Miss Weston's Masquerade

‘Mmm?’ He was disinclined for conversation, his response merely a mumble as he nibbled delicately at her ear.

‘How long do you stay in Venice?’ she persisted, unable to prevent her treacherous body moving more closely into his embrace.

Reluctantly he freed his mouth. ‘That depends on what there is to stay for.’ He bent his head and trailed kisses across the swell of her breasts, his lips fretting at the confining lace.

Cassandra swallowed hard, filled with a strange mixture of panic and desire. ‘Oh, there is much to stay for, Nicholas,’ she managed to gasp out.

‘As I am discovering,’ he responded huskily. An unwelcome thought seemed to strike him, and he straightened up, still holding her close. ‘I am not entirely my own master in this matter,’ he said with heavy irony, his eyes on the dark water.

In the glow from a lighted courtyard, Cassandra saw his face harden with remembered anger. ‘Why not, my lord?’

‘I am encumbered,’ he said shortly. ‘Encumbered by a troublesome female for whom I have responsibility. I must take her to my mother in Vienna. If I do not strangle her first,’ he added bitterly.

Some devil prompted Cassandra to probe further. ‘You jest, of course, Nicholas. You have your little daughter with you? Do you not like les enfants?’

‘She is no relative of mine, thank the Lord. And she is not a child, although she is as unruly and ungovernable as one.’

There was real feeling in his voice and Cassandra realised she was still unforgiven, both for her words and for the blow. ‘Surely, if you are giving her your protection, she should be meek and grateful in return? Why,’ she fought to keep the anger from her own voice, ‘I am sure you must have been like an indulgent elder brother to her, mon cher.’

It was too dark to read his face, but Nicholas shifted uncomfortably on the cushions beside her and Cassandra felt a small stab of triumph. So, she had pricked his conscience had she?

But not so much, it seemed, to make him forget his grievances. ‘The wretched chit had the impertinence to lecture me on my behaviour and morals. When I consider that I saved her from the most dissolute, the most diseased rake in London…’ Nicholas had forgotten the woman beside him in his bitterness.

Cassandra was frightened by his vehemence, then remembered Lucia’s suggestion that his anger was fuelled by his desire for her. It seemed difficult to believe, looking at his set profile and stiff back. His hands no longer caressed her, but rested tensely on his thighs.

To her relief, the gondola bumped up against a landing stage and the gondolier jumped ashore to secure it. Cassandra realised they had reached the back of Lucia’s palazzo and set herself to distract Nicholas in case he should recognise their surroundings.

‘You are very quiet, my lord,’ she purred, as he handed her out of the gently rocking boat. She kept her fingers linked with his as she drew him towards the door already standing ajar. ‘Forget your troublesome ward, you are with me ce soir…’ She let the phrase trail off provocatively, and it had the desired effect.

Nicholas gave himself an almost imperceptible shake and smiled down at her as they passed into the darkened hallway. ‘No man could forget he was with you, ma belle,’ he murmured.

His ardour led him to catch her in his arms as they mounted the stairs, spanning her waist with his hands and turning her towards him as he stood on the step below.

The position brought them mouth to mouth. He kissed the corner of her lips, then ran the tip of his tongue around their curve, the strength of his hands pulling her tight against his hard body.

‘Nicholas,’ she protested against his lips. ‘Upstairs… we will be more comfortable upstairs in my chamber.’

‘Then let us make haste, or I swear I will have you here where we stand.’

Cassandra felt the scalding blush sweep from her toes to the roots of her hair. She had never dreamt that the depth of a man’s passion and urgent desire could lead to lovemaking on the stairs. She was reflecting that it was fortunate that the darkness masked her dismay, when he stopped and swept her up in his arms.

‘This door?’ He hardly waited for her nod before shouldering it open.

Cassandra expected him to set her on her feet as soon as he had kicked the door closed behind them. Instead he tightened his embrace, crushing her breasts against the soft linen of his shirt as he bent his head to claim her lips.

This was what she had been waiting for, yearning for, since she had realised her love for him. She tightened her arms around his neck, inciting, compelling with her fingertips.

His mouth was hot, sweet and demanding, invading hers with an intimacy that shocked yet thrilled. Cassandra felt certain that if she did not draw breath in the next few seconds she would surely faint, yet rather than withdraw, he deepened the pressure with erotic expertise, teasing her tongue tip with his own. Her senses spinning, she forgot all her doubts, all her fears, in the tide of her love and longing.

She was aware of him moving towards the bed, although he never freed her lips. He stooped, laying her gently amongst the yielding cushions, and sat beside her.

Cassandra lay fighting to control her tumultuous breathing, watching him through the slits in her mask. A small branch of candles afforded enough light to gild the sheen of perspiration on his taut face, and his eyes glittered greener with desire.

Nicholas watched her for a long moment, deliberately it seemed to her, prolonging the tension in the room. When at last he did move, it was to reach out with one long finger and free the jewel that trembled beneath the lace, caught in the cleft of her breasts.

The merest brush of his fingertip left her quivering with desire. He took the rose quartz between thumb and forefinger, rubbing its cool smoothness gently, insistently, his eyes never leaving her face. While he fondled the jewel, his little finger stroked her skin, gently at first, then with increasing pressure.

A tiny gasp of shock and surrender escaped Cassandra’s parted lips. If he kissed her now, she would be lost, would give herself to him utterly without heed to anything… But it would be worth it, worth anything, if there was a chance he could come to love her, too.