Chapter 1 #3
She closed her eyes then, thinking that this was the moment he would give her a kiss—then his thumb rather firmly moved up her left cheek, and with it, she felt the heavy cosmetics Judith had painted on her face begin to smear away.
Her eyes snapped open, her mind racing to what his reaction would be if he saw that ugly mole on her cheek, and she reared her head away from his touch.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, covering her exposed cheek with her hand as she took a step back.
“I am not asking you to remove your mask, my lady,” he answered, flicking out his kerchief and wiping his hands with it, “Your identity should be protected. But I suspected true beauty beneath that heavy layer of paint, and I had to see if I was correct.”
Embarrassment burned through Ellen’s cheeks as she took another step back.
“I see. And now that you have proof that your suspicions were not true, you have changed your mind about my request?” Tears began to well in her eyes.
“Now that I know I was correct, I have no issue doing this.”
His words were quick, but his actions were quicker.
In less time than it took for Ellen to blink back her tears, one hand was wrapped around the back of her neck as his other wrapped around the front.
It wasn’t hard or frightening, but it felt possessive.
His lips, that appeared so firm and chiseled, were surprisingly soft and achingly gentle as he pressed them into hers.
In that moment, Ellen felt fire consuming her entire person.
“A proper first kiss should be gentle,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled away but only a breath’s width. Ellen whimpered as he traced her lips with his, then with the tip of his tongue.
“It should work up to passion, not start with it,” he breathed, and then he pressed his lips against hers again.
It was a little harder the second time, and coaxing too.
He suckled at her bottom lip for the briefest of moments, then kissed her top lip.
Ellen relaxed fully into his touch as her lips parted just a little more.
Heat bloomed in her lower belly. Wetness bloomed between her thighs. Her nipples tightened and grew sensitive beneath her corset. The culminating pleasure of it all made her tremble against his muscular form.
“Do you feel how the passion slowly drags you in?” he whispered, stroking his thumb once more over her now exposed mole, and making her shiver with vulnerability.
She nodded, entirely forgetting how to speak in that moment.
“Shall I drag you in a little more?” he rasped.
Ellen nodded faster as her breath hitched in anticipation.
A rumble of desire rose from the man’s chest as she gave her consent, and he dipped his head again.
He brushed his lips over hers once, then twice, before sliding his tongue—so warm, soft, and tinged with the taste of that whisky—between her parted lips, stroking her tongue languidly with his own.
Ellen moaned, her entire body sinking into a feeling she’d never experienced before as the man deepened their kiss.
Her arms moved, as if somehow her body knew instinctively what to do, and she wound them around his neck.
They both moaned as her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, and his hands moved from her throat to her waist, urging her even closer as she began to follow the lead his lips gave her.
“You learn so well,” he rasped against her lips, then kissed her so hard that stars erupted behind her eyes and flames exploded through her veins.
Carnal greed took over her, and she kissed him back with equal fervor, losing herself completely to the moment as they began to hungrily roam their hands and lips over one another.
It was in that moment of lost passion that their masks clacked against one another, and through her desire, Ellen felt her own beginning to slip back and threaten to fall.
She pushed back with a frightened yelp, terrified that she might be exposed, and her trembling fingers clumsily worked to slide it back in place as her lips pulsed from the intensity of their kiss.
“Forgive me,” the man panted, his deep voice trembling. She looked up just in time to see him adjusting his own mask. “I did not mean… I did not think that such a simple kiss could—”
“I should go,” she breathed, willing her frenzied body to cool as she put more space between them.
She’d gotten lost in his kiss so very easily that it made her feel small and foolish.
“Wait,” the man called as she hurried on stumbling feet to the door, “Allow me to apologize properly!”
“I am fine,” she said over her shoulder, fear and lust making her tremble as she fumbled for the doorknob and wrenched the door open.
Ellen did not wait for Judith—did not even think of her as she hurried through the party and out onto the lawn of the large Mayfair house.
She did not even think to look for their carriage parked along the street with all the others.
She just dashed home, worried that a moment of desperation had just led her to make the biggest mistake of her life.
She did not think of the fact that she was risking her reputation even more by walking alone.
She did not think of the repercussions that would follow if she were spotted or recognized.
It was only as she approached her father’s house and saw that every window was alight with lamps from within, and a flurry of movement was ebbing in and out of her front door, that she stopped.
Ellen slowly drew her eyes up to the sight of her house, her gut wrenching as she began to hear the sobs of her servants coming from within, the murmured conversations of those that stood outside the door.
“You! What business do you have here?”
Ellen whirled and came face to face with her cousin Benedict; his face was a mask of anger as he looked down at her. Then his gaze fell to her mole. He blinked, and his anger shifted to confusion.
“Ellen?” he hissed, tearing off her mask before she could react. “What in God’s name are you—oh, never mind. Let us get you inside quickly, before you are seen. Come, we will go around the house and use the back patio door.”
“What ever is the matter, cousin?” Ellen asked as he grabbed her arm and began pulling her toward the side of the house.
Benedict didn’t answer, but his grip tightened as he picked up his already hasty pace.
“This is what you were doing?” he finally snapped once they were safe in the house. “Masquerading about as our family falls apart?”
Ellen felt that twisting in her gut again.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her panic rising. She glanced around the empty library; listening to the muffled voices from beyond the shut door that was now protecting her strange state of dress.
“Where is father?” she demanded, moving toward that door.
“Stop,” Benedict commanded, yanking her backward.
She expected his anger again as he forced her to look at him. As she saw the pity in his eyes, she realized she would have preferred it. A lump grew in her throat as tears misted in her eyes.
“Benedict,” she said, her voice trembling. “Where, is my father?”
“I am so sorry, sweet Ellie,” Benedict said forlornly as he pulled her into his arms for a far-too-tight hug. “But your father lost his battle with his illness. He is gone.”