Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

G enevieve fought not to quiver at Lord Tyndall's touch as he led her onto the dance floor. The sound of a waltz drifted from the minstrel's galley as Tyndall pulled her into his arms. The sensation of being wrapped in protective, strong arms ran through her. She took a calming breath and fought to appear to be the sophisticated stranger who had caught his eye rather than the scared, innocent debutante she was.

The scent of sandalwood, mixed with lavender, teased her senses and did little to help her nerves. Damn, the man smelled good enough to devour.

What was she doing touching Tyndall so intimately? Running her finger across his lips indeed. Had she lost all sense of decorum and, well, sense?

If he ever found out that she, Lady Genevieve, was the mystery woman behind the mask, he may well indeed feel inclined to take her over his lap and spank her. Not to mention, he would undoubtedly tell her parents of her escapades without them.

"I must know who you are. It is unfair that you know my name, but I've yet to learn yours." His mischievous grin made her stomach flutter, and she bit her lip, unsure how to proceed. She was never one to flirt and had not learned the art, but somehow, this situation called for it.

Oh dear, how to not fail miserably and embarrass herself more.

His eyes swirled with a determination she wasn't sure she could hold off. His attention settled on her mouth, and she swallowed, nerves overcoming her composure.

"I don't believe that is the point of a masque ball, my lord. In fact, you should have one on yourself to remain anonymous."

"I came from the Southcott ball and did not have time to change."

The very ball she had been invited to, but her mama, in her snobbery, had deemed Lord and Lady Southcott not high enough in society to host the Duke and Duchess Curzon. So she, too, had to decline the invitation. Not that it mattered now. Now when she was at Lady Fraser's masque ball instead and dancing with Tyndall.

She ought to loathe him forever. He embarrassed her beyond redemption in her youth, but still, she was not blind, nor could she ignore that his lordship was one of the most handsome gentlemen in London.

His teeth were ideal, his nose straight but not imposing, and his brows arched perfectly above his large almond-shaped eyes. Not to mention, his hair was thick, with a sweet waviness to it. He would make any woman's head turn.

The problem, of course, was that Tyndall knew his effect on women and loved every moment of being worshipped by the fairer sex.

"Well, it is unfortunate you cannot partake in the mystery of the night, but that does not mean that I will not continue to do so." She spoke with a lowered voice, one she had practiced and intended to use when around Mr. Venzellons, who unfortunately was not present this evening.

But that did not matter. She would surely see him at the Miller's outdoor ball tomorrow evening and could practice her more mature, seductive voice on him then.

Lord Tyndall spun her about during the dance, and Genevieve laughed, enjoying this amusing and teasing side of her enemy she had never seen before. He would not be so if he knew who was in his arms. Oh, how angry he would be. Probably drag her from the ball without a backward glance and little care as to who saw.

The thought of him not knowing who she was sparked a mischievous idea in her mind, and the more she dwelled on it, the more she wished to see just how far she could push his interest. She had yet to enjoy her first kiss, and who better to kiss than an old family friend who would never hurt her or ask for more than she was willing to give?

"You are one mystery I would like to solve."

Genevieve's body shivered at his words. The deep timbre that brooked no argument was as intoxicating as his pretty visage. Was he trying to seduce her really? He did not know who she was at all. Was this how those termed rakes and rogues were around women they desired? The idea that she was receiving such interest was dizzying and all too alluring to stop now.

"Well, you cannot unveil me, but perhaps I can gift you one boon." Had she really said those words? Could she follow through on her idea and offer Tyndall a kiss? Her first?

"If that one boon is all I'm to receive this night, please let it be that I get to kiss your sweet lips. You're so beautiful. I must taste you just once."

Genevieve swallowed and rallied her nerves. She had never kissed a man in her life, and now she needed to appear as if she knew what she was about.

Maybe he thought she was a woman who sold her trade on Drury Lane. Or a widow of a wealthy, titled gentleman. She was neither of those things, of course. She was a maid, an inexperienced woman in her third Season who had yet to have her first kiss.

She didn't want to appear as if she were untutored and green. Dear Lord, that would be another embarrassment at the hands of Tyndall she would never recover from. And yet, she had offered and needed to be assertive. How hard could it be to kiss a man? All would be well if she merely copied what he did and did not panic.

The dance came to an end, and conveniently, Lord Tyndall swirled them to a stop away from the ballroom floor in a quiet corner no one else occupied.

"So you wish to kiss me, Lord Tyndall. How thrilling," she teased, stepping close, another action she presumed all ladies did before kissing a man. His eyes darkened, and his arms snaked about her waist, wrenching her close.

She gasped, not expecting him to do such a thing or the reaction her body had to his touch. Heat and need settled in parts of her she did not know existed, and hunger took hold of her person.

Her hands fluttered to his chest, the hardened muscles, his beating heart warming the palms of her hands. Without fear, she slipped her arms over his shoulders and played with the hair at his nape.

"Now is your chance if you wish to do so," she stated, hoping he would not relent and flee, disappointing her.

Without a word of warning, his mouth crashed against hers. His lips were soft but demanded a response. Genevieve gasped. The feel of his lips on hers startled her, enthralled too. He moved against her, seducing her with his wicked kiss. His tongue teased, a sensation so different and sweet that she copied his lead.

She pressed against him, her body acting without thought. He walked them backward until her back hit the wall. Finally, she could feel all of him, his hardened muscles, his lust for her that pressed into her stomach.

His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her against his body. His manhood felt immense, and Genevieve fumbled to remain standing. Was she doing this to him? Making him lose his self-control?

Any moment now, he would wrench away with the realization of whom he was kissing. Demand to know if she knew what she was doing. Force her to tell her parents about her outrageous behavior.

But after several more devastating kisses, he did not.

Instead, he groaned, the sound laced with need and longing. Begged for her name and made her almost whisper it back.

She could not tell him who she was. This night, this kiss would forever be her secret, and his to always wonder about.

A warm sensation built between her legs, and she pressed against his manhood. He undulated against her, making her feel wonderful, pushing her toward a sensation that promised to be worth the risk.

He sucked in a breath, his kiss deepened, became frantic and savage. At some point, her fingers slipped into his hair, fisting his locks, holding him close as if to never let him go.

And right then, Genevieve certainly wished she never had to.

"Genevieve, where are you?" she distantly heard Matilda call before her friend's shocked squeak sounded nearby.

Lord Tyndall wrenched her away and she stumbled before righting her footing. He stared at her, his eyes wide, his cheeks pink, his lips swollen from their kiss. His attention moved from her to Matilda, who no longer wore a mask.

"I'm sorry, Genevieve. I did not know you were… You were…"

She stared at Lord Tyndall and raised her chin, relishing yet regretting the horror written on her enemy's visage.

"Lady Genevieve?" he rasped, his voice bewildered.

With no other option and knowing she could not lie, she grinned. "The one and only, Lord Tyndall." She stepped close to him and ignored his slight flinch. "I suppose the kiss I longed for at fifteen was finally granted. Maybe I should thank you." Genevieve managed the words with a casual air, but she did not feel so nonchalant. "It was better than I thought it would be," she declared before linking arms with Matilda and leaving Lord Tyndall gaping after them in their wake.