"And lower your
hood. I can see your hair, be it natural or not. Do you have a temper to
match?"
With a loud gasp, his guest ceased all movement and put
her hands to her mask. "The hood stays, the temper is renowned. You give
me your word for our continued privacy?"
Tony wasn't used to being questioned thus,
especially by a female. However if he wanted to find out what was going on, and
be ready to act as host at his Mama's ball, he'd better get things moving.
"My word as a Sentern, or a gentleman or
whatever you choose. This encounter stays between us." There was a knock
on the door. What little of her face he could see paled and she gasped once
more. What is it with young women and
gasps? Stupid noise. "And
Ashton, my doorman. Who let you in, and who is now waiting to bring me a
jug of ale."
“Ah.” His Lady of Mystery bit her lip. "Then
that is fine."
Thank the lord, or I
might die of thirst before she tells me her errand.
Tony waited until Ashton had left the room.
"So, my lady. Mask off, cards on
the table. Unless you wish me to do it for you? But be
assured I won't stop at the mask." Why was he goading her like that? It
was unfair, as well he knew. Anything he did or said , she could do nothing about, as it would mean admitting she'd behaved in such a
scandalous manner.
“Really?” She sounded
interested, not apprehensive. "What else?"
He raised one eyebrow, in a manner designed to
intimidate. "Do you really want to find out?"
"Hmm…" She put one finger to her lips, and
nibbled the nail.
At the sight of such an unconsciously erotic gesture,
Tony's skin tightened, and his heart sped up.
"Is it worth it, I wonder?"
It seemed the intimidation didn't work.
Chapter
Two
Susanna Campion hid a grin. Little did Anthony know
that she was under no illusion: if he, Lord Sentern, knew the full reason for
her visit she'd not be able to sit comfortably for a week. Sadly not for the reasons she'd read about, either.
"I wonder? Perhaps not now," she said in a
dulcet tone. She decided to go one step further than she'd told him. With one
hand—still steady, she was pleased to note—she slid her hood back to spread over
her shoulders, and pushed an errant red curl from her forehead. Then she undid
the ties of the loo mask to let it dangle from one finger, before allowing it
to drop to the floor. Really, playing a simpering miss was exhausting. "Lady
Susanna Campion, my lord." She stood up, walked toward him, and looked him
in the eyes. Why had no one ever mentioned how his dark grey irises were shot
with silver streaks? They glittered in the pale spring sunshine filtering
though the windows, and she shivered under his intense gaze. "I have come
to ask you a favor." Susanna, eyes downcast, clasped her hands behind her
back. Why did she feel the urge to kneel? Probably because Jane had told her it
was the way to greet your Master. Tony might not be he, but he had such an air
about him, Susanna needed to force herself to stay as
she was. So much depended on this interview.
In such close proximity to him, she could smell his
citrus cologne and a hint of tobacco mixed with what she privately called ‘the
essence of all-man’… earthy, musky and powerful. How many women would admit to
being aroused by a sense of power in a man? It made her skin tingle and her pulse
race in readiness for whatever should happen. So few men seemed to possess it
to the degree she scented on Tony, which was a shame for womankind. The
wonderment of what it might intimate was the perfect aphrodisiac. But then, how
many women admitted their sexuality? Not enough, if one listened to the gossip
at soirees.
Her stomach muscles clenched as she waited for his
answer. Behind her the tick of the long case clock sounded over-loud, and the
hiss of a coal as it slipped in the grate set her nerves one notch higher.
Susanna dug her fingernails into her palms. The pain served to remind her why
she was there. Eventually, just as she thought she'd give
hood. I can see your hair, be it natural or not. Do you have a temper to
match?"
With a loud gasp, his guest ceased all movement and put
her hands to her mask. "The hood stays, the temper is renowned. You give
me your word for our continued privacy?"
Tony wasn't used to being questioned thus,
especially by a female. However if he wanted to find out what was going on, and
be ready to act as host at his Mama's ball, he'd better get things moving.
"My word as a Sentern, or a gentleman or
whatever you choose. This encounter stays between us." There was a knock
on the door. What little of her face he could see paled and she gasped once
more. What is it with young women and
gasps? Stupid noise. "And
Ashton, my doorman. Who let you in, and who is now waiting to bring me a
jug of ale."
“Ah.” His Lady of Mystery bit her lip. "Then
that is fine."
Thank the lord, or I
might die of thirst before she tells me her errand.
Tony waited until Ashton had left the room.
"So, my lady. Mask off, cards on
the table. Unless you wish me to do it for you? But be
assured I won't stop at the mask." Why was he goading her like that? It
was unfair, as well he knew. Anything he did or said , she could do nothing about, as it would mean admitting she'd behaved in such a
scandalous manner.
“Really?” She sounded
interested, not apprehensive. "What else?"
He raised one eyebrow, in a manner designed to
intimidate. "Do you really want to find out?"
"Hmm…" She put one finger to her lips, and
nibbled the nail.
At the sight of such an unconsciously erotic gesture,
Tony's skin tightened, and his heart sped up.
"Is it worth it, I wonder?"
It seemed the intimidation didn't work.
Chapter
Two
Susanna Campion hid a grin. Little did Anthony know
that she was under no illusion: if he, Lord Sentern, knew the full reason for
her visit she'd not be able to sit comfortably for a week. Sadly not for the reasons she'd read about, either.
"I wonder? Perhaps not now," she said in a
dulcet tone. She decided to go one step further than she'd told him. With one
hand—still steady, she was pleased to note—she slid her hood back to spread over
her shoulders, and pushed an errant red curl from her forehead. Then she undid
the ties of the loo mask to let it dangle from one finger, before allowing it
to drop to the floor. Really, playing a simpering miss was exhausting. "Lady
Susanna Campion, my lord." She stood up, walked toward him, and looked him
in the eyes. Why had no one ever mentioned how his dark grey irises were shot
with silver streaks? They glittered in the pale spring sunshine filtering
though the windows, and she shivered under his intense gaze. "I have come
to ask you a favor." Susanna, eyes downcast, clasped her hands behind her
back. Why did she feel the urge to kneel? Probably because Jane had told her it
was the way to greet your Master. Tony might not be he, but he had such an air
about him, Susanna needed to force herself to stay as
she was. So much depended on this interview.
In such close proximity to him, she could smell his
citrus cologne and a hint of tobacco mixed with what she privately called ‘the
essence of all-man’… earthy, musky and powerful. How many women would admit to
being aroused by a sense of power in a man? It made her skin tingle and her pulse
race in readiness for whatever should happen. So few men seemed to possess it
to the degree she scented on Tony, which was a shame for womankind. The
wonderment of what it might intimate was the perfect aphrodisiac. But then, how
many women admitted their sexuality? Not enough, if one listened to the gossip
at soirees.
Her stomach muscles clenched as she waited for his
answer. Behind her the tick of the long case clock sounded over-loud, and the
hiss of a coal as it slipped in the grate set her nerves one notch higher.
Susanna dug her fingernails into her palms. The pain served to remind her why
she was there. Eventually, just as she thought she'd give
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