Free Behind the Mask by Elizabeth D. Michaels

resemblance to this woman in green silk. In her heart she was the sheltered girl whose usual attire was calico.
    “You are not very flattering,” he remarked.
    “I daresay you don’t need me to flatter you.”
    “It wouldn’t hurt.” He moved toward her, and Abbi caught her breath to realize she was in his arms.
    “Abbi, my sweet,” he whispered close to her ear, and the sensation made her tingle.
    Suddenly uncomfortable, Abbi moved out of his embrace. “Perhaps we should return to the ballroom. Lance might wonder—”
    “Lance takes orders from me. I thought you were enjoying my little tour.”
    “Oh, I am very much. But he brought me this evening, and—”
    “Tell me,” Nikolaus said, tilting his head at such an angle that his hair looked black in the dim light, “have you a romantic interest in Lance?”
    “I scarcely know him, though my aunt wishes for us to marry.”
    “Is that what you want?”
    “I shall marry whom I choose,” she replied adamantly, hoping to convey that she found Nikolaus far more intriguing.
    “Good girl,” he applauded and his arms came around her again, accompanied by a kiss both warm and strong while his palms pressed into her back, urging her closer. “I want you,” he said close to her face. “Say you’ll be mine, Abbi, my sweet.”
    Abbi quivered from excitement and chose to ignore what her instincts were telling her, concentrating instead on the sensations that had been aroused by his ardent kiss. Urged on by her response, Nikolaus deftly swept her up into his arms. She felt the combs fall from her hair, and amid the spinning sensation in her head, she found herself lying on the huge bed. He kissed her repeatedly with an intensity that was both intriguing and frightening. While his lips moved over her throat, the instincts she’d been suppressing became all at once alert, and she panicked, wondering how she’d gotten into this situation. She attempted to squirm away, but he held her tighter and kissed her harder. Behaving as if this were nothing but a game, Nikolaus ignored her protests and became even more persistent. Holding her face in his hands, he placed a bruising kiss on her mouth while Abbi struggled with all her strength to break free. But Nikolaus was far stronger.
    “Nikolaus, please . . . don’t!” she managed to cry out between the repeated assaults on her lips.
    Pinning her hands against the bed, he pulled back to look at her, clearly dismayed by her lack of enthusiasm. “Abbi,” he began softly, “my sweet, I—”
    “Get off,” she protested and he did so reluctantly. She jumped to her feet on one side of the bed, and he stood resolutely on the other.
    “What is the matter, Abbi?” he asked, baffled.
    “Take me back to the ballroom,” she demanded, adjusting her skirts.
    “But Abbi, I . . .”
    “Take me back now.”
    Something in his eyes left her decidedly uneasy as he gave her a hard stare before moving toward the door. Then he stopped and looked down. She watched him bend over to pick up the combs that had fallen out of her hair. As he did, the crown fell from his head and hit the stone floor with a startling clang. Abbi quickly picked it up, fondling it for just a moment, noting that it was only a simple gold band with minimal adornment.
    “You mustn’t lose this.” She forced a light tone, attempting to ease the tension.
    He snatched it from her and she took the combs from him. “No,” he said with a terseness that increased her uneasiness, “I mustn’t lose this.”
    “Perhaps you should have the size adjusted so it fits better,” she teased, attempting to ignore her own aggravation as she turned toward the mirror to smooth her hair. He stood by her side and carefully put the crown back on his head, putting more effort into checking his appearance than Abbi did her own. Her thick curls required little attention and she quickly put the combs in place and moved toward the door. Nikolaus could do little more than