Perhaps she would start a movement for greater exposure of the male form!
Executing a turn made awkward by the toga’s drapery, a hooded monk caught her wandering eye. The long, black robe hid this man’s form entirely, and yet something in the way he moved as he walked down the room suggested a naked body she remembered only too well.
If it was Fort, had he spotted her? Surely her flaming scarlet couldn’t be missed.
If he had, he was not seeking her out. He was heading toward the door in the same autocratic manner as when he’d parted the crowds at Vauxhall.
He was leaving!
Elf excused herself to Ferron with a few mumbled words about a pinched toe, and dashed after the monk, silently cursing the chaos of the merry crowd. As she ran, gasping, onto the landing, she saw him already descending the stairs toward the hall and the door.
Running down and past him, she barred his way at the bottom of the sweeping curve of steps.
He stopped.
She looked up and saw her instincts had been right. The narrow black mask did not prevent her recognizing Fort.
“Madam?”
Standing two steps above her, he was painfully high. Elf moved up a step, even though it took her closer. “Monsieur Le Comte.”
“You require something?” he asked in French, but as if speaking to a total stranger.
Well, he certainly hadn’t spent sleepless nights longing for his lost Lisette!
Elf shook out her scarlet-striped skirts. “You promised me lessons in taste, my lord.”
“I think you are mistaken.” He stepped to the side to pass her.
Elf grabbed the rope around his waist. “I think not. A lady is allowed to change her mind.”
He swung to face her, then gripped her arm and hustled her into a small anteroom off the hall. “Are you completely mad?” he snapped as he shut the door.
Furious again. Just his ordinary, charming self. He released her arm, and Elf let go of his cord. “Why do you say that, my lord?”
He pushed his cowl back, revealing unpowdered hair curling loose on his shoulders. It made him look . . . untamed. It reminded her of him naked in a bedroom except that now he was angry.
A ripple of fear passed through her—an awareness that she might have stirred up more than she’d planned—but she placed an unsteady hand on his chest. “I’m truly sorry for running away like that the other night, my lord. But it was all such a shock. When I had time to think about it—”
He covered her hand. Captured it. “You realized the advantages?” He studied her so closely that she feared he would have to recognize Elf Malloren despite mask, powder, and foreign tongue. “I can’t even be sure you are the same woman. You could be one of your relatives in the same outfit.”
Elf was surprisingly upset that he held nothing in his memory of her except her dress. Which he thought appalling, the horrid man.
“Of course,” he said, “I might recognize the taste of you.”
Oh, the rogue! But Elf’s feelings were soothed by this beginning of seduction. He was not indifferent after all.
She pretended to be coy. “I’m a little nervous at the thought of kissing a religious man, my lord.”
He raised her chin. “I give you absolution before we sin.”
His kiss was as thorough as last time, but in some subtle way mechanical. When he raised his head, she wanted to scrub at her lips. “That didn’t feel very sinful, my lord.”
“If you want to sin, Lisette, I’ll show you the way to hell before the night is out.” His voice contained no trace of seductive warmth. “Now, tell me the purpose for this.”
So, even if he accepted her as Lisette, he was the man Elf knew too well—watchful, wary, and cynical. Perhaps the other night had been an aberration after all. What did this mean for her plans?
She had to at least accompany him out onto the street to draw out the Scots. But a night of seductive passion seemed unlikely.
She fought a betraying tremble in her lips, hiding them behind her fan. “I just wanted to see you again, my lord.”
“Why? Having had the ingenuity to escape, I’d have thought you wiser than that.”
She turned away coyly. “I’m sorry, my lord. I was just nervous. I thought, no matter what you said, you’d ravish me eventually.”
“The chance of me ravishing you eventually is increasing by the moment. You’re not making sense, Lisette. Who’s behind this?”
“No one!”
Strongly tempted to hit him over the head with something, Elf turned to see that he’d moved to lean against the back of a sofa, arms folded. For some reason the pose sent shivers down her spine, and they weren’t of fear.
“How did you get in?” he demanded. “I doubt Lady Yardley sent you an invitation.”
“Well really! My cousin received one. She is titled.”
“Is she?” He paused to consider it. “And your hostess is here?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Who is she?”
“Why should I tell you that?”
“Still trying to preserve your anonymity?” He smiled cynically. “So, the lady is as loose in her control of you as usual, and will not create a stir if I carry you off. We’ll let that pass for the moment while you tell me just what you have planned. And be quick about it.”
Elf took refuge in fanning herself. Why couldn’t the wretch play his part and try to seduce her again, so she would merely have to put up weak resistance? Instead, it appeared she would have to seduce him.
“I . . . I just wanted to say that I was sorry, my lord. I was afraid I’d hurt your feelings.”
He laughed. “Be at ease. I never gave it a thought other than to worry that you might have ended up in the gutter with your throat slit. I’d like my pistol back, though.”
Elf realized she was glaring at the insensitive oaf and relaxed her features. “I will return it, my lord.”
“You’d better, or I’ll hunt you down and see you transported for theft.”
He sounded as if he meant it!
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t know what you thought to gain by taking it, anyway. Waving an empty pistol around is not much deterrent.”
“I loaded it, of course.
“Did you, begad?” And now he looked at her with new alertness. Was that a flicker of recognition in his eyes?
She hastily lowered her chin and fluttered her fan. “My brother taught me, my lord. I didn’t have to fire it, though, thank heavens. I’m not a good shot.”
“Just as well.” He moved so suddenly that he was on her, hand dangerously at her throat, before she had time to react. His thumb forced up her chin. “Just who are you, Lisette?”
Heart thundering, Elf stared up into his cool blue eyes wondering how he could not recognize her. But then, whyever would he imagine that Lady Elfled Malloren the Well Protected would be masquerading as Lisette Belhardi, a young lightskirt in search of a protector?
Half choked, she said, “I don’t want to give you my full name, my lord.”
He let her go but stayed close. “Very wise, though I’m no danger to you. Have you given thought to the man with the knife, though? He was not best pleased to find I’d let you slip.”
Elf tried to assume profound ignorance. “But why would he care? What did he want with me?”
“He is afraid you overheard his private business. You didn’t?”
“Business, my lord? I heard voices, but not the words, and my English is not very good. I was hiding from another gentleman. When I crept out onto the path, that man tried to seize me. When I ran, he chased. I was terribly scared.”
“I suppose you were.” His knuckles brushed distractingly along her jawline, then down her throat to the swell of her breasts. Before she could prevent it, he slid her bodice dagger out and tested the blade. “Not every lady wears one of these.”
Elf decided it was wisest to remain silent.
“If you’d understood any of our business, I don
’t suppose you’d be here. Even you couldn’t be so foolish. So,” he added, sliding the small weapon neatly back into its sheath, “you came here for what? Did you truly rethink your decision about becoming my mistress?”
Even such impersonal contact near her breasts had set up a tingle there that summoned interesting memories. And now a faint warmth in his manner held promise that the night might, after all, end as she had dreamed.
It was only a distant promise, though. “Perhaps . . .” she murmured, praying that he’d begin a seduction.
“I need more certainty than that, Lisette. I’ve no mind to play the same scene over. Are you willing?”
Behind her fan, Elf gritted her teeth. Would it hurt the man to at least pretend a little loving softness? “Would you let me keep my mask on, my lord?”
His brows rose. “All the time? Your skin would rot.”
“For the night,” she whispered, trembling now that she had to put her fantasies into words. “For just one night, my lord.”
His eyes became intent, intrigued. “Why?”
“Because I doubt the man I end up with will be as interesting as you.”
He pushed the fan out of the way to study her. “You’re interesting yourself, Lisette. Are you sure? Remember the terms. No marriage, even if there’s a child. No false protestations of love.”
“I remember, my lord, and I’m sure.” She spoke the honest truth, but knew he mustn’t guess the intensity of her certainty. “Will I still get the five hundred guineas, milord?”
As she’d planned, the mercenary question wiped away his lingering suspicions, and he laughed. “For one night? I’m afraid not, sweetheart. I have the feeling you should be paying me. But I’ll give you a hundred, just to pacify your future husband.”
Elf flicked open her fan and pouted, pretending to think about it. She still hoped he might try some ardent persuasions, but when he didn’t she said, “Fair enough, my lord. Can we go now? The night’s passing.”
His brows rose. “Are you sure you’re a virgin, Lisette? In some respects I’d rather you weren’t, but I dislike being lied to.”
“Yes, I am a virgin, my lord. I’m sorry if it displeases you.”
He suddenly grinned. “You have claws, do you, though you’ve been trained to keep them sheathed. Perhaps tonight I’ll let you use them.”
She relished the prospect. She’d like to see some reaction from the man, even if just blood.
He raised her hand and kissed it, a trace of warmth softening his features. “Come along, then. This should be interesting, and I promise that at least it will be a night to remember.”
Elf had no doubt at all that it would.
Discreetly expressionless, a maid brought Elf’s white cloak and they exited into the soft summer darkness. Elf deliberately left the cloak hanging open so her people and the Scots could spot the scarlet lady.
She hadn’t entirely forgotten her other purpose.
A quick glance around showed any number of loiterers, but no one she knew, Scots or English. It would be hard to tell here, however. Four houses besides that of Lady Yardley were brightly lit for entertainment. Latecomers were still arriving, and a few—like themselves—were leaving.
Coaches rolled up and down, and if the horses chanced to soil the street, urchins ran out to scoop up the valuable commodity. They’d sell it tomorrow to the market gardeners. Waiting servants leaned against railings chatting as they watched the lords and ladies come and go.
At the moment, most of them were watching the scarlet lady and the monk, knowing grins on their faces. Elf thanked heaven for her mask, for these servants surely made it their business to recognize the great and tally up their doings.
At the edge of the pavement, Fort paused. “My house is only on the next street, and I didn’t bother with a coach. I wonder if it’s safe for you, though.”
“I’m not afraid, my lord, with your escort.”
“You’re better armed than I am, sweetheart. You have your dagger and I don’t even have a sword. In fact,” he added, drawing her against his side, “beneath this homespun robe, I am entirely naked. The notion amused me.”
Elf became burningly aware of his torso separated from her hand by only a thin layer of cloth. Without intent, she moved her hand a little and he chuckled. “Interests you, does it?” He tilted her chin up. “I think you’ve chosen the right profession.”
“I will doubtless marry, my lord.”
“I wonder why.” He touched his lips to hers in a velvet tease. “Perhaps I will offer you the position of mistress. Is that your plan?”
“No, my lord. In reality, I’m quite a conventional person.” Elf enjoyed this opportunity to tell the truth.
“Really?” he said in obvious disbelief and began to guide her down the road. “Think, Lisette. You could be my mistress for a little while and then marry your conventional husband, handsomely endowed.”
“I’m not a fool, my lord. A length of time with you would doubtless spoil me for other men. And I don’t refer to my chastity.”
“I do hope I can live up to your expectations, my sweet. But why marry at all, then, if it’s not to your taste?”
“I told you, my lord. I’m conventional, and my family is even more so. Circumstances have arranged themselves so that tonight I have a chance to do just as I wish. It may be my only chance and I have chosen to spend it with you.”
He paused to look at her, tracing her lips with his finger. “I think I understand you at last, Lisette. You are a most remarkable woman. Just one night, then. One night for ourselves alone. A night of freedom for both of us.”
If Elf hadn’t already been intent on wickedness, she would have surrendered to him then, conquered by his wistful need.
They continued down the street, arm in arm, walking a little faster now, both eager to reach their destination. Elf didn’t forget other matters. She kept all senses keen, checking loiterers and passersby for lurking Scots or her own servants.
She saw neither.
What if the Scots didn’t make an appearance? She couldn’t imagine how else to draw them out, and the attack on the king could happen at any moment.
She remembered the item in Fort’s cellars. Perhaps that would be a clue. Sometime in the night, once he was asleep, she would steal his key and investigate. That, after all, was the real reason behind this wicked plan.
That was not the reason behind this wicked plan.
She was hastening toward ravishment because of her restless needs, and because Fort’s body next to hers, even here on the street, created the most delicious sensation she had ever experienced.
But she must try to remember to do her duty, too.
They turned the corner into Morpeth Street, and into sleepy quietness. No entertainments seemed to be taking place here tonight. A cart rolled slowly down the street, pulled by one tired horse, and in the distance two men walked briskly on their way. Otherwise, all was peaceful.
Elf looked around again, wondering if assassins lurked in the shadows, and whether her protectors were close enough.
Nothing happened.
Perhaps after all, the only danger she faced tonight was from her own tormenting desires.
She could marry Fort. Not could as in would be allowed to, but could as in him suiting her inclinations. He was not an easy man, no, but a strong one. And, at bottom, honorable.
If they came upon dragons, he had it in him to be a dragon slayer.
She wouldn’t have thought that a few weeks ago, but now she knew Fort’s sense of right and wrong was sound. He was unhappy, perhaps even tormented by something, and she didn’t underestimate the power of that. It could even make him do things that went completely against his nature, but—
“Penny for them.” His voice jerked her out of her thoughts, making her heart race with guilt as if he’d been able to read her mind.
“I was thinking about you,” she said honestly.
“As I was thinking about you. You’re an enigma
, Lisette, and I still don’t believe I have the truth of you. Perhaps I will by the end of the night.”
I do hope not. “Why do you say that, my lord? You promised I could keep my mask.”
“Sex is very revealing, my dear, and I don’t mean of bodies. The mask won’t hide anything that matters.”
Pray God you’re wrong! “Then will I find the truth of you, my lord?”
He smiled down at her. “Perhaps. But my experience gives me an edge. When my hand strokes your thighs open while my mouth pleasures your breasts, I doubt you’ll be feeling observant.”
Such casual words to make her turn hot all over, to make her ache in the places he spoke of. She made herself smile back at him. “Then perhaps I should stroke and pleasure you in turn.”
His teeth flashed in a grin. “By all means, Lisette. The thought of your hand on my . . .” His grin turned very wicked. “What would you call it? My private parts?”
“Hardly entirely private tonight, my lord,” Elf riposted, grateful for the mask hiding her red cheeks. She had never anticipated such a discussion. In fact, all her intimate imaginings had involved silence and darkness.
“Private enough, I assure you. Well, Lisette? Even an ingenue must have a phrase for the male anatomy.”
Elf’s French, though excellent, lacked such terms except for a baby name her French nurse had used for Cyn’s little penis. She could only dredge up one literal French phrase. “Perhaps, your external organs, my lord?”
“Ah.” He coughed slightly. “My external organs are certainly anticipating some stroking and pleasuring. I hope they are not alone. Contemplate, my sweet Lisette, those organs finding their home between your cream-silk and virginal thighs. Can you anticipate the introduction of my more outstanding external organ into your soft, moist, hot, and oh so empty internal space?”
Oh, she could. She could indeed! They were still arm-in-arm, still walking briskly down the street, and yet she felt as if he stroked her in impossible places. Elf’s “internal space,” feeling very hot and moist, became suddenly a second heartbeat. “You have a wicked tongue, my lord.”
He laughed out loud. “You don’t know how wicked, Lisette. But you will. Indeed you will. Having been chosen for your night of freedom, for your induction into the heavenly hell of lust, I intend to do my duty to the full. We’re here.”
Jo Beverley - [Malloren 03] Page 15
