Free Once Upon a Masquerade by Tamara Hughes Page B

Dear God, what was she going to do?
    Mr. Black stepped through the doorway into the gardens, and she straightened in her seat, her body tingling with anticipation. She should have known he would search for her when he found her empty seat. He looked exceedingly handsome, so strong and powerful. How she ached for the safety and comfort she’d gone without for so long. She needed someone she could rely on to care for her for a change.
    He scanned the gardens until his piercing eyes found her. With swift strides he crossed the space between them. “You shouldn’t be up here alone.”
    Too tired to argue anymore, she stood, resigned to rejoin Miss Ives and Mr. Westerly in the theater. She turned to leave, but Mr. Black stopped her with a firm grip on her bare arm. His simple touch sent an electric current sizzling through her limbs, and her eyes darted to his. From the heat in his gaze, she could tell he felt it too. His hand rose and swept a stray curl from her face. “You still seem familiar to me.”
    The light brush of his fingers over her skin tickled and teased even as his words put her nerves on edge. She could only hope he never remembered when they first met. She looked down toward her feet, hidden by a dress she couldn’t afford. If Mary hadn’t gone to her aunt, a seamstress, and begged off a few gowns rejected by customers, she wouldn’t be wearing this at all.
    Mr. Black bent forward to catch her eye, his fingers cupping her chin. “I never forget a face, especially not one as lovely as yours.”
    The compliment warmed her and discouraged her all at the same time. Would he remember her? He seemed so certain.
    “We should go back inside,” she breathed, taking a step toward the door.
    “Wait.” He snagged her fingers and held tight. “I’m sorry. I know this evening hasn’t been a pleasant one for you,” he said in a light rasp. Quietly, he cleared his throat. “And it may seem like I sabotaged your evening with Westerly. Which I suppose would be fairly accurate given I enlisted my cousin to distract him. But I did it for your own good.”
    Her own good? She lifted her chin and glared. “You have no right to meddle in my affairs.”
    He enveloped her hand in both of his. “I wanted to prove to you the kind of man Westerly is. He’s not the man for you.”
    She had to agree, and yet she couldn’t afford to be particular. If not Mr. Westerly, then who? Unless he was suggesting…himself. Her anger fled on the soft breeze, replaced by a pleasant shiver cascading down her body. Indeed, she had no doubt Christopher Black was the better man. In temperament, in appearance, in every way imaginable.
    Why push him away? He hadn’t remembered her. Perhaps he never would, and he was a man she wouldn’t mind seducing. The way he made her feel inside whenever he drew near, as if she was the tide that rushed and eddied at his bidding. She’d never experienced such intense longing before.
    Rebecca stepped closer and lifted herself up onto her tiptoes, her face coming within inches of his. He could be the one to save her father. He could. She settled her mouth over smooth lips, and he kissed her back.
    She reveled in the passion surging through her as his hand massaged the nape of her neck, his mouth growing more insistent, his kisses hungry. He smelled like a heady mixture of sea and open air. She reached around him, her arms circling his narrow hips, her fingers smoothing over the solid muscle of his back hidden beneath his fashionable suit coat. His tongue grazed her lips. She opened to him, welcoming his exploration, and joining in one of her own.
    A strong arm slid around her waist, clasping her to him, and she shuddered at the feel of his hard body pressed so intimately against her. The delicious sensations inside only intensified when his hands dropped to cup her bottom and pulled her closer still. Linking her arms behind his neck, she held on, never wanting to let go.
    Muffled voices rose up from the