by Aileen Fish
He stepped closer. “And what are you doing out here in the garden during the party, Elisa?”
She considered a convenient lie. Something that made her sound worldly and sophisticated. But he touched her cheek and she heard the truth come tumbling out in a soft whisper. “I was looking for you.”
“And you found me,” he murmured back. “Certainly that deserves some reward?”
He traced her lower lip and her thoughts became muddled. “Reward?” Her lips tingled under his touch, her limbs dragged down with a sweet, languid weight. She could suddenly, from a distance, hear every warning she had ever been told about being alone with a gentleman. Her heart sped up in her chest as it all combined to terrify and enthrall her.
Then he leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers and she wasn’t thinking anything at all.
***
“Nothing is more elemental than a kiss. It is the foundation for everything.” ~ Lord Lucifer
It was even better, John thought, to be Casimir than he had realized. What freedom and power there was in confidence. In believing you knew precisely what to say and do in every situation. It was as though the mask, the accent, the name, unlocked some other man that John had never known he could be. As he pressed his lips to those of the outrageous Miss Elisa he was overwhelmed by her scent, her softness. For a moment he almost became plain John Howards again. Almost backed away from the heat and attraction that he felt flare between himself and the lady. John Howards would never have the audacity to kiss a young woman of breeding, a young woman essentially unknown to him. Of course Casimir would. His Polish friend had the sort of exuberant, charming personality that made every infraction permissible.
Now, with just a glimmer of Casimir’s true charm, John had a sweet innocent miss kissing him quite shamelessly on his cousin’s terrace. He had nearly been undone as soon as he ran a finger over her cheek, softer than a rose petal. Her lips proved softer still. Her kiss suited her personality, in turns bold and sweet. So sweet, in fact, that he finally forgot himself. Forgot whether he was Casimir or John or anyone at all. One hand cupped the back of her head, holding her close. The other rested on her waist. When the sweet and heady slide of their lips became both too much and not enough, he caressed the seam of her mouth with his tongue. Teasing. Asking permission for entrance. She granted it with a soft sigh, her hands sliding up his chest and into his hair.
Within moments the kiss changed to something as hot and primal as the summer evening. John lost track of time, absorbed in every aspect of her. The heady, delicious flavor of her mouth. The soft, supple feel of her hip under his hand. The sighs she made when they would stop for a breath. The want of her, the obsession with her, was what made him finally stumble back.
“We must stop.” He had forgotten to use the accent, but she didn’t seem to notice. She swayed on her feet and he instinctively put out a hand to steady her.
“Why?” she asked simply, her dark eyes wide and trusting.
Bold, sweetly treacherous girl. “If I have to explain that to you, then your mother has done a poor job indeed.”
She was finally abashed enough to look down modestly. “I do not mean to dishonor my parents.”
“I’m quite sure you don’t.” He touched her cheek again briefly. “But now that you’ve had your reward I must bid you goodnight.”
He turned to leave before he could talk himself out of it. But he had not yet gone five steps when he heard her call quietly, “Casimir?”
Although it seemed dangerous, he faced her again. “Yes, my love?”
Her lips tipped up briefly at the endearment. “Will I see you again?”
His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Though somewhat disguised by the demi-mask, it was clear that she was quite beautiful. She was like a virgin goddess, the white column of her Grecian costume glowing in the lamplight. Her lips were swollen and reddened from their kissing. To have such a woman calling him back was almost beyond his endurance. “If you like,” he said huskily.
“Tomorrow night? There is a folly at the edge of this garden.”
The girl couldn’t mean to meet a stranger alone. But she already had, hadn’t she? Had sought him out here, alone. Had given him liberties that no young woman should allow. If he denied her would she just seek another man to meet with? Certainly he couldn’t protect her from herself. He couldn’t even assure that he could protect her from himself. But he heard himself say, “I know it. When shall I meet you?”
“Midnight.”
He nodded and forced himself to walk away. Tried to assure himself that he wouldn’t meet her for a rendezvous.
Chapter Five
“Do not be dismayed by her confusion. It will usually sway proceedings in your favor.” ~ Lord Lucifer
Elisa held her fingers to her lips as Casimir walked away. She had never experienced anything like that before. Yes, over the years some of her beau had stolen a kiss. But those kisses compared to Casimir’s as a candle flame compared to lightning. She had always looked down on girls who dishonored themselves with men, thought herself better. Smarter. It was said that pride went before the fall, and she was certainly testimony to that now. She had invited him to meet with her again! In her friend’s garden, as though she could guard her identity by not admitting where she lived. When the truth of the matter was that Violetta’s garden joined Emberly’s.
She spent some time sitting in the parlor before rejoining the party, trying to regain her ability to think logically. This man pulled at her like no other ever had. His cosmopolitan air, his humor, and, mercy save her, his touch. He was completely unlike any man she had ever encountered. Although she wanted to reassure herself that of course she wouldn’t meet him in the bower come next eve, a part of her heart knew that she would. She didn’t want to examine it. Couldn’t.
She returned to the party to talk and laugh and dance as though nothing had changed. But she knew everything had.
***
“Never promise a lady something you have no intention of giving her.” ~ Lord Lucifer
John threw his black leather mask on the floor in disgust. He considered grinding his heel into it, but walked over to the sideboard to pour Scotch instead. He had never touted himself to be a brave man, but thought he had some claim to honor. More honor than to maul an innocent miss within ten feet of his cousin’s masque ball. He finished the first Scotch and poured another. But God’s blood, she was sweet. And willing. It was no wonder that his friend Casimir was perpetually in a good mood if women always reacted to him thus. John raised his glass in the direction of Prussia, not sure quite where Casimir was at present, then tossed back his second serving in honor of the rogue.
Into his third serving the alcohol had the intended effect of mellowing his self-loathing. He finally removed his cape and laid it over the back of a chair. Picking up the mask, he set it on top. A highwayman’s garb, he mused. And wasn’t that what he had been tonight? A blackguard? Yes, the lady had all but thrown herself at him but that was no excuse. A gentleman protected a lady’s honor.
In no mood to continue examining his transgressions, he retrieved Lord Lucifer’s book from his cabinet. Although the first half of the book had described in more detail than he had expected how one went about wooing all sorts of women, the second half delved into the topic for which he had purchased it. How to pleasure a woman.
***
“Your goal isn’t to make her want you. It’s to make her beg for you.” ~ Lord Lucifer
Elisa had a more productive day than usual. She visited with Violetta, helped Fanny with some knitting to donate to the orphanage, reorganized her ribbons three times until they were exactly right, discussed menus with Cook, and chatted with Emberly more than usual. After dinner she bathed, read in her current novel, and waited for the household to go to sleep. She was, in short, as nervous as a cat in a room full of hungry wolves. It occurred to her that a nap might have been in order earlier in the day, but it was too late now to consider that. What
if she fell asleep and didn’t wake until morning? She didn’t know how to find him. She would never see him again. Even if she could find him, it certainly wasn’t done for an unmarried woman to track down a bachelor in his quarters. And surely he was a bachelor? She had to believe that he was. Had to believe it because considering otherwise made her think of scratching the other woman’s eyes out. This sort of jealousy wasn’t like her. Imagine! Her, being possessive over a man. Nervous.
Men had been beneath her contempt since the first round of suitors had made it so evident that her most appealing feature was her inheritance. When they wrote sonnets about her eyes, she knew that it was truly pound notes they were romancing. Every flower she received felt like an attempt to lure rather than please her. She detested gifts, and the more expensive they were the more she detested them. It was as though every man of her acquaintance had been on a campaign to not court her. Because none of them stopped to find out what she liked. None of them cared to know anything more about her. She was simply a bank account with a pleasing face.
But Casimir didn’t know that she was an heiress. He hadn’t tried to ply her with gifts and poetry. He had only given her his smile and his kiss. Now she found that she was dying for more of each.
The clock struck midnight as she finished dressing. She threw a dark cloak over her dress and snuck down the back steps to the kitchen door. Gaining her freedom to the outside, she flew across Emberly’s garden and through the little gate that let into Violetta’s. She prayed that her friend would forgive her for using the garden this way. Entering the bower she finally paused for breath. It was quiet, with just the crickets for company. Flowers were in bloom, suffusing the air with their heady scent. But no gentleman awaited her. She felt her heart fall a bit. After a moment she seated herself on the stone bench, the excitement of the day ebbing away and leaving only sadness.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think someone had chased you here.”
She jumped at his voice. He was here! But where? She stood and peered into the thick vegetation. “Casimir?” she whispered.
Finally having pity on her, he stepped away from the trellis he had been leaning on. In the darkness he had just seemed part of the bower’s architecture. “Elisa?” he replied in a teasing tone. His voice warmed her heart. She moved toward him and laid her head on his chest. His arms wrapped around her, his hands caressing her back. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am now,” she confided. She tipped her face up for his kiss and he did not disappoint. He seemed intent on keeping the kisses light and sweet, but she was impatient. She put her hands to his face to pull him closer. “You’re wearing your mask again,” she said in surprise.
“I thought it was part of what you liked about me.”
Was it? Did the mystery of him make their connection all the sweeter? She had always enjoyed stories of adventure. Was that what made all of this so exciting? If she knew him, truly knew him as someone who walked about in the light of day without a mask, would she find him nearly as enthralling? She suspected she would not. “Keep it on for now.”
“As the lady wishes,” he murmured over her lips.
She was finally able to pull him closer and instigate a deeper kiss by licking at his lips until he accepted her tongue and suckled it like the sweetest treat. After only a few moments, however, he pulled back.
“What does the lady wish for this evening?”
“This. You.” She tried to draw him to her, but he stepped back. His hands went to the fasteners for her cloak and her skin burned under his slightest touch. Removing it, he folded it over and set it on the stone bench. He walked around her, his hand trailing lightly across her shoulders.
“So lovely,” he announced. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
She chuckled. “You assume that you do?”
“Touche, mademoiselle. Your point is well taken. But perhaps I could please you?” He stepped toward her, so that her back was pressed to his front. The contact sent her body into a confusing riot of sensation, a blush sweeping her from head to toe. “Perhaps,” he whispered into her ear, “if I am very, very good, I might do something to deserve you?”
“Perhaps,” she conceded breathlessly. She had thought that nothing would feel as good as kissing him, but now was beginning to suspect that other things could feel just as good if not better. He nibbled and kissed her earlobe, her throat. His fingers caressed her abdomen, his arm pressing her closer still to his solid body behind her. She had never thought of her body as a separate creature from her mind, but it most definitely was. A traitorous, lusty creature. His hand was moving up her abdomen and she knew where he would touch her next. Rather than feeling scandalized, she could barely catch her breath. Her breasts felt heavy, they ached for his fingers on them. When he finally cupped one globe in his palm she heard herself moan.
“Do you like that?” he whispered to her, squeezing gently. Her body instinctively writhed against him.
She’d had no idea. No idea that her body could behave this way. Feel this way. It was as though he cast a spell over her, making her feel every touch from him as an intense pleasure. She felt him rucking up her skirt and petticoats with his other hand. When she felt his warm fingers on her thigh she gasped from shock and sensual pleasure.
Chapter Six
“Although slow to stoke, most women have a fire that burns long into the night.” ~ Lord Lucifer
John counseled himself to slow down, but holding her was like holding living flame. He knew that if anyone encountered them in the garden he would either be dead or married by sunrise, but he could no more stop touching her than he could stop breathing. His fingers brushed her intimate curls and he moaned from the pleasure of it.
“Casimir?” she said tentatively, the first hesitation he had seen from her. She was a heady combination of vixen and innocent.
“Trust me, love.” To his delight, she melted back against him and he rewarded her with a squeeze to the bosom that made her writhe again. If he had known that he could hold a woman like this when he was younger, it would have made his cello lessons profoundly more interesting. He stroked his fingers above her most intimate spot until she started to move her hips against him. Dipping one finger down, he teased it between her legs and felt the hot, sweet nectar of her desire.
“That feels naughty,” she whispered.
“Very naughty,” he agreed. He swirled his finger and she pressed more fervently against him, twisting to look up at him. Still holding her close, he covered her mouth with his own and teased her tongue with the same rhythm as he stroked her. Her hips bucked against his hand and he concentrated on swirling his finger over her pearl until she moaned and clutched at him, seeming in a frenzy to both pull him closer and push him away. As her desperation subsided her turned her in his arms so that they were once again embracing, her head buried against his chest.
***
“What a gift it is, to teach a woman what her body is capable of.” ~ Lord Lucifer
Elisa didn’t think that her legs could hold her up. She should be ashamed, she knew she should, but she wasn’t. Anything was worth the risk of this, anything was worth spending time with this man. She didn’t typically think of herself as shy, but at this moment she was, a bit, because her mind was filling with untoward, unruly thoughts. She wanted him to take his clothes off. She wanted to lick him and find out if his skin tasted like the faint lemon scent she could smell when she was this close to him. More than anything she simply wanted. With a deep yearning unlike anything she had ever encountered. If this man had walked into her guardian’s parlor at any point in the last five years she would already be married. Would already have set up her nursery.
At that thought she stepped back from him. He released her more quickly than she expected and she wobbled, but held herself steady with will and determination. “I’m not- That is to say, this hasn’t...”
“Hasn’t what, my love?”
“I couldn’t be pregnant, co
uld I?”
He chuckled. “It takes a bit more than that.”
“It does?” She thought for a moment. “There’s more?”
He tugged on one of her curls teasingly, then wrapped it around his finger as his smile faded. Stepping closer he said softly, “Yes, there’s more.”
“Will you show me?”
“I think that is something that your husband would like to have the pleasure of doing.”
“Will you marry me?”
That earned another of his rueful chuckles. “Is that what you want? To wed a rogue who meets you under cover of darkness and steals your chastity like a highwayman steals baubles?”
She frowned. “You don’t have to make it sound sordid.”
“It is sordid.”
“I don’t agree.”
“I will let you think on that. I will be here one week from today. If you still maintain that it isn’t sordid you can meet me. We can,” he paused, running a fingertip over her jaw, “continue your education.”
“I’ll be here,” she said defiantly.
His smile returning, he tapped her chin. “Goodnight, my love.”
“Goodnight.”
He turned and walked away, soon lost in the thick shrubs that ran the periphery of Violetta’s garden. Once Elisa was quite sure he was gone she stole across the yards again and crept back to her room. She would dream of him. The week couldn’t pass quickly enough.
Chapter Seven
“If you have done this properly, she is no longer the same woman she was at the beginning of the evening.” ~ Lord Lucifer
John wasn’t sure he could ever call himself a gentleman again, not after the insanely bad judgment he had shown with Miss Jarvis. Oh yes, he knew her name now. He had watched to make sure she made it home safely and it hadn’t taken much investigation to discover her name, the house she lived in, and her receiving hours. That was why now, two days later, he was standing outside the Emberly residence in a new suit of clothes and dreading what the next half hour might entail. He must tell her. He must beg her forgiveness for the deception and speak with her guardian about marrying her. This was, without doubt, the most daunting prospect of his life.
