Sylvie Sommerfield - Noah's Woman (11 page)

Behind certain masks male eyes glittered with interest, and little time passed before Charity was surrounded by admirers.

Gregory watched Charity's entrance from a vantage point he had chosen at the start of the evening, and he, too, complimented himself. He could not have found a more beautiful or more accomplished actress no matter what great theater he had searched.

He looked about him to see if Noah Morgan had arrived and was a bit annoyed to find out he had not.

"Leave it to Noah," he muttered. "Probably too bored to attend . . . or being too well entertained in some lady's bed."

Gregory waited patiently, until he knew that asking Charity to dance with him would go unnoticed. He

fell into the part of just another admirer who had succeeded in getting Charity to dance with him.

"Charity, you've stunned them," he said softly.

"I'm having fun," she admitted. "But none of this will help you if he doesn't show up."

"Oh, he'll show. This is just Noah's way. Lady Anne is a . . . special friend of his. He would not be so foolish as to not appear."

"You mean he and the duchess"

"Are a scandal?" Gregory laughed. "My dear Charity, he and a lot of ladies are a scandal."

"What an immoral beast he must be," Charity said angrily. "Does he consider women just . . . playthings?"

"I'm afraid I have to admit it is not all his fault. He attracts women like honey attracts bees. You can tell how much of an expert he is by the fact that he is still single."

"Gregory," Charity laughed, "I judge he must be somewhere near your age. Can you name it expertise when you, too, are still single? Perhaps you have played games as well."

"Touché, my pet. He is my age . . . about twenty-nine." Gregory could not help smiling. "But anything I've done was done before the loveliest creature I've ever met walked into my life."

"Thank you." Charity was pleased with the compliment and was about to speak again when she saw that Gregory's attention was no longer on her. "He's here?" she questioned softly.

"He has just arrived."

Gregory could see avid curiosity leap into Charity's

eyes and considered it suddenly very important that he caution her one more time.

"Remember, be careful. He is a dangerous man."

"I know, I know. But I'm here, and you've prepared me well. It's time we made Noah Morgan pay for all his devious machinations. Trust what you have taught me . . . and trust me. Once a person knows an evil, it is easier to evade. Now . . . where is he?"

Gregory drew Charity off the dance floor, and then she followed his eyes to the other side of the ballroom.

"There he is," Gregory said in a half whisper. "Dressed appropriately as a highwayman."

Charity's gaze touched on one man, then another, then it froze on the only man who could possibly be Noah Morgan.

Even from across the room he gave the impression of a power and vitality that were barely contained. A black mask covered the upper part of his face. Above it his hair was ebony and thick, and just a bit longer than the style of the day dictated. His skin was deeply tanned, and she watched him smile at something someone had said, a brilliant white smile.

His broad shoulders were advantageously displayed by a white shirt carelessly laced halfway up the front. The body of the shirt fit snugly to a strongly muscled torso, and the sleeves were full. Black pants hugged long, muscled legs with what Charity considered disgraceful snugness. High black boots gleamed with a fine polish; across his chest hung an ornate scabbard that held a sword on whose hilt one strong, long-fingered hand rested.

Charity noticed at once that while he conversed with those around him, his eyes seemed to be searching the room with an air of restless curiosity.

Then they met hers, and she actually inhaled a ragged breath. She could have sworn that in some way he had reached out and touched her.

She did not see the fleeting look of black fury that touched Gregory's face, for her eyes remained on the man who was slowly making his way in her direction. She felt frozen to the spot, held by a magnetism she found impossible to break. He stopped within inches of her, and although he spoke to Gregory, his eyes never left Charity. She remained silent, looking up into eyes so blue she felt washed by the tides of the sea.

He could have been a romanticized version of the Devil. The handsome Lucifer before he was ejected from heaven. The most beautiful of all the angels.

"Hamilton," he said, his voice warm and deep. "Your choice of costume is so appropriate, I didn't have to guess it was you. Cardinal Richelieu was quite an interesting man. Loved to be the power behind the throne, didn't he?" The question was put with a mild smile, but the gaze he turned on Gregory was hardly mild . . . or warm.

"Morgan," Gregory replied, "I see you've just arrived. Is Anne not a bit put out with you?"

Ignoring the obvious meaning of his words, Noah smiled down at Charity. "Had I known you had brought such a delightful creature, I would have come sooner."

Charity was both intrigued and angered. Did he

think her a light-heels, who would be devastated by one smile?

"I hate to disappoint you if you're looking for an introduction, but I've been trying to find out the lady's name myself." Gregory smiled a wolf's smile. "Your luck is not serving you well. Perhaps you've lost your touch."

"Ah, a lady of mystery." Noah's smile grew broader as the music, which had stopped, began again. Noah took Charity's hand, and before she could protest, he was drawing her closer. His smile was for Gregory. "As for luck, I always bring my own with me."

Charity was close to him on the dance floor before she could think of something to say.

"You are impertinent, sir. Is it not custom to ask a lady if she cares to dance?"

"But, my lady," he said with false remorse, "a highwayman is not bound by custom. He must depend on wit and nerve."

"Well, you do have considerable nerve," she replied, but her lips twitched in a smile, and he responded with a low laugh.

"I have not seen you before."

"How do you know? Be careful, highwayman, I might be a lady you've kissed and deserted."

"Oh, no," he said softly, and Charity did battle with the warmth of the eyes that appraised her. "I have not kissed those lips, or I would not have deserted them."

"You really are very bold."

"And you are very beautiful. Where do you come from?"

"I am Aphrodite, recently come to earth to enchant a mortal."

"I'm quite prepared to be enchanted, sweet Aphrodite. But to remain on earth you must have a mortal name."

"Ah, alas, it is a secret. I am under a curse. If I reveal my name I will be whisked back to Mount Olympus . . . and I'm enjoying myself too much to go back yet."

"And I would not want to be responsible for your disappearance. At least not until I've seen behind that mask."

"But you may not. We do not unmask until midnight, and that is still some time away."

"Then I may be forced to keep you by my side until that time," he replied.

But her laughter was all he had left when the dance ended and another ardent suitor whirled her away.

Charity kept her eye on him. She knew he was intrigued, but was it enough to draw him closer? The more the hours ticked by, the more shaken she was at the idea that she had failed Gregory before she had even begun. It was only the first time she was to underestimate Noah Morgan.

The hour was past eleven when Charity slipped outside to inhale a deep breath of cool air. The black night sky was kissed by a million stars and a full golden moon.

She heard the music behind her and stood quietly listening, trying to form a plan that would draw Noah to her again. Then she stilled her breath and grew

rigid. She did not have to turn around to know he was there.

She smiled to herself, then forced herself under control.

"So, highwayman," she said softly, "you are persistent as well as bold."

"Did you doubt it, Aphrodite?" he asked quietly.

Only then did Charity turn to face him. Noah had seen and held many beautiful women, but when she turned to face him, the pale glow of moonlight turned her into a white and gold vision that took his breath away.

She watched him walk slowly toward her, and the thought of a stalking black panther came to mind unbidden. She fought for control by remembering that this handsome man was the one who threatened Gregory's future, and in a roundabout way, hers as well.

"I thought you were beautiful with all that light inside, but only moonlight does you true justice. It's almost time to unmask, Aphrodite, and to reveal your mortal name." He reached for her mask, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"Not until midnight, Mr. Bandit." She smiled and heard his soft chuckle.

She was about to laugh with him when suddenly she found herself bound against a broad chest that felt as hard as iron. She began to protest when his mouth found hers and took it in a fiery kiss. When he released her, she gasped for breath. The world had seemed to tilt precariously, while her trembling legs suddenly felt as if the ground had stirred beneath her.

''How dare you!"

"I couldn't help myself, I was enchanted." The sound of his voice was a whisper against her hair.

Charity tried to move away, but he held her with gentle yet unrelenting force.

"Oh no, Aphrodite. It will be midnight and I will have a name and a face to go with it."

"You cannot know when it's midnight," she replied. But her voice had trembled. None of this was going according to plan.

She could feel the length of his body pressed so intimately to hers that she flushed, feeling a heat uncoil within her. She had to do something! She had to!

But she didn't . . . Anne Ferrier did.

"Noah." Anne's voice was soft, deadly soft, but it carried across the terrace to where Noah and Charity stood in a very compromising embrace.

It came so unexpectedly that Charity felt Noah's hold loosen. In that moment she was gone. She ran toward the open French door, but Noah's voice accompanied her.

"We'll meet again, Aphrodite!"

When Charity entered the ballroom she was panting and deeply grateful to see Gregory there. He took her hand and together they left the ballroom. In the foyer he whispered hasty instructions.

"Go back home now, Charity. This has been more than excellent. He'll find you. I don't doubt it will be within a day or two. We've got him. You couldn't have done it better."

Charity left quickly. But on the carriage ride home she wasn't quite as certain as Gregory seemed to be.

Noah rested one hip against the balcony, crossed his arms, and watched an enraged Anne walk toward him. There was no doubt Anne was a lush and delicious creature, he thought. But he knew her well enough to know that she enjoyed the games she played, and no one would ever mean enough to her to stand between her and what she wanted. He couldn't help thinking of the mysterious beauty he had just held in his arms.

Anne was tall and graceful, and her blond hair was elaborately coifed. She wore the disguise of an Egyptian princess, which complemented her creamy skin and green eyes. Her smile, as always, held an invitation in it.

Anne Ferrier knew Noah much too well to vent her anger verbally. He would smile his ungodly devastating smile, bow to her anger, and walk out of her life, and that was the last thing she wanted.

She stopped within inches of him and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your rendezvous."

"Hardly a rendezvous, my sweet," Noah replied. "I don't, as yet, even know the lady's name."

"You've been away too long, Noah. You don't know all the newcomers."

"Who is she, Anne?"

The intent in his voice stirred her anger even more. She had been Noah's mistress for only a short while and had soon decided two things: Her marriage was a necessary inconvenience, and she wanted to be the one who held Noah Morgan longer than any other of

his rumored lights of love. She had been successful so far because, in bed, she was a tigress who could tame most any man.

"How you torment me, Noah," she said throatily as she moved against him. "Why do you want that child's name when you need only put out your hand to have a woman in your arms? Oh, Noah, you know how much I love you."

And Noah did. He almost smiled again. He was not the first lover Anne Ferrier had taken, and he knew quite well he wouldn't be the last. It seemed the lovely Anne tired easily of the men who threw themselves at her feetsome to taste her loveliness, and others to listen to careless words spoken in passion. The second had been Noah's purpose. Not for a moment did he believe that Anne knew what the word love meant. At times, when solitary thoughts overtook him, he wondered if he was too jaded to be able to see love if it did appear.

Tonight he was tired of the games he was forced to play, and he was irritated with the wisp of memory left behind by the elusive lady who had escaped him. She had felt so . . . different in his arms, and the taste of her soft lips was still on his.

He suddenly found it impossible to respond to Anne the way she so obviously expected him to. He moved away from her and looked out over the broad expanse of moonlit garden. He did not see her eyes narrow or her inviting mouth grow hard.

"I returned just an hour before your ball, Anne. I suppose that is why I'm so tired."

"Tired?" She laughed softly. "You? I don't believe I

have ever seen you tired . . . even after a long and strenuous night."

"Perhaps I am aging rapidly." He turned to look at her. "I came tonight only because I gave you my promise. But I cannot stay. There is something I have to attend to before I find my bed."

"Your bed? We will not meet tonight? Noah"

"I'm afraid by the time the ball is over the hour will be long past for us to meet. Would you have Rodger draw his sword against me because we were indiscreet?"

"You would kill him and he knows it," Anne replied and he wasn't sure he didn't hear a note of hope in her voice. But Rodger Ferrier was too important to him to let that happen.