Free Brimstone Seduction by Barbara J. Hancock Page A

nurse’s consternation that the old man cried.
    The nurse urged Levi to come with her. She soothed him with soft assurances of safety. Severne knew from experience that inside, many lights and lamps waited to be turned on. All Levi’s caretakers knew the house needed to be aglow during a storm.
    His father’s fears would fade. His tears would dry.
    To be sure, John waited and watched until light after light came on. Even as fat droplets began to fall and sizzle on his skin, he waited. His temperature dropped, but he ignored the chill. He paid no attention to the wet seeping into his hair to run in rivulets down his face. He waited until he was sure the house was lit and his father snug inside before he turned and walked away.
    * * *
    Kat should have known she couldn’t be quicker on the draw than John Severne. She’d thought she would return the opera glasses before anyone missed them. But the next day when she climbed the stairs to the third-level balcony and quietly approached the box corresponding with the number on the porcelain handle, she found the opera’s master in the seat she searched for.
    She tried to halt her entrance in time to go unnoticed, but he rose to turn and face her. He’d heard her steps, or he’d felt her approach as she suddenly felt him. She’d tried to tune out the pull of his Brimstone blood, which followed her wherever she went in the opera house, but rather than helping her avoid him, it had placed her in a compromising position.
    He was both everywhere she walked and here, where she least expected to find him.
    â€œWhere did you find those?” Severne asked.
    The box was small. It held only two seats. And the opera glasses were obvious in her hands.
    He didn’t seem to mind the close quarters. As the curtains she’d parted closed with a whoosh in her wake, he moved even closer while she tried to think of what to say.
    Was this his box? Were the glasses his? Why had they been in Victoria’s room?
    All those questions assailed her along with his nearness and the unusual appearance of his rumpled clothes. He wore a white oxford shirt and black pants, but his jacket was missing, his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loosened.
    â€œThey were on my sister’s bed. Left on her pillow,” Kat said. “I thought I should return them. She must have accidentally carried them away. I assume they belong to this box.”
    Below, dancers practiced for the ballet often omitted from performances of Faust by other opera companies. At l’Opéra Severne, the ballet was a favorite of fans. It represented the temptation of Faust by the greatest and most beautiful women in history that had been offered to him by Mephistopheles.
    So far, from what Katherine had seen of rehearsals, this version was suggestively choreographed while still seeming subtly playful in its eroticism.
    â€œThis box is like the other boxes in the house. Elite patrons own them all. Some families have kept them for generations. Politicians, celebrities and foreign aristocracy all float in and out in relative anonymity. To be honest, I thought this one was abandoned. Many seats are kept by the elderly and passed down to heirs who prefer sports arenas or video games,” Severne said. “I’m here only temporarily. Captivated by the view.”
    So she’d found the stoic yet sensual master of the opera house looking down on his lithe dancers? Her cheeks warmed. “They are captivating,” she agreed.
    The dancers practiced with an old stage piano more suited for vaudeville than opera, but they were talented. Once their moves were paired with costumes, lighting and the full orchestra accompaniment, the ballet would be sublime.
    â€œI’m proud of every aspect of the show, but I do enjoy this dance—the temptation, the resistance, the surrender,” Severne said. It was almost a confession. He was a daemon professing his fascination with the