to anyone…” Howard’s whining came to a startled halt as his gaze shifted to someone approaching from behind Edmond. “Hello, what have we here?”
Aggravated by the interruption, Edmond did not bother to turn, hoping whoever dared to intrude on his private conversation would realize that their presence was unwelcome.
“Your Grace, I must speak with you,” a low, startlingly cultured female voice demanded as Edmond felt a small tug on his sleeve.
Edmond glared down at the woman in a domino and feathered mask, his expression one of furious disdain.
“Be on your way, I have no interest.”
The stubborn wench refused to be intimidated, and against his will Edmond realized that she was a stunning beauty. Even with her disguise, he could determine the finely drawn features and magnificent green eyes. And that hair…that glorious autumn-hued hair, it could not possibly be real.
“But it is most vital that you give me a few minutes of your time,” she continued.
Edmond grimly ignored his body’s instinctive response to the enticing scent of lavender and sweet woman.
“I said be on your way,” he snapped. “There are many here who will give you the company you seek.”
“I, for one,” Howard intruded, his sallow face pinched with his insatiable hunger. “Unlike my prudish cousin, I possess a fine appreciation for such a beautiful woman.”
Ignoring the ready offer of companionship, the woman shifted until she was standing directly before Edmond, her ivory skin pale in the flickering candlelight.
“Please, Stefan, this cannot wait. I…” The slanted green eyes that seemed oddly familiar abruptly widened. “Good God, you’re not Ste—”
“Mon dieu.” Sweeping his arms around the dangerous woman he hauled her off her feet and covered her mouth in a punishing kiss.
THE KISS WAS INTENDED AS nothing more than a means of keeping the woman silent. Somehow, she knew that he was not Stefan, and until he managed to figure out who the hell she was, he had to keep her mouth otherwise occupied.
Necessity, however, was most certainly a pleasure as he sampled her lush, sensual lips, her breath tasting of mint and pure magic. Tightening his arms around her, Edmond swept her completely off her feet and cradled her tiny, squirming body tight against his chest.
“Here now, Huntley, you said you weren’t interested,” his cousin protested. “Where are you going?”
Edmond ignored him, just as he ignored the whistles of drunken enjoyment as he turned and headed for the nearby door. He continued the deep, relentless kiss as the crowd readily parted and he made his way down the hall and up the staircase to the bedrooms above.
Entering the first open door, Edmond kicked it shut with his foot and slowly lowered the woman to her feet, his lips never leaving her mouth as he savored the sweetness that had him hard and aching, despite his annoyance with her untimely interruption.
It would damn well be worth having to track down Howard later if he could spread this wench’s legs and bury his throbbing erection into her heat. He sensed she could offer him the sort of intense satisfaction any gentleman would sell his soul to achieve.
Reluctantly lifting his head, Edmond wrenched off his ridiculous mask and glanced round the room, swiftly determining that it was one of the numerous bedchambers. The walls were paneled in pale rosewood with a molded marble chimneypiece near the door to the inner dressing room. It was no doubt attractively decorated, but he had no interest in anything beyond the curtained four-posted bed that was visible in the flickering firelight. Ah yes. That would do perfectly.
About to lead his companion toward the far side of the room, the woman halted his fine intentions as she began to struggle in earnest against his hold.
“Stop this,” she hissed, lifting her hands to pummel them against his chest. “Damn you, Edmond, let me go.”
Edmond stiffened as her commanding words echoed through the room. Mon dieu. He knew that voice.
With a sharp motion he ripped off her feathered mask, his eyes narrowing as her mass of vibrant curls tumbled down in a shimmering river of fire.
Brianna Quinn!
He should have recognized her the moment she approached him. They had been neighbors for years, at least until her mother had remarried and they had moved to London. And while it had been ten years since he had last laid eyes upon her, there could never be another with those cat-like green eyes and astonishing curls.
Of course, his memory of her included a small, too thin body and the unformed features of a child. She was usually covered in grime, her gown ripped in a dozen places from having climbed the orchard trees or devoted the morning to fishing with Stefan.
Now she was very much a woman, with skin as smooth as cream and lush lips that begged for a man’s kiss.
An exquisite bit of temptation who was leaving him hard and aching with a frustration that did nothing to improve his temper.
“Brianna Quinn,” he growled, a grim note underlying his voice. “I should have known. You are always showing up where you are least wanted.”
A blush stained her cheeks as she no doubt recalled the number of times she managed to interrupt his various seductions, when she was forever climbing into the hayloft or poking about the Conservatory.
“Perhaps unwanted by you, Edmond, since you were always up to some wicked pastime, but never by Stefan,” she retorted, clearly having changed in more ways than just physical. As a young girl, she had been terrified of him, always darting away when he glanced in her direction and stammering when she attempted to speak. He had called her ma souris: my mouse. Now she met his gaze squarely, her chin high and her expression stubborn. “Where is he?”
Edmond folded his arms across his chest, not even considering the possibility of a lie. Brianna had been one of the few people who had always managed to determine which twin was which.
“Comfortably tucked into his bed, I should imagine,” he drawled. “You know how devoted he is to country hours.”
She froze at his words, her ivory skin paling to a sickly white.
“He is still at Meadowland?”
“Yes.”
“But…” She scowled in genuine anger. Obviously she was not at all pleased to discover Stefan was not in London. “You are pretending to be the Duke. Why?”
He narrowed his gaze. This woman had already managed to wreck his evening of interrogating his dastardly cousin. On top of that, she had very nearly destroyed his charade—and had stirred the coals of his desire to a fever pitch. It was time that she explained her damnable presence at such a nefarious event.
“Actually, I think the better question is what the devil a supposedly respectable young lady is doing attending a Courtesan’s Ball,” he corrected.
She did not cringe or cower as he had expected. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him with flashing green eyes.
“I
