CHAPTER 21

"FOUND ANYTHING YOU like?" Gabriel murmured in Hannah's ear, coming to her from behind. She squealed and jumped, closing the book with a snap and turning to him with red cheeks.

His eyes crinkled in amusement even as he wondered what could have caused her to startle so. They had been in the bookshop for the better part of an hour, captives of the weather, as the rain turned to a torrential downpour. Not that they had minded. Hannah had spent the time flitting from shelf to shelf, amassing quite a pile of books she wished to buy, to the owner's delight.

When she had examined every shelf on the ground floor, they had climbed the spiral staircase to the upper story. Up here, they were alone. For quite a while now, she had been engrossed in the book she held in her hands. He had been studying her, his salacious mind conjuring scenes of what he would like to do with her in this secluded corner.

"No. Nothing. It is of no interest." She tucked the book in the voluminous folds of her skirts, trying to hide it from his view. Which, of course, only piqued his interest further.

"Hmm, is that so? You have been absorbed in this book for quite some time now. Yes, I've been observing you," he added when her gaze flew to his. "What is it, Duchess?"

His hand caressed from her shoulder, sliding down her arm. The sturdy sleeve of her dress prevented him from feeling her downy skin beneath his fingers, but he enjoyed feeling the delicate shape of her. When he reached her hand, which still clutched the book, he retrieved it with little resistance from her fingers.

As soon as he saw the title, his eyebrows shot up while wicked humor made him smirk. Forbidden Liaisons: Desires Behind Closed Doors

"Shh, don't read it aloud," she admonished, looking around as if she expected a dozen people to jump out of the shelves and condemn her. He chuckled.

"Why, Duchess, this appears to be the most interesting subject." He opened the book, humming with delight to see that it was beautifully illustrated with explicit and suggestive images. "Oh, we definitely need to purchase this book," he crooned.

Her eyes became huge saucers of scandalized outrage. "Absolutely not. What will Mr. Kent think?"

"He will be too happy about all the money we are spending to care about the contents of any particular book."

"Still. I could not look him in the eye while purchasing such a book."

"Then I'll purchase it."

Her mouth set in a mulish line, but she offered no more protests, probably realizing they were useless. He was more determined than ever to possess this book. He needed to find out what had she found so riveting.

"Tell me, Duchess, was there anything that you found particularly fascinating?"

"No! It did not fascinate me. More like scandalized me."

"Yet you didn't look away."

"In the same way one can't look away from a wreckage."

Her protestations of outrage were so endearing. He couldn't wait to peel away all the layers of decorum that wrapped her to get to the molten core of her innate sensuality. Because he knew it was there. Just beneath the surface. He could sense the heat, and it called to him. Strange that no one had ever discovered, aroused, or allowed all that sensuality to overflow. But in a way, he was glad. It was for him alone.

He leaned closer, her delicate perfume teasing his nostrils as he whispered in her ear. "I will perform any act you may have found appealing."

She jumped back. His eyes, heavy-lidded with desire, met her wide-eyed gaze.

"Why must you tease me so?" she protested, but without heat, the stirring of desire making her voice velvety. It curled around his heart... and somewhere lower than that as well.

"I am not teasing. I'm promising."

He saw the moment her resolve asserted itself. Her chin lifted, and her eyebrows arched with the imperiousness of a queen. "And yet, all your promises have gone unfulfilled so far."

He grinned, loving the way she challenged him.

"Tonight," he crooned and had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes darken with anticipation.

But then her eyebrows pinched. "Where? How?"

Ah, his darling duchess. She was always demanding answers, trying to know and control everything. He had not worked out all the details, only knew he couldn't wait anymore. The fire had been building up between them for days now. With every word, every touch, every moment they spent in each other's company, it had been growing into a conflagration. And judging by the mirror flames dancing in her eyes, she felt it too.

Oh, yes. When they came together, it wouldn't be out of duty. Not a means to an end. It would be out of a need that neither could deny any longer. There was no reason to delay.

A sudden idea popped into his mind, and he didn't stop to ponder it. Just went with his instinct.

"Would you like to go to a masquerade?" he asked her.

"A masquerade? Where?"

"An exclusive pleasure club."

"I assume there won't be an unmasking," she asked tentatively, incipient enthusiasm coloring her tone.

He just shook his head slowly, holding her gaze. "Most people in attendance will wish to keep their identities a secret." Then he dipped his head to whisper in her ear. "I'll unmask you later. In private. Layer by layer."

Her eyes sparked with excitement now, while her cheeks colored a becoming rose. "In that case, yes. I would like to attend. What's the theme?"

"The invitation said a Venetian Masquerade."

"Hmm, easy then. A long domino. A mask. I believe I have the proper attire." Another tiny furrow appeared between her eyebrows. "But we can't leave my house together. The servants will know."

She was right. It was the reason he didn't employ many. Thinking fast, he came up with a plan.

"Do you have an invitation to the Stratton ball tonight?"

"Yes, of course, but how does that help? We can't attend a society ball together, either."

Gritting his teeth to tamp down his annoyance at her constant reminders that they could not be seen together, he replied, "We will arrive separately and need not acknowledge each other at the ball. After making our presence known, we can slip out early. The place will be such a crush that I doubt anyone will notice. Dismiss your coachman when you arrive. Tell him you will return with friends. We will leave in my carriage, and I'll bring you back to your home in the early hours of the morning. Does that meet your approval?"

"Yes. Don't be cross," she added sheepishly, stepping closer to him and placing one delicate hand on his chest. It singed and soothed him, even through all the layers of clothing. "I don't like the need for secrecy any more than you do, but you know the reason."

He wasn't cross. Not with her, at any rate. Maybe with life, fate, circumstances, or whatever one might call it. He hated the need for secrecy. Despised all the sneaking around, the lies, the subterfuge. He would have liked to court this woman out in the open. To be seen with her. Dance with her at balls, take her on strolls in the park, proudly claim her in front of all society. It was impossible, of course. The very nature of their relationship prohibited that.

Their relationship was, as his whole life had been: a dirty, shameful secret.