Rosemary Rogers - Scandalous Deception

Necessity, however, was most certainly a pleasure as he sampled her lush, sensual lips, her breath tasting of mint and pure magic. Tightening his arms around her, Edmond swept her completely off her feet and cradled her tiny, squirming body tight against his chest.

“Here now, Huntley, you said you weren’t interested,” his cousin protested. “Where are you going?”

Edmond ignored him, just as he ignored the whistles of drunken enjoyment as he turned and headed for the nearby door. He continued the deep, relentless kiss as the crowd readily parted and he made his way down the hall and up the staircase to the bedrooms above.

Entering the first open door, Edmond kicked it shut with his foot and slowly lowered the woman to her feet, his lips never leaving her mouth as he savored the sweetness that had him hard and aching, despite his annoyance with her untimely interruption.

It would damn well be worth having to track down Howard later if he could spread this wench’s legs and bury his throbbing erection into her heat. He sensed she could offer him the sort of intense satisfaction any gentleman would sell his soul to achieve.

Reluctantly lifting his head, Edmond wrenched off his ridiculous mask and glanced round the room, swiftly determining that it was one of the numerous bedchambers. The walls were paneled in pale rosewood with a molded marble chimneypiece near the door to the inner dressing room. It was no doubt attractively decorated, but he had no interest in anything beyond the curtained four-posted bed that was visible in the flickering firelight. Ah yes. That would do perfectly.

About to lead his companion toward the far side of the room, the woman halted his fine intentions as she began to struggle in earnest against his hold.

“Stop this,” she hissed, lifting her hands to pummel them against his chest. “Damn you, Edmond, let me go.”

Edmond stiffened as her commanding words echoed through the room. Mon dieu . He knew that voice.

With a sharp motion he ripped off her feathered mask, his eyes narrowing as her mass of vibrant curls tumbled down in a shimmering river of fire.

Brianna Quinn!

He should have recognized her the moment she approached him. They had been neighbors for years, at least until her mother had remarried and they had moved to London. And while it had been ten years since he had last laid eyes upon her, there could never be another with those cat-like green eyes and astonishing curls.

Of course, his memory of her included a small, too thin body and the unformed features of a child. She was usually covered in grime, her gown ripped in a dozen places from having climbed the orchard trees or devoted the morning to fishing with Stefan.

Now she was very much a woman, with skin as smooth as cream and lush lips that begged for a man’s kiss.

An exquisite bit of temptation who was leaving him hard and aching with a frustration that did nothing to improve his temper.

“Brianna Quinn,” he growled, a grim note underlying his voice. “I should have known. You are always showing up where you are least wanted.”

A blush stained her cheeks as she no doubt recalled the number of times she managed to interrupt his various seductions, when she was forever climbing into the hayloft or poking about the Conservatory.

“Perhaps unwanted by you, Edmond, since you were always up to some wicked pastime, but never by Stefan,” she retorted, clearly having changed in more ways than just physical. As a young girl, she had been terrified of him, always darting away when he glanced in her direction and stammering when she attempted to speak. He had called her ma souris: my mouse. Now she met his gaze squarely, her chin high and her expression stubborn. “Where is he?”

Edmond folded his arms across his chest, not even considering the possibility of a lie. Brianna had been one of the few people who had always managed to determine which twin was which.

“Comfortably tucked into his bed, I should imagine,” he drawled. “You know how devoted he is to country hours.”

She froze at his words, her ivory skin paling to a sickly white.

“He is still at Meadowland?”

“Yes.”

“But…” She scowled in genuine anger. Obviously she was not at all pleased to discover Stefan was not in London. “You are pretending to be the Duke. Why?”

He narrowed his gaze. This woman had already managed to wreck his evening of interrogating his dastardly cousin. On top of that, she had very nearly destroyed his charade—and had stirred the coals of his desire to a fever pitch. It was time that she explained her damnable presence at such a nefarious event.

“Actually, I think the better question is what the devil a supposedly respectable young lady is doing attending a Courtesan’s Ball,” he corrected.

She did not cringe or cower as he had expected. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him with flashing green eyes.

“I have no intention of answering any questions until I know why you are pretending to be the Duke of Huntley.”

“You are mistaken, ma souris .” Using his considerable height and weight to his advantage, Edmond backed the tiny woman against the wall, his expression hard with warning. “You will answer my each and every question, and you will do so this moment.”

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered with obvious fear, but she grimly refused to give in to the inevitable.

“You cannot make me,” she hissed.

In spite of himself, Edmond could not deny a tiny surge of respect for her refusal to be intimidated. He had made grown men crumble with one withering glare, and yet she stood her ground.

Brianna Quinn might still be intruding into places that she did not belong, but his usual desire to throttle her had become a very different desire.

One that included having her spread naked on that nearby bed as he tasted every inch of her ivory skin.

“Surely you have not forgotten how dangerous it is to challenge me?” he husked, shifting to press the hard muscles of his thighs against her. He choked back a groan at the feel of her delicate, perfectly curved body beneath the heavy cloak. “I can never resist a dare.”

She shuddered, her eyes darkening with awareness. “Let me go, Edmond.”

A taunting smile touched his lips as he deliberately rubbed his aching erection against the soft swell of her stomach. The realization that she was not indifferent to his touch only intensified his surging need to be inside her.

“Tell me what you are doing here, or I will open this door and announce to the entire ball you are in attendance.”

Expecting her to falter beneath the threat, Edmond was unprepared when she lifted her hands to give him a sharp shove. He felt it no more than he would the brush of a butterfly, but it was enough to distract him so that she could slide away and walk toward the door.

“Fine, prance me in front of the entire crowd if you desire, I have nothing left to lose,” she said, tossing off the cape to reveal the pink ball gown that was cut to expose the soft curve of her breasts. Seeming indifferent to Edmond’s heated gaze locked on her plunging neckline, she yanked open the door and turned to glare at his distracted expression. “But be assured that, as soon as I am revealed, I will scream loud and clear that you are no more than an impostor.”

It was a bluff. It had to be, Edmond told himself as he stormed to her side and waved his hand toward the door. No woman was foolish enough to willingly toss away her future with such disregard.

“Let us test that theory, shall we?” he said smoothly.

Her chin tilted as she stepped into the hall. “Let’s do.”

Hearing approaching footsteps, Edmond had no choice but to grab her arm and yank her back into the room. He slammed shut the door and turned the lock, before turning to her with impatient fury.