She tilted her head. “Here, I mean. Almost everyone in this room seems to be wearing something to alter their appearance. So how could youknowif I’ve been here before?”
“There is more than one way to recognize a person, Miss…”
She tensed. “I don’t want to give my name,” she said, her tone suddenly sharp.
He held her gaze a moment, reading her panic, her true terror. Interesting. Most who came here were accustomed to the ways of this world. Her reaction didn’t reduce his sense that she was new to Donville and the games to be played here.
“You needn’t,” he said at last. “Many here use false names, most, in fact. Otherwise, what would the point of the masks be?”
She hesitated, and he watched her try to catch her shortened breath. At last she whispered, “You may call me Miss B.”
He inclined his head. “And I will be Mr. C.” He held out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”
She glanced toward the dancefloor in the distance. Couples were gathered there, swaying to the music in the least proper version of a waltz ever danced. Her cheeks brightened and she jerked her gaze back to his face. “I…er…yes?”
“Is that a question?” he said with a chuckle.
A flutter of a smile crossed her face and she nodded. “Yes,” she repeated, this time stronger. “I would dance with you.”
She took his hand and he jolted at the contact. She was not wearing gloves, and neither was he. The brush of skin on skin was unexpectedly erotic considering what was going on around them. He didn’t think he’d ever been stricken by such a simple thing.
He took her to the dancefloor and eased her into the group of writhing couples. She stared up into his eyes, almost like she was trying to use him as an anchor in the stormy seas. He held that gaze as he placed a hand on the swell of her hip and lifted her hand high with the other. He tugged and she staggered in closer, until their bodies molded from chest to hip.
He began to move, guiding her through the couples. He could feel the throb of her heartbeat, the warmth of her breath as it entered and exited her lungs. She was clearly nervous, which made him wonder even more who she was.
But she wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t denying him this inappropriate touch. It was what she’d come for. He was all too willing to oblige her.
The music went on, and at last he leaned closer and whispered, “Would you come to the back with me?”
Her eyes widened and she glanced around, almost like she wanted to be sure no one was watching, listening. Since they were the tamest couple in the group, of course no one was.
“Is…in the back do we…is that where…” She gazed up at him, eyes wide as she tried to find a way to say what needed to be said.
He arched a brow. “Where I would take you? Yes. Make you come? Oh yes. If you desired such a thing.”
She caught her breath once more and stilled, no longer allowing herself to be moved in the midst of the couples. He held her steady, waiting for her answer. Wondering why he wanted to hear it so bloody badly.
“Yes,” she whispered, so quietly she almost couldn’t be heard above the music and the din of the other attendees. “Yes,” she repeated. “That’s what I came for.”
He knew she meant the pleasure was what she came for. The scandalous things that the Donville Masquerade was known for. Only when she said it, it made him feel like she meanthewas what she’d come for. Him, only him. And that shocking sensation zinged up his spine and set him on edge more than if she’d grabbed his cock and stroked him.
“Excellent,” he murmured, and took her arm. “Then let’s go.”
* * *
Hannah could hardly breathe as she followed the man, the stranger, the person she only knew as Mr. C, through the writhing crowd and toward a long hall in the back. A man stood guard there, and her companion said something to him. The guard nodded and motioned for them to pass.
They went down the long hall, all the way to the end, and Mr. C opened the last door on the right, then stepped aside to allow her to enter first.
She did so, surprised that her shaking knees would allow it. This was what she’d come for, but she hadn’t expected it to be like this. Not the wild and shocking behavior she’d witnessed in the hall. Not the ridiculously handsome man who had been the first to approach her almost the moment she came through the door. She hadn’t expected to feel a thrill through her entire body when he touched her.
She hadn’t expected him to so blatantly ask her to join him privately. And that the question would be answered not out of necessity or from some plan, but because his voice was so hypnotic. In the moment he had requested she join him, she hadn’t beenableto say no. Prudent or imprudent as that was.
“Is the room to your…satisfaction?” he asked, and she turned in time to watch him gently shut the door and lock it.
Her breath caught in her throat and she had to swallow hard past the lump there before she could generate a response. “Yes,” she murmured, and took a moment to actually look around.
It was a large chamber, sumptuously decorated in bold reds and velvety grays. Her gaze darted to the bed positioned on the back wall. Wide enough to sleep four or five, it seemed, and it had various ties and binds attached to the head and footboards. She glanced toward him, worrying her lip. What would he do with those?
