apology.”
“For what? For asking if I was married or betrothed? It was not an unreasonable question, though the timing of it was ill-considered.” She held up one hand when he would have spoken, cutting him off. When he fell silent, she did not let her arm fall away but rather placed her palm squarely against his chest. “You cannot wish to apologize to me for the accusations you made against your brother or your friend. That would be better done with them, if you are ever of a mind to tell them what has passed this night. I will not. And finally, would you apologize for saying that you do not trust me when I have given you no reason that you should?”
“I was thinking I would apologize for making a cake of myself.”
“Well, there you have me.” She glanced down. “You will not want to lie at my feet long. I think the stone will be quite cold.”
He drew her close instead, kissing her with more gentleness this time. Her hand remained between them, but she didn’t push him away. Her fingertips nudged the top button of his waistcoat. Her mouth opened under his, and she allowed him to drink from her. He thought her lips trembled under his, then thought the tremble might have begun in him. The kiss was long and slow and sweet. He could not quite get enough of her when it seemed she was always willing to give more. Her mouth was warm. He tasted the sweet-tart tang of the lemonade they’d drunk earlier. It was precisely how she should taste, he thought, both sweet and tart with kisses made liquid by desire.
When he raised his head he noticed that her fingers were no longer trapped between them. Instead, both hands were clutching the sleeves of his frock coat. It was the first indication that she was not so steady on her feet as he’d thought. It was fitting, then, because he was in danger of rocking backward. They teetered a moment, weight and counterweight, before a tenuous balance was achieved.
His voice, when he found it, was not much above a husky whisper. “It does not mean that I trust you.”
“I understand.” Her fingers did not relax their grip. “But know this: I mean you no harm.”
“I believe you. I wonder, though, whether it matters what your intentions are. Harm will be done.”
She shook her head. “No. That is not—”
Ferrin placed one finger firmly against her lips. “I didn’t say I minded, merely that I expect it. Do not be contrary.”
“I’m afraid it is in my nature.”
No surprise there. “Does anyone, save me, know what it is you wish for above all things this evening?”
“To be seduced, you mean?”
His eyebrows kicked up in tandem. “If you have some other wish, I should like to hear it before I proceed granting this one.” He thought he heard her breath catch. What he knew with certainty was that she was again unsteady on her feet. The moment quickly passed, and she was Boudicca once more: determined, ruthless warrior.
He remembered thinking that she was a danger to herself and wondered if he was merely choosing to ignore that aspect, or if he was in the right of it when he sensed the greater danger would be to allow her to leave him.
“You are thinking again,” she whispered.
“Guilty.”
“It cannot be good for you. A rake should not entertain so many qualms.”
“You will scarcely credit it, but I’ve never had my qualms put to such a test before.”
“Perhaps if you kiss me again.” Hesitating, she bit her lower lip and worried it for the span of a heartbeat. “Or does that merely qualm the waters?”
Ferrin literally took her in hand, ignoring her light laugh, which he thought sounded suspiciously like a titter. He drew her back into the house, not pausing long enough in the doorway for her to retrieve her spear. The hand she flung out for it came away empty.
“This way,” he said, brooking no refusal. “This way” was through a deserted second parlor and into a dimly lighted stairwell. He drew her up eighteen steeply winding steps before he stopped on the small landing. An explanation was hardly required, but he gave her one anyway. “Servants’ passage.”
“It is almost as good as a cupboard.”
“Better, in fact. The servants are busy everywhere below stairs, not above. There’s no reason for one of them to come this way.”
“Then we will not be disturbed.”
“That is the idea.” He regarded her, trying to make out her thoughts from a shadowed expression that gave nothing away. “At least that was my idea. It is not part of your wish that we are observed, is it?” He was gratified to see this caused a reaction he could finally interpret. She was properly shocked at the notion of being watched. “Is it all you hoped for?”
Boudicca glanced about the close quarters. “It is…cozy.”
He smiled. “It is roomier than a cupboard.”
“My. I hadn’t realized.”
Ferrin never thought she was in the habit of making propositions like the one she had tonight. Still, he was gratified to have it confirmed. “You weren’t in anticipation of a bed, were you?”
“No. Oh, no. That would seem calculating rather than precipitous.”
He could have pointed out that throughout this encounter she had demonstrated more in the way of strategy than Napoleon had upon escaping Elba. He said nothing, however. Apparently she was taken with the notion of a chance meeting and reckless abandon. He was in favor of both those things, but they had nothing at all to do with this night’s work.
Ferrin observed that she was still looking around. He wondered if she was having second thoughts and how he felt about it if that were so. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked.
She shook her head. Her flame-red hair, so brilliant in the ballroom, had faded to burnt umber in the constricted space of the stairwell. A lock of it fell forward over her shoulders. Before she could push it back, he did it for her.
“I thought it was a wig,” he said.
Boudicca made no reply to that. What she said was, “Will you extinguish the lamps?”
“If you wish.”
“I do.”
Ferrin was disappointed but not surprised. She’d made it clear at the outset that she wanted to preserve her anonymity. He was the one exposed here, with or without candlelight. “Very well,” he said. It did not take him long to blow out the lamp below them, then climb to the second landing and extinguish that flame as well. His returning descent was slowed by the complete darkness. When he reached what he thought was the last step, he felt her hand brush his sleeve and knew then that he had arrived.
It was not that she was waiting for him with open arms, but that she went so easily into his. The fit was perfect. As soon as he kissed her, he knew she was no longer wearing her mask. Darkness had freed her. His hands came up and cupped her face. He let his thumbs pass lightly across the arch of her cheekbones. She was more finely made than he’d
