An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 20.1.3. An Intricate Trap

   The dance ended, and before another could begin, there was a commotion at the back of the ball. A woman shrieked, other guests started to laugh as a huge sheep trundled down the center of the crowd, having escaped his costumed shepherdess.

   Charlotte, whose nerves were on edge enough as it was, shook her head in amusement and glanced back up at Aleister. "That's all we need, a barnyard—"

   Her voice died to a soft gasp of startlement. She knew instantly that it was Benedic, not Aleister, who swept her into his strong arms for the next dance. He wore the exact costume of a dashing masked highwayman as Aleister had, but she knew the difference to the core of her being. No one had ever held her with such arrogant possession. No other man's touch told her she belonged to him, sent a thrill of sensual excitement through her.

   And his eyes, she could never mistake the mocking masculine gaze that melted her and made her heart pound in fierce longing. She faltered a step. He caught her, steadied her, his mouth grazing her ear. The intensity of being so near him stole her strength. Her belly quivered in response. She was magnetized to him, to the steely length of his body, and nothing could weaken the power he wielded.

   "Charlotte," he murdered, "how good it is to see you again."

   "Why here?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

   "Edward made plans to attend. I can't be sure whether it is for pleasure or whether he's meeting someone."

   She laughed softly, so happy to see him that even their enemy could not spoil her mood. "It might be sheer boredom—although Chistlebury's annual bal masqué is hardly where one would go for pleasure."

   His eyes darkened. "Unless he wanted to see you."

   "I doubt it, Benedic."

   "Why?" he teased. "I can't stay away from you."

   "You didn't even know I'd be here."

   "Didn't I? The Belle of Chistlebury mope in her room and miss the ball?

   She caught her breath, waiting for the dance to bring them back together before she whispered, "There have been some very interesting things going on in my room recently, for your information."

   "Haven't there, though?" he said in an undertone. "Now listen closely. There is a side door to your right. You are going to slip outside first, and then I will follow."

   "What if we're seen leaving together?"

   "It will appear that you have gone to the cloakroom to primp and fetch your fan. Aleister will cover my absence."

   "Aleister?"

   "To your left."

   From the corner of her eye she saw Aleister's shadowy figure standing guard in the dimly lit hall outside the door. Disguised alike, the two men appeared similar enough in height and build to pass as the same person. Unless Sir Edward suspected that an intricate trap was being laid. Charlotte glanced around the crowded dance floor in search of Benedic's uncle.

   She looked back at Benedic. He was staring intently over her head, presumably watching the dancers for the perfect moment to execute their escape. He seemed so in control of the situation—she could only wish that he had gone to all this trouble, involved Aleister in this elaborate charade, just to see her. She wanted to be alone with him, held in his arms again, all their problems behind them. She did not want to think that he might confront Edward at the evening's end.

   She felt a stab of apprehension as she met her uncle's questioning gaze Benedic in the masked disguise. It wasn't possible, not at this distance. Her uncle was only staring at them because Aunt Penelope had made him promise to keep an eye on her. There. He had finally looked away. It was merely Charlotte's guilty imagination that made her think he suspected anything. She was on fire with impatience to be alone with Benedic.

   Her heart thumped hard against her breast as the steps of the dance drew her closer to his iron-hard frame. His eyes burned right through her. "What are you going to do if Edward's friend doesn't appear?' she whispered.

   "Spend a few minutes with you. I hated leaving you after what happened, and I'm not sure that Edward's isn't watching you."

   "Watching me? Why?"

   "You're Bernard's sister, for one thing, and you have an interest in how he was murdered. And you're damned desirable for another."

   A surge of irrational happiness swept over her. She wanted to pull him against her and kiss his beautiful mouth, untie his mask and caress his face and thick hair, revel in the burning heat and power of his body. He seemed stronger than ever. He was well, whole again. Hers.

   "Did you think I could stay away from you?" he demanded in a soft seductive voice that raised shivers on her skin.

   "You've done a fair enough job of it." She stared into his eyes. "Are you really ready to face Edward now?"

   "No more talking, Charlotte."

   She knew the answer in her heart anyway. She sensed that something grave was about to happen, that he was ready to take the risk. A chill of fear slid down her backbone, threatening the joy she felt at seeing him again. This was the moment he had struggled to bring about. The moment she had prayed would never come to pass, when he would face Edward and demand retribution.

   His hard gaze caught hers. He was determined, dominant, confident he would succeed on his own terms. "Now. Don't hesitate. Don't look back. Turn to your left as soon as you pass the cloakroom."

   She barely heard the music ending above the pounding of her pulse in her ears. There was a collective rush to the door for the refreshment room, and this helped to cover their exit. She moved as one with the swell of guest who surged out for a drink of lemonade, a chance to flirt over wafers. Pay waved gaily over the heads of the guests who separated them.

   "I'm going to fetch my fan," she said at her cousin's questioning look.

   Benedic had disappeared. How or to where she could not guess. She obeyed his order to appear as normal as possible. Without him in sight it was easier to control her actions, but her mind was preoccupied. Considering his utter lack of moral conscience, Edward was not an enemy to underestimate, but then neither was Benedic.