Damn it all.
No courtesan allowed in the Temptations club would act in such a way. All of them had been screened, knew the protocols, and abided by the rules. Yet this woman gawked at every aspect of her surroundings. He needed to figure out just what was going on.
He took the stairs two at a time, thinking back over the list of guests. Had any of the gentlemen notified him of a new courtesan? He came up blank, sure that none had. As he reached the ballroom floor, he pulled his mask down over his face, lest he attract attention, and wove around the assorted tables of cribbage, faro, and hazard to where the woman in question waited, shadowing Lark.
Biding his time, he took the long way around the table, regarding the beauty with flaxen hair. Her dress wasn’t overly tight, which was odd since the courtesans habitually wore clothing that revealed more than the ladies of the ton, and her gloved fingers caressed her bared shoulders, as if she found it strange to wear such a gown. Between taking in the party around her, she’d turn to Lark and mimic her movements, the pop of a hip, the slow caress from her neckline to her hip with a gloved finger—they were not the practiced flirtations of a courtesan. They were the awkward movements of the innocent.
Dear Lord.
Who inhellwould bring an innocent here? Did she recently acquire a protector? Entirely possible—yet if that were the case, why did she not stand beside him? Why Lark?
There were far too many questions, and not enough answers. And he needed answers, damn it all!
Sauntering over to the faro table, he took an empty seat beside Lark, giving her a tight smile as he placed his bet. He watched as Lord Kribe won the round, and Lark squealed, hopping onto his lap and kissing him full on the lips.
A quiet gasp stole all his attention, and he turned. Eyes wide, the woman watched Lark as if astonished at her brazen behavior.
If that scandalized her, heaven only knew how innocent she truly was!
At that moment, she glanced away and met his gaze. He fully expected her to break eye contact, further confirming his suspicions. Yet she did not. Rather he found himself swimming in the depths of a sea-blue gaze, one that did not flinch as he arched a brow. Instead, her tinted lips widened into a welcoming smile that seemed to constrict the very air around him, making it difficult to breathe.
“You are?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and pulling himself into line. It was a bloody courtesan! A professional seductress and flirt. He must be going daft if he let someone like her toy with his emotions.
“Delilah,” she answered, and even with the mask covering most of her cheeks, he could see the tinge of a blush.
Raising his suspicions once more.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one of the demimonde blush. But damn it all, if her voice wasn’t as welcoming as a silk-sheeted bed. He tried to ignore the way her voice seemed to caress the air, and turned back to the gambling table.
“I see you’ve met the new girl,” Lark whispered into his ear, his body growing irritated at the close proximity. Damn, the woman had snuck up on him!
“New girl?” he asked, forcing his tone to be disinterested, when he truly was hanging on to each word, searching for answers.
“Indeed. I found her earlier. She was quite lost, but I took care of the little lamb. Delicious, isn’t she?” Lark straightened, and Lucas relaxed slightly, appreciating the distance. Yet he wasn’t finished with the conversation.
Turning to look over his shoulder, he asked, “Just where did you say you found her?” He cared not that the woman in question was just over his other shoulder, easily hearing every word.
“In the servants’ entrance just past the kitchens,” Lark replied, hitching a shoulder, causing the shoulder of her deep blue gown to slide from her body.
“Excuse me.” Lucas nodded to the other men at the table and stood, but as he turned to address Delilah, she was nowhere in sight.
“Blast it all,” he muttered, scanning the room. Catching a flash of red just across the ballroom, he started toward it. He watched as a door opened and closed, a glimpse of flaxen hair giving him the only clue he needed to give chase. He waited till he was through the thickest of the crowd, then darted around the last two tables, wrenching the door open. A vacant hall loomed to the left and right, and he paused, listening. Soft footsteps sounded from the right, and he took off, certain he’d catch up, only to come up empty as he reached the end of the hall. Listening, he slowly approached the nearest door. Gripping the handle tightly, he opened it quickly and discovered not a girl but a staircase. A soft gasp reaching his ears was all the encouragement he needed, and he was once again giving chase. The staircase stopped at a door that opened to the balcony he had only recently vacated, and sure enough, Delilah was slipping through one of the doors in the hall. A smile tipped his lips as he stalked his prey, knowing she had no means of escape. The few doors from the balcony held rooms of the private residence of Lord and Lady Barrot. Most were likely to be vacant at the moment, as the night was still young— but there was no escape except through the door which she had just entered.
His hand closed around the cold metal of the door handle and he slowly turned the knob, opening the door silently. He stepped over the threshold and blinked.
“Did you enjoy our game of hide-and-seek, my lord?” the silken voice asked from her reclined position on the bed that dominated the room.
That was unexpected.
He was fully anticipating a woman in hiding, a woman keeping secrets.
Not a woman playing games.
A few candles illuminated the room just enough to make out her masked face. His gaze lowered to her shoulders, then to the soft swell of her breasts, the sight enticing him in ways he hadn’t explored in years.
But far more distracting was her rapid breathing, and the way her leg trembled as it was tucked neatly behind the other. Knowing how to read people was one of the most crucial skills in operating a gambling hell—especially one as exclusive and illusive as Temptations—and Lucas prided himself in those particular skills.
“I must confess that I did not. Why were you running?” he asked at last, taking slow strides toward her, trying to ignore just how inviting the bed appeared at the moment.
