There was a moment when he thought she might deny it. Her gaze dipped down, her steps slowed, but then she lifted her eyes back to his and nodded. “There is no point in denying it. I saw you at Vauxhall Gardens with Simone Stanhope almost six years ago now.”
“You’re the one she was talking about,” he breathed.
She tilted her head. “You mean tonight when you were at Vivien’s together?”
He blinked. It seemed she’d been asking about him. Or at least aware of him being back in London. “No, I didn’t end up going,” he said. “When I saw her a few days ago, she teased me that someone would be happy I was back.”
“Simone, Simone,” the woman breathed. “Well, I admit Iamhappy. I’ve had a great many thoughts of you since that night.”
He leaned closer and drew a deep breath of her scent. Jasmine and vanilla, a sensual combination that spread increasing warmth through his entire body. “What isyourname?” he whispered.
She licked her lips and he almost went mad with the desire that was increasing with every moment with her. When was the last time he’d felt so out of control with need? He couldn’t even remember.
“Arabella Comerford,” she said softly.
“Arabella,” he repeated, letting the pretty name roll on his tongue. “Is that your real name or just the one you give here?”
“It’s my real name,” she said. “I’ve no reason to have a false one, even here. I think we both know what I am, don’t we? You could guess it from my not wearing a mask, from how bold I am.”
“I have experienced many a lady of many a rank who was bold.”
“Yes, I assume you bring that out in women,” she said, almost thoughtfully. “You draw them to the edge of what they believe is reason and then make them jump. What a fall, though.”
“It’s a lovely name,” he said. “I think it would be lovely to moan while you shatter around my cock.”
Her smile became mischievous. “There he is.There’sthe man who I first saw all those years ago, watching Simone as she came, holding my stare while he did the same. That wicked, wicked man who didn’t give a damn who was watching.”
“I don’t give a damn who’s watching,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth toward hers.
“Neither do I,” she answered, and then their lips met.
Silas had experienced many a passionate kiss in his lifetime. The most powerful ones came after a chase, a game where he wasn’t entirely certain if he would obtain his heart’s…or perhaps it was always only his body’s…desire. But there had been no chase here tonight. The moment they’d begun talking, Silas had known they would end like this.
And yet it was one of the most passionate kisses he’d ever experienced. It was a kiss after being separated for a hundred years, a kiss after counting every graze of a hand and meet of a gaze across ballrooms and gardens. A first kiss, a last kiss and a lost kiss all rolled up into one.
Her lips parted beneath his the moment they touched and then she gripped his lapels with both hands, lifting into him with a muffled groan of relief and pleasure. One of his hands stole down her backside, cupping the shape of her, lifting her tighter against him as their tongues collided and clashed and yet somehow still welcomed and soothed. She tilted her head to change the angle and somehow everything got deeper, the exploration even more intimate as the world spun around them and they locked it out entirely.
He had no idea how long that lasted. When they surfaced at last, lips shining, panting breaths matched, eyes locked on each other in shock and wonder and desire unlike anything he’d felt in a very long time, the song the orchestra had been playing was just ending. Their dance was done. At least this one.
She looked as staggered as he felt for a brief moment and then she reached out and took his hand. He saw the knowing distance of an experienced courtesan slide back over that lovely face before she turned her back to him and began guiding him through the crowd toward the back rooms where members could take their pleasure together in slightly more private settings.
“Let’s play,” she said over her shoulder, and in his weak-kneed condition all he could was nod and know that this night would do everything he’d wanted when he came here. It was going to sear a new memory in him that would certainly erase something old and less pleasant.
* * *
Arabella had been trained in a great many things as a courtesan. She knew how to give pleasure and to pretend her own when it didn’t come with the help of a lover. She knew how to compliment, how to make a man feel like what she wanted was actuallytheiridea. She knew how to maximize her impact and gain the most from every arrangement. She knew how to comfort without losing herself in the process.
The skill she appreciated most though, as she guidedtheSilas Windham through the writhing halls of the Donville Masquerade, was that she could look unbothered when she was truly spinning inside.
She’d imagined kissing this man a great many times over the years. Sometimes it was the way she lulled herself to sleep, or brought herself to completion. But the reality of it was…different. Better because it was real and he tasted of a hint of whisky and smoky pleasure. Worse because in that moment he’d touched his lips to hers, she had forgotten every way she maintained distance from men who wanted to keep her.
She’d lost herself in that kiss, drowning in the pleasure, the sensation, the reality thatthiswas the man who had starred in every single fantasy she’d concocted for herself over six years. And he was everything she’d ever hoped for.
But Arabella Comerford hadn’t had her knees shake after a kiss in a very long time. The fact that she could barely stay upright as she reached the backrooms was…shocking. Still, she managed to nod to the servant keeping watch beside the dim hallway and drew Silas toward the room number the man indicated with his fingers. They entered the chamber together and she broke away from him, all but willing her heart to stop pounding. He would hear it when he came close enough and she didn’t want to hand over the power by letting him know that she was shaken.
“Do you like to be watched, Windham?” she asked, then shook her head with a laugh. “A rather silly question considering our beginnings."
“I do like to be watched,” he admitted. “And to watch in turn. But tonight…” He trailed off and then moved to the portrait mounted next to the fireplace warming the room. He slid the viewing area shut so that those standing behind it, the ones who liked to ogle, couldn’t see.
