Page 14 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“What do you mean?” she whispered, with her voice breathy.
“You asked me earlier about rebelling.” He stepped even nearer towards her, testing the waters, giving her every chance to pull back from him if she wished to. “Would you like a taste of rebellion?”
Her eyes were the ones to flit down to his lips on this occasion. She smiled a little, then bit her lip rather nervously.
“A first taste of rebellion?” she said, her smile growing. “Well, I may want another taste after that.”
“Oh, I hope you will.” He tilted his head, angling towards her own. When she raised herself on her toes, his breath hitched in his chest.
A rebellion we can share together.
He kissed her, placing his lips to hers. At first, any fear he’d had that his ridiculous mask would get in the way plagued him, but then such fears faded away. Her lips were soft against his, gentle, and what began as just a brush of lips changed when her other hand came up between them. The way her fingers curled around the lapel of his jacket made something leap in his chest.
He angled his head further against hers and pushed the kiss a little further, making his lips firmer and begging an entrance with a playful nip to her bottom lip. When she parted her lips, he brought up his other hand, placing it softly on the curve of her waist and bringing her body to his.
Their tongues caressed one another. Far from being like any dance he had known before, the sensuality and the passion of it left his body tense and aching to know more of this pleasure. Something about this mysterious woman before him with violet-hued eyes put his body on edge, imagining things he knew he should not be imagining.
A sound beyond the terrace made them both pull back, their lips falling apart, though they did not release each other. They still had hands clasped together, her hand upon his lapel and his other on the curve of her waist.
They both looked to the other end of the path, watching warily in case someone discovered them. A few seconds later, a drunken man ambled past with a carafe of whisky in his grasp. He howled at the moon and walked further into the garden, taking no notice of them.
They stayed silent until he had passed, then she giggled, and it broke the silence between them. Edward chuckled, too, quite entranced by her reaction. Most ladies might have run from him by now, terrified of discovery, but not her.
“How was your first taste of rebellion?” he whispered, with his head bent down towards her again.
“Better than I could possibly describe.” She inhaled deeply, looking up at him, those violet eyes even more striking than before in this light. “I should return to the ballroom, for my sister will be wondering where I am, though rest assured I will not be forgetting this night in a hurry.”
He released her waist, lifting their clasped hands and turning them over so he could kiss the back. The whole time, he held her gaze, and he slowly slid the glove down from her elbow and across her wrist, revealing a bare spot that he could kiss. The touch of their skin together made a heat spread through him, and he judged himself not to be the only one for a pink hue spread across the delicate line of her neck and collarbone.
“Until next time,” he murmured.
“Next time?” She laughed. “You and I do not know one another. We might never recognize each other again.”
“After a kiss like that, I have a feeling you and I will find each other again. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
He kissed the inside of her wrist once more, feeling the excited tremble as it passed up through her arm, and then she backed up. Her fingers slowly slid out of his own, and she turned away, hurrying down the path. At the end, as she stepped out of the canopy of ivy and onto the stairs, she hesitated and glanced back.
She was so striking to him that Edward was certain of one thing as she waved a hand to smile in goodbye.
Mask or no mask, I will recognize you anywhere.
***
“You did what!?” Violet spluttered as they entered the chamber where Juliet was to spend the night in her sister’s house.
Juliet hurried in front of her, tearing the mask off her face as she shook and realized just how mad it may have been to reveal the truth of all that had happened to her sister that night.
“Erm, well …” Juliet murmured as Violet slammed the door shut behind her and leaned upon it.
No words passed between them as Juliet busied herself by gathering a tinderbox and lighting a candle. She placed the burning tallow flame on a small chest of drawers and turned to face her sister.
“Well?” Violet said expectantly, her eyes growing wide. “You kissed a masked man, and you think nothing of it?”
“On the contrary, I think much of it,” Juliet said with a sigh of satisfaction, sitting down on the foot of the bed.
“Juliet!” Violet hissed, but it was not with the anger that Juliet had expected. Her sister gathered a stool from a vanity table and pulled it in front of the bed, hastily sitting down too and turning to face Juliet. Her smile was broad, her manner eager, so much so that she was in danger of falling off her stool. “Are you in earnest? You danced with a man once and decided you liked him so much that you kissed him outside of that ballroom?”
