the ballroom. “The dancefloor is back there.”
“We’re going to the library to resume our conversation from earlier.” He passed the open door to the games room where beyond the door guests sat around tables playing cards, a fire blazing and spreading its warmth through the room and into the passageway.
“Which conversation was that?”
“The one I mentioned in your drawing room. I have a great deal I need to discuss with you, in private of course.” Along a labyrinth of candlelit passageways, he walked until he reached the stairwell leading upstairs to the library on the second floor. He ascended the stairs with Olivia on his arm, rounded a corner and gestured to the closed library door. “Giovani will ensure we aren’t interrupted.”
“Giovani isn’t here.” She frowned, darting a look in both directions of the darkened hallway. “Giovani?” she called out quietly.
“My lady, how are you this evening?” Dressed in domino, Giovani eased out from a shadowed doorway.
“I’m well.” She fluttered a hand over her heart. “You turn up in all sorts of strange places.”
“My apologies.” He swept forward and opened the library door. “The fire is lit, the room warm and secure, and please be assured I’ll keep any unwanted guests from disturbing you.”
“Thank you, Giovani.” Anteros urged Olivia into the library and closed the door before his angel had the chance to change her mind.
It was time to unveil his plan.
Chapter 6
Olivia lifted her hands to the warmth of the logs crackling in the library’s fireplace, rather surprised at the sudden turn of events. She had no idea what Anteros wanted to speak to her about, particularly which required him stealing her away from the ballroom where their disappearance might be noticed by others.
“If you remove your gloves, you’ll feel the warmth of the fire better.” Anteros pushed his hood back, unbuttoned his robe and shrugged out of it before laying it over the armrest of the nearest cream brocade padded armchair. Next, he removed his mask, dropped it on top and ambled over to a side table holding fluted glasses and a bottle of wine. He held the chilled bottle toward her for her inspection. “Do you care for a glass?”
“Yes, please. I’m parched.” She plucked her gloves free, lifted her mask from her face and set her belongings on the armchair, just as he’d done. “I don’t believe I’ve seen that marker on a wine bottle before.” The letters PV were enclosed within a snakelike wreath. “Where has it come from?”
“Paradiso Vineyards, which is located on an island just off the coastline of Sicily.” He removed the cork and poured a glass. “I always bring an entire case back after visiting the island. Giovani had the bottle chilled and placed here for us tonight.” He set the bottle down and handed her the stemmed flute he’d filled. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”
“I’m not a wine connoisseur, not by any means.” She sipped delicately from the rim, the wine a fruity and exotically smooth blend. A lick of her lips, which drew his gaze to her mouth, his sapphire eyes darkening in the firelit room. “Mmm, but this is certainly delicious. One doesn’t need to be an authority on wines to recognize that.”
“It is certainly delicious watching you drink it.” He touched a thumb to her lower lip, drew the wetness of the wine away and outrageously, stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked the drop.
“You are an outrageous flirt.” She gulped another mouthful, a whole lot breathless.
“I’m simply stating a fact.” He lifted her free hand and pressed it against his cheek, then he tipped his nose into her palm and breathed deep, as if taking in her scent. “You smell edible, of exotic citrus fruits.”
“I added scented orange blossom oil to my bathwater tonight.”
“How intriguing.” He removed her glass from her fingertips, sipped from the rim right where she’d sipped, then set the glass on the table before returning his gaze to her. “You are far too trusting, allowing yourself to be left alone in a room with me.”
“You would never hurt me.” Which they’d established a very long time ago. She touched the ends of his gloriously silky black hair sweeping across his shoulders, his snowy white cravat foaming at his neck and his medallion glinting within the ruffles. Releasing a soft sigh, she did what she’d never done with him before and leaned in, rested her cheek against his chest and allowed his warmth to envelop her. Goodness, but such an incredible sense of rightness hummed through her.
He didn’t move, not a single inch, although his heartbeat pounded under her ear and his next words floated deliciously across the top of her head, “Non capisco i sentimenti che ho per te, ma sono infinitamente profondi.”
“That will require a translation.” A nuzzle against his chest.
He remained silent, neither of them moving, the air between them fairly crackling.
“Tell me what you just said, Anteros.”
Another long minute passed, as if he didn’t wish to answer her, then he cleared his throat. “I said, I don’t understand the feelings I have for you, but they are endlessly deep.”
“Would they be feelings of friendship...or something more?” She lifted her head, searched his gaze. “Be honest with me.”
“Honesty isn’t always helpful.” He kissed her forehead, asked, “Will you dance with me?”
“I can’t hear the music from here.”
“One doesn’t always need to hear music in order to dance. Within the desert lands of Algiers, the women first learn to sway their hips to the beat of their own hearts.” He captured one of her hands, curled it over his shoulder then holding her other hand, drew her into a soft sway, his hips so closely aligned against her hips. “We shall dance like this, sì?”
“Yes.” She looked deep into his eyes. “How does a lady say in Italian, ‘Thank you for the dance?’”
“Grazie per il ballo.”
“Grazie per il ballo.” She repeated his words with a smile.
“You speak perfect Italian.”
“I wish I did.” A giggle escaped her. “Will you teach me more?”
“I could.” Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “Sarai mia?”
“Sarai mia?” she whispered in return, barely able to get those two words out due to the carnal way he’d spoken them. “What does that mean?”
“Will you be mine?” Such a devilishly wide smile.
“Anteros.” She growled his name. “You are meant to be teaching me words I can say to other people. What if I opened that door and whispered those words to Giovani thinking it was completely acceptable?”
“I would be forced to slice his ears off. It isn’t acceptable for him to hear such words coming from your sweet lips.” He tipped her back off her feet, one arm firm around her back, his gaze locked with h
ers.
“You are a scoundrel.” Heat flared through her in all sorts of places. Her cheeks, her chest, her middle, even between her legs. “This is not a dance I’ve ever partaken of. It is scandalous.”
“Then you need to visit Algiers.”
“I can’t, not unless you offer to take me there.” She gave him a challenging look.
“Now who is being the scandalous one, inviting me to steal you away so you can explore the world with me?”
“I doubt there would be any stealing involved. I’d gladly travel the world with you.” Never had she spoken so outrageously, but it was the truth, and it also felt incredibly freeing to state it. “I’ve yet to meet any of your family, other than Adrestia of course. I know you have brothers and sisters.” Both he and Adrestia had mentioned siblings here and there over the past year a half. “When two people are friends such as you and I are, it is normal for them to wish to get to know each other better, to speak of their families, their common interests, likes and dislikes. What they might desire. What they hope for their future.”
“My one and only desire for the future is for this blasted war to end, for Napoleon to be brought to trial for his misdeeds, then punished accordingly.” He righted her back on her feet and resumed swaying, her body flush against his.
“Well, we all hope for that.” If only he would open up further, to allow her more of a glimpse into who he truly was. “The Cobra is a formidable vessel. How did you come to acquire her and the remainder of your fleet? You’ve never told me that story.”
“There is no story. I acquired my fleet through the shedding of blood, sweat, and tears. Mine, and my men’s.”
Still not a true answer, so she pushed harder. “Did you commission The Cobra’s build? Win it in a game of cards? Sequester it from another at sea?”
“You believe I am a buccaneer who sails the seas thieving whatever I may?”
“Do you consider yourself a buccaneer, Captain Bourbon?” He simply grinned at her, the cad, an infuriating grin she couldn’t help but smile at too. “You are impossible. I want to get to know you, not the rake and rascal you often purport yourself to be.”
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