Page 25 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
Her heart seemed to stop as she glanced upward at the tall, powerful figure looming over her. Mandell’s face was a blend of light and shadow. As in that night in the garden, he was garbed in unrelenting darkness from the satin of his frock coat to his ebony hair to the black of his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she said. “I hoped that you had already gone.”
That expressive brow of his shot upward. “Faith, milady, but you are hard upon a man’s vanity. Are you merely overwhelmed by my presence or have you lost something?”
“What?” Anne stammered, conscious of her ridiculous position, kneeling at his feet. “No, I haven’t. That—that is, I dropped my—my?—”
“I believe you ladies call it a reticule.”
To Anne’s horror, he bent down beside her, reaching for the purse. His unexpected appearance had caused her to freeze, but now she was galvanized into movement. She dove for the purse herself, but she was too late. Mandell’s long fingers had already closed about the reticule.
Anne held her breath, half expecting the damning contents to come tumbling out. But the clasp had miraculously closed in thefall. There was only a slight hesitation on Mandell’s part before he handed the purse to her.
Had he noticed anything unusual? If so, he did not betray it by the flicker of an eyelash. He seemed concerned only with placing a steadying hand beneath her elbow and helping her to her feet.
As soon as she was standing, Anne shrank from his touch. She realized her heart was beating again with an almost painful rapidity. Since their last meeting, Mandell had assumed a supernatural presence in her thoughts, something dark, wild, and threatening to her peace of mind.
Resisting the urge to whip the purse behind her back, Anne said with what dignity she could muster, “Thank you, my lord, but now?—”
“Now that I have performed this trifling service, you wish to send me to the devil. That would be a great pity, with you looking so lovely tonight.”
Anne shied as skittishly as a high-strung colt when Mandell reached out to touch the curve of her cheek. “I like what you have done with your hair,” he murmured. “The softer style becomes you. As does the cut of the gown.”
His gaze lowered to her décolletage. Lily had selected the design of the dress. Anne had said all along she feared the gown was too revealing. Under Mandell’s bold eyes, she was sure of it. He added, “The effect would be even more enchanting in a garden by moonlight.”
Anne’s cheeks fired. How could he be so shameless as to remind her of their last encounter?
“I have nothing to say to you,” she remarked. “If you have come to apologize, I would prefer you just sent round a note.”
“I would be happy to send you notes, flowers, anything else you desire, Sorrow. But what would you have me apologize for?”
Anne’s gaze came uncomfortably to rest upon the outline of that sensual mouth. “You know full well!”
“Ah, that! You expect me to express my gentlemanly regrets for kissing you. That would be both rude and untruthful.” He captured her hand. Holding her eyes with his own, he raised her fingertips to his lips. “I fear I cannot say that I am sorry. Do you really want me to?”
“I—I,” Anne faltered. It was so easy for him to fluster and confuse her. The contact of his mouth against her hand was fleeting, but enough to send a shiver of heat coursing through her. “I just want you to go away.”
Mandell released her hand, his eyes narrowing. “Why do I get the feeling that I am more than usually unwelcome? Are you worried I will frighten away your other admirers?”
“I don’t have any admirers.”
“That’s where you are quite mistaken, my dear.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up. Her breath snagged in her throat. She thought he would be bold enough to kiss her again, here in the theatre where anyone below in the pit might see. For a moment, she had difficulty remembering she had vowed never to let this man come near her again.
Somewhat unsteadily, she put his hand away from her. “Please stop teasing me. By now you must be quite aware that I don’t know how to flirt. You must have laughed yourself nigh ill at the way I bolted from the garden like a frightened rabbit.” She could not prevent the tiny catch in her voice, the hurt and humiliation still so fresh in her mind.
“Nay, Sorrow. I had not the least inclination to laugh. The garden was a cold and lonely place after you had gone.” Mandell’s words were as warm as a caress. Anne had never known any man so practiced in the art of seduction. He constantly made her feel as though the ground were about to shift beneath her feet.
She frowned. “Then I don’t understand. If not for your own amusement, why do you keep seeking me out? What is it that you want?”
“You.”
The low spoken syllable sent a jolt through her entire system. All her anxieties over the desperate scheme to get Norrie back were driven clean out of her head. Anne did not remember bending her knees to sit, but she sagged down upon her chair. She barely managed to keep her grip on the purse, burying it in the folds of her gown.
“Are you cold?” Mandell asked.
Anne watched him retrieve her cashmere shawl from where it had tumbled to the floor. He draped the soft folds about her, his hands lingering on her shoulders.
Still in shock, Anne was certain she could not have heard him right.
