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When Albert returned to the ballroom, he immediately regretted his decision. He was accosted by some members of the House of Lords, and he wondered how in the world they recognized him underneath his black demi-mask. As an important aristocrat, he plastered a false smile on his face and tolerated them for a bit before taking the first opening he got to excuse himself.
Libraries provided excellent sanctuaries and he opted to retreat to it but on his way, he got the odd sense that he was being followed. A little glance behind him revealed a slight figure in red. The corner of his mouth tilted, and excitement began to boil in his blood. The night was finally becoming interesting. He deliberately left the double oak doors ajar before proceeding to the inner section of the library to serve himself some liquor. As he plucked a decanter off the shelf, he caught a glimpse of red again.
A sly smile tugged at his lips. He knew exactly who it was. No woman would dare to follow him but Nora, Lady Stenton. And red was her color. Besides, this was not the first time she had followed him to a secluded place for a tryst.
This was just the medicine he needed. A distraction to flush Roxanne out of his head. Rather than go to her, he chose to wait for his little intruder to show herself. That was until he heard a thud.
Setting down the glass of port he had poured himself, he followed the sound and found her reaching to collect a book from the floor. It appeared that was what had been dropped.
"Have you been following me?" he asked in an amused tone as he admired the swell of her breasts. Her posture provided him with a lovely view.
She straightened very slowly, and her blue eyes met his. They looked different tonight, more beautiful, and they burned underneath her red-and silver mask with an odd combination of wariness and defiance.
When she spoke, her voice was rich and soft, and it made his pulse pound. "Have I nothing better to do?"
As spunky as ever, Albert thought. His gaze admired her figure before returning to the most enticing sight of her chest, the rise and fall as she breathed beckoned to him. His body began to respond with a ferocity that was unfamiliar to him. He loved women but something about Nora tonight was driving him wild. She seemed very different.
"You clearly have something better in mind by coming here," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the bookshelf. This was an attempt to look unconcerned and keep her eyes from traveling to his lower body. He wanted to play a little before the heat intensified.
She turned to replace the book she dropped, treating him to an unobstructed view of her fine posterior. How he ached to reach out and take hold of her, but he held himself back. He loved it when they teased him.
"You are looking delectable tonight," he heard himself say. She gasped and swiveled to face him. That was very odd but before he could understand her curious behavior, she swayed and he immediately caught her in his arms. “This is one you are playing,” he murmured, his lips moving close to her ear.
“I—” she began to say but paused. Her lips remained parted and she trembled. Albert took this opening to relinquish control of his body, and he captured her lips with his.
Her response was slow, tentative. If he did not know better, he would think she had no experience at all. Such an impossible thing because Nora was anything but inexperienced. Perhaps she was playing a virgin today. His arms tightened around her waist, and he parted her lips with his tongue, thrusting deep to coax a reaction from her.
Her hands dug into his shoulders and she moaned. He pulled away slightly, teasing the corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. "My Lord," she whispered, drawing him closer.
"My Lord?" he echoed. Did she know it was him? Or had she been expecting someone else? Entertaining other men was not part of their agreement. She was exclusively his and she had never defied him. Albert released her and took a step back.
Then it hit him like a bag of bricks. Blue her eyes might be but this woman was certainly not Nora. He had mistaken another woman for his mistress. "Bloody hell!” He took another step back. “You are not Nora.”
"These damned masks tend to do that," she said with a smile, covering the space between them.
His brows rose. She swore without reservation and he decided he liked her. His desire that had been ebbing at the discovery of his error ignited anew. His arms went around her waist again.
If she wanted him, he wanted her. They resumed their kiss and his entire body burned. Perhaps it was the mystery of not knowing who she was but he ached more than he had in a very long time and if he had his way, he would take her right there. Her lack of experience made him take things slow. She was no green girl but he could tell she still had some innocence to her.
* * *
Edwina felt like she was dreaming when he kissed her again. She clutched the lapels of his coat to keep herself upright. He had been expecting someone else but he seemed delighted rather than disappointed when he discovered her. This emboldened her and she pressed her body to his.
Her belly made contact with the bulge of his desire and he groaned. One of his hands moved to her back, cupping her buttocks and squeezing. This was not how she thought her first kiss would be. It was better than anything she had ever imagined and the sweet little place between her legs began to pulse with want.
He slowed the kiss and stroked her cheek as her breath came in short gasps. Her senses were on fire and her lips were soft and swollen. He gently removed her mask, and his amber eyes widened a fraction. “My, you are lovely,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her again but she drew away slyly.
"Am I not allowed a glimpse, My Lord?" she asked, keeping her voice light and seductive. Whatever she was doing seemed to be working. He wanted her, and by God, she would get an offer from him tonight.
"Not until you give me your name," he returned, pressing his lips to her neck and trailing kisses down to her neckline. His tongue darted out to make little swirls on the mounds of her breasts. Excitement peaked in her blood.
"Edwina Pierce,” she said between soft moans, “and I hope you are not a John."
"Pray what is wrong with being a John?" He chuckled.
"Nothing except that one in three Englishmen is a John."
His hands began to undo the buttons on the back of her velvet dress. "And I take it you like your men different? Maybe unique?"
