Midnight Masqerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  Dominic needed no further urging, his body surging upward as he guided her onto him. The silken warmth as she sheathed him was nearly more than he could bear and he twisted wildly beneath her, his fingers digging into her hips while he fought against quick release.

  Her eyes glistening with passion, Melissa watched him fight for control and then, a siren's smile on her kissswollen mouth, she began to move up and down slowly, reveling in the sweet sensations that swept through her body. But the fire that drove Dominic drove her too, and fiercely she pushed down on him, eager to share again the joy she knew awaited them.

  Dominic could bear the exquisite agony of Melissa's movements no longer and he held her captive as he thrust urgently up into her. Racked by desire, Dominic drove into her again and again, every deep stroke of his body bringing them nearer to the brink of ecstasy.

  Impaled by Dominic, his hard body driving frantically into hers, Melissa was mindless with pleasure when that first sharp jolt of rapture hit her body, and with a soft sigh of fulfillment she collapsed against him, tingling pleasurably from the force of her release.

  Feeling the tremors that shook Melissa, Dominic lost his battle to prolong their pleasure, and groaning his own delight, he let that same rupture crash over him. Replete and sated, he drew Melissa nearer to him and kissed her tenderly, murmuring his love for her even as their lips met.

  Sweetly she returned his kiss and together they lay there in the cooling bathwater, whispering all the vows that lovers do, and when the chill of the water brought them back from their rosy world, they laughed and proceeded to give each other a hasty wash. The hasty wash, however, led to other things.

  Consequently, it was not until they were seated in the dining room enjoying a plump stuffed chicken that the subject of Deborah Bowden came up. A bit uneasily, Melissa mentioned the note that had arrived and her subsequent reading of it. Dominic merely looked interested and did not appear to be the least perturbed at what she had done. He was not precisely pleased when he learned the contents of the letter, nor was he completely thrilled with the news that Melissa had gone to meet Deborah in his place.

  "Good God, Lissa! You took a terrible chance!" he exclaimed, his only concern being for her safety. "It could have been a trap! And I'm not talking about seduction either. Latimer has good reason to dislike us and he could very well have meant to do me a mischief."

  Melissa smiled at him saucily. "Well, it all turned out rather well, if I do say so myself. "

  "Oh?" he said warily, not quite certain that he trusted that gleam in his wife's eye.

  Struggling to keep a straight face, Melissa gave him an unvarnished account of her meeting with Lady Bowden, and if she had harbored any lingering doubts that he might have nurtured a spark of feeling for the other woman, they were utterly vanquished with his shout of genuine laughter ringing through the room.

  "In the pond?" he asked with delight. And at Melissa's nod, he added, "Good! Serves the scheming little hussy right,,, And that, Melissa thought with satisfaction, is that! Something occurred to her suddenly, and she said, "Oh, dear! There is Uncle Josh's party tomorrow night-I wonder how she will act when we meet."

  Dominic had been admiring the curve of his wife's bosom where it swelled above the low-cut bodice of her green satin gown, so he replied indifferently, "Does it matter? I would far rather talk about us than the sodden Lady Bowden, wouldn't you?"

  Melissa instantly agreed and they spent the remainder of the evening in complete harmony with each other. Not surprisingly, they retired early.

  On Friday evening, however, as they were ushered into the handsomely furnished salon in the Manchester home, Melissa could not help but unobtrusively glance around to see if Deborah was present. There was no sign of the Englishwoman, although Latimer was there, deep in conversation with young Franklyn.

  Dinner was a pleasant affair, and it was not until the ladies were comfortably situated in the salon again and the gentlemen had disappeared into Josh's study to play cards and follow masculine pursuits that Melissa learned of Deborah's hasty departure. She was sitting on a lovely Sheraton-style sofa upholstered in an elegant tapestry print of blue and gold, her aunt at her side, when Sally said softly, "You know that Lady Bowden has left us?"

  "Left us?" Melissa repeated casually. "What do you mean? I'm sure that I saw Mr. Latimer here tonight."

  "Oh, yes," Sally said, "he is here, but his sister left for New Orleans ... our sultry weather upset her delicate constitution and it was felt an immediate departure was necessary for her health: He explained everything to me when he arrived. " A wistful look entered Sally's pale blue eyes. "I had hoped that Royce might find Lady Bowden attractive ... it would have been so thrilling to have an actual member of the English aristocracy in the family. Of course," she murmured uncertainly, "there is the problem of our weather for her. ..."

  Melissa nearly choked on the cup of tea she had been sipping. Royce and Deborah! Oh, wait until I see him, she thought with unholy glee; how I shall tease him on his narrow escape!

  Royce and Dominic, too, for that matter, would have appreciated being able to escape from tonight's gathering, each for his own reasons. Royce was eager to be on his way to New Orleans; upstairs in his room, his valise stood all packed and ready, the list for Jason even now burning a hole through the sole of his left silk stocking, where he had placed it for safekeeping. Until he turned those names over to Jason, Royce was determined to know precisely where that list was at all times, even if it meant wearing the damned thing! As for Dominic, his desire to be elsewhere this evening had nothing to do with the list. His love for Melissa and hers for him was so newly acknowledged and discovered that he objected strongly to anything that took her from his arms and prevented, even momentarily, their absorbing discovery of each other's thoughts and emotions. That he thoroughly enjoyed discovering all the sweet charms of her lovely body also had a great deal to do with his reluctant presence at the Manchester home.

  But both men had resigned themselves to the evening ahead and had been visiting and talking with various friends and acquaintances when they became aware of the fact that Latimer and George Franklyn were playing for disturbingly high stakes at one of the small tables Josh had ordered set up for cards and gambling. It was Zachary who alerted them to the situation when he wandered over and joined them as they stood conversing amiably with a group of friends. Sipping his glass of Madeira, Zachary gave Dominic a speaking look and murmured, "It would appear that Latimer's luck has changed. He and Franklyn have been playing piquet for just a few parties, and already George has lost nearly seventeen thousand dollars to Latimer. "

  Royce and Dominic exchanged glances and, as inconspicuously as possible, gradually drifted over to the table. If Latimer was aware that he now had two pairs of suspicious eyes watching his every move, he gave no sign, but continued to play with ruthless intensity against the younger man.

  Oddly enough, it was Franklyn himself who caught Latimer in the act of cheating. They had just begun to play a new round when Franklyn's hand suddenly shot across the small table, and gripping Latimer's right wrist, he cried triumphantly, "I thought so! I was not certain after the last partie, but this time I was watching very carefully." He gave Latimer's wrist a violent shake, and there was a shocked, angry gasp from the others in the room when a card fluttered to the table from Latimer's coat sleeve. Dominic found it rather fitting that it just happened to be a spade ... the queen.

  "No wonder you were able to claim carte blanche last hand!" Franklyn stated grimly, his young face set and dangerous. "How many more cards do you have hidden up your sleeve, you damned cheating bastard?"

  An appalled silence fell over the room, every eye trained on Latimer. There was little that these hard-drinking, hottempered, neck-or-nothing gentlemen would not overlook in the character of one they admitted to their ranks, but to cheat at cards was tantamount to social suicide. Latimer was utterly ruined! He was finished here in Baton Rouge, and from the furious expressions of
the gentlemen in the room, he would be lucky to escape without a sound thrashing. Only Dominic and Royce seemed unmoved by what had happened, both of them alert and waiting for Latimer's next move.

  Completely disgraced, any chance of regaining the fortune he had lost to Dominic gone, Latimer was confronted by a bleak future in his remaining months in America. It was not just tonight's lamentable end that caused his face to whiten with rage and chagrin, but the certain knowledge that all up and down the Mississippi River word would travel that Julius Latimer was a cheat, a man not to be tolerated in polite circles, a man to be despised and shunned. He would no longer be of any use to Roxbury, and the unpleasant thought crossed his mind that Roxbury might not be willing to pay him the full price agreed upon. Latimer had no doubt that eventually his reputation would follow him to England, and instead of being eagerly welcomed into the homes of the wealthy and powerful, he would be treated like an outcast.

  As the seconds passed and Franklyn and Latimer stayed frozen in their original positions, the threat of violence hung in the air. There were few things more despicable and abhorred than a man who cheated at cards, and there wasn't a gentleman staring at Latimer who didn't itch to lay his hands on him.

  Clearly guilty, Latimer knew he was in a dangerous position, and glancing from one outraged, menacing face to another, he was aware of a trickle of fear coursing down his back. This was not sophisticated London, where gentlemen handled their differences with a rigid and prescribed set of rules, but the wilds of Louisiana, where men had been known to settle their disputes in a swift and brutal manner.

  It took but a moment for these thoughts to flash through Latimer's mind and, fueled by a desperate wrath, he exploded into action, his free hand smashing into Franklyn's surprised face as he jerked his wrist out of the young man's slack grasp. In one blinding second he had reached into his jacket and pulled forth the small, deadly pistol he carried at all times.

  His face contorted by fury, he snarled, "Stay back! The first man who takes a step forward will die!"

  There had been a concerted surge forward by the gentlemen in the room when he had struck Franklyn, but at his words, everyone froze. Latimer smiled thinly, a feeling of power sweeping over him. "Not so brave now, are you?" he said sneeringly.

  No one answered him, everyone sensing his dangerousness. And Latimer was dangerous. Very dangerous. He was a man who had nothing to lose. He was a ruined man, but more than that, he was a cruel, cowardly man; and as he stood there, his brain racing at a furious speed while he craftily considered a way to snatch victory out of defeat, his eyes landed on Dominic.

  Maddened by sudden, blinding rage as he gazed upon the one man he blamed for his downfall, Latimer violently swung the pistol in Dominic's direction and fired. The sound of the pistol firing was thunderous and the smell of gunpowder filled the study.

  Dominic had no chance to defend himself. There was a searing pain along his temple and then blackness descended as he crashed senseless to the floor.

  Murder in his eyes, Royce leaped toward Latimer, but Latimer was ready for him, the pistol aimed squarely at Royce's chest. "I wouldn't if I were you," Latimer said coldly. "Now stand back, all of you!"

  In impotent rage, Royce remained where he was, his gaze going apprehensively to Dominic's still body, a small pool of blood forming near the dark head. Pain and grief ripping through his heart, Royce fiercely willed his friend to move. His breath stopped when he saw the slight movement of one hand. Hope springing in his breast, he glanced quickly back at Latimer and snapped, "Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to make good your escapebefore we decide to rush you? After all," Royce said in a deadly tone, "you have only one more round left ... and while you might kill one more of us, the others would be upon you."

  This thought' had already occurred to Latimer and, his eyes full of hatred, he slowly backed toward the door. He could not see Dominic's body from his position, but he was satisfied that if he had not killed him, he had at least gravely wounded him. Taking immense satisfaction in the knowledge that if Dominic were not dead, he would remember this night for a long time, Latimer bolted from the study.

  Royce was in motion the moment Latimer disappeared, and rushing to Dominic's side, he knelt and had just put out a hand to touch him when Dominic rolled over and groaned, "Jesus Christ! I'm glad the bastard hasn't improved any since the last time he shot at me."

  A few smiles and grins of relief met Dominic's words, but others, Royce and Zachary among them, still looked grim. Josh, his bluff features pale with anxiety, said, "Good God! He tried to shoot you down in cold blood! An unarmed man! He shot an unarmed man!" Then, struck by another thought, he added incredulously, "In my house! He shot an unarmed man in my house!"

  There were murmurs of concern for Dominic as Royce helped him to his feet. Blood matted his dark head and ran down one cheek, but a swift examination by Royce revealed that the bullet had only creased Dominic along the side of his head.

  Touching his wound gingerly, Dominic winced and asked with suspect mildness, "What happened after I hit the floor? All I remember is Latimer firing at me and then nothing until I heard a door slam."

  "You didn't miss a great deal," Royce said dryly. "The slamming door was Latimer's departure not quite two minutes ago."

  Dominic sent him a sharp glance. One eyebrow lifted, he drawled, "And no one has left to go after him yet?" An ugly notion suddenly bursting in his brain, he started forward, saying harshly, "Or made certain that the ladies are safe?"

  "Good heavens!" Josh blurted out. "You don't think ... ?"

  A ripple of alarm traveled around the room and almost as one the gentlemen surged toward the door. Dominic's hand was on the knob when unexpectedly the door flew open, nearly knocking him down.

  Her eyes round with horror, her usually serene features revealing strong agitation, Sally Manchester threw herself onto Josh's massive chest, sobbing, "Oh, Josh! It is terrible! That man! He has Melissa!"

  Dominic needed no explanation about the identity of "that man," and heedless of his weakened state, he spun around to face Royce. "Pistols?"

  Wordlessly Royce strode to his father's desk, pulled open a bottom drawer and lifted out a fine mahogany case. The raised lid revealed two elegantly slim, exquisitely crafted dueling pistols.

  The silence broken only by Sally's soft crying and Josh's rumbling murmurs of comfort, Royce and Dominic coolly and methodically loaded and primed the pistols. Royce glanced at Dominic's pale, bloodstained face and asked, "Are you up to this?"

  Dominic flung him a vicious look. "She's my wife! What the hell do you think?"

  His young face as pale as Dominic's, Zachary said half angrily, half pleadingly, "She's my sister! Let me go!"

  Sighing, Dominic said dully, "I cannot. If anything were to happen to her ..." His throat closed up and he could not go on.

  Fighting to keep his fears from overpowering him, Dominic walked over to Sally and Josh. Very gently he said, "What happened? Where did they go?"

  Dabbing at her tear-filled eyes, Sally replied in a quavering voice, "He just burst into the room, looking like a madman! I was so surprised-he always seemed like such a nice man!"

  Resisting the urge to shake her, Dominic prodded, "What happened after he came into the room?"

  "He took Melissa! He just marched right up to her and grabbed her arm. Said that he would hold her hostage. That he would kill her if anyone followed them. He put the awful pistol to her head and said that if we made a sound, he would shoot her dead in front of us! Then he started dragging her out of the room."

  "How soon after they left did you come in search of us?" Royce asked intensely. "Did you see in which direction they went?"

  "Oh, I didn't wait!" Sally said rather proudly. "Melissa was squirming and making things so difficult for him that I was able to slip out of the side door and come here instantly! "

  Wild hope surged through Dominic and he demanded urgently, "Are you saying that they haven't left the
house yet?"

  "I shouldn't think so," Sally answered doubtfully.

  "Melissa was fighting him every step of the way, so he is not able to move with any swiftness."

  Dominic raced for the French doors that opened to the gallery which surrounded the house. "Royce, you take the hallway-I'll circle around the house and try to cut them off at the front. The rest of you stay here!"

  Ignoring his pounding head, fear mingling with hope in his heart, Dominic sped out the French doors and ran desperately along the gallery at the side of the house to the front. He was dizzy with pain from his wound as he reached the corner of the building, but pain was forgotten when he spied Latimer and Melissa struggling at the top of the broad steps.

  The heavy white columns which supported the gallery interfered with a clear shot, and clutching the dueling pistol more firmly in his hand, Dominic leaped from the gallery to the ground. Moving swiftly, he stepped away from the building, placing himself off to the side of Latimer, but in a position that gave him an unobstructed view of the man and woman at the top of the stairs.

  "Latimer!" he called harshly. "Wouldn't you rather have another shot at me?"

  Latimer froze, hardly able to believe his eyes and ears. Forgetting Melissa for a moment, he glared in Dominic's direction. It was almost inconceivable to him that it was truly Dominic standing on the ground below him, but as his gaze took in the blood which trickled slowly down Dominic's cheek, he realized that he had only wounded him.

  In horror, Melissa stared at Dominic, fear for him momentarily driving every other thought from her mind. This was a nightmare! It did not seem real. Could it have been only minutes ago that she had been sitting comfortably in the salon, conversing with the young lady who was to become Daniel's bride? Mere moments ago that she had first heard the shocking sound of a shot reverberating through the house? Only minutes ago that Latimer had burst into the salon and, his face twisted in rage, had seized her brutally and attempted to take her away with him?