The Rake's Mistress (10 page)

‘He is nothing to me,’ Rebecca said.

‘He would like to be something.’

‘His wishes are no concern of mine.’

‘And my wishes?’ the black domino mused. ‘Do I have a chance of success where Fremantle has failed?’

‘No more than any other man,’ Rebecca said, although the desire that started to burn within her told a different story.

The black domino laughed. ‘But no less?’

‘It makes no odds.’ Rebecca knew she sounded a little breathless. ‘None of you has any chance.’

The black domino’s gaze was inscrutable. ‘So when Fremantle demanded to be first, what did he mean?’

Rebecca blushed behind her mask. ‘I have no notion what he meant,’ she said, ‘but none of his wishes are likely to be granted.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘I thought that you wanted to dance, my lord, rather than—’

‘Rather than make love?’

The words hung in the air between them. Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat. She felt the sensual languor sweep her blood. This was so out of character for her, and so perilous. Yet now she was embarked upon it, there was something compelling about the masquerade, about playing her part. It felt like an escape, almost as though she had stepped into another world, just for one night.

And there was also something about this man, who even now was shifting a little closer along the gold brocade sofa and raising his hand to stroke the soft skin on the nape of her neck. His glittering gaze held hers; his touch set her on fire. He leaned closer and his lips brushed hers. Rebecca sat as
frozen as a statue whilst the warmth unfurled within her.

He was watching her face and now he laughed, a soft sound of triumph. ‘You are nowhere near as cold as you pretend to be, my lady.’

He leaned forward again and the tip of his tongue touched the corner of her mouth lightly but deliberately. Rebecca’s lips parted of their own volition. She could not help herself. A second later he had taken advantage, deepening the kiss, sending the ballroom and its dazzling, shrieking crowds spinning from her mind as she became consumed by the warm intimacy of his mouth moving over hers. It was sweet, intoxicating pleasure and she wanted to drown in it.

His lips left hers reluctantly. ‘Have I persuaded you yet?’ he whispered.

Rebecca tried to focus. ‘I…no. I do not believe you have.’

He smiled. She could see it in his eyes. ‘Still resisting me…’

But her resistance was weakening. In desperation, Rebecca got to her feet and held out a hand to him. ‘Come, my lord. We have yet to dance.’

He got to his feet with languid grace and took her hand in his. Warm and strong, his fingers interlocked with hers.

If Rebecca had thought that to dance with him would provide some respite from the sensuality
that flickered between them, then she swiftly realised her mistake. Their bodies seemed to burn at every point of contact. Together and apart, hands touching, his thigh brushing her skirt, his arm grazing hers as they moved through the slow steps of the quadrille… They were trapped in a sensual haze and each time Rebecca turned away from him she felt a frightening compulsion to turn back. She felt dizzy and helpless, weakened by feelings she did not understand, and she did not need to see behind his mask to know that he understood exactly what was going through her mind. The dance ended and she felt almost limp with exhaustion, breathing as though she had been running rather than dancing. The black domino tucked her hand through his arm and she had no thought to refuse.

‘As a means of escaping what is between us, I have to say that that was remarkably unsuccessful, my lady,’ he drawled.

Rebecca shivered. ‘Escape…’ she whispered.

He shook his head. ‘It cannot be done, sweetheart. Whatever it is that burns between us cannot be denied and it will be there until we accept it and—’

‘And?’

‘And act on it.’

Rebecca stared at him. There was something about his stance and the predatory way that the dark eyes behind the mask swept over her with a
gleam of desire that turned her throat to sawdust. She knew that he spoke the truth and she did not know what she was going to do. And as she hesitated, he took a very purposeful step towards her as though he were about to carry her from the ballroom and make love to her here and now.

‘Here you are!’ Nan’s voice exclaimed. She did not sound pleased. ‘I have been looking everywhere for you!’

Rebecca wrenched her gaze away from that of the black domino. She felt dizzy and disorientated. ‘I beg your pardon, Nan. Were you wishing to leave?’

‘Not at all,’ Nan said. Her calculating gaze went from Rebecca to the black domino, who was watching them in quizzical fashion. ‘I did not expect that you would throw yourself so wholeheartedly into the evening, however.’

She grabbed Rebecca’s arm and dragged her away. ‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’ she hissed.

‘I did not mean to become entangled with him,’ Rebecca said miserably. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl. ‘He… I do not know what happened.’

‘I did not mean that!’ Nan was dismissive. ‘You may flirt with whomever you choose with my blessing. The only problem is that Fremantle is in a foul mood. He claims that you snubbed him for your black domino.’ Her gaze sharpened on
Rebecca’s face. ‘I do not blame you, my dear, for he looks a well set-up sort of a fellow, but is he rich, that is the question?’

‘I do not know,’ Rebecca lied, glad for once that the mask hid her reddening face. ‘I did not ask…’

Nan tutted crossly. ‘You have fallen for pretty compliments. It is a beginner’s mistake, Becca. You
must
discover if a gentleman is well breeched before you promise him anything.’

‘I am not beginning anything, nor promising anything,’ Rebecca said rebelliously, ignoring the small voice in her head that told her she had both promised and given a great deal to the black domino and would have given much, much more had Nan not intervened.

Nan shook her head, frankly disbelieving. ‘Another half-hour and you would have been in that gentleman’s bed,’ she said shrewdly. ‘I saw the way he was looking at you.’

‘Nan!’ Rebecca felt aghast. Was the flagrant attraction she felt for Lucas Kestrel so evident for all to see? It appeared so.

Nan shrugged. ‘And a good thing too, were it not—’ She broke off whatever she had been about to say. ‘Anyway, I need your help, Becca. My last partner was clumsy enough to step on a flounce of my skirt and I wondered if you would be able to pin it up for me?’

‘Of course,’ Rebecca said automatically. She flicked a glance over her shoulder as they started to climb the stairs. Lord Fremantle was watching them, but she barely spared him a glance. The black domino was still standing where she had left him and there was a quality of stillness about him as he stared at her that made Rebecca bite her lip.

No escape
.

The thick carpet was soft beneath her slippers as they ascended. Nan hustled her into a small bedroom on the first floor, furnished opulently with a big four-poster bed and many gilt mirrors.

‘This will do. There are pins in my reticule.’

Rebecca obediently knelt on the thick carpet and pinned up the torn hem of Nan’s peacock dress. The rent was only small and took barely any time at all to mend. When she had done, Nan twirled in front of the mirror in self-satisfied admiration.

‘Divine,’ she said. ‘Wait a moment for me here, Becca. I shall be back directly.’

She slipped out of the room and Rebecca hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the four-poster bed. It was draped in red damask that was slightly rough to the touch. Everything in the house was rich and fine, but Rebecca thought that there was nothing personal about it. Her artist’s eye appreciated the colours and textures, but there was no stamp of personality.

A faint but unmistakable click from the door attracted her attention. She waited, expecting Nan to be coming back, but nothing happened. Puzzled, she got up and walked slowly over to the door, turning the knob. The door remained obstinately closed. Rebecca tugged on the handle, then pushed. Neither result elicited any response. The door was shut and she was locked within.

Rebecca was quick to understand then. There had been Nan’s anxiety that she attend the ball, her deliberate dismissal of it as a small, private function, Lord Fremantle’s anger when she had turned him down out of preference for Lucas, Nan’s intervention and Fremantle watching them climb the stairs with his cold, zealous eyes.

Rebecca stood still with one hand resting on the panels and the doorknob cold against her palm. So Nan had betrayed her. She would never have expected it. She had thought that some loyalty bound her friend.

She rattled the lock. It looked flimsy, but it was too strong for her to break without some kind of weapon, and there was none. There was nothing at all in the room that could be used to aid her escape. She would have given a great deal to have brought her diamond engraving scribe with her.

She stood there, shivering in the red silk dress despite the heat of the room.

And then there was the sound of the key turning and Alexander Fremantle, stripped of mask and gown, stepped inside. He stood and looked at her, his greedy gaze drinking in every inch of her trembling body.

‘Well, my dear,’ he said, ‘at last I have you where I want you.’

‘My lord,’ Rebecca said, attempting to eradicate the tremor from her voice, ‘I do suggest that you reconsider—’

Fremantle was turning to close the door. He paused, looked over his shoulder at her with a gesture of disdain.

‘And why should I wish to do that, Miss Raleigh?’

‘Because once again, I fear that the lady is waiting for me and you are damnably
de trop
, old fellow.’ Lucas Kestrel pushed the door open from the outside and strolled into the room. He had discarded the mask, but still wore the black domino. His lazy, incisive tones held just enough hint of amusement to make Fremantle flush angrily. He looked from Lucas’s sardonic face to Rebecca’s blank one and his mouth tightened into a thin line.

‘That is impossible! I arranged—’

‘You arranged for Miss Astley to entrap her friend on your behalf?’ Lucas questioned, all amusement suddenly fled from his expression. ‘I know. I saw you. Shame on you, Fremantle, that
you cannot find a willing woman to take to your bed and have to resort to tricking a reluctant one.’

The bright red indignation mottled Alexander Fremantle’s throat. ‘It seems you have some need to play the knight errant, my lord. I assure you this lady has no need of your services.’

Lucas moved with predatory precision to stand behind Rebecca. Even before he touched her she could feel his presence, feel the tiny hairs stand up on the back of her neck, feel the goose pimples that tiptoed down her spine. His hands came to rest on her bare arms above the elbow and he drew her back against his body until they were touching. She could feel his chest against her back and the curve of his hip against her buttocks. He held her hard. She felt weak with relief and faint with anticipation.

‘My apologies, Miss Raleigh,’ he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. ‘Once again it appears that you must convince his lordship that you prefer my company to his.’

Rebecca made an incoherent noise that, fortunately, sounded like assent. She could not have spoken had she tried. Lucas had bent his head and was feathering tiny kisses down the side of her neck. His lips drifted across her collarbone, igniting a fierce heat within her.

But Fremantle was still watching. Lucas raised his head and his eyes were cold and inimical.

‘Need I remind you to go?’ he asked coldly.

Fremantle was leaving, scarlet with repressed fury, muttering under his breath, but definitely leaving. The door closed behind him.

Lucas stepped away from Rebecca with exaggerated care, as though he needed to make it clear that there was no price for his assistance. For a long moment they simply stared at each other whilst Rebecca felt a tumult of emotion batter her. She knew that if he had carried on making love to her she would not have resisted. Even here, even now, she wanted him. She could not deny it.

But there was no desire in the look that Lucas had turned on her now. She felt her own passion die beneath his scathing contempt and felt as though she was withering inside.

‘You fool! What the
hell
are you doing here?’ He snatched off her mask, the red ribbons coming loose and tangling in her hair, wrenching a small gasp of pain from her. The strength of his fury shocked her. His eyes glittered with rage. He looked murderous and, though he stopped short of touching her again, his fists were clenched as though he wanted to shake the life out of her.

‘I cannot work out,’ he said, ‘whether you are wanton, stupid, or just plain mad.’

Rebecca’s fury and misery balled in her chest. ‘I was going to thank you, my lord,’ she said
coldly, ‘but that was before I realised I had to endure your insults as well as your attentions.’

Lucas made a derisive noise. ‘Make no complaints, Miss Raleigh. You have no idea what I
want
to inflict on you.’ His gaze narrowed on her. ‘Or perhaps you do, if you are the wanton you appear to be!’

Rebecca took a step back and he followed her, stalking her across the floor. His furious gaze held hers, and behind the anger she could see the unslaked desire and it scalded her hot and cold. She raised her chin proudly.

‘You know that is not true,’ she said, ‘or you would not have stepped in to rescue me.’

Lucas made a repudiating gesture. ‘I do not know why I did.’

The truth hung in the air between them. Rebecca did not need him to put it into words:
You did it because you were jealous… You did it because you wanted me for yourself
…

She swallowed hard. ‘I should go home,’ she said.

Lucas was looking at her moodily. ‘I will take you back.’

Rebecca’s heart jumped. ‘No.’

This time he did grab her. His hands bit into her shoulders and she flinched. ‘You still do not understand, do you?’ He ground out savagely. ‘They are out there—Fremantle and your so-called friend
Miss Astley. If you simply walk away, they will know for sure that this was a sham and then how much chance do you think you will have of reaching Clerkenwell unprotected?’