If she wished to imagine a life with him, public and unmasked, she would be the one who needed to change. To keep him, she would have to stop trying to drag him into her world and start thinking of a way to better fit into his.
But what didhewant? What if the answer wasn’t her? She knew her faults and her weaknesses. Knew they vastly outnumbered her charms.
“Are you enjoying the dance?” he asked gruffly.
“I hope it doesn’t end.” She peered up at him. “Unless you’re tiring of it?”
He pulled her closer. “A man never tires of holding a beautiful woman in his arms.”
A delicious frisson tickled her skin at his words. She wished she could spend every night dancing in his arms. Not asabeautiful woman, but ashis.
Although she had no illusions any man considered her the ideal woman, she hoped she was at least a contender for a small place in his heart.
Thatwaswhy he was here, was it not? Quickly, her mind raced through all the possible options.
Perhaps he had put on a mask and entered a duke’s domain in order for them to share the joy of music together. To dance, heart to heart.
Or perhaps her ruthless, calculating king of the Cloven Hoof was exploiting an obvious weakness in his enemy in order to ensure the odds of receiving the deed to his property tilted in his favor.
If that were true… it would destroy her.
Blast it all. She gazed up at him in irritation and wonder. She was inlove.
And she desperately wanted him to feel the same.
She held on tight as he spun her through the crowd.
Bryony had funneled every spare penny into commissioning the most extravagant evening gown of her life. Tonight of all nights, she didn’t just want to be feminine and attractive. She wanted to attractMax. To bewitch him as he had bewitched her.
He was by far the most stunning gentleman in the ballroom. Coal black hair, coal black tailcoat, coal black breeches, coal black boots. Cravat as pristine and white as frost upon an orchid. Blood-red waistcoat, warning that the warrior beneath was not the sort to hide, but to attack. To protect what was his.
It was the boldest color Bryony had seen him in yet. She smiled. He’d worn it forher.
And, although he might not realize it, he had also worn it for him.
She tilted her mouth toward his ear. “You look splendid in crimson.”
“Like a robin redbreast?” he answered with a slow smile.
She pressed her body closer. “You could never be anything so dainty as a bird. Your strength is powerful and barely contained. More like a volcano, as hot and unpredictable as lava.”
He lowered his lips to her hair. “Then should you be dancing so close to the abyss, fair maiden?”
“I’ve never felt safer than when in your arms,” she answered honestly.
He tipped her chin toward his and kissed her.
Her knees buckled. This was not scalding lava, but brilliant fireworks. The smoke and startling bang only foretold a dazzling display of color and beauty. She could kiss him forever.
He didn’t pull his mouth from hers until the music ceased.
It was a short break between sets. Soon, the orchestra would start again. Bryony hesitated. She had never loved dancing as much as when cradled in Max’s arms.
But she loved his kisses more.
She peered up at him from behind her mask. “Care to take a turn about the gardens?”
He led her away from the glittering lights and milling bodies to the open terrace doors on the far side of the ballroom.
