“Clearly the yellow livery is more like a costume, and this black leather is your usual attire?” She couldn’t help laughing. “Please tell me this is your usual attire.”
“Ah,” he repeated dumbly, looking down.
“Can I... touch you?”
He opened his mouth to make another wordless sound, but she added, “Surely here, among this...” she looked around, “...frivolity and excess and the obscured vision of so many masks, no one would—”
She stopped and swallowed hard. “My God, I have to touch you.”
Declan’s reason and caution shattered. His hand lashed out, snatched her by the wrist, and pulled them from the painting.
Without thinking, he led her around the dancing, past two anterooms, stopping at the last room in the row. It was set up for an impromptu musicale, with pianoforte, harp, and several lutes. Chairs formed a half circle around the instruments. The room was empty except for a man gently plucking strings on the harp.
“Get out,” Declan said.
“I b-beg your—” the man stammered.
“Getout,” Declan repeated, and the man fled.
When they were alone, Declan swiftly, silently, pulled the double doors shut and locked them.
When he turned to face Helena, she leapt into his arms.
He caught her up, his chest exploding with the luminating delight of holding her. She was like coming home and stumbling upon the best, most unexpected paradise ever, all in the same embrace.
He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar, sweet apple smell. He squeezed her until she cried out, a shrill, breathy giggle.
He spun. Pressing her back against the closed doors. “Can you touch me?” he growled, repeating her words.
She laughed. “It was my only thought.” She gave him the tiniest, softest kiss. She reached up and slid his flimsy mask away. He blinked, looking at her with no obstruction.
“You are magnificent,” she whispered. “I... I can’t believe you’re mine.” She made a noise of distress and bit her bottom lip. “That is, I can’t believe you aremy groom.”
With every word, his heart expanded, and thatsaid nothing of his body. He was as hard as stone. He spun again, turning her in one deft movement, collapsing his own back against the door and pulling her against him. Helena made a noise of surprise and delight. They never broke the kiss.
While he devoured her mouth, his hands massaged their way down her body. Her gown was fitted and restrictive; he tried to grab her hip through the silk, but the fabric had no give. He fumbled, tracing the outline of her hip, and then he dipped low, catching the hem and sliding up the skirt. When he rose, he grazed his hands over long, silk-stocking-covered legs until he bunched the skirt at her thighs. Now he could scoop beneath the fabric and grab her bottom. He pressed her against him and Helena groaned.
He pulled away, panting. “Youare magnificent. Why do you ever tie your hair back?”
“So I don’t look like a child,” she laughed, cocking one knee on his hip.
He grabbed the underside of her thigh and hitched her closer. “You look nothing like a child,” he said. “You look like a seductress. You look like you belong in the forest, ruling over flora and fauna and wood and stream. You look like you belong so very far from this place.”
She kissed him, dragging her fingers through his hair. “It’s terrible,” she agreed. “I hate it.”
“I worried for you,” he said, between kisses. “I was so bloody worried.” He released her leg and gathered her to him, his hands on her back. He reclined her in his arms, holding her out so he could look at her. She smiled gently, one hand on his face. Her long, black hair fell almost to thefloor. He leaned to kiss her exposed throat, the tops of her breasts, her ear, her lips.
“I cannot say I’m enjoying the ball,” she said softly, “although it’s certainly improved since you arrived.”
He growled again and yanked her up, reclaiming her mouth. “You slay me.”
“If you feel slayed, I think the yellow velvet is to blame. This black leather, I must say, takes your already significant stature and makes it all the more imposing. You look masterful. I love it.”
Another kiss.
“Declan?” she said.
His brain barely functioned, but something about the sound of his name made his skin go hot. He kissed her again, the kiss so deep they almost tipped sideways.
