She cried out but did not resist him at once.
“Damn you, damn you... damn you,” he whispered, lowering his face to hers.
“Don’t!” she cried, and tried to break free. “No!” He paused briefly to look into her eyes, and then his gaze fell to her mouth, lingering there.
“Jess,” he said, lifting a dark curl that had fallen from her coif and stroking it between his thumb and forefinger.
He put his finger to her mouth, caressing her lips, wandering to her cheek, stroking it softly as he held her gaze.
Shivers coursed down her spine.
Jessie wasn’t aware he released her until both of his hands tangled within her hair. His fingers curled about her neck, holding her steady for his kiss.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat as his lips descended once more. “Nay,” she beseeched him, trying in vain to avert herface; he held her imprisoned. “Don’t... don’t... please...” She whimpered.
“Jessie,” said with a groan, urging her to face him, forcing her to acknowledge him.
The sound of his voice was low and tormented, undoing her completely, and then his mouth met hers with savage determination, coaxing her trembling lips. Like liquid fire, his tongue slipped within to brush hotly against her own, and a jolt of almost painful pleasure surged through her. His other hand slid down to splay across her back... pressing firmly, forcing her to acknowledge the rest of him as well.
God help her, she responded wantonly to his tender coercion, letting him take whatever he would in that instant. He tasted of brandy, his mouth so warm and sweet with the taste that she could almost feel the burning liquor gliding down her own throat. He smelled of it, too... the scent heady to her senses. Her hands dropped helplessly at her sides, and the mask and glove slipped forgotten from her fingers.
“Jessie,” he murmured. “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie…”
She shook her head, some last vestige of her pride clinging to reality. What was wrong with her that she would weaken so? Even after all that he’d done to her? A sob caught in her throat as she acknowledged the truth. She was in love with him—would always be in love with him—regardless of what he was, regardless of what he’d done to her.
And she loathed him for it—herself even more!
With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she broke free. “Get away from me!”
With trembling fingers, she swiped his kiss from her lips. Glaring at him, she bent to pick up the discarded mask at her feet, overlooking the satin glove that lay just beneath it. He stepped forward, and she raised her face to look into his eyes.“Stay away from me!” Her eyes misted traitorously. He reached for her and she twisted away. “I loathe it when you touch me!”
It was a blatant lie, and they both knew it.
He arched a brow. “Really?”
Her heart pounded.
“It seemed to me you wanted that kiss as much as I,” he taunted. He reached out to place a finger beneath her chin, raising it slightly. “Don’t dare deny it, love.”
She slapped his hand away from her face. “I am not yourlove!” she hissed. “You don’t know the meaning of the word!”
He stiffened. “And you perchance do?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she backed away another pace, ready to bolt if he advanced upon her again, but he merely stood, glaring at her with that soul-searing gaze.
Six months ago, that very same blaze in his eyes had broken her heart. Now it only infuriated her. And fury gave her the courage to ask the one thing she needed to know of him. “What sort of man are you, that you would accept payment for breaking a woman’s heart?”
For a long instant he merely stared at her, his jaw working, and then he answered, “What kind of man is your brother that he would invite me to do so?”
“I am not asking you to defend my brother’s honor!” she countered. “Merely your own! And I ask you again—what kind of man are you that you would take payment for such an ignoble deed? Certainly no gentleman!”
Again he stiffened. “If you find me no gentleman,m’mselle... it is because you are no lady.”
He laughed then, the sound harsh, and stooped to retrieve her glove from the ground. His accusation wrenched at her soul, for she very much feared it was so. He brought the glove to his lips for a heartless kiss, and tossed it angrily at her breast. Thenhe turned and walked away, leaving her to stare after him in mute rage.
With trembling hands, she replaced her hood and mask, and after a moment followed him into the house, hoping he intended to leave, because she, as yet, could not. She cursed Ben to perdition for leaving her here at his mercy. Her heart continued to pound traitorously.
She found Kathryn still on the dance floor, laughing gaily, and so she stood aside, watching the shimmering silk and satin dresses promenade by. After a moment—or it might have been a lifetime—Lord St. John appeared at her side. Silently she wished him to blazes, as well, but managed to give him a pleasant smile, nevertheless.
