Chapter 1 #2
Ellen let out a nervous laugh as she raked her gaze quickly over him once more.
Dark hair, cut short and parted to the side, styled with pomade.
A sharp jawline and matching cheeks. Chiseled lips accentuated by the cut of his mask, and he had a clean, cool scent that she could not quite place but loved immediately.
Judith had gone looking for the duke, but as Ellen stared down at the handsome man, she wondered if her friend had unwittingly already led her to him.
“Are you…” she drew in a breath, feeling her nerves threaten to frazzle into dust. “Are you the Duke of Calder?”
This time, the man’s chuckle was sharp and loud as he picked up his glass again.
“I hate you to disappoint you, but alas, I am not he,” he said before taking another sip from his glass. “Though I am well aware of his reputation and I am assuming that you are looking for him because of said reputation?”
Embarrassment flooded through Ellen, followed quickly by frustration.
“How dare you make an assumption, sir,” she stated coldly as she stopped fidgeting and fisted her hands by her sides.
“Is my assumption wrong?” he asked, clearly unbothered by her tone.
Ellen’s plump lips parted, but no words came out as the man turned his head toward her and looked her over carefully.
“You are his type,” the man mused. “High-painted and strung in tight.”
It was an offense. Ellen knew it as such, and she felt offended.
Yet, despite that, she also felt curious.
If this was not the man she was supposed to impress, why not allow herself a moment to be utterly truthful?
After all, he did not know who she was; she certainly did not recognize him. Why not?
Feeling emboldened by such thoughts, Ellen leaned down and swiped his glass from his grip.
“Pardon me!” he exclaimed.
“I hate this paint,” she sighed, allowing her exhaustion to come fully through as she leaned against the high-backed chair to his left.
“You have no idea how slick and awful it feels against one’s skin.
And this dress? Deplorable. I can barely breathe.
I certainly cannot even sit in this thing, and I detest the feel of velvet. ”
She laughed without humor as she brought the glass to her lips to take a sip, then coughed the moment the liquor touched her throat.
“What is this?” she said hoarsely, holding it away from her as if it would strike again on its own.
The man’s look of offense shifted at once into a wide, handsome grin as he stood up and took the glass from her.
“A lesson, it seems,” he goaded. “Not to take a man’s drink from his very hands.”
He met her eyes as he brought the glass to his lips. He swallowed the rest of its contents in one long gulp—the planes of his face smooth and unbothered as he did so. When he’d finished, he let out a satisfied ah, then set the empty glass down.
“A lesson well noted,” Ellen rasped out, the liquor still burning her throat.
She let out another cough and pressed a hand to her stomach.
“Apologies,” she offered. “I am not usually so bold in social instances. Tonight is…well it has been full of unexpected circumstances.”
“So, you meeting the Duke of Calder is not a usual circumstance?” the man asked, a note of teasing in his voice.
Again, Ellen’s cheeks fused with heat as she shook her head.
“No. My friend, she…she had this idea,” she answered.
“How curious,” the man mused, going back to his seat. “Tell me about this idea.”
“And risk the feel of your judgment yet again? I think not,” she countered. “It was a foolish notion anyway.”
The man held his hands up as if in surrender.
“No judgment this time. I promise you,” he assured. “I would like to hear about this idea that is clearly so foolish.”
Ellen paused for a moment, debating whether or not she could trust such a statement. Yet despite the situation she was finding herself amused by this particular man, and with their identities firmly disguised, she decided to throw caution to the wind.
“My friend believes I am doomed to a life of spinsterhood,” she confessed, “And she believes that I should experience at least one impassioned kiss before I grow much older.”
The man’s amused smile slipped a little.
“She does not sound like much of a friend if she speaks to you that way or advises you toward such reckless behavior. Even a masquerade carries no guarantee of anonymity,” he replied in a serious tone.
“She meant no offense,” Ellen countered with a shrug of her shoulders. “Though I agree her plan is…a risk, to be sure, but her words are true enough. Though I disagree that I am ‘doomed’ to spinsterhood.”
“You wish to be on the shelf for the remainder of your days?” the man mused.
“Not particularly,” she confessed. “But I know how our society sees me when I am plain faced and in my preferred dress. No gentleman wants me—save to make me a joke.”
“It would be nice,” she went on after a silence fell between them, “to feel a kiss. A real, lovely kiss just once. Even if it is at a time I look nothing like myself.”
Silence fell between them once more, and Ellen wondered if her truthfulness had made the moment uncomfortable for him.
“You put yourself at risk in moments like these,” the man said, just as she was about to offer an apology.
“I cannot speak for the duke as I do not know him personally, but you should not allow yourself to be wooed by a man you know nothing about. It is a most dangerous position you are putting yourself in.”
The grave tone in his deep voice gave her pause, and she realized that her initial reaction to Judith’s idea was correct. However, she could not help but notice that another situation had presented itself.
“You are right,” she agreed. “I should not do such things with a man I do not know.”
“Glad you have come to your senses,” he quipped, pouring himself a fresh glass of whisky.
“But I could with you,” she quickly added.
The man jerked so suddenly that whisky sloshed down the sides of his glass.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, slowly bringing his gaze to hers.
“You do not find me appealing enough to kiss?” she countered, already braced to have her feelings hurt.
“I did not say that,” he said, setting the whisky bottle down with a thud. “But one brief conversation with me does not mean you know what sort of man I am.”
“You are a good man,” she said softly.
He chortled.
“You think so?” he asked bitterly.
Ellen took a tentative step toward him.
“We are in this room alone with no chaperone. You could have leapt at the chance to take advantage of such a precarious situation, yet you chose to warn me against such situations instead. I believe that makes you good.”
“I believe that makes you ill-informed and naive,” he snapped.
His condescending tone washed away any confidence Ellen had gathered, leaving her once more drowning in her insecurities, as usually happened when she was forced to interact socially.
“Of course,” she said lightly, not only ready to flee from the room, but from Judith’s crazy idea and the party itself. “You are correct. You know yourself far better than I.”
She began to flee, embarrassment and hurt flooding through her, but just as she was about to pass the armrest of the couch, the man moved with a quickness that startled her and grabbed her by the arm.
“Wait,” he hissed.
“Whatever for?” she snapped, pulling at his hand. His strong grip did not loosen, but it did not tighten either. He could hurt her, she realized with a growing fear, and she had been naive enough to allow it to happen.
“Forgive me,” he muttered, surprising her. “I should not have spoken such ill words toward your character.”
“You should not have,” she snapped back in agreement.
Ellen sucked at the inside of her cheek, feeling his words churn inside her.
“However,” she sighed, “you seem to be right. It was foolish of me to—even for the briefest of moments—believe I was safe with you. You are a stranger, and I asked something that was most untoward.”
His grip on her arm softened as his eyes—green, she realized in that moment—widened behind his simple black mask.
“Consider it another lesson learned,” she quipped. “And now, if you would, please excuse me.”
She took another step, but this time the man stepped with her hastily.
“Wait.”
His thumb smoothed over her arm, sending warmth blooming into the small place where their bodies touched. Ellen trembled slightly, surprised that such a small touch could make her feel so much.
“To feel safe is an important thing,” he whispered, his deep voice suddenly hoarse as his green eyes traveled not over her body, but over her masked face.
It was as if he was trying to determine where the disguise started and the real her began.
“And if you are going to have this supposed ‘once in a lifetime’ experience, it should be with someone with whom you feel safe.”
Excitement stirred through Ellen’s veins as the man took another step toward her; his much larger, firmer frame casting a shadow over her as he drew close. Ellen swallowed, feeling the heat of his body seeping into her as he drew closer than any man ever had before.
“Are you…” she rasped, feeling her body begin to hum with a foreign energy as she stared up at him, “saying yes to my request?”
Silence throbbed between them as the man drew his touch up her arm; his fingers were soft and grazing as they moved up her shoulder, traced her collarbone, then travelled up the column of her throat.
She gasped softly as fire seemed to trail under so soft a touch, and she nearly closed her eyes in bliss as his palm settled over her throat and his thumb and pointer finger urged her to lift her chin a little higher.