style="font-size:15px;"> “And why are there no candles?”
“His lordship is away. He prefers us not to waste ’em, and Master Rupert doesn’t mind the dark.” He stared at her from the corner of his eye, and Hannah held still.
Why did this man unsettle her so? Things would get better when she reached the parlor. She breathed deep. The sound of a glass knocking on wood down the hall, followed by a loud laugh, made her breath come out in a rush. Thank goodness. She couldn’t wait to be with the others.
“This way, missus.”
As he stepped into the hall, Hannah rushed close on his heels. Paintings hung in thick gold frames all along the corridor. How she wished she could see them. Art always inspired her. As she stepped into the column of light, she stopped. Beautiful.
A painting of a woman hung on the opposite wall. With black hair loose, she stood in a field of flowers. The wind blew her hair out behind her, eyes closed to the world, arms outstretched as she tried to catch the breeze. Breathtaking. Hannah smiled. She could actually feel the warm breeze tickle her hair, the sun warm on her face. The woman’s mouth formed the most content, happy smile. She seemed truly happy. Hannah sighed. She had never experienced that kind of contentedness in her adult life.
The warm breeze tickled her neck again, and her brow knit. That was real. She turned her face in the direction of the air and jumped at blue eyes behind a black mask, mere inches from hers. A man. His short blond hair shone like a beacon in the dreariness of the hall. A handsome man.
“Glad you could join us.” His calm voice slid down her spine. Her shoulders relaxed. Another person in a mask for the party. Thank goodness. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him.
“W-who is the woman in the painting?” Her voice trembled with each word. Blast, where was her fortitude?
“I’m not sure. She is pretty, though, like you.” His hand reached out past her to the man with no teeth. “Thank you, Guss.”
“Master.” He bobbed his head and disappeared back toward the front of the house.
Hannah stared after Guss, thankful not to be in his presence any longer. Yet, he called this man “master,” and he was not Rupert. “Are you related to Mr. Roland?”
“No.”
“Why did he call you master?”
“Shall we?” The blond man held out his arm to her and she started. He was naked. A red feather covered his phallus and nothing else.
How did she miss that? And how did that feather stay on?
She tilted her head to the side, looking for an attachment. The plume stood straight up his belly in an arc and touched just below his chest. If a feather touched her there, her skin would tickle. However, this man did not flinch as the plume brushed back and forth with his movements. He cleared his throat. “Miss?”
You ninny. You did receive an invite to a sexual intrigue. You are about to see more naked flesh.
There…The feather was secured to his body with leather around his bum. Her fingers itched to trail that thin piece of leather, to touch his firm and dimpled ass. She couldn’t help but stare as her cheeks grew toasty warm.
His long legs, sprinkled with blond curls, flexed as he turned. Beautiful. Glorious. A god. Biting her lip, she forced her head up to meet his gaze and smile. She would truly enjoy this evening.
As she placed her hand on his bare arm, hot male flesh warmed her chilled skin and shook off the last of her unease. Her heart thudded hard as her hand glided up and down his forearm. Fingers lingering, her touch caught curl after curl of the dark blond hair. Umm. She never thought she would feel a man again, and in the last day she had touched two. She grinned. She was wicked to find pleasure in such a situation.
As they entered the parlor, the men in the room stood. Oh my! Her eyes widened, taking in every detail. Twenty guests sat about the room, the men all dressed in the same fashion as her escort, with black masks and red feathers covering their sexes. The women wore some type of scandalous costume and mask, each one different from the next.
One blond woman wore nothing but a red corset and bright red mask. Emma. From the summerhouse. She stood and walked toward them, an easy smile on her face as if she recognized her. Hannah’s heart beat so hard in her chest, her whole body pulsed. Had she seen Hannah watching in the woods? Oh blast. It had been daft of her to do so.
Hannah’s escort held out his hand and gave Emma her invite. She read the paper and glanced at her. “Umm…” Her gaze raked Hannah’s form and her lip quirked.
God, she’d seen her.
“Stay with this one.” Emma glanced back at Hannah.
Feather Man nodded and guided Hannah to a seat.
What did that woman think? She was a peep, an ogler. Oh poppiedust! Who was she trying to fool? She was, and today she discovered herself to be a tad more wicked than she thought.
Feather Man stared down at her and smiled. “What shall we call you?”
“Artemis,” she said with all the strength she could muster. She would not be the proper Hannah this night.
“First time with us, Artemis?”
She glanced up at the blond god. “Yes.”
“Good. We need new blood to feast on.” His eye winked behind his mask and she laughed. Did he mean to eat her? She didn’t think she would mind. How scandalous.
A naked man crawled into the room, and Hannah’s eyes gaped. A tray with a steaming kettle and a large wooden bowl perched on his back. He stopped in front of Emma. She picked up the kettle, poured the steamy clear liquid into a bowl, and stirred.
“My guests.” She waved her hand in the air. “The time for preparing has arrived. Come now and drink my brew.”
“Come.” Her host held out his hand and she stood.
“What is the brew?” Hannah whispered to the blond god who she now stood beside.
“It is a kind of tea.”
“Tea?”
“Yes. To relax you.” A hot finger pushed a curl of her black hair from her face, and she bit her lip at the gentle caress.
“You mean for the blood drinking,” she said, half in jest.
“Yes.” He smiled. “Precisely.”
Hannah approached the man kneeling before Emma, who held out the bowl. The man stared only at the floor. His shoulder, round and muscled, held the tray with ease. How odd that a man would put himself in such a position. To be…a servant? He served Emma and the guests in a primitive form. Like what she imagined a Greek goddess might have owned ages ago before tea carts and clothes. She stared at the human tea cart again. She would take a naked man instead of cold wood any day.
Gripping the bowl in her hands, Hannah raised the brew and inhaled the spicy-sweet scent. The clear liquid smelled of basil and raspberries.
She
