One Night With You

  Dipping his head, he tasted the warm skin of her throat, his tongue licking at the wildly thrumming pulse point, spicy-sweet rum against his tongue.

  Her breathing grew harsh. He pulled back to stare into her masked face again. No distaste there. His stomach knotted at the way her eyes consumed him, as if she could see him and not the scar at all, the real him right down to the marrow of his bones.

  Absurd, really. No one knew him. Not a single member of his family, alive or dead. Not a soul existed that he could talk to, share his deepest thoughts. But then, no one had ever fit that description. For a brief moment, a face flashed through his head—a young girl with freckles, scraped knees, and a wild mane of hair never pinned in place. Jane. They had been friends. Confidantes. His heart twisted. Time changed all.

  Yet this woman, this stranger with her large eyes peering at him so intently, so starkly, made him feel oddly connected to her. She felt…familiar. She felt like home.

  “Why do you look at me as though you know me?” he demanded. “Do you?”

  She blinked those wide eyes of hers. “No. Of course not.”

  And why, he wondered, should he care if she did? If they had met, it had been long ago. It could matter little now. He should be working at seducing her out of that scandalous gown and burying himself to the hilt in her sweet body, quenching the maddening lust she had roused within him. Once he sampled her charms, he would see she was no different from any other woman.

  She gave a small shake, as if caught in some kind of daze and needing to jog sense back into herself. Her gaze drifted beyond him, over his shoulder.

  Sensing the moment had arrived when she would take flight, he grasped her arms and pulled her to him. Her eyes flared wide and she trembled against his length.

  “You don’t have to go,” Seth murmured, then, incredibly, added, “Please.”

  Staring at this creature that had awakened desire in him, he felt unbalanced, as if he hovered along a great precipice, waiting to see whether or not he would drop like a stone through the air.

  “I can’t,” she replied in a ragged voice that ripped through him.

  Again, he had asked.

  Again, he had been refused.

  Some lessons were never learned.

  Still, he could not let her go. Not until he knew something about the sadness in her eyes, something about the way she looked at him. His grip tightened on her arms.

  Ridiculous as it seemed, he would uncover the mystery of her, would know everything about her before they were finished.

  Starting with what she looked like out of her gown.

  “Come, this is a masquerade. A place where one can cease to exist.” His fingers caught hers gently and twined with the slender digits. “You can do anything you want, be anyone you want to be,” he coaxed.

  She shook her head stubbornly.

  “Then why are you here?” he challenged. “Why don a mask and come here tonight?”

  “I can’t—” she began, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. Soft lips. Intent on seduction, he traced her plump bottom lip, learning its texture, its shape.

  Her mouth parted and he dipped his thumb within, stroking the moist heat of her mouth, running the pad of his thumb over her tongue.

  Her eyes widened.

  Unable to stop himself, he lifted his other hand to remove the black fabric covering the top half of her face.

  In a flash, she turned wild, struggling like a trapped animal in his arms. He hauled her against him, smothering her mouth with his. Her body stilled in his arms, soft lips frozen beneath his. His kiss gentled, coaxing a reaction.

  Her mouth softened, lips parting beneath his with a sweet sigh. She wound her arms around his neck, raising herself on tiptoes, soft curves melting against him.

  Groaning into her mouth, he lifted her off the ground, deepening the kiss, drinking from her mouth like a man starved, swallowing her tiny mews as if they were the sweetest sips of wine.

  One of her slippers slid along his booted calf and he groaned, wishing it were her bare foot, wishing they were unclothed, flat on a bed. A sudden, burning need to strip off their garments seized him. To see her without the scandalous gold gown, without the black domino, to see her face, her expression in all its passion for him as he sank deep inside her.

  Stranger or no, he felt as if he knew her, recognized her on some primal level. Madness, he knew, especially considering he did not know her. Not her name, not her face. Still, he wanted this woman, his Aurora.

  Startled at the realization, he pulled back and looked at her.

  Noses almost touching, their ragged breaths mingled, congesting the air as he gazed into eyes that reflected an astonishment similar to his own. In them, a deep need burned, echoing his own hunger—a fire that he damned well intended to stoke to its highest flame.

  Chapter 6

  Seth reclaimed her lips, helpless to prevent his desire for this woman from spiraling through him with the speed of a firestorm. She had awakened something within him, ignited a dark burn in his blood he was powerless to resist.

  Hands diving through her flowing hair, he angled her head for better invasion and forgot that passion—recklessness—ceased to rule him. Forgot that women had little affect on him. Forgot that he deserved only emptiness in his life.

  With a moan of her own, she clenched fistfuls of his jacket, pulling him closer. Growling, he dropped one hand to her backside and pulled her hard against him, grinding himself against the softness of her belly, reveling in the freeing of himself from the fog that gripped him these many years.

  Suddenly, the door clicked open behind him.

  He tore his lips free as Fleur entered the room.

  “Seth.” Her eyes raked the woman he held in his arms appraisingly. “I had no idea you were interested in a little ménage à trois this evening.”

  Scowling, he dropped his arms from Aurora, a deep ache filling his chest as she put several feet between them. “You misunderstand the situation.”

  Toying with the fringe edging her bodice, Fleur’s lips twisted in a mocking smile. “Unlikely.” Releasing a sigh, she dropped her hand. “I can only blame myself for leaving a morsel like you alone for so long. Forgive me. You wish me to leave you and your friend, mon cher?”

  “No!” Aurora quickly objected, avoiding his gaze as she moved to the door. “I was leaving.”

  He watched her, fists clenching at his sides, mixed emotions tumbling through him. He did not want her to go. Exhilaration ripped through him at the taste of her on his lips, the scent of her in the air, the feel of her in his hands.

  Obviously she knew he wanted her.

  Obviously it failed to matter.

  Short of tying her up and tossing her over his shoulder, he could not stop her. And perhaps it was for the best. She made him feel. Too much hunger, too much need, too much…everything. Liaisons with women such as Fleur were controlled, safe…enough.

  Without a word, his angel slipped from the room like a fast-fading curl of smoke.

  He stared at the doorway, cold regret sweeping through him.

  He yearned to give chase. Only he did not chase after any woman. Not again. Once was enough. Enough to learn that no woman was worth losing his head over. Or his heart.

  As the moments passed, Aurora slipping farther and farther away, his longing deepened, growing into a gnawing ache as he stared at the empty threshold. Every passing moment heightened his anxiety that he would never see her again. It was not to be borne.

  “Something tells me you’re no longer interested in my company.”

  “Forgive me?” he asked in a distracted voice, moving toward the door, his strides quick, purposeful.

  “Of course, love. My ego won’t suffer,” Fleur called. “She was interesting. Not the usual fare to frequent one of my fêtes.”

  Interesting. Yes, she was that. That and more. Her heavily lashed eyes flashed through his mind. He still did not know their color. And yet those eyes had seemed
to convey so much. Only he hadn’t a clue what.

  With a curse, his strides quickened. Letting her get away wouldn’t solve the mystery of her. Nor would it douse the fire in his blood.

  No doubt about it. Seth wanted her. And suddenly enough wouldn’t do.

  Jane shoved through the crowd, using her elbows to nudge those who wouldn’t move, desperation driving out good manners. In her absence, more guests had arrived, cramming the room tight with bodies. The orchestra played louder, no doubt to compete with the deafening din.

  Struggling to still the wild hammering of her heart, to block the sound of blood rushing to her ears, she spied her friends through a part in the crowd. Falling upon them, she gasped, “Let’s go. At once.”

  “Where have you been?” Astrid swept a shrewd gaze over her, then looked beyond her shoulder. “Where is Desmond?”

  “Did he harm you?” Lucy grasped one of Jane’s trembling hands, her blue-gray gaze searching. “What happened? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  A ghost? She supposed she had.

  “We have to go. Now.” A shudder racked her body as she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting Seth to materialize behind her, intent on picking up where they left off. The prospect thrilled her as much as it terrified her.

  He kissed me. Seth kissed me. And I kissed him back.

  Amazing. After all these years, she had finally gotten her dearest wish. Well, at least partly. She had wanted more than a kiss. She had wanted love, marriage, children. She had wanted to wipe her sister from Seth’s mind and heart forever.

  “My poor dear, you’re shaking.” Lucy chafed her hand with her warm ones. “Of course we will leave.”

  Jane sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

  “They’re about to bring out dessert,” Astrid grumbled.

  “You can gorge yourself when we get home,” Lucy muttered. “Cook made blackberry tarts this afternoon. You may even take some home.”

  “Very well,” Astrid consented. She held up both hands in mock surrender. “I am all yours. Take me home and feed me until I burst.” As they headed for the door, her dark gaze narrowed on Jane. “Perhaps then you can share all the juicy details of where you’ve been…and with whom. I don’t think Desmond put that pretty shade of pink into your cheeks.”

  Following her friends through the crowd, she debated whether to tell them. Somehow her encounter with Seth felt too personal to share, even with her two closest friends.

  At the edge of the ballroom, she stopped. Her scalp tingled as a wave of heat crawled over her. She knew with a certainty that he was watching her.

  Slowly, she turned, her gaze immediately finding Seth amid the crowd of revelers, a source of heat that drew her like a moth to flame.

  He stared at her boldly, without apology, his dark eyes scouring her in a predatory way that made her feel hunted.

  “Who is that menacing-looking fellow?” Lucy asked beside her.

  Trapped within Seth’s gaze, Jane shook her head slightly. “Someone,” she paused, moistening her lips, “someone I once knew.”

  “Indeed,” Lucy replied in a bemused voice. “Well, from the looks of him, he wants to become reacquainted.”

  “No,” Jane murmured, finally breaking free of his gaze and hastily turning away. “He does not.”

  With his hot gaze burning into the back of her dress, she hastened from the room…from him, telling herself that she spoke the truth.

  She had to get away. Quickly.

  For Seth Rutledge, the new Earl of St. Claire, would never want anything to do with Jane.

  Chapter 7

  Seth stared out his bedchamber window at the dark garden below, his thoughts on the woman he had held in his arms an hour before, imagining that he could still smell the scent of her—apples on the air. The treetops rustled in the breeze, the only sound save the quiet of his breath.

  “Lieutenant,” Knightly voiced behind him. “I didn’t expect you home this early.”

  Seth smiled grimly. Nor had he thought to return home this early, his body still unsatisfied. He had left Fleur with little explanation. He had none to give. To her or himself. None that made sense, in any case.

  What could he have said? That mere moments alone with a woman whose name and face he did not know had ruined him for anyone else? That she had sparked something deep inside him that he thought forgotten, dead?

  “Anything amiss?” Knightly inquired.

  He swallowed the lump rising in his throat. Without turning to face his former midshipman, he asked, “Do you ever miss it?”

  Knightly understood at once. “No, sir. I never wanted in, but at seventeen it was my only option. I’m simply glad to get out alive.”

  Seth thought of his father, of the commission purchased for him without his wish or inclination. It had simply been done. At twenty, he had been cast out, the useless son shipped off with no hope of survival, no expectation of returning. And he had deserved no less for what he had done to Julianne.

  “For me it was…convenient,” Seth murmured, nodding. And it had been convenient. Uncomplicated. Safe in an odd sort of way. The navy had been a place to hide, to avoid choices, to forget anything save rigid hierarchy. And war. And blood.

  Despite everything, Seth missed it. Strangely, he preferred that existence to this one. Here, he was faced with choices again, with the freedom to make decisions and act on his wishes. The last time he had possessed such freedom he had erred grievously.

  He would not err again. Would not risk wanting anything, or anyone, ever again.

  Jane paused in the threshold of the dining room. She had hoped at such an early hour she would have the dining room to herself. Chloris, however, sat at the table, the subtle light of morning doing nothing to soften her sister-in-law’s harsh features. Blunt-nosed with wide flat cheeks and a brow that tended to wrinkle into folds, her face unfortunately resembled one of the Queen’s many pugs.

  Jane had spent the few hours left of the night gazing into the dark, the thoughts in her head loud and unrelenting in the oppressive silence as she brushed her fingers over lips that still tingled from Seth’s kisses.

  When dawn arrived, filling the room with its smoky, unearthly haze, she had finally confronted the ugly truth: she had been a fool to deny herself the chance to experience passion in Seth’s arms.

  One night could have sustained her through the lonely years ahead. One night would have been more than anything she’d ever had before.

  Chloris glanced up, her blue eyes bright beneath tightly drawn brows. “You look pale, Jane. Are you ill?”

  Jane did not miss the thread of worry in Chloris’s voice and well knew the reason. If she were unwell, then Chloris would have to manage her daughters herself. That or one of the maids would have to oversee them—a chore that would certainly send the maid packing.

  “I’m well,” she assured her sister-in-law, not entirely convinced that she wasn’t ill.

  The memory of last night burned in her mind, churning her stomach into knots. The sight of Seth as she had last seen him, staring across a crowded room as if he wanted nothing more than to devour her whole, made her heart thud faster.

  Shaking her head, she banished the image from her mind. She had to forget him. Forget that kiss. A morning of conjugating French verbs with the girls would serve well in that endeavor.

  Chloris’s harsh features softened, the folds of her forehead relaxing. “Splendid. I had planned on shopping today. I saw a bonnet in the window at…” her voice droned on as Jane busied herself lathering her favorite apple jam on her toast, the heavy scent of apples filling her nostrils, reminding her of autumn at home. Which reminded her of Seth. Blast! Is there no way to put him from my mind?

  Scowling, she took a bite of crisp toast and chewed.

  “…and I promised the girls you would take them to the park today.”

  As this comment registered, her toast turned to dust on her tongue. Jane glanced at her sister-in-law. “You promised
I would?”

  “They’ve been pestering me to take them—”

  “Then perhaps you should take them,” Jane suggested. “It would be much more special to them if you were to accompany them.”

  That much was true. A morning spent with their mother would go a long way in pacifying the unruly girls. Especially as Jane suspected their poor behavior was an attempt to gain the attention of the parents who were always too busy for them.

  “Me?” Chloris blinked. “Sadly, no. I’ve other plans. But you must oblige me on this, Jane. I promised and the girls will be so disappointed.”

  “Indeed,” she murmured. Chloris always had other plans. Her daughters never came first. And it fell to Jane to ease the sting of those disappointments.

  “Would you not enjoy a ride in the park?” Chloris needled.

  A ride in the park. A pleasure she had been denied since Marcus’s death and Chloris well knew it. Jane inhaled deeply through her nostrils, striving for patience. As much as a ride in the park tempted her, enduring Dahlia, Bryony, and Iris—who had yet to learn how to conduct themselves in public—produced a shudder. Yet she had little choice. If the girls had been promised the park, they would give her no peace until they got their way.

  “Very well,” she relented.

  A scratching sound filled the air as Chloris scribbled on a sheet of parchment at her right. Jane resumed eating. After several moments, Chloris lifted her head. “I’ve given some thought to your request to come out of mourning.”

  Jane paused mid-chew, her teeth grinding. The request had been more a statement of fact and it had been made to Desmond.

  “Indeed?” she asked, watching as her sister-in-law perused the sheet of paper in her hand, no doubt the evening’s menu.

  Chloris had claimed that task for herself shortly after moving in—one of the only household duties to hold her interest. Watching her, Jane loathed that she should sit so haughty and contented in what had once been her chair, performing a duty that had once been hers.

  “Perhaps a drive in the park today will aid in”—Chloris angled her head to the side as if searching for the word—“easing you back into Society. Nothing too gauche, that. A drive with your nieces would not be unseemly.”