Midnight Masqerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  The first pink-and-gold signs of dawn were streaking across the horizon when Dominic came to several discomforting conclusions. For whatever reason, his wife of mere hours had taken it into her lovely head to repulse his attempts to make their marriage real and, worse than that, he was going to have to tread very lightly if he ever hoped to share her bed again. He could force his attentions upon her and the law would be on his side, but he found such an idea distasteful-rape had never appealed to him. More importantly, he had remembered something that he should never have forgotten: Melissa had trapped him into marriage and her reasons for marrying him had nothing to do with the finer emotions; she had seen the opportunity to Shirtee Busbee o snare a rich husband and she had not hesitated to strike. He must take partial blame for her success-if he had not been so blinded by her beauty and the baser promptings of his body, he would not be in this situation right now.

  A thoughtful expression upon his handsome face, Dominic lit another cheroot and stared blindly out at the dawngilded oak and magnolia trees that dotted the view in front of him. If there were certain things, such as a wife, that he knew he hadn't wanted, having committed himself to this marriage he knew there were other things that he also didn't want, and one of those things was the cold and empty relationship he had seen amongst several acquaintances who had married for money and position. Melissa might have married him for just those motives, but he saw no reason that he couldn't change her mind.

  He wasn't precisely certain what it was that he wanted from his marriage-having coolly rejected Morgan's brand of marriage and the silken bonds of love-but while he might not be willing to risk his total happiness in the hands of just one woman, he most definitely did not want the sort of marriage that Melissa must envision for them, a frigid, passionless existence in which they both lived their lives separately, joined only by a name and a fortune. Or a horse, he thought ruefully, an irrepressible grin suddenly breaking across his face. By God! he swore softly, he wasn't about to let Melissa condemn them to a barren fate devoid of warmth and laughter . . . and passion. There was passion between them-even if she chose to deny itand he had no intention of letting her pretend it didn't exist, or worse, trying to extinguish it. No, he thought with suddenly narrowed eyes, he wasn't going to be shut out of her life, her room or her bed. For a while, perhaps, but in time ...

  Unaware of her husband's midnight musings, somewhat apathetically Melissa allowed Anna to dress her that morning. Despite all her rationalizing of the previous night, she was still nagged by guilt at the way she'd acted-both her responses to his caresses and then the way she had sent him from her bed. But since it was not her nature to spend a great deal of time repining over fate, she straightened her slender shoulders, lifted her chin bravely, and ignoring the inward quaking of her spirit, left the sanctuary of her bedroom.

  She was not yet overly familiar with the house, but since it was small, she found her way down the stairs and into a delightfully sunny little breakfast room, the bay window that curved across one end of the area overlooking a tidily planted rose garden. Crisp white muslin curtains adorned the windows and contrasted nicely with the pale apricot color of the walls. Because of its size, the room was sparsely furnished; a small oak sideboard and a spindlelegged table of the same wood with four simply designed chairs were its only furnishings. A painted canvas rug in shades of russet and green lay on the floor, and an oblong gilt mirror hung above the sideboard and gave the room an inviting appearance.

  But Melissa was only vaguely aware of her surroundings, a faint flush stealing into her cheeks the instant her eyes met those of the man sitting in one of the chairs apparently enjoying a cup of coffee. Wishing her heart would not jump so wildly in her breast at the mere sight of him, Melissa kept her expression neutral and said woodenly, "Good morning, Mr. Slade."

  One of Dominic's thick black brows shot upward and a mocking smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he murmured, "Mr. Slade? So formal, my dear ... and after last night?"

  The faint flush became bright pink, but Melissa stubbornly refused to drop the course she had decided upon, and somewhat stiffly she asked, "What should I call you, then?" The instant the words left her mouth she knew she had made a mistake, the gleam that entered Dominic's eyes making her wish she had bitten off her tongue.

  Rising belatedly from the table, he walked over to where she stood just inside the doorway of the small room. Running a caressing finger down her hot cheek, he offered, "Lover? Darling? Sweetheart? You choose, my dear."

  He was irresistible, the imp of mischief dancing in those gray eyes calling to her own sense of amusement, and for just a second she very nearly abandoned her stance, but then, remembering that he was an expert at wooing the unwary, she pursed her lips and muttered, "You're not my lover! "

  "Oh?" he replied lightly. "I'm certain that you are wrong. I distinctly remember last night. ..."

  Laughter brimmed his eyes and Melissa very nearly stamped her foot with vexation. How could one resist him? Especially looking as he did this morning, the dove-gray broadcloth jacket fitting smoothly across his broad shoulders and the dark blue breeches clearly defining the long length of firmly muscled legs? The black hair was carelessly brushed and waved near his temples; the pristinely white cravat was neatly tied and made the skin of his freshly shaved jaw look healthily bronzed. But it was the teasing expression in those long-lashed gray eyes that disturbed her the most, and she decided with an unexpected lift of her spirits that if he could treat what had happened last night so mockingly, then she could too!

  Demurely lowering her eyes to hide the sudden glint of amusement stirring in their amber-gold depths, she said breathlessly, "A-a-a considerate l-l-lover would not embarrass me so."

  His teasing behavior vanished, and with a keen look at her lovely features enchantingly framed by the curling mass of tawny hair, he asked huskily, "Is that what you want, Melissa? A considerate lover?"

  This was hardly the way she had expected their first meeting to progress. With her blood thudding so loudly in her veins she was positive that he could hear it, she got out, "I-I-I th-th-think that this is not the time to discuss such things." She didn't really know what she was saying. Dominic's mocking manner as well as his nearness had her feeling dizzy and confused.

  Not wishing to start an argument after such a promising beginning, Dominic retreated, saying carelessly as he led her to the table, "It is most inconsiderate of me to pounce on you before you have even had a chance to drink your coffee . . . or would you prefer some chocolate?"

  "Oh, no, coffee will be fine," she answered quickly, dreading the enforced intimacy of the small breakfast room. Despite having known him as a lover, she was still shy and uncertain in his presence, and though they were now married, since their engagement they had spent very little time in each other's company. They were strangers to each other, strangers who had been compelled by reasons other than love to marry, and Melissa was very conscious of that fact.

  Silently she watched as he politely poured her cup of dark, steaming coffee from a tall silver pot, wondering wildly what she should talk about to him. Certainly not about last night! she thought with a half-hysterical urge to giggle.

  Dominic did nothing to help ease the situation, but then he was struggling with his own unruly thoughts, paramount among them the strong urge to kiss that sweet, temptingly soft mouth of hers. He had been taken aback at the thrill that had shot through him when he had glanced up and seen her hovering in the doorway. She looked, he decided bemusedly, utterly bewitching in a new highwaisted gown of rose-colored jaconet. Blond Mechlin lace trimmed the modest neckline, and the elbow-length sleeves were also lavishly adorned with the same lace. Dominic was quite pleased to see that the gown was as attractive on her as he had imagined it would be when he had selected it from the many color plates shown to him by the expensive modiste patronized by Sally Manchester. His gaze riveted by the rhythmic rise and fall of her delectable little bosom, he also recalled the negligee of nearl
y transparent gossamer satin he had chosen at the same time, and his chest grew tight at the image of the filmy material resting where his eyes did now.

  An uncomfortable silence stretched out, each of them lost in thought yet unbearably aware of the other. With an effort Dominic tore his attention away from the erotic fantasy he had been enjoying, and clearing his throat, he said blandly, "Since our wedding was so hastily arranged, and considering that it is not a particularly healthy time of the year to do much traveling, I'm afraid that I did not make plans for us to go on any sort of honeymoon. If you like, once the fever season is over, perhaps we shall go to New Orleans for a month or so. In the meantime, you'll have the pleasure of fitting out your new home at Thousand Oaks to occupy your time." He would have preferred to have taken her to London, but with the damned war dragging on, it was an impossibility. Someday, he thought, I'll take her to England.... A faint smile flitted across his face. Knowing his bride, he was fairly confident that he would spend more time visiting the various excellent Thoroughbred stud farms to be found there than he would the salons and soirees that would have appealed to a more conventional wife. And that, he admitted to his surprise, suited him perfectly!

  Since the circumstances of their wedding had been anything but romantic, Melissa had not thought a great deal about her honeymoon, but she had harbored the faint hope that they would go away together for even a short time to some place that would offer several pleasant distractions from the enforced intimacy being married engendered. Time spent together in the congenial company of others, with the days spent in enjoying entertaining pursuits as they gradually became more familiar with each other, would surely have lessened the strain between them and would have given them a chance to become better acquainted. She hadn't realized how much she had longed to learn more about her new husband in less confining surroundings until Dominic so coolly dismissed the idea of going anywhere. She wondered briefly if he was ashamed of her and if, now that they were married and the marriage consummated, he would bury her in the wilds of upper Louisiana for the rest of her life. With a wistful droop to her normally laughing mouth, she admitted forlornly to herself that after last night that was probably exactly what he wanted to do with her-that, or strangle her! Inexplicably feeling even more guilty about her actions the previous night, she confessed to herself that she wouldn't blame him in the least if he did exile her indefinitely in the country-what else did one do with a recalcitrant wife?

  As Dominic noted the disconsolate curve of her lips, an extremely unpleasant idea occurred to him. Of course, he mused cynically, I should have been prepared for this-no doubt she has been expecting an elaborate and expensive honeymoon. How could I forget that she did marry me for money, and now I've already failed to live up to her ex pectations. A harsh note in his voice, he said, "Don't look so downcast, sweetling. I'm sure that if you are very good to me, and naturally if you change your mind about enduring my caresses, I shall make up for your disappointment in not having an extravagant wedding trip."

  It was an ugly thing to have said, but then Dominic was feeling in an ugly mood, all sorts of decidedly unpalatable notions suddenly running rampant through his mind. Throwing down his linen napkin, he rose from the table. "I'm going for a ride. I find myself in need of fresh air."

  Astonished, Melissa stared after him as he strode rapidly from the room, her pretty mouth forming an 0 of surprise. But as his words sank in, a frown curved her brow. He had been insulting, she thought with growing anger, all guilt about their previous parting vanishing in an instant, but along with her anger there was a strong sense of bewilderment. He couldn't possibly believe. . . ? Oh, surely not! she told herself uneasily. He couldn't believe that she was only interested in what he could give her. Or could he?

  He had certainly reacted like a man faced with a moneygrubbing little slut whose favors were easily bought by the highest bidder, she acknowledged with increasing agitation. And her behavior last night ... She swallowed uncomfortably.

  Miserable and uncertain, Melissa stared down blindly at her fragile china cup, the thoughts going through her brain exceedingly distressful. Josh had clearly indicated that Dominic was a bit of a bounder when it came to women, and Latimer's letter had certainly confirmed the fact that her new husband was a notorious womanizer and was not to be trusted in affairs of the heart. And yet, she admitted to herself, Dominic had never shown her anything but kindness ... and, she confessed wryly, a great deal of patience, all things considered.

  There were so many wonderful qualities about him, aside from his handsome face and charming personality, Melissa thought painfully. He had been very kind to Zachary; he had been overwhelmingly generous in connection with the purchase of Folly-and he had done the honorable thing and married her under circumstances that did not cast her in the best light! She sighed wistfully. Could Josh have been wrong about him? And Latimer? Couldn't Latimer's accusations have been motivated solely by spite? Had she entirely misjudged Dominic? Cast him as an unfeeling monster when he was actually a more-than-considerate gentleman?

  Assailed by the increasing conviction that she had completely misundertsood everything about Dominic, she jumped up from the table, her one thought to find him and attempt some sort of new beginning between them. She had been a fool! she berated herself angrily as she flew out the front door and ran toward the tiny coach house at the rear of the main building. She must see him and try to explain, try to find a way across the ever-widening breach between them.

  Her thoughts in a jumble, she paid no heed to the fact that she was not properly dressed to go riding, and ignoring the scandalized stare of the groom, hastily ordered a horse saddled. Riding astride in a fashion that would no doubt provoke comment up and down the river, she kicked her horse in the ribs and swiftly rode in the direction the groom had indicated that Dominic had taken several moments earlier.

  Impetuous and headstrong as Melissa was, she had ridden only a half mile down the road before it dawned on her that explaining her actions was going to be rather awkward. How did you tell your husband that you were sorry about the way you had been behaving, but you thought that he was a debaucher of innocents and a philandering womanizer?

  Slowing her horse to a walk, she bit her lip uncertainly. She could apologize for last night without giving too detailed an explanation about what had prompted her actions. Her mouth twisted. That should be easy enough-even now she couldn't explain the conflicting emotions that had raged through her. Closing her mind to the difficulties that lay ahead, she finally decided that she would simply lay all her contrary and undoubtedly infuriating behavior on the natural anxieties of a new bride and, she admitted ruefully, that was a great deal of the truth. She would also, she thought with a sudden rising of her spirits, clear up any misconceptions he might harbor that she had married him only for mercenary reasons.

  If he realized that she had been as trapped as he by what had happened that night at the Whitehorn tavern and that his money did not appeal to her, might they in time learn to trust each other ... and even love? A wistful glow entered her eyes. She didn't think that she would find it frightfully arduous to fall deeply in love with Slade! In fact, she very much feared that she was already halfway there!

  But first, she thought apprehensively, she must convince him that his fortune had nothing to do with their marriage. Hopeful and yet nervous about the coming confrontation, she urged her horse into a gallop, eager to make peace between them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  MELISSA might have had thoughts of peace on her mind, but Dominic was grimly considering ways of wreaking sweet revenge on the unfairly seductive body of his bride. She was not going to be the only one to get what she wanted from this farce of a marriage, he thought blackly as he guided his bay gelding along the gently meandering road that led to Willowglen.

  When he had ridden away from the cottage, he'd had no particular destination in mind; he'd simply needed to put some distance between himself and his calculating little bride before
he did her a violence! His pride had taken quite a beating of late at the hands of the new Mrs. Dominic Slade, but it was not his nature to suffer such slights and insults meekly, and he'd consoled himself by thinking of various means to bring to her knees the mercenary, conniving baggage he'd had the misfortune to marry. He discovered, curiously enough, that his most satisfying visions of revenge were those in which a sweetly contrite Melissa pleaded frantically for his caresses and affection. Of course, he would turn an indifferent shoulder to her pitiful entreaties for his affection-at least he hoped he would, but he was aware of an uneasiness on that point.

  By the time he'd relished quite a few scenes concerning the subjugation of his bride, he'd begun to feel slightly better, his first burst of dark rage having abated somewhat. It was then that he discovered that he was almost halfway to Willowglen. Having no desire to return home at the moment, he continued on his way, thinking that he'd en joy a chat with Zachary and that he wouldn't mind looking Folly over again.

  Certainly Dominic had not thought of meeting with Deborah Latimer, or rather Lady Deborah Bowden, as she now styled herself. But he had just turned down the lane leading to Willowglen when he came upon her, closely followed by her groom.

  Despite being in no mood to exchange polite pleasantries, Dominic had no choice but to stop and greet her. And then there was the fact that he was just a bit curious about what she was doing visiting with young Zack.