Free Vienna Waltz (The Imperial Season Book 1) by Mary Lancaster Page A

another. Torn, she swallowed convulsively and his head lowered once more.
    This one was longer, sweeter, exploring her mouth, and when it ended, she touched his mask, the skin of his cheek, just because she wanted to, and lifted her face to be kissed again. A delicious sort of heaviness spread from her tingling lips through her whole body. Excitement, delight…and danger.
    “That’s enough,” she whispered against his lips.
    “No,” he said, releasing her. She thought his voice wasn’t quite steady, but that may have been the pounding of her heart distorting her hearing. “But it will do for now.” His lips curved. “You see? Now we’ll always know each other. When we meet again.”
    A choke of laughter broke from her. “We won’t, you know. Goodbye, Colonel.”
    As she reached up to pull back the curtain, forcing herself to think of Johnnie and the necklace, she suddenly froze.
    “She wasn’t wearing it,” she blurted. “Oh God!”
    She hadn’t stopped Johnnie in time. He hadn’t needed her to point out his victim. And now, she’d no idea where either the thief or the necklace was. She fled.

Chapter Six
    L aughter shook Vanya’s body as Lizzie rushed away from him. But though he’d enjoyed himself so much, he didn’t actually want her to suffer. After a discreet moment, he strolled out into the ballroom and turned his steps back toward the riding school. Since Boris was on the “nanny” shift with the tsar, he was easy enough to locate.
    “Swap dominoes with me,” he said without introduction.
    “What? Why? Who are you hiding from?” Boris demanded, though he obligingly took off his cloak. “Countess Gelitzina and Madame Fischer were both glaring daggers at you on the dance floor.”
    “What the devil for?” Vanya asked, throwing his cloak to Boris and swinging his friend’s around his shoulder before striding off without waiting for an answer.
    On his way out of the riding school, he stopped a passing waiter. From his pocket, he took a pre-scribbled note and a handful of coins and discreetly passed them across the tray. “For Mademoiselle Noire, the mysterious young lady in black,” he said. “You know who I mean?”
    “Yes, sir, I do.”
    “Hurry, then.”
    As he found his way outside into the grounds, he threw his mask away and unfastened his regimental coat. Shrugging it off, he left it under a bush for either himself or Misha to find later. Then, with Boris’ domino covering his shirt sleeves, he moved around toward the front of the palace to wait for Lizzie. Ruefully, he acknowledged that he’d just endangered his own plan. By dancing with her, by forcing her to notice him, especially in such a way, he’d left himself open to recognition.
    It probably wouldn’t matter, of course. The disreputable Colonel Vanya could sell the necklace as easily as Johnnie could and it had been rather fun flirting with her on a more equal social footing. In truth, he rather wanted to remain Colonel Vanya to her, so that he could openly protect her, and perhaps put his arm around her in the hired carriage and kiss her a little more. Her kisses were sweet: a little shy, a little curious, with a latent passion he would be a complete cad to awaken fully. She was off limits and still he’d crossed the boundary. Or at least pushed it back a little.
    Johnnie would undoubtedly be best at this point, but he didn’t hold out a great deal of hope that he’d fool her just by wearing a different colored cloak. Even though she hadn’t recognized Johnnie in the masked and military Vanya, he was now, surely, rather more firmly established at the forefront of her mind.
    People were still milling about in the grounds—more illegal entrants to the ball, he presumed—as well as around the main entrance trying to bribe the doorman. It was easy to blend into the shadows. It reminded him of the rather deadlier games of hide and seek in the winter of 1812, when he’d led ambushes and sudden night attacks on the