Page 63 of From Duke Till Dawn
None of this was part of the plan.
“We’re here to look for Hughes.” He needed to remind himself.
“I’m grateful for the masks.” She glanced around. “But they make it hard to identify anyone.”
“Even the servants are masked.” He tipped his head toward a pretty, redheaded woman carrying a tray of wineglasses. When her tray was empty, she tucked it beneath her arm and took a man’s hand, then led him to a woman standing on her own. Through a few words and gestures, the servant made introductions, and within moments, the two strangers were locked in a passionate embrace. The serving woman moved away, satisfied by a job well done.
“Did you notice?” Cassandra murmured. “Around the servant’s throat...”
“A necklace.”
“An expensive bauble for someone who serves wine and acts as a go-between.”
Alex looked closer as the servant picked up empty glasses. Indeed, the necklace appeared a good deal more elaborate than a woman on servants’ wages might be able to afford. Triple strands of pearls formed swags between gleaming sapphires, with pearl drops hanging from each precious stone. Even from a distance, the quality was clear. Nothing was paste. There was something vulgar about the display—a well-bred woman would eschew elaborate adornment.
“A present from a grateful guest?” Alex suggested.
“Looks familiar...” Cassandra mused. The woman moved to another room, and Alex and Cassandra discreetly followed, observing her from the doorway.
“I don’t see how it can,” Alex noted. “It appears one of a kind.”
Cassandra swore softly under her breath. “Before the gaming hell opened, Martin and I went shopping for furnishings. We passed a jewelry shop. He stopped and admired a necklace. It looked almost identical to the one that woman’s wearing.”
“The connection might be there,” Alex said, considering. “She works for Hughes?”
“Or she’s his mistress,” Cassandra answered grimly.
“Makes sense.” Alex rubbed at his chin as he watched the woman move through the guests. “He’d give her something as a token of affection after he ran off with the money. If she lives in London, he might stay in town for her.” He glanced at the redhead, who was pouring glasses of wine. “We can follow her.”
“She’ll be here all night,” Cassandra pointed out. “We’ll need to wait her out, and follow her home once she gets off of work.”
Realization seemed to hit Alex and Cassandra at the same time. They stared at each other. Most likely, the club ran until the early hours of the morning. They were going to have to stay here—together—all night. Surrounded by blatant displays of carnality.
It was torture. It was heaven.
“Wine, friends?” The redhead approached them with two full glasses.
Alex wanted to snap, “Did Martin Hughes give you that necklace?” Instead, he said, “No, thank you.”
“None for me,” Cassandra added. The redhead smiled and moved on, heading into another room.
Wine would only fog Alex’s brain, and he needed to be perfectly in control tonight. This club was dangerous. More perilous than a room full of gunpowder and lit candles. He needed to be sharp and smart to make it through the night with his sanity intact.
“Shall we dance?” The words left his mouth before he could consider their wisdom.
She glanced toward the dance floor where couples waltzed. You couldn’t fit a leaf between their bodies. Some barely danced, merely swaying in place as they kissed or caressed their partners.
It was the absolute last thing they should do. He prayed she’d refuse.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Let’s dance.”
He took her hand in his. Neither wore gloves, their skin sliding against each other, absorbing heat. With deliberate, formal steps, he led her to where the others danced. They took up their positions, her hand on his shoulder, his at her waist, with their other hands clasped. But they didn’t allot the usual distance between their bodies. Her chest grazed his. They weren’t intimately entangled, yet each brush of her breasts against him sent molten heat through him, pooling in his cock.
She gazed up at him. Her face in the candlelight was a luminous thing, flushed and dewy. Beneath her mask, her pupils had grown large, dark and fathomless. Her lips were parted, and the tip of her tongue grazed her bottom lip, making it glisten.
They waited a heartbeat, then began to move with the music. Both of them knew the steps, moving in unison across the floor. They spun together. The room was a whirl of color and heat, substantial yet growing distant as he focused only on her. On the feel of her. The life and breath and flesh and warmth of her in his arms. She was lithe and supple, fragrant with roses and sweetness, and her own scent rising up from her skin in an invisible, intoxicating mist.
Nothing mattered more than thisnow. Her. Him. The press of her hips against his. The sway of them aligned and perfect, needing no words, boundaries dissolving. It no longer signified who had cheated whom, who had lied, who demanded more than the other could give. They were elemental. Man and woman in a timeless dance.
