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I hated her instantly. And then I had to wonder as to why I disliked her so vehemently.
Because she’s so scantily clad and hanging on Nicolo to such an extent, she embarrasses her title.
But, no, that wasn’t quite it.
Hmm, I’m jealous.
You can’t be jealous!I barked back at myself.You’re an assassin!
Not wanting to face the truth in my own words, I decided to, instead, observe the room as I fought my thoughts back. Not surprisingly, my gaze returned to Nicolo as he expertly whisked the garish woman around the dance floor.
Gauthier had made Nicolo’s costume and it was that of a well-dressed demon. His choice was a humorous one since there were rumors that a demon was exactly what he was—this was simply his way of flaunting that rumor in everyone’s face. Frankly, the clothing covering his body wasn’t far from what he would have worn to any other party, but the red satanic mask, complete with horns, set the rest of the ensemble off well. Somehow, it suited him.
Mask or not, it was impossible not to recognize the tall, strongly built figure, and the fine ladies of the court gravitated to him, daring each other to dance with the devil. I was quite sure all of them hoped to be the one Nicolo took back to his room later, for a night of consequence-free passion. Then, in the morning, she would tell her friends she had no idea who was behind the mask and how scared she’d been and how the whole thing had been terrible yet wonderful.
But none of them would have their way.
I’d already decided with whom Nicolo would be spending the night.
Me.
Well, only until I killed him, that is. And if I could escape the night with my maidenhead still intact, all the better.
Speaking of the demon, he looked my way, not for the first time, and I fluttered a fan in front of my face (which was something court ladies were supposed to do) as I looked away and played ennui. A thrill stole through me when I glanced back in his direction and found his eyes still fixed on me, even as he danced with another woman. At first, his expression had been one of slight recognition—as though he knew my face but couldn’t quite place me. The second time he sought me out, there was sudden understanding and then his expression darkened into one of anger and insult.
And that expression was to be expected, given the fact that I hadn’t worn the Harlequin costume he’d picked out for me. In secret and on a morning Nicolo had given me free reign to do as I liked, I’d gone to Gauthier and lied, telling him Nicolo had had a change of heart and wished for me to pick out my own gown, something more feminine and closer to what the fine ladies of the court would be wearing.
Yes, it had been a very large risk and no I hadn’t been caught. Until now, at least.
As regards the gown, it was turquoise in color (‘Aquamarine’ according to Gauthier), and it fit my body like a glove. It didn’t seek to enhance or flaunt, but merely presented, as if to say;This is what she’s got, surely that’s enough?Knowing Nicolo’s own costume plans, I’d asked Gauthier to theme the garment around the mythological story of Taira, who was said to have been condemned to hell for her unfemale lechery, but escaped by seducing the devil himself. My mask reflected this; a beautiful but wicked woman. It covered the top half of my face, but owing to my nose and mouth which were revealed, I was still recognizable—at least to Nicolo. Actually, come to think of it, no one else had recognized me; at least, I didn’t think they had.
My hair was done up atop my head in a series of intersecting tendrils, with a few dropped down to frame my face. And my face… well, it was the only time I’d painted it—rouge on my cheeks, stain on my lips and powder on my cheeks. Around my eyes I’d applied kohl liner and I’d painted my eyelashes to make them appear even longer than they already were. Bother I had the mask to content with.
Nicolo finished his dance with the other woman and quite brutishly left her to her own defenses as he stalked across the dance floor to me, his eyes blazing and a deeply pronounced frown marring his otherwise handsome face.
Hmm, perhaps I’d gone too far.
“You’ve gone too far,” he growled as soon as he reached me.
“Are you not enjoying yourself out there, on the dance floor, Master?” I asked as I fanned my face and feigned innocence. “You are quite the dancer, I must admit,sir.”
His eyes narrowed on me and he took a step closer. “I was enjoying myself until I recognized you and now I’m not enjoying myself at all.”
“Pity,” I started, a huge grin overtaking my mouth.
“Where is your costume?” he seethed.
I glanced down at myself before looking up at him with a question of confusion clouding my face. “Why, I don’t know what you mean, sir. I’m wearing it.”
“Yourothercostume,” he snarled.
“Oh,thatone,” I answered on a little giggle, continuing to fan myself as I noticed his gaze dropping down to my breasts which were prominently displayed, courtesy of the tight bodice of the gown.
“Yes,thatone.”
“I should imagine it’s laying on my bed, right where I left it.”
“I told you to wear the Harlequin costume.”
