“I know you.Better than anyone else in this room.” He lowered his voice. “This isn’t the first time I’ve held you in my arms.”
She stiffened. She was close,so very close. His name was on the tip of her tongue. Exactly where he wanted it to be. Exactly where it had been one drunken night four years ago, when his lips had pressed against hers in an alley at a harvest festival. He had her in his grasp then, and she slipped from his fingers.
“Remove your mask.” Jasmine’s voice quivered. “Tell me your name.”
“You know my name,” he teased. “You’ve used it to reject me. Several times, in fact.”
“Probably with good reason. What was it?”
“You had a long list,” Matthew admitted. Then, he gave her the most painful truth of his life. “Ultimately… I turnedyouaway.”
She stumbled, her breath caught, and yes, she knew.
“Why?” The word came out as a pained whisper.
He gave her a sad smile, hidden under his mask.
“Because I’m a murderer.”
She trembled, but kept her hand in his.
“Lord Lincolnshire,” she breathed.
He tsked, removed his mask, and grinned at her.
“Has it been so long that you would not call me Matthew?”
Chapter Two
Matthew Cooper.
Andmy, how he hadchanged.
No longer lanky and thin from poor nutrition—thisMatthew was lean and muscular. Broad-shouldered and strong. His unruly brown curls were tied back and tamed with the cedarwood-scented pomade he had always used. His voice wasn’t the tenor she remembered, but deeper now. Not only the pitch—the way he spoke had changed to something confident… but also annoyingly arrogant!
Dressed in all black with a matching mask held at his side, his smile was the same as she had always known. Except it didn’t show in his eyes. His amber-brown eyes hadn’t left hers for a second since he had danced with her. Not the teasing gaze of a childhood friend. These eyes locked onto hers with the intense determination of an attracted man.
Though not related by blood, the Cooper and Sinclair families were close enough that the Coopers called Jasmine’s parents Aunt and Uncle. For her entire life, Matthew had been like a brother to her. He was alwaystoo closeto be considered an acceptable match. Her mother had tried to set them up multiple times, but he had never shown an interest.
Until one night he had.
Hesurprisedher with his interest.
Alone during a harvest festival, drunk on ale and mulled wine, he had pressed her against a wall in an alley and kissed her. A desperate,achingkiss. Heronlykiss. A kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about,even a world away.
But he hadn’t beenserious.
Not when he never brought it up again.
Now he stood before her as if nothing was amiss. Even furious at him, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and hug him—she had missed him terribly and had a thousand questions—but most importantly… she wanted to slap him!Hard.How dare he make a fool of her? As soon as they were alone, he owed her one solid punch to his arm, and she would give him two if he flinched. As he escorted her to the side of the ballroom, away from the dancers, she glowered at him.
“What, didn’t want a third dance?”
“And embroil you in scandalimmediately?”He mock-gasped. “What type of man do you take me for?”
“You could have said something,” she grumbled.
He grinned. “Why? When I was having so much fun?”
