Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

C ould it be that Sunshine had made this virile, piratical-looking, libido-charging man nervous? Any unchaperoned woman who followed a man to an empty coach in the middle of the night must be seeking more than an ice-cold glass of champagne. He'd spoken of liaisons, and yet he sat across from her without budging an inch closer. He was right. She had practically propositioned him. The banter had been exhilarating, but she wanted more. And she wanted it from him. The reasons confused her, but she'd come this far, and she would not turn back.

He watched her with the intensity of an unanswered question, his head cocked in a way one does when they're crediting the next word to the other person. In this case, the next move.

"Am I that frightening? Or simply not appealing?" She couldn't help the dragging undertone of her lagging self-confidence. It had been easy for a while to pretend behind the mask. But there were things one could not hide, like inexperience. She might have been married for all of six months, but she'd never kissed another man, never been with another man, and certainly never propositioned a man, not even her husband.

"Oh, Sunshine. You are too appealing by half, and it has taken everything out of me to stay my distance because kissing you is only the beginning of what I wish to do. And that, my dear, frightens me ."

Hand over fist, she nervously rubbed a knuckle over her lips. Then, as if her life depended on the fierce speed of a mind tormented by a far-too-tempting specimen of a man, she gathered herself and quickly changed seats. "There." She turned to Phin. "I believe we're close enough now. If you're too much afraid of me, perhaps you'll tell me how to start."

He twisted to face her. With his palm cradling her jaw, he passed his thumb lightly along her bottom lip, with the heated gaze of a starved animal or a man who spent too much time on the ocean and not enough in the arms of a woman. "I've never wanted anything so badly yet felt so unsure." His gaze was riveted on her mouth.

She wet her lips, her heart retreating an inch, and whispered, "It's all right. You don't have to…" Before she could finish the sentence, his mouth silenced her. Erotically, simple, slow, and delicious, his lips moved over hers, and her breath stuttered with a coaxing lick of his tongue. His heat melted away her cold fear of the future, and she whimpered a release, five years in the making.

He smelled like winter—a mixture of snow and shaving soap—and tasted of expensive champagne. The intoxicating scent fed her racing pulse until she ached in places she'd forgotten. She wanted to hang on to him and beg him to remove his gloves and touch her, to resurrect her soul back with the living. Pain had been the thing that reminded her she was still breathing, but this kind of living in someone's arms took her breath.

He tilted his head, slanting his mouth over hers for one devouring sweep of his tongue. The sound of her silk mask rubbing up against his satin domino reminded her of the barriers surrounding her. Some she'd erected, others built for her. She wanted to put them all to bed. When she felt his hands grip her upper arms, pulling her to him within an inch of her life, she folded into him. She slid her palms up his chest, registering lean hard muscle beneath the layers of clothes. It made his story about being a sea captain believable.

Her head lolled back with a sigh, and his kisses continued along her jaw with tiny licks, slipping into the curve of her neck, sucking gently but with an underlying need building between them. She understood that much. His teeth grazed her shoulder, tugging at her gown. Then he buried his face in that spot, taking deep breaths, as someone gathering a memory through smell, touch, taste. "Who are you, Miss Sunshine Price?" he whispered against her ear. She fought the urge to lie back and forget every answer to his question. He pulled away, leaving little cold spots where his mouth had been, his tongue had licked, and a tingling sensation from his teeth. "Where on earth did you come from?"

"Nowhere of import." Her voice sounded foreign, too breathy, too calm. She reached up and tilted his mask back into place, straight across his nose, then adjusted her own. "What time is it?"

"You have somewhere else to be?" It was a question she could tell he didn't want to ask, was perhaps afraid of the answer.

"Midnight is the unmasking hour, and I don't want to be anywhere near it. We can't stay out here. It's too cold."

He reached for the blanket, flicked it open, and wrapped it around her shoulders. But it didn't stop the chatter of her teeth, which had nothing to do with the weather.

She pulled it from her shoulders. "You need this more than I do. I have my cloak."

He shook his head. "I'm quite warm. Too warm, perhaps." She thought she saw a gleam in his eye. "I'm not keen on unmasking in a throng of people. What do you suggest?"

"Make our way to the back of the house, through the terrace doors, and hide out in a more cliché space." She couldn't help the smile that burst across her cheeks. "Like the library. We could read to one another by firelight." She said it in jest, hoping he wouldn't take her up on such a place. She wanted somewhere more private, more intimate.

He bit his cheek. "There might be someone there ready to unmask more than their identity." He cocked a brow.

She laughed despite the way it must look.

"I am staying here."

"In the cold?" she asked, clearly disappointed.

"No." He shook his head, smiling at her misunderstanding. "In the house. I have a room. Admittedly, it's a little cliché."

"With a hearth?"

He nodded, searing her with a look that said everything.

"Can you light a fire, Phineas?"

"Haven't I already?"

She retrieved her cloak from across the seat.

* * *

When they reached the back of the house, Phin led her to a shadowed part of the outside wall, then hedged along, peeking through the windows before gripping her hand, both of them hurrying toward the French doors. Sunshine grabbed up her skirts, fighting the tiny bubbles of laughter at every footfall. She felt like a girl again, free and giddy over a forbidden adventure. Her shoes clipped along the terrace, the heels tapping the stone tiles.

Phineas stopped. "Hand me those noisy Cinderella slippers before we step inside."

She obeyed without a word or a worry for her white stockings. Shoving her heeled slippers under his arm, he slid his hand into hers, and they ducked into the house, racing for the back stairs like lovers. With her red dress and hair, she couldn't hope to go unnoticed if someone crossed their path, but she hid behind his wide shoulders for good measure.

In a different part of the house than she was staying, they rushed down a hallway, finding his door easily enough. Bounding into the room, he pulled her over the threshold with the footing of a lively waltz and shut the door with a loud thunk . When he secured it with a turn of the key, Phineas dropped her hand and shoes, and they simultaneously broke out with gales of breathless laughter. She held her middle while she gasped herself into tears.

He blew out a relieved breath. "I think we made it without being seen. Are you in one piece?"

"Except for the shoes, I believe so." One oil lamp lit by the canopied bed cast a warm glow over them.

"I couldn't risk it. If we were found, we'd be downstairs right now." He checked his watch. "Unmasking in two minutes."

They were both panting from the exertion up the stairs and the sheer fun of escaping the Christmas reverie. Sunshine unbound her cloak, allowing Phineas to take it as if it were an everyday occurrence. The corner of her mask dipped as one of the pins holding it in place fell to the floor. "I've lost one pin already. Shall we wait for the clock to strike?" she asked, holding up one side of her mask with two fingers. She had pinned the streamers to the side of her hair because she didn't want to muss her coiffure with a ribbon.

Phineas reached behind and pulled the ribbon on his mask while holding it firmly to the bridge of his nose, the eye slits unwavering. "One more minute. Hurry, a kiss before it strikes, and we turn to salt." He waved her over.

She fell in beside him, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his smiling mouth. The anticipation roared in her ears reminding her of a theater after a performance. They both laughed, counting down from the mark of ten, nine, eight...

At zero, Phin tossed his half-mask across the room while she braced herself. "Your turn. We're past the countdown." He held out his hand.

She stood back an inch, surveying the full force of his fa?ade. Thick lashes against wickedly dark eyes softened his strong jawline, made even more merry by the curve of his smiling mouth. "You are too gorgeous a specimen, and I think I cannot compete."

"It's not a competition. It's an unveiling." Palm up, he waved a hand toward himself. "And thank you for the compliment, by the way. The men aboard my ship enjoy chanting my flaws. It's good to know they aren't so evident in the dark."

The room was dark with only one lamp lit. In one swift movement, squeezing her eyes closed, she tore the mask away, blindly thrusting it toward him.

When she didn't feel him take it from her, she opened one eye and then the other. "I warned you." She dropped her arm.

"God, Sunshine. You're beautiful." He stepped forward. He lifted her hair, half-unbound by the loss of so many pins, rubbing the curls between his fingers. "Fiery red hair so thick with curls you can hardly keep it bound, and eyes that look sage green in this light, with lashes as thick and dark as a midnight storm. I'll save mentioning your more obvious attributes except to say I love your charming dimples and can't stop wondering if you suffer them anywhere else."

Against her better judgment, she was drawn to his charm. It felt genuine. Though many, men and women alike, had complimented her hair, his words held more weight.

"Should I apologize?" A worried crease reached across his brow.

He misunderstood her silence. Her smile fell away but not from the conversation. It was the memory of being loved, cherished, and flattered. "No. It's simply been awhile since a handsome rogue regarded me so fondly." She blinked and dared to look at him.

"Who is this other rogue? I shall cut him down with my rapier." His voice was smooth, rich, and heady; his fingers in her hair gave her scalp goosebumps that traveled down her neck and chest, seizing her nipples into hard, sensitive buds. As his mouth descended on hers, she reached her arms around his neck and held him as if he were life's blood.

She heard herself moan into his mouth. The feeling was familiar and new. The ache in her belly didn't stop until it reached the place between her legs. She'd given her virtue to her husband, but with this man, she greedily took from him without another thought. Tonight, it was her own pleasure she sought.

His teeth tugged gently on her bottom lip before he released her. "Let's start a fire." He began pulling off his gloves, smiling at the irony of the statement. "Not that we haven't already."

Sunshine slipped out of her own gloves. With her back to the hearth and the handsome man with hair long enough to sink her fingers in, she unfastened her dress, something she'd been doing on her own her entire life. She had learned to contort her reach enough to get to the stubborn fasteners at the impossible middle of her back.

She smelled him before she felt him caress her neck, warming her blood like a sip of wine. She stiffened, dropping her hands. His fingers brushed her sensitive skin with a tickling trail down her back until she felt a finger slip into the place between the threaded ribbon of her stays and her bare skin. The ribbon vibrated through the metal eyes, while the night air cooled her skin as her stays gave way, and the dress fell loose. She could hear him breathing as he nuzzled her hair with his nose, fanning his hands over her shoulders, baring them while he left heated kisses after every inch. Red lace-covered silk draped her arms to her fingertips. Sweet nibbles at her shoulders and a little nip of his teeth gave her goosebumps that followed the brush of his hands down her arms until her dress cascaded in ripples from her fingertips. His hands slid over hers, linking their fingers. He wrapped her in an endearing hug, chin on her shoulder, arms doubled with hers under her breasts. His eyelashes brushed her cheeks like gentle feathers.

"It's not too late to go back."

"Yes, it is." Her words came out breathy, and she laid her head back against him, felt his warm cheek with a sprinkle of night beard chasing a ripple of goosebumps down her neck. "I'm dying for you to touch me, Phin." It was the whisper of a lover in the dark, the light of a fire casting a glow, and the sensation of a man larger than life wanting her. Her heart raced with the caress of his fingers like raw desire against skin that had barely been touched for too long. He let go of her hands and cupped her breasts. She sucked in a gasp as his fingers grazed her aching nipples. With her mind adrift, she tried to live in each moment of his expert strokes, his gentle sucking mouth on her neck, shielding out every wise word she'd ever been taught.

The hard proof of his desire rubbed against her back between the dimples above her buttocks that he blindly referenced. He couldn't know they were there, but the fact that she did made the moment erotic as she anticipated him finding them for himself. Instinctively, she pressed her backside against his erection, feeling him shudder as she moved her hips from side to side.

Then his hands were at the last hooks of her dress. The loose fabric shimmied over her hips, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing half-naked with only a petticoat between them. She heard him release the buttons on his trousers and felt the more demanding hardness like a branding iron through the thin muslin underskirt.

His movements were insistent, methodical as she played with his desire, bending her knees slightly and pressing herself against his thighs.

"Lord, you're going to end it for me right here."

She couldn't help the heady chuckle that rumbled deep in her throat. "You'll miss seeing the dimples if you do that."

He stopped, held her tight against him, and whispered, "Tell me where."

She looked over her shoulder. "They are not on these cheeks, I assure you."

He growled, falling to his knees, tearing at his cravat. He whipped the ties with a jerk, undoing the bow on her petticoat, wasting no time pulling the ruffled cotton from her hips. His hands cradled her, his thumbs rubbing over her buttocks making the whole affair feel real. Her skin tingled, the hairs standing on end as if she were standing in a lightning storm. She knew he was searching for the dimples. "Damn the firelight."

She laughed again, her mind leaving the world behind.

"You think this is funny?" He turned her bottom toward the fire, her feet caught in a tangle of petticoat and her heart in a tangle of time. What he did next made her laugh even more. He playfully smacked a hand against her bare skin. An almost animal sound came from him as she felt his tongue delve into the hollow of each little dimple at her back. "You are perfection. Do you know that?" he said while straightening from his crouched position. He put his foot between her legs, standing on the underskirt wrapped around her ankles, and whispered in her ear, "Step out of the petticoat, darling, and you're mine."

With hands strong, firm, and rough from so much work, he spun her about and found her mouth immediately. The kiss was passion fired by desire and coaxed with a longing she recognized in herself. Her lips were plump from his ardent kisses. Her tongue tingled when he pulled away.

"If you can find the bed yourself, I'll be right behind you."

Smiling, she bit her lip and nodded. "Don't take your time. You aren't the only one ready to end it all." She crawled up on the high bed. The room was more lavish than she had expected. From what she could see, the bed curtains were velvet, the frame polished to a sheen, and the wood smelled like freshly cut mahogany. The counterpane was already pulled back at an angle, attesting to either his own ritual or to a thorough chambermaid. The color looked to match the drapes, but it could have been black or navy blue. Shedding light on it wasn't worth finding out.

He threw his jacket and waistcoat on one of two chairs before the fire. His cravat lay on the floor where he left it when he was kissing her dimples. His trousers were off before she could blink. And who would want to waste that infinitesimal breach in vision and miss the heady look of a chiseled manly form obviously made for the little death.

Sunshine would not have been surprised if he had dove onto the bed from three feet out. Instead, he ate up the space and crawled on top of the bed without any difficulty despite the extra height of the frame. He hovered over her, spreading her legs with his knee and leaned in for a smothering kiss.

"Please tell me again that you aren't an innocent because I don't think I can wait."

She took his face between her hands, lifting up her head to meet him. She plunged her tongue into his mouth and heard him groan a swear. Then deliciously, quickly, thoroughly, he thrust his hard beautiful self inside her, sending a rush of blood to her head and a cry of pleasure from her throat. He took her quickly. He came hard. And thankfully, she remembered the rhythm that brought on the most wonderful sensation two people could cultivate.

He lay against her, leaning on his elbows, pinning her between them, and panting near her ear. "I'm sorry."

With her legs wrapped around his narrow hips, she relished the last beats of her own pleasure, then lay back, breathing in deeply the rush of their ardor. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. Her eyes were closed in a dream. "I wouldn't have had it any other way." She looked up at him. "I think it's been a while for us both."

He brushed the hair from her forehead. "We have all night."

"My carriage turns into a pumpkin at midnight. Or did you forget?"

He pulled away, gathering a sheet to take the brunt of the mess. She'd forgotten about that part. His stride was long, the flexed muscles down his back gleamed with tiny beads of sweat. Digging through his jacket, he pulled out the watch, made a good show of checking it, and then announced. "It's not quite midnight."

"But we unmasked ourselves."

"My timepiece is often wrong." He checked the watch again, his finger following the round curve of glinting gold. "Ah, yes, I see the problem. I inadvertently changed the hands when I cleaned it last. We have hours yet." He tossed the timepiece onto his rumpled waistcoat, the gold case winking against rich, red paisley.

She pulled the clean side of the sheet up over her breasts and enjoyed the devouringly seductive glare in Phin's eyes as he stalked her. He reached out and ripped the sheet from her clutches. A radiating determination in his eyes bore into her, and she could hardly look at him without laughing.

"You are far more charming without your clothes," she said. "If you had given a hint of skin while you stood behind that potted plant, I would have dragged you up here myself."

"Now you understand my problem because you, my dear, had skin aplenty to feast my eyes upon."

"And what do you think now?" she asked boldly while her heart waited a beat for a rush of manly approval. It shouldn't matter. But it absolutely did.

"I think we've spent too much time talking when all I can think about is touching you, tasting you. My mouth is watering for that delicious little pink tip." His gaze fell to her breast.

Heat rose to her cheeks, undefinable by the shadows, and her body responded of its own accord. She stretched her arms over her coyly tilted head, unable to stop the wicked smile spreading across her cheeks, and worshipped him with a half-lidded gaze. Having never given a thought of being a man's mistress, she truly felt like one tonight. The erotic sensation made her feel alive. No more dark clothes between her and the world. No more clothes at all between her and this man.

She fell into oblivion as his mouth softened over her nipple, and when his tongue stroked the peak, she lost the ability to think at all.