CHAPTER 3

HE STUMBLED TO A STOP on the last step from the terrace into the gardens. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said I want to go to The Black Swan. You promised to take me to any place I wished to visit, but could never go on my own." The impudent baggage reminded him.

"I think I had in mind something like Cremorne Gardens, or maybe a private dinner. Not the most exclusive and notorious pleasure club in London."

"Exclusive, uh? Are you saying you don't have access to it?" She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "How disappointing."

He felt his indignation rise at the implication. "For your information, I'm practically a founding member of the club. But that is not the reason I can't take you there. You are a sheltered young lady. Do you have any idea what goes on in there?"

"I do, actually. But I've never experienced it. That's why I want to go."

He had never met a woman more capable of perplexing him. "I thought you said you didn't want a dalliance."

"I don't. I just want to watch."

A wicked smile stretched his lips as they reached the street, and he ordered his carriage to be brought around. "A little voyeur, are you? That can be enjoyable as well. Fine, let's go, but I don't want any maidenly vapors."

Now she was the one indignant. "I've never had the vapors in my life!"

"I bet neither have you ever seen what you are about to witness," he said as he handed her into his coach and they were off.

THE CLUB WAS NOT WHAT she had imagined. When the carriage stopped in front of an elegant house in Soho, she thought he had brought her to the wrong place. Surely this was a respectable townhouse and not a house of sin? Maybe he had tricked her and simply brought her to another ball. Or... a darker thought obscured her mind. What if he had brought her to his home, to have his wicked way with her? He had promised not to take advantage, but maybe she had been a fool to believe him. A fool to leave the ball with an unknown man.

"We are here, sweet. Having second thoughts?"

"This doesn't look like the place," she informed him with a frown.

"I assure you it is."

"This looks like an elegant and thoroughly respectable residence. Is this your home? I won't go in with you."

He laughed. A full belly laugh, as if she had said something hilarious.

"I'm amused that you think my house would be respectable."

"It's not?" she asked, her eyes wide.

His laughter subsided, but he still studied her with amusement. "I'm sure it appears respectable. What goes on inside is another matter altogether. Just like this house. Trust me, once you have crossed the threshold, the impression of respectability won't last long. Which reminds me, you need a mask and domino. Half the Ton frequents this place. If people recognize you inside, it won't do your reputation any favors."

She frowned and looked down at her ballgown. She had not even brought her cloak. That's what happens when you exit a ball through the gardens instead of by the front door. "I don't have a mask with me. And I left my cloak in Maxwell House."

"Not a problem. The club lends those articles to the ladies who wish to remain anonymous but lacked the fore planning to bring their own. If you'll allow me, I'll descend, procure a mask and hooded cloak, and bring them to you."

At her nod of approval, he jumped from the coach with athletic grace and skipped up the steps of the townhouse. From behind the curtains of the coach, she watched as he talked briefly to a burly footman who opened the door and then admitted him inside. Not two minutes later, he came back out with a beautifully decorated mask that would conceal most of her face, leaving only her mouth visible, and a dark, hooded cloak that would cover her from head to toe.

Back in the coach, he helped her put it on and then handed her down. "Ready for your adventure, princess?"

"Why do you call me that?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

He shrugged. "You have the imperiousness of a royal princess. And I still don't know your name."

She humphed at the glib explanation, but then they were inside the house. At first glance, she still saw no signs of impropriety. It seemed as if a perfectly respectable gathering was taking place. She passed tastefully decorated rooms. Men and women in elegant gowns and suits conversed and music was drifting down the corridor.

"Would you like to check out the ballroom? Maybe you'd honor me with a dance?"

"That would be lovely, yes."

He led her down the corridor to a set of double doors, and footmen standing on each side opened them. Inside, the ballroom was exquisite. Done in tones of gold and burgundy. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkling with candles, but the light was subdued, as if to keep the secrets of the attendees.

He smoothly glided her onto the dance floor and spun her about to the strains of a waltz. It didn't take her long to surmise he was a superb dancer. One who moved with effortless grace and provided a strong lead.

"I love the way you feel in my arms." He looked at her with half-lidded eyes and her heart stuttered, and then galloped.

"You are holding me too close." Now why was her voice coming a bit breathless? It had to be the effect of the dance.

His head dipped, and his lips brushed her ear as he replied. "Not nearly as close as I would want to."

She stumbled a bit, but his arms held her securely, his feet never faltering as he covered her misstep.

"You are flirting," she accused, but it came out imbued in wonderment.

"You sound surprised. I'm dancing with a gorgeous woman, in a place designed for seduction and decadence. What else am I to do?"

"Behave," she admonished. "This is just an exploratory excursion for me. I'm not looking to be seduced."

"Maybe it's me who is being seduced. By your perfume, your velvety voice. Those plush lips..." he groaned. "Don't bite them."

"Bite them?" She had not realized she did that.

"Yes. Right now, you sank your teeth into your lower lip. And I can't stand it. I want to bite it myself. And then soothe it with my tongue."

She released her lip with a gasp and turned her face to meet his gaze. The music swirled around them, their bodies moving in unison with the torrent of melody. But their gazes locked, engaged in a different kind of dance. Unfortunately, that brought their mouths entirely too close. Those heavy-lidded eyes settled on her mouth, and her lips tingled as if he were touching them.

Slowly, his head dipped a bit more until their lips almost touched. Their breaths mingled. He was going to kiss her any moment now. And she was powerless to resist him. But he surprised her again by not doing that.

"Kiss me," he begged, instead. Leaving the decision in her hands. As if she could deny him. Her face lifted the last fraction, and she pressed her mouth to his. His lips were warm, and so soft. She had not expected lips that looked so sculpted and firm to be so pliant. Their velvety texture invited her to explore. Going on instinct alone, she rubbed her lips against his.

He groaned, and his hold on her tightened, bringing their bodies flush. The kiss deepened as he took possession of her mouth. The floor beneath her seemed to dip and undulate. She was positive she would have fallen if not for his powerful arms supporting her.

His mouth was demanding, his lips sliding sensuously across hers, sucking at her lower lip. Then a soft bite had her groaning and opening her mouth. He took advantage of the opening to plunder her mouth with his tongue. She was glad she had never experienced a kiss before. Glad she didn't know what it involved. If someone else had tried to do this, she would have objected. But with him...the caress of his mouth provoked a hunger in her. He kissed the same way he danced. With uncompromising command, with elegant grace and ultimate expertise.

His tongue teased hers, seducing, inviting it to play. Timidly, she touched her tongue to his, and his deep groan of satisfaction provoked a corresponding arousal in her. She didn't know when they had stopped dancing, but she found herself pressed between a wall and his hard body. Their ragged breaths, straining bodies and devouring mouths, were her only reality. She had never imagined a kiss could be so carnal. So all-encompassing.

He tried to pull back. She wouldn't have it. Grabbing his lapels to hold him to her, she captured his lower lip with her teeth and bit it. Hard. He merely growled and lifted her off her feet with his hands on her bottom and carried her from the ballroom.

She had an impression of shadowy corridors and dark alcoves. When he set her down, their gazes locked and the energy pulsing between them was a tangible thing.

She looked away, breaking the connection. Afraid of it. He let her escape. For now.

"Had enough? Would you like to get out of here now?"

Her gaze snapped back to him. "Already? I have barely seen anything!"

His eyes narrowed. "Would you like to do a bit of exploring, then?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she replied breathlessly.

He took her hand and guided her through a door and into another corridor. This one was dimly lit and lined with small alcoves on both sides. "I believe you wanted to observe?"

"Y-yes?"

"Losing your nerve?"

That made her chin pop up. "No."

"Why are you so curious, anyway?"

"I've read naughty books," she confessed, her face aflame. But his only response was a delighted smile. Of course, he wouldn't find that scandalous. The man was a rake. Swallowing her nervousness, she continued. "But the act they describe...well, it doesn't sound very pleasurable for women. In fact, it seems downright painful, and I..."

"It can be. If the woman is not ready. If the man has not taken the time to prepare her," he answered honestly, and she heard no mockery in his tone. It only encouraged her more.

"Prepare her how?"

His head dipped, and he whispered in her ear. "I could show you anything you want. Answer any question you have...and still leave you a virgin."

Oh, he was temptation incarnate. But could she trust him? That was probably the line every rake used before deflowering an innocent. And yet, she had come here with him. To this place of sin. Did that mean that on some level, she trusted him?

He smiled, "I understand. You don't trust me enough for that. And you shouldn't. Tell you what, forget these voyeuristic pursuits. Come with me to the dining room. We can have a private dinner and talk. That's all I want for tonight."

Well...she had not expected an unrepentant rake to willingly give up a seduction. Strangely, that made her want to be seduced all the more.