Anabelle Bryant - His Forbidden Debutante

Esme’s slender figure was wrapped in the latest design, a sheath of heather-coloured satin, in imitation of the tall trunk of a juniper tree. A collection of leaves, gauzy and feather-soft, floated around her shoulders to mimic foliage caught in a playful breeze. She looked stunning and her costume caught the eye of every passer-by so Livie couldn’t imagine how her friend managed to assume the lion singled her out. Besides, their dances had been claimed with expedience and only two slots remained on Livie’s card.

‘No, he’s definitely watching you, not me.’ Esme’s insistent whisper brooked no argument. ‘Look at his build. Such a tall, handsome beast given his mask isn’t hiding a long, hideous scar or horrid disfigurement. These masquerades can be tricky.’

‘I’ll never understand how your brain works, but now I know for certain you’ve read too many gothic novels. And please stop staring or the handsome beast will believe you’re inviting his attention.’

‘Too late.’ Esme dared the words in a singsong tone that announced she’d succeeded in her predetermined goal. ‘He cuts a dashing figure in his costume, does he not? King of the jungle, king of the ballroom.’

Livie dared a glance, unable to withhold her curiosity. The lion waited near the hearth, his shoulder against the woodwork, his gloved hands interlaced. If Livie ventured a descriptor, undecided leapt to mind. Lud, Esme had not exaggerated in her assessment of his physique. He looked regal, powerful, and as she snuck another glimpse through her mask, her pulse gave a jolting leap.

He was tall. His broad shoulders near met even with the mantel, the grand fireplace a master of the room, a king on a throne, built to be noticed and command attention, just as this gentleman. His clothes were elegant and aristocratic, yet while expensive they lacked the pretentious frippery so many dandies flaunted. His body appeared all hard muscle and splendid form. She wondered at his preoccupation, for his shoulders filled his coat without help from creative tailoring, no pads or seams to manufacture an outstanding shape. His chest tapered to a lean waist, where the waistband of tight fitted buckskin breeches encased muscular thighs. High boots completed the picture, so shiny they reflected the candlelight on their tips, and she dared a fond smile at the similarity to her shoe clips. Yet he was no dandy. Like the animal he’d chosen, this man represented natural masculinity, uncommonly handsome yet refined and polished like a treasured gemstone coveted by the crown.

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