The Lady & The Panther~Chapter 14~A Masquerade (NC-17)
The Lady & The Panther by fedoralady
~Chapter 14~
Rated NC-17
At long last, it is the night of the masquerade ball to kick off the season in London. It’s been a long break between chapters, but at well over 8,000 words for this entry, I hope you will believe that both quantity and quality-wise, it was worth waiting for. All rights reserved; while inspired by the lovely Sir Guy as created by Richard Armitage, these are my own characters. Rated NC-17 for scenes of an explicit sexual nature. Comments always welcome and thanks for reading.
*~*~*~*
It was the night of the ball. The night I hoped to be reunited with Panther.
With Amelia’s able assistance, I donned my gown, admiring how my feet looked in the new paduasoy pumps of delicate pink, trimmed with tiny pearls.
~Dancing shoes. To dance with my lovely Panther, his hands touching my hands, his eyes, so blue and yet so changeable, gazing into mine. Oh, Guy, please be there. Please come to me~
“And now, your domino, my lady,” Amelia said, holding out the garment and helping me slide my arms into its wide sleeves.
The cloak was a brilliant emerald mousseline de soie, lined in rose pink. Both the hood--a rounded baout with a stiffened lining that would frame my face in a most becoming manner- and the sleeves were edged in intricate gilt-threaded embroidery.
My hair-for we had finally agreed on how to dress it-was upswept with a tumbling cascade of ringlets over my right ear, a strand of creamy pearls entwined in the crown in a sort of tiara effect. Amelia had laboured long and hard to get every hair perfectly in place. I sometimes felt as if I were her life-sized doll, such was the delight she took in dressing me and attending to my appearance.
Stepping back, she looked me over from head to toe, and, with hands on hips, pronounced me “quite the vision.”
“Now, yew had best sit down again, my lady, in order to complete your toilette, but careful, careful, we do not want to crush your lovely domino.”
Amelia lifted the garment like a pageboy carrying a princess’s train as I sank down on the bench in front of my dressing-table.
I studied my reflection in the looking-glass, biting my lip a little as Amelia clasped the pearls around my neck and slid the earrings into place.
My eyes sparkled as deep a shade of green as I had ever seen them; my cheeks were flushed beneath the light dusting of scented white powder and rouge. I applied a little colour to my lips, willing myself to maintain composure, my fingers threatening to tremble.
“I know my face shall be hidden beneath the mask-but I--hope to remove it at midnight for Panther . . .”
~And I hope he shall be pleased with what he sees~
Amelia’s eyes met mine in the looking-glass as she prepared to fasten a bunch of shaded roses at the throat of my domino. “Yew look lovely, my lady. I am certain Panther will be very eager to look upon your fair face once again.”
She paused while tweaking a ringlet, her brow furrowing.
“My lady, how will yew know each other- -beneath the dominoes and the masks?”
I smiled and reached for my fan. “Cherchez les belles roses.”
Unfurling the hand-painted silk fan, I playfully peeped over it at Amelia.
“The pink roses at my throat, and on my fan, and the emerald shade of my domino. When I wrote him, I told him to observe all these things.”
“And the Panther?”
“I asked him to carry a white rose. Although--” Closing the fan and tapping it against my cheek, I gave a small sigh, picturing Panther’s tall, broad-shouldered form.
~So utterly masculine, yet so graceful and elegant, whether in repose or in motion~
“I believe that I shall know him without any such clues, even in a ballroom filled with people. I have seen him in full disguise, after all.”
Amelia’s lips twitched, her eyes not meeting mine as she picked up my cream-coloured gloves. “And you have seen him-out--of his disguise as well, my lady . . .”
“Amelia.” I spoke with mock consternation as I tugged on each glove. “Are you speaking out of turn? Not remembering your place?”
She bobbed a demure curtsy, a sober expression on her face as she folded her hands in front of her. “Indeed, no, my lady. If I did remember my place, I vow you would know me not.”
My lips twitched as I inclined my head.
“A very good point, my dear Amelia.”
She managed not to smile, but I saw the mischievous spark glinting in those grey eyes. Truly, I do not know what I would have done without my faithful little maid. Attending to my wardrobe and toilette were the least of the good she did for me.
“Now, yew hold the mask and I shall tie it on for yew, my lady. P’rhaps Panther himself will untie it for yew . . . now, that is quite a pretty effect, my lady, I must say.”
The emerald green satin mask, trimmed in delicate gold filigree lace and seed pearls, covered the upper half of my face. A cascade of gilt lace fell from the bottom edge of the satin to just below my chin. It would allow me to speak, eat, drink-and flirt?--without revealing my identity.
And on a night in which every guest who expected to be admitted into the ball had to be in domino and full mask, it was important to be prepared for all possibilities. A masquerade can bring excitement, adventure and intrigue.
Alas, that had not happened for me yet on such occasions. But I had hopes. My fortunes had certainly turned as of late in terms of excitement in my life . . .
~What would Guy’s mask be like? Simple black or white, or gaily chequered, perhaps. His domino will surely be black. How handsome he looks dressed in black . . .~
Oh, I could hardly wait another minute.
Amelia carefully lifted the baout into place.
“There now. Yew will be as pretty a lady as graces that ballroom, I vow,” she said with a decided nod of her head.
“And the baout will not spoil the hair you worked most diligently to dress, Amelia,” I said with a smile as I rose to my feet and turned to her.
“I could not see yew go to this ball without making certain you looked your very best, my lady.”
I took her hand in mine. “You always make certain that I look my best, Amelia.”
She smiled and inclined her head. “Thank yew, my lady. But tonight-I believe I may have tried just a little harder.”
I squeezed her hand. “I believe so, as well. Thank you.”
I heard a knock on my bedchamber door.
“Yes?”
“My lady? This is Grey.”
Horace’s valet. I noticed Amelia’s hand flying up to smooth her dark curls beneath her mobcap as a flush stained her cheeks.
“One moment, Grey.” I nodded towards the door. “Would you see to Grey, Amelia?”
She bobbed a curtsy and hurried to the door, pausing to take a deep breath before opening it.
“Yes, Grey?” She said most demurely. A tall, lanky fellow in livery, his ginger hair hidden beneath a powdered wig, stepped into the chamber, clasping his hands behind him.
He shot Amelia a quick smile and then cleared his throat and threw his shoulders back to make his announcement.
“My lady, his lordship wishes to know if you are ready. He says your coach shall soon need to depart.”
“You may tell his lordship I shall be ready momentarily, Grey. Thank you.”
He bowed. “Yes, my lady.” Grey cut his protuberant bright blue eyes in Amelia’s direction once again. His shy smile was a little broader this time.
“Miss Tucker.”
Amelia bobbed another demure curtsy and closed the door behind him.
“My lady, is there anything else I can help yew with?”
I rose to my feet, taking one last look at my reflection. I did not think I would shame my husband with my appearance. Who knows, he might even be pleased. Not, I fear, that it mattered very much to me.
~I just want Panther find me a beauty tonight~
I gave a small sigh, and with a half-smile I squeezed Amelia’s work-worn hand one more time as she walked up beside me.
“At least with the mask I shan’t be required to take such care in composing my features in his lordship’s presence. And now, I believe you have earned a good supper downstairs, Amelia.”
I glanced down at her. “And good conversation. He seems a pleasant young man . . .”
“Pardon, my lady?” Amelia said with a most innocent air.
I laughed. “May we both enjoy time with someone dear to our hearts this evening . . .”
*~*~*~*
It was almost time to take the hired coach from my bolt-hole to Arlington Place, where the masquerade ball would be held.
I held the single white rose Lizzie had requested in my gloved hand. Raising it to my nose, I drank in the flower’s scent.
~Sweet, but not as enticing as Lizzie’s own fragrance. Flowers. Jasmine mixed with-bluebells? That hint of spices~
My lips curved into a smile as I thought of her soft bare flesh beneath my mouth, how good she tasted . . .
~Will I have the chance to sample how delectable she is this evening? Time will tell~
Putting the rose down, I picked up my mask and tied it into place.
“Will you find it amusing, mon ange?” I murmured as I studied my reflection in the looking-glass. The bauta mask would allow me to converse, eat-and with a little care, kiss. Its appearance-well, you shall learn that soon enough.
Not that I did not plan to shed the mask as the evening progressed.
And, perhaps, other cumbersome articles of attire?
One thing was certain: I would happily steal whatever intimate moments I could manage with my dearest angel.
As you know, I am quite accomplished in the fine art of theft . . .
*~*~*~*
I was having the greatest difficulty refraining from laughing as Horace and I traveled to Arlington Place in our coach.
I found myself wishing there was no lanthorn illuminating the darkened interior of the coach, the monstrosity before my eyes all too visible.
~Thank heavens I am wearing my mask so that his lordship cannot see my face~
Whilst Horace droned on, explaining the origins of the mask as if talking to a small child, I tried not to stare at the enormous long, curving scarlet beak extending from its center.
He looked like a great bird sporting a cloak and peruke.
~A Plague Doctor’s Mask. How-appropriate. You have certainly plagued me, your lordship~
Oddly enough, images of a certain highwayman’s beautiful bare flesh, burnished in the firelight of my bedchamber, kept filling my head. T’was much more pleasant than thoughts of the Black Death and Horace . . .
I closed my eyes as I unfurled my fan. It was getting quite warm inside the coach.
“Indeed, certain physicians in Venice wore such masks during times of plague to help them avoid breathing in vile contagion.”
Horace tapped the beak. “This served a very cunning purpose, you know. All manner of aromatics-amber, camphor, cloves, rose petals-were tucked inside to protect these doctors from the miasma. Do you not think it a remarkable costume, my lady?”
My fan fluttered a little more rapidly as I cleared my throat and graciously inclined my head, hoping to imbue my words with the proper note of appreciation.
“I find it- most striking, my lord. No one shall be able to overlook you this evening.”
I could not see Horace’s mouth, of course, but I am certain he wore a smug, self-satisfied little smile as he droned on about his attire.
“Thank you, my lady. I did not want to wear something too--ordinary for the very first ball of the season. This mask was imported from Italy, crafted by the finest mask maker in Venezia, as was my domino itself, made of the highest quality black and gold silks.”
He tapped the monstrous beak again. “I even have aromatics inside. Quite a delightful scent, I must say.”
“How clever of you.” I sighed and shook my head as I meekly parted my domino to allow a glimpse of the gown beneath it.
“Ah, you shall certainly outshine me, for my costume was only made here in London, albeit by a French-born seamstress and milliner. Sadly, I have no aromatics to sweeten my disposition.”
Horace sniffed and tilted his head as if examining me through the glass eyes of his mask. I could envision the pursed lips and slight wrinkling of the nose taking place beneath his disguise.
“Ah, I would say you look quite-presentable-- my lady.” He slowly nodded.
“Yes, quite charming. Although it goes without saying that ladies such as the Duchess of Wimberly will likely be the brightest of stars in the firmament on such an august occasion. Still, I should not be ashamed to take you in upon my arm even if we were not in disguise.”
I fluttered my lashes as I inclined my head once more. “You are most--magnanimous to speak thus, my lord.”
I was exceedingly glad Amelia was not in the coach. She would surely have been slyly kicking my shins, the wretched girl.
An unwelcome thought entered my mind and I cursed my husband in silence for bringing up a certain lady’s name. Amelia had spoken of the Duchess of Wimberly, considered quite the merry and fair young widow, and her supposed liaison with Panther.
~And there is his vicountess in Paris . . .~
I gave myself an inward shake and took myself to task.
~Elizabeth Marian Chadwick Dillingham, Lady Montrose, you are a jealous little fool. You knew the man’s reputation before you ever invited him into your bed. Or was it that reputation that led you to your infidelity? Do you crave that flirtation with danger?~
I felt my cheeks grow hot beneath the mask and fluttered my fan even more rapidly.
~ Think only of the pleasure you may take in this night, assuming the Panther does arrive. Remember his words. You are in his heart~
How I hoped to see a white rose in the hand of one tall, elegant gentleman very, very soon . . .
And suddenly, we were at our destination, the footman assisting me out of our coach. We joined the throngs of dominoes entering the house, which seemed to be lit up with thousands of candles.
Arlington Place was only a very few years old, and one of the grandest of manses to be found in all of London.
Horace presented our invitation at the door. There were no names on the cards, no announcements of our arrivals: guests’ identities would remain hidden until the clock struck midnight.
I glanced around the ballroom as we entered. There were some rather tall cowled figures milling about, but none that I could see were carrying a white rose.
I took note with considerable pleasure that my emerald green domino was the only one of its hue, with most of the ladies wearing the typical blue, pink or white with contrasting linings.
~The better to find me, my dear Panther~
Adjoining the grand ballroom were a refreshment room to the left and a gambling room to the right.
No doubt my husband would soon be at the card tables there, particularly if some lady was willing to grace him with her attentions whilst he played. And the servants kept his wineglass filled, of course.
How he would manage to drink and keep his mask on properly, I had no idea. It was not my concern.
“Milady, I think I shall circulate and see who else has arrived before the dancing begins,” Horace said, giving a preemptory nod of his head.
As he lazily strolled towards the door to the gambling room, I smirked beneath my veil.
Horace was nothing if not predictable. Aside from choosing ludicrous masks, that is. I had not quite expected that.
“Do I know you?” I heard a husky female voice say as I felt a hand touch my arm.
I turned to look into a pair of gold-flecked brown eyes shining from behind a blue velvet mask shaped like a butterfly. The hair beneath her cobalt baout was powdered a grey-blue, but I found myself envisioning it a coppery red, the hair colour of one of the few I considered a friend in London.
“Is it Lady Douglas to whom I speak?” I queried.
Her brown eyes sparkled as she inclined her head.
“Indeed,” She said in a hushed tone, leaning in towards me in a conspiratorial fashion.
And you are Lady Montrose, I do believe?”
“Indeed I am, Lady Douglas. How delightful to see you,” I replied with a warmth I did not have to manufacture.
The clever and oft irreverent Lady Letitia Douglas was amongst the very few ladies in the ton whom I counted as a friend.
“How did you know it was I?” I asked, unfurling my fan once more. I admit half my thoughts were with Guy and the possibility he was now somewhere in the press of guests, seeking me out.
She gave a throaty laugh. “I confess I guessed his lordship first. Even swathed in the domino, there is something quite distinctive about your husband’s walk.”
Lady Douglas tilted her head and tapped her chin with her fan as if in the deepest of thought, then leaned in to murmur in my ear.
“It is almost as if he couldn’t be bothered to hurry even if his favourite bitch was on fire and needed a good dousing.”
I pressed my lips together to contain my mirth. Lady Douglas, who knew of Horace’s less-than-discrete attachments, had made it clear in the past she was singularly unimpressed with his choices.
“And whom do you believe is his favourite, Lady Douglas?”
There was mischief brewing in those brown eyes as they glinted with flecks of gold.
“I believe its name is-Fleming? Can it be that La Fleming is responsible for that amusingly hideous mask he is wearing?”
I shook my head slowly, my lips curling into a smile beneath my veil. “No, I would say the sole blame for---that--lies with his lordship. I do not believe the lady in question is in London at present. He appears to be finding amusement amongst other ladies and at his clubs since we moved our household to London for the season.”
I glanced around the ballroom in as casual a manner as I could muster as I spoke.
~Still no sign of him~
Turning my eyes back to hers, I placed my hand on Lady Douglas’s arm. “It truly is good to see you. How long have you been in London?”
“Ah, we came a bit later than usual this year. We’ve been here less than a week. There were some tiresome matters involving the estate with which Lord Douglas had to deal. And then we discovered our little Emily was suffering from a fever,” Lady Douglas explained.
“I hope the child is in good health now.”
“Oh, yes, positively blooming.” Her eyes flickered down towards her belly and then looked back at me.
“I have another one on the way. Three months or so gone. Of course, Lord Douglas is, naturally, hoping for a second son--” Lady Douglas paused abruptly, the light in her dark eyes dimming a little.
I knew why she cut off her words so suddenly. She was remembering all those tiny graves in the Dillingham family cemetery, and a nursery dark and empty.
Children died all too often; it was to be expected. Even in my mother’s large and boisterously healthy brood, we had lost a sister who died in infancy.
I, however, seemed to have particularly bad fortune.
“Oh, my dear Lady Montrose. Forgive me my stupid tongue--”
With a half-smile, I shook my head and gave her arm a light squeeze.
“There is no need to castigate yourself. I am very glad to hear your news, truly. Congratulations are certainly in order,” I said. “And the other children-are they well?”
I heard a soft expelling of breath, and I was certain she wore a relieved smile beneath her mask. Lady Letitia loved a good jest and possessed a sometimes tart tongue, but she was in truth a kind-hearted woman.
“Jack and Fanny are very well. I thank you for asking, Lady Montrose.”
“Ah, so it is the fair Lady Montrose.” I turned to see to whom those rather deep and affected vowels belonged. A tall figure was gazing down at me, and for the briefest of moments I thought---but no.
~Not tall or broad-shouldered enough. And the hands. Much too small. And not a rose petal in sight~
The eyes studying my face from behind a black and white chequed mask were blue, but of a watered-down sort, with fair lashes.
~Merely a pale shadow of the man I await~
“You look exquisite, milady,” said the gentleman, raising my hand to his mouth for a kiss of sorts, his style of mask preventing his lips from touching me.
~All the better~
He held my hand just a fraction longer than was proper, and from the corner of my vision I could see Lady Douglas eyeing us with interest.
“Thank you.” I smiled and dropped a curtsy as I politely, but firmly, tugged my hand free of his.
“Surely your husband has not already abandoned you on this gala evening? I cannot believe that,” the gentleman drawled.
“The emerald shade of your domino matches your eyes exquisitely. And what a charming mask . . .”
He was leaning in again and I found myself taking a step back, feeling rather like the poor lamb being pursued by the hungry wolf.
“You are very kind, sir . . . please excuse me, I-see someone I must speak to,” I said, bobbing a hasty curtsy and making my escape.
I had not actually seen my highwayman as yet, but I felt a strong urge to escape this unknown would-be admirer.
“You must let me share a dance with you this evening . . .” I heard him call out as I moved through the crowd. Glancing back over my shoulder, I wondered just who the deuced fellow was, when I felt myself about to stumble. A hand grasped my arm.
“Take care, my lady. I would not have you fall to be trampled in this crush.”
A deep, rumbling voice with a rather delicious French accent rang in my ears.
I looked up into a pair of eyes of sapphire blue behind a silver mask. A mask formed in the face of a cat, its wearer gazing down at me from beneath a black cowl lined in deep blue silk.
~A cat. How fitting~
“Monsieur.” The word came out breathlessly. I could feel my heart beating a little faster.
~He is here. He is here!~
“Madame.” Panther gave an elegant bow.
“Pour vous,” he said, as he carefully tucked a single white rose behind my ear. “Une belle fleur pour une belle femme.”
As his eyes swept over me, I basked in the glow of once more being in his presence.
“Votre costume est magnifique, madame--que la couleur est jolie! Elle correspond a vos yeux.”
The compliments all sounded so much lovelier coming out of my highwayman’s sweet mouth-and in French.
“Merci, monsieur.” I breathed in the rose’s sweet perfume even as my eyes still drank in my beautiful Guy, so tall and regal in his black domino, a prince amongst men.
“J’aime beaucoup votre masque . . . un chat noir merveilleuse,” I said.
I saw the answering gleam in his eyes as he took my left hand and, leaning down, lifted my fingertips to his mouth. Unlike my husband, Panther had wisely chosen a mask design giving him more freedom.
~Ah, but then he is quite experienced with disguises, is he not?~
Kissing each fingertip lightly, his eyes never leaving mine, Guy finally relinquished my hand. Truth be told, I never wanted him to let it go.
~*~*~*~
I saw the flash of emerald green from across the ballroom. It had to be my Lizzie. I felt that curious twist to my heart.
~Please, let it be my angel~
I moved forward. Her back was turned to me. She-if it was she-was speaking to a woman in a pale blue domino.
I was aware the musicians had begun to play; yet in spite of my fondness for music, I could not tell you the tune.
I hurried my steps and as I drew closer, a figure stepped forward-from his height, I assumed it to be a man-and took her hand. It seemed to me he was behaving as if he was an intimate friend of Lizzie’s.
I was startled to recognize a certain emotion coursing through me.
~The Panther, the thief of hearts is-jealous. What have you done to me, my protectress?~
When she broke away from the unknown gentleman, I confess my heart gladdened. It did not appear she had particularly welcomed his advances. At least, I hoped not.
Lizzie was hastening forward, yet still looking back, as if to see whether or not the man would follow her. I was certain she was going to stumble and fall if I did not intervene.
If I had held them outswept, as I wanted to, Mon Ange would have walked right into my arms. In spite of our disguises, I feared giving her a passionate embrace would not be wise in so public a place.
As I caught her arm, she looked up into my face, her green eyes shining as she recognised me. I was certain there was a smile beneath that veil.
As charming as her mask was, I longed to tear it from her face, to gather her in my arms and press ardent kisses to her soft lips and slender white throat and make her mine, completely mine.
That night I was masquerading as a French duke, and so I showered Lizzie with compliments in la belle langue, and kissed those sweet fingertips, longing for so much more . . .
~All in good time, Duc de la Bellefontaine. All in good time~
“I believe, my lady, the musicians are about to play a tune for the minuet. Would you care to join me?”
Mon Ange made a pretty curtsy as she inclined her head.
“With pleasure, monsieur.”
*~*~*~*
He took my hand and we joined the other couples gathering in the centre of the ballroom to dance.
“Do you dance often, monsieur?” I queried as I suspended my fan from my wrist.
“Not as often as I wish, madame . . . I am very much looking forward to dancing with you. I hope to dance with you many times tonight.”
His voice of chocolate and velvet caressed my ears as he spoke. The look in Panther’s eyes suggested to me it was not solely the stately minuet or the lively gavotte he had in mind.
Dancing with him was just as I had imagined it would be. We danced the sarabande, the rigaudon, the courante and the passacaille; I had never enjoyed a ball more than I did on that night.
I forced myself to make polite conversation with fellow masked guests, as did he in his guise as French nobleman; we did not wish to completely give ourselves away.
But I would not have cared if every single one of them had disappeared . . . leaving only the Panther, his lady and the music.
My highwayman was amazingly light on those large and handsome feet of his, graceful and economical with his movements. His warmth pulsed through the kidskin of our gloves every time we touched, his smouldering glances sending a frisson of delight through my being.
It was as if I had walked into a dream that night at Arlington Place, one from which I wished never to awaken.
Yet even in a dream, one may find oneself growing breathless and thirsty from such pleasant diversions.
“Shall we enjoy some refreshment, my lady-and, perhaps, a turn on the terrace for a little fresh air?”
With that familiar tilt to his head, Guy looked down at me, his voice, husky and honeyed, suggestive of greater delights . . .
I expelled a breath.
“I should very much like to take some refreshment and fresh air, monsieur. And, afterwards, perhaps, somewhere we can-converse--in privacy?”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he gently caressed the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb. A simple movement that made me catch my breath.
“Absolutment , madame. Vos désirs sont des ordres . . .”
*~*~*~*
There was no doubt. My Lizzie was as hungry for me as I was for sweet Lizzie.
“Mon Ange,” I murmured as I raised her hand to my mouth once more, the tip of my tongue darting out beneath the mask to glance across her flesh.
“But first, milady, you must spend a little time meandering.”
There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Must I-meander?”
I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Trust me. I am very good at this sort of thing . . .”
“This-sort of thing?”
I chuckled as I raised my head. “Subterfuge, of course. First, I shall go to the refreshment room and partake and attend to one or two things--and then, I shall wander outside. And you will follow suit. Later, we will come back into the house.”
I paused, my lips twitching beneath the mask.
“Although not necessarily in the same manner as we exited it, milady-but most certainly to a more private place . . .”
I leaned in again. “Did I tell you I am quite familiar with this grand house of the earl’s? It would be a folly not to be, you know.”
“I suspect there is a great deal I need to discover about you, Monsieur . . .” she said, green eyes glimmering with mischief from above her unfurled fan.
~Ah, you do not know the half of it, my girl~
I inclined my head. “It will be my pleasure to further educate you, madame. My great pleasure . . .”
*~*~*~*
As instructed, I had meandered through groups of other guests, lazily waving my fan as I courteously bowed my head left and right. Not knowing just who was behind most of those masks, one ran the risk of snubbing a person of higher rank without such intentions.
“Lady Montrose.” It was certain it was the deep, haughty voice belonging to the Chequered Domino calling out from behind me.
~Not again. Especially not now!~
I saw Lady Douglas a short distance in front of me, and hurried forward to engage her in conversation.
“Dear Lady Douglas, I am attempting to evade a certain gentleman who seems determined to chase me down . . .”
She tilted her head, her dark eyes shining with undisguised curiosity as she took my arm in a companionable manner.
“Ah, the annoying fellow who so admired you earlier, I suppose?”
I expelled a sigh. “Exactly so.”
“Where do you wish to go, Lady Montrose?”
“To the refreshment room for now, and then-out for a breath of fresh air.”
“Mmmmmm. Perhaps-to meet a certain cat?”
I tried to stifle my gasp. ~Did she know about Panther?~
She laughed, shaking her head. “I could not fail to notice you with the delicious creature in the feline mask. A French nobleman, I believe. Have no fear. Go and enjoy and I shall detain our ‘friend.’”
I gave a small sigh of relief and patted her arm. “Thank you. You are an absolute angel . . .”
I made my escape without looking back this time. I was certain Lady Douglas was more than my mysterious admirer’s match.
Within the refreshment room, long tables were lined with silver trays of cold meats, dainty pastries, blancmange, trifle, tipsy cake and more from which to select, and plentiful quantities of wine punch. Very thirsty, I drank two cups of it before I ever left the room, but only managed to nibble on a bit of chicken, pastry and cake.
Butterflies seemed to dance in my stomach as I anticipated meeting with Panther. I set down my plate and refilled my cup, drinking it down quickly.
Slipping back through the guests, I stepped out onto the terrace, where a light, pleasant breeze carried the sweet scent of late spring blooms wafting through the night air.
Looking around me, I did not see my great cat amongst those guests illuminated by the light of the torches surrounding the terrace. What was it he had said? Something about a folly . . .
I smiled to myself.
~But of course, you clever cat~
Arlington Place had its own small folly in its garden.
Rarely did one see such a structure, normally found on country estates, within London boundaries; however, the owner of Arlington Place, the Earl of Fultondale, liked to do everything in very grand style.
As slender fingers of moonlight parted the clouds and swept across the landscape, I saw a flash of silver amongst the marble columns of the small circular temple.
~Silver. The colour of Panther’s mask~
I followed a winding little cobblestone path toward the folly.
“Ah, madame, you have discovered my place of retreat,” Guy said, one black-gloved hand pressed against a marble column, the wind swirling his domino around his tall form.
“Yes, I followed the trail of a-cat,” I replied.
“My clever girl,” he said with a purr in his voice as he grasped my hands and tugged me inside to a bench.
A shaft of moonlight illuminated the temple’s interior through its broken roof. I could see his eyes gleaming near-black behind his silver mask.
“You can move amazingly fast for such a-robust man,” I said, a little breathless as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against his chest.
“I am a robust man on a mission, milady. Can we remove these damned masks for a few moments? Hang waiting for the clock to strike midnight.”
His voice was both teasing and determined.
“Y-yes.” I pushed back the bauot of my domino and reached for the ribbons holding my mask in place.
“Here, let me.” Guy reached around me and deftly untied the ribbons, lifting the mask from my face.
“How beautiful you are tonight . . .” He said in a soft, husky whisper.
Pushing back his cowl, Guy untied his own mask. Casting it aside, he took my face in his broad hands, stroking my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his voice low and intimate.
“ I have been wanting to do this all evening, from the first moment I saw you, Lizzie. I have missed you . . .”
His mouth claimed mine, capturing first my upper lip and gently suckling it before moving to do the same with my lower lip.
Between the potency of the punch mingled with Guy’s delicious kisses, I felt positively giddy-headed. I wrapped my arms around his neck, entwining my fingers in his silky black waves.
Feeling his tongue trace the outline of my lips before parting them, I shivered.
“Are you cold, Mon Ange?” he murmured as he lifted his mouth from mine.
“Oh-no, no. Do you suppose one can--shiver from-happiness?”
He gave a low chuckle. “If you wish it to be so, milady.”
“Kiss me again, Guy. Kiss me-”
Guy answered with a small growl deep in his throat, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my nose before claiming my mouth once again in a deep, long and passionate kiss.
If I had thought myself breathless before, I was positively gasping for air when he finally lifted his mouth from mine.
Guy, his own breathing rather laboured, smiled into my eyes, the seductive smile of a dark angel.
“I-believe we need to find that place of--privacy that will also offer more comfort than the hard, cold marble bench--or floor, Mon Ange. Shall we don our masks once more and return to the house?”
I nodded as I laid my head against his chest.
“Please.”
*~*~*~*
I confess I had to restrain myself from making love to my angel right there in that miniature Greek temple.
But I could not take her like some doxy with skirts hiked, rutting against the wall. She was a lady, after all, even if she had a beguiling wanton side to her.
Still, Lizzie might find a little danger and intrigue rather enjoyable.
And that is why I had planned ahead.
“We must be very quiet and stealthy, Lizzie,” I whispered as we approached the house by a different route than that traveled to the folly.
“Like a pair of cats, Guy?” She queried, smiling up at me.
“Yes, exactly so.” We were approaching the windows to the library; a library that I knew had most comfortable furnishings.
After slowly raising one of the window sashes, I turned to Lizzie. “There is a window seat here. It will make it easier for you to climb inside,” I whispered.
She clasped her hands behind my neck as I scooped her up into my arms and lifted her through the open window, then climbed in beside her and closed the window behind me.
The heavy curtains of the window were drawn; no light from the chamber illuminated the window seat, and the moon had nearly disappeared behind some clouds. “My, this is very cozy, Guy-two cats curled up in this window seat,” Lizzie murmured, snuggling against me.
“Yes, it is.” I pulled off my mask and hers, bending down to nuzzle her neck before whispering in her ear.
“There is only one problem. As wonderful as it is to touch you, I cannot fully appreciate how lovely you look in this cursed darkness . . . oh, Lizzie, I am-so very hungry for you.”
*~*~*~*
My heart was beating wildly in my chest at his words.
“I am for you as well, Guy. I, I-missed you so very much.”
“Then, my lady, I think we must show each other just how much.”
He parted the curtains and, lifting me up once more, carried me into the library where candles flickered above the fireplace and on side tables flanking a large painted Venetian sofa.
“I thought this sofa looked rather inviting, Mon Ange. Commodious, comfortable and quite elegant . . .” Guy lowered me onto the sofa.
Standing over me, he unfastened his domino and flung it aside with a flourish, then tugged his gloves with those gleaming white teeth, peeling each one from his hands.
I felt that sweet stirring deep in my belly as I watched him, resplendent in his black frock coat and waist coat embroidered in silver, snug black breeches that showed off those beautiful long and muscular horseman’s thighs . . .
“Would you do the same for me, Guy?” I said, holding up my gloved hands. “With your teeth . . .”
“Ah, you like that, do you?” He gave me a wolfish grin.
“I do . . .” I sighed. “Sometimes, I dream of you doing such things.”
“Interesting. I wonder what other things you have dreamt.”
A wicked gleam in his eyes, he sat down beside me and caught the tip of my glove with his teeth, tugging as he peeled the supple leather from my hands.
I pressed my now bare hands to his face, stroking that strong jawline as I gazed into his beautiful dark-lashed eyes.
“Now I can truly feel your warmth . . .”
He took my hand in his, fervently kissing it before pressing his lips to mine once more.
I pulled away as an unhappy thought entered my mind.
“But-shall we have to worry about being-interrupted, Guy?”
He gave me one of those lop-sided grins, shaking his head as he unfastened the closure at the neck of my domino. “The door is locked, my dear, I made sure of it earlier. Locked in such a way it cannot even be opened with its key . . .”
I raised my brows. “So--I am locked in with you?”
He slid the domino from my shoulders, expelling his breath with a hiss of satisfaction when he glimpsed the generous swell of my breasts above the bodice of my gown.
“Yes, you might say you are my prisoner, my lady-to do with as I will.” Guy’s voice seemed even deeper and huskier than usual.
He leaned down and pressed kisses to the tops of my breasts, nuzzling them, his hands wrapping around my waist.
“Your dress is most becoming to you, Mon Ange, most becoming, albeit a hindrance--”
Guy claimed my mouth again, our lips parting and tongues dancing as he cupped one of my breasts through the fabric of my gown. I could feel the nipple harden beneath his thumb as he teased it, and that intoxicating sensation fluttering deep in my belly.
My hand slipped between his thighs, fingers seeking and finding that bulge in his trousers. I cupped it in my hand, gratified to hear the growl from deep in his throat.
Oh, how I wanted him . . . and yes, the clothing was certainly a hindrance. But we were not in the ideal place to strip ourselves naked, even with Guy’s precautions about the door.
Where there is a will, however, there is a way . . .
“If we unlace my stomacher, my breasts can be freed . . . and if we-take off the pannier and the petticoat-I will be able to recline much more easily,” I said with a breathless eagerness, caressing his iron-hard member, wanting desperately to have him inside me again.
“We can push up my skirt . . .”
He pressed a finger to my mouth and gave me another of those dark angelic smiles. “Then we must begin.” He stood up and quickly stripped off his frock coat and waist coat and undid his stock, baring his long column of white throat.
“And now, the pannier and petticoat, milady.”
Soon I was free of those encumbrances, thanks to Guy’s very capable hands, and reclining on the sofa, Guy kneeling over me, straddling my legs. My own eager and trembling fingers worked my laces loose on my stomacher.
“Allow me,” Guy said, and pulled the stomacher free of my bodice, parting the fabric so that my breasts spilled out.
He groaned as he cupped my breasts and then put his mouth to my hardened nipples, laving and suckling them while he slid my skirt ever higher. His hands moved to caress my stocking-clad thighs, setting my flesh afire everywhere he touched me.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and softly moaned as I felt one of his long, elegant fingers at the entrance to my sex, stroking the outer folds.
“You are so very wet, Mon Ange.” Guy slid a little further inside me, then withdrew his finger. I gave a moue of disappointment. Guy laughed and slid in two fingers this time, curling them to tease my swollen bud.
My back arched, my hips lifting involuntarily, unable to resist his touch and its effect on me.
“Ah, you like that, do you?” Guy rumbled. Gazing down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, he lifted those fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick my juices from one.
“And you taste so very good. So delectable . . . taste yourself.”
I took the finger that was still wet with my juices and licked it, then took it in my mouth and began to suck it. Something told me it would please my Panther.
Guy’s lips parted, his eyes heavy-lidded as he slid his finger in and out of my mouth and I sucked and licked it, swirling my tongue around it.
I paused. “Ah, you like that, do you?”
He gave me a wicked grin. “You are a quick learner, Lizzie.”
I reached out and cupped his iron-hard bulge again, massaging it with my fingers. His eyes fluttered shut as he groaned deep in his throat, his hand moving to cover mine.
“See what you do to me, Mon Ange . . .” He opened his eyes, giving me one of those lop-sided smiles. “Will you help me with these-breeches? They are becoming-most uncomfortable.”
“Mais oui, monsieur.”
I eagerly helped him peel those snug-fitting breeches past that beautiful peach-like arse, freeing his erection, standing proud in its thicket of black curls.
I wrapped my fingers around the shaft, still amazed at his length and girth, reveling in the velvety surface of his iron-hard member. Knowing that I enflamed such desire in him was intoxicating.
“Oh, Lizzie . . . use your pretty hand to take me inside you, as much of me as you want.” His voice was husky.
I guided his shaft to the entrance of my sex, between its outer folds, and then inside me. Oh, it felt so-wonderful to be joined with him again.
Closing my eyes, I gave an exultant sigh and wrapped my hands around his sinuous hips, moving them to cup his lovely arse.
~The feeling of him moving inside me, filling me up. So very different than the Great Grunt and Shudder~
“All of you-I want-all of you, Guy.”
*~*~*~*~*
I thrust into her slowly at first, her velvet channel, so warm and inviting, gripping me snugly as her legs wrapped around me.
Her eyes were black orbs of desire, lips so ripe and swollen from my kisses, her body warm and fragrant and pliant. She was beautiful-and she was mine.
“Guy, oh Guy, don’t stop.” She was panting, her hips bucking, exciting me all the more. Thrusting harder and deeper, I pressed hot, moist kisses to her lips, her throat, her breasts; she tasted so sweet and wonderful.
I slowed my thrusts down and slid a finger inside her, teasing her swollen bud. She whimpered, arching her back. I knew she was close to her climax . . . as was I.
“Hold--on to my neck, Mon Ange,” I said breathlessly, sweeping Lizzie into my arms as I sat upright, my cock still deep inside her.
*~*~*~*
Now I was straddling Guy, riding my beautiful black stallion once again, threading my fingers through his tousled mane as he thrust forcefully into me; drinking in his scent, savouring his animal maleness.
We moved in tandem, looking into each other’s eyes, becoming more and more breathless.
“Regards-moi, Mon Ange. Regards-moi,” Guy panted, cupping my face in his hands, his lips parted and nostrils flaring, eyes dark with desire.
~Surely he is the most beautiful, desirable man in the world . . .~
When I felt the waves of pleasure begin to wash over me, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in exultation. Guy threw back his head, eyes fluttering closed, groaning as he gave a few more furious thrusts before spending himself inside me.
~No, not at all like the Great Grunt and Shudder. This is what it can be like between a man and a woman~
“Ah, my sweet, sweet Lizzie . . .” He said softly, nuzzling my neck and nipping my earlobes, his hands tugging me against his chest as he enfolded me in his arms.
“I have missed you terribly, my protectress. Your smile, your laughter-your kisses . . .” Guy sighed.
“Oh, Guy--” I laid my head on his shoulder, pressed my hand against his chest, felt the beating of his heart beneath that solid, muscular flesh.
I spoke, not looking into his eyes, fearful, I suppose, of what I might see there.
“Perhaps I should not tell you this. But-I-have fallen in love with you, Guy.” He said nothing and I felt my face flush.
“ I know it is foolish of me, that dozens of other women have felt the same, but--”
“There has been no-one else.”
I lifted my head. “No-one else?”
He smiled as he gently stroked my cheek and cupped my face, looking searchingly into my eyes.
“There is no other woman I have-loved, not in the way I love you, sweet Lizzie. I did not intend to fall in love. But as you have admitted, I suppose I must, too.”
Guy kissed my forehead. “There has only been one who truly had a claim on my heart, and she did not want it, and told me so from the very first.”
“Oh, Guy . . . she hurt you.”
He gave me a half-smile and shook his head. “Only a little. I was very young and had much to learn. She was my first lover.”
His hand slid between my legs, his fingers teasing my sex again.
Guy smirked, his voice grew even deeper and huskier as he slid two fingers in and out, giving special attention to my swollen bud.
“And she was a very good teacher, would you not agree?”
I caught my breath. “Oh-yes.”
Guy pressed kisses in the cleft of my breasts, his tongue darting out to lave my skin even as he continued to tease me below with his capable fingers.
“And you will enjoy further lessons from me, my sweet Lizzie?”
My voice was faint. “I am quite sure I will, Guy . . .”
~My beautiful lover-who loves me. Truly loves me~
And that was the inopportune moment when someone started rattling the library door.
Guy cursed beneath his breath and shot a venomous glare at the doorknob.
“Dear Lady Montrose-are you there?”
The affected drawl from outside the door was unmistakable.
Guy raised a single quizzical brow. I sighed.
I decided I hated the Chequered Domino . . .
*~*~*~*
Author’s Notes: A bahoo or baout is a large hood with stiffening inside to allow it to cover a lady’s head without disturbing her coiffure that was sometimes worn with a domino. The domino looked not unlike a modern graduation gown and was a popular choice for gentlemen and ladies for masquerades in the 18th century, along with “fancy dress” events with guests in a variety of colorful costumes.
Mask styles varied; I did discover certain Venetian masks that covered the entire face but still allowed access to the mouth, such as Guy’s bauta style and Lizzie’s using a veiling to cover the lower face.
What we now refer to as peau de soie (often used to make dye-ready shoes for wedding parties) was called paduasoy in the mid-18th century.
~Chapter 14~
Rated NC-17
At long last, it is the night of the masquerade ball to kick off the season in London. It’s been a long break between chapters, but at well over 8,000 words for this entry, I hope you will believe that both quantity and quality-wise, it was worth waiting for. All rights reserved; while inspired by the lovely Sir Guy as created by Richard Armitage, these are my own characters. Rated NC-17 for scenes of an explicit sexual nature. Comments always welcome and thanks for reading.
*~*~*~*
It was the night of the ball. The night I hoped to be reunited with Panther.
With Amelia’s able assistance, I donned my gown, admiring how my feet looked in the new paduasoy pumps of delicate pink, trimmed with tiny pearls.
~Dancing shoes. To dance with my lovely Panther, his hands touching my hands, his eyes, so blue and yet so changeable, gazing into mine. Oh, Guy, please be there. Please come to me~
“And now, your domino, my lady,” Amelia said, holding out the garment and helping me slide my arms into its wide sleeves.
The cloak was a brilliant emerald mousseline de soie, lined in rose pink. Both the hood--a rounded baout with a stiffened lining that would frame my face in a most becoming manner- and the sleeves were edged in intricate gilt-threaded embroidery.
My hair-for we had finally agreed on how to dress it-was upswept with a tumbling cascade of ringlets over my right ear, a strand of creamy pearls entwined in the crown in a sort of tiara effect. Amelia had laboured long and hard to get every hair perfectly in place. I sometimes felt as if I were her life-sized doll, such was the delight she took in dressing me and attending to my appearance.
Stepping back, she looked me over from head to toe, and, with hands on hips, pronounced me “quite the vision.”
“Now, yew had best sit down again, my lady, in order to complete your toilette, but careful, careful, we do not want to crush your lovely domino.”
Amelia lifted the garment like a pageboy carrying a princess’s train as I sank down on the bench in front of my dressing-table.
I studied my reflection in the looking-glass, biting my lip a little as Amelia clasped the pearls around my neck and slid the earrings into place.
My eyes sparkled as deep a shade of green as I had ever seen them; my cheeks were flushed beneath the light dusting of scented white powder and rouge. I applied a little colour to my lips, willing myself to maintain composure, my fingers threatening to tremble.
“I know my face shall be hidden beneath the mask-but I--hope to remove it at midnight for Panther . . .”
~And I hope he shall be pleased with what he sees~
Amelia’s eyes met mine in the looking-glass as she prepared to fasten a bunch of shaded roses at the throat of my domino. “Yew look lovely, my lady. I am certain Panther will be very eager to look upon your fair face once again.”
She paused while tweaking a ringlet, her brow furrowing.
“My lady, how will yew know each other- -beneath the dominoes and the masks?”
I smiled and reached for my fan. “Cherchez les belles roses.”
Unfurling the hand-painted silk fan, I playfully peeped over it at Amelia.
“The pink roses at my throat, and on my fan, and the emerald shade of my domino. When I wrote him, I told him to observe all these things.”
“And the Panther?”
“I asked him to carry a white rose. Although--” Closing the fan and tapping it against my cheek, I gave a small sigh, picturing Panther’s tall, broad-shouldered form.
~So utterly masculine, yet so graceful and elegant, whether in repose or in motion~
“I believe that I shall know him without any such clues, even in a ballroom filled with people. I have seen him in full disguise, after all.”
Amelia’s lips twitched, her eyes not meeting mine as she picked up my cream-coloured gloves. “And you have seen him-out--of his disguise as well, my lady . . .”
“Amelia.” I spoke with mock consternation as I tugged on each glove. “Are you speaking out of turn? Not remembering your place?”
She bobbed a demure curtsy, a sober expression on her face as she folded her hands in front of her. “Indeed, no, my lady. If I did remember my place, I vow you would know me not.”
My lips twitched as I inclined my head.
“A very good point, my dear Amelia.”
She managed not to smile, but I saw the mischievous spark glinting in those grey eyes. Truly, I do not know what I would have done without my faithful little maid. Attending to my wardrobe and toilette were the least of the good she did for me.
“Now, yew hold the mask and I shall tie it on for yew, my lady. P’rhaps Panther himself will untie it for yew . . . now, that is quite a pretty effect, my lady, I must say.”
The emerald green satin mask, trimmed in delicate gold filigree lace and seed pearls, covered the upper half of my face. A cascade of gilt lace fell from the bottom edge of the satin to just below my chin. It would allow me to speak, eat, drink-and flirt?--without revealing my identity.
And on a night in which every guest who expected to be admitted into the ball had to be in domino and full mask, it was important to be prepared for all possibilities. A masquerade can bring excitement, adventure and intrigue.
Alas, that had not happened for me yet on such occasions. But I had hopes. My fortunes had certainly turned as of late in terms of excitement in my life . . .
~What would Guy’s mask be like? Simple black or white, or gaily chequered, perhaps. His domino will surely be black. How handsome he looks dressed in black . . .~
Oh, I could hardly wait another minute.
Amelia carefully lifted the baout into place.
“There now. Yew will be as pretty a lady as graces that ballroom, I vow,” she said with a decided nod of her head.
“And the baout will not spoil the hair you worked most diligently to dress, Amelia,” I said with a smile as I rose to my feet and turned to her.
“I could not see yew go to this ball without making certain you looked your very best, my lady.”
I took her hand in mine. “You always make certain that I look my best, Amelia.”
She smiled and inclined her head. “Thank yew, my lady. But tonight-I believe I may have tried just a little harder.”
I squeezed her hand. “I believe so, as well. Thank you.”
I heard a knock on my bedchamber door.
“Yes?”
“My lady? This is Grey.”
Horace’s valet. I noticed Amelia’s hand flying up to smooth her dark curls beneath her mobcap as a flush stained her cheeks.
“One moment, Grey.” I nodded towards the door. “Would you see to Grey, Amelia?”
She bobbed a curtsy and hurried to the door, pausing to take a deep breath before opening it.
“Yes, Grey?” She said most demurely. A tall, lanky fellow in livery, his ginger hair hidden beneath a powdered wig, stepped into the chamber, clasping his hands behind him.
He shot Amelia a quick smile and then cleared his throat and threw his shoulders back to make his announcement.
“My lady, his lordship wishes to know if you are ready. He says your coach shall soon need to depart.”
“You may tell his lordship I shall be ready momentarily, Grey. Thank you.”
He bowed. “Yes, my lady.” Grey cut his protuberant bright blue eyes in Amelia’s direction once again. His shy smile was a little broader this time.
“Miss Tucker.”
Amelia bobbed another demure curtsy and closed the door behind him.
“My lady, is there anything else I can help yew with?”
I rose to my feet, taking one last look at my reflection. I did not think I would shame my husband with my appearance. Who knows, he might even be pleased. Not, I fear, that it mattered very much to me.
~I just want Panther find me a beauty tonight~
I gave a small sigh, and with a half-smile I squeezed Amelia’s work-worn hand one more time as she walked up beside me.
“At least with the mask I shan’t be required to take such care in composing my features in his lordship’s presence. And now, I believe you have earned a good supper downstairs, Amelia.”
I glanced down at her. “And good conversation. He seems a pleasant young man . . .”
“Pardon, my lady?” Amelia said with a most innocent air.
I laughed. “May we both enjoy time with someone dear to our hearts this evening . . .”
*~*~*~*
It was almost time to take the hired coach from my bolt-hole to Arlington Place, where the masquerade ball would be held.
I held the single white rose Lizzie had requested in my gloved hand. Raising it to my nose, I drank in the flower’s scent.
~Sweet, but not as enticing as Lizzie’s own fragrance. Flowers. Jasmine mixed with-bluebells? That hint of spices~
My lips curved into a smile as I thought of her soft bare flesh beneath my mouth, how good she tasted . . .
~Will I have the chance to sample how delectable she is this evening? Time will tell~
Putting the rose down, I picked up my mask and tied it into place.
“Will you find it amusing, mon ange?” I murmured as I studied my reflection in the looking-glass. The bauta mask would allow me to converse, eat-and with a little care, kiss. Its appearance-well, you shall learn that soon enough.
Not that I did not plan to shed the mask as the evening progressed.
And, perhaps, other cumbersome articles of attire?
One thing was certain: I would happily steal whatever intimate moments I could manage with my dearest angel.
As you know, I am quite accomplished in the fine art of theft . . .
*~*~*~*
I was having the greatest difficulty refraining from laughing as Horace and I traveled to Arlington Place in our coach.
I found myself wishing there was no lanthorn illuminating the darkened interior of the coach, the monstrosity before my eyes all too visible.
~Thank heavens I am wearing my mask so that his lordship cannot see my face~
Whilst Horace droned on, explaining the origins of the mask as if talking to a small child, I tried not to stare at the enormous long, curving scarlet beak extending from its center.
He looked like a great bird sporting a cloak and peruke.
~A Plague Doctor’s Mask. How-appropriate. You have certainly plagued me, your lordship~
Oddly enough, images of a certain highwayman’s beautiful bare flesh, burnished in the firelight of my bedchamber, kept filling my head. T’was much more pleasant than thoughts of the Black Death and Horace . . .
I closed my eyes as I unfurled my fan. It was getting quite warm inside the coach.
“Indeed, certain physicians in Venice wore such masks during times of plague to help them avoid breathing in vile contagion.”
Horace tapped the beak. “This served a very cunning purpose, you know. All manner of aromatics-amber, camphor, cloves, rose petals-were tucked inside to protect these doctors from the miasma. Do you not think it a remarkable costume, my lady?”
My fan fluttered a little more rapidly as I cleared my throat and graciously inclined my head, hoping to imbue my words with the proper note of appreciation.
“I find it- most striking, my lord. No one shall be able to overlook you this evening.”
I could not see Horace’s mouth, of course, but I am certain he wore a smug, self-satisfied little smile as he droned on about his attire.
“Thank you, my lady. I did not want to wear something too--ordinary for the very first ball of the season. This mask was imported from Italy, crafted by the finest mask maker in Venezia, as was my domino itself, made of the highest quality black and gold silks.”
He tapped the monstrous beak again. “I even have aromatics inside. Quite a delightful scent, I must say.”
“How clever of you.” I sighed and shook my head as I meekly parted my domino to allow a glimpse of the gown beneath it.
“Ah, you shall certainly outshine me, for my costume was only made here in London, albeit by a French-born seamstress and milliner. Sadly, I have no aromatics to sweeten my disposition.”
Horace sniffed and tilted his head as if examining me through the glass eyes of his mask. I could envision the pursed lips and slight wrinkling of the nose taking place beneath his disguise.
“Ah, I would say you look quite-presentable-- my lady.” He slowly nodded.
“Yes, quite charming. Although it goes without saying that ladies such as the Duchess of Wimberly will likely be the brightest of stars in the firmament on such an august occasion. Still, I should not be ashamed to take you in upon my arm even if we were not in disguise.”
I fluttered my lashes as I inclined my head once more. “You are most--magnanimous to speak thus, my lord.”
I was exceedingly glad Amelia was not in the coach. She would surely have been slyly kicking my shins, the wretched girl.
An unwelcome thought entered my mind and I cursed my husband in silence for bringing up a certain lady’s name. Amelia had spoken of the Duchess of Wimberly, considered quite the merry and fair young widow, and her supposed liaison with Panther.
~And there is his vicountess in Paris . . .~
I gave myself an inward shake and took myself to task.
~Elizabeth Marian Chadwick Dillingham, Lady Montrose, you are a jealous little fool. You knew the man’s reputation before you ever invited him into your bed. Or was it that reputation that led you to your infidelity? Do you crave that flirtation with danger?~
I felt my cheeks grow hot beneath the mask and fluttered my fan even more rapidly.
~ Think only of the pleasure you may take in this night, assuming the Panther does arrive. Remember his words. You are in his heart~
How I hoped to see a white rose in the hand of one tall, elegant gentleman very, very soon . . .
And suddenly, we were at our destination, the footman assisting me out of our coach. We joined the throngs of dominoes entering the house, which seemed to be lit up with thousands of candles.
Arlington Place was only a very few years old, and one of the grandest of manses to be found in all of London.
Horace presented our invitation at the door. There were no names on the cards, no announcements of our arrivals: guests’ identities would remain hidden until the clock struck midnight.
I glanced around the ballroom as we entered. There were some rather tall cowled figures milling about, but none that I could see were carrying a white rose.
I took note with considerable pleasure that my emerald green domino was the only one of its hue, with most of the ladies wearing the typical blue, pink or white with contrasting linings.
~The better to find me, my dear Panther~
Adjoining the grand ballroom were a refreshment room to the left and a gambling room to the right.
No doubt my husband would soon be at the card tables there, particularly if some lady was willing to grace him with her attentions whilst he played. And the servants kept his wineglass filled, of course.
How he would manage to drink and keep his mask on properly, I had no idea. It was not my concern.
“Milady, I think I shall circulate and see who else has arrived before the dancing begins,” Horace said, giving a preemptory nod of his head.
As he lazily strolled towards the door to the gambling room, I smirked beneath my veil.
Horace was nothing if not predictable. Aside from choosing ludicrous masks, that is. I had not quite expected that.
“Do I know you?” I heard a husky female voice say as I felt a hand touch my arm.
I turned to look into a pair of gold-flecked brown eyes shining from behind a blue velvet mask shaped like a butterfly. The hair beneath her cobalt baout was powdered a grey-blue, but I found myself envisioning it a coppery red, the hair colour of one of the few I considered a friend in London.
“Is it Lady Douglas to whom I speak?” I queried.
Her brown eyes sparkled as she inclined her head.
“Indeed,” She said in a hushed tone, leaning in towards me in a conspiratorial fashion.
And you are Lady Montrose, I do believe?”
“Indeed I am, Lady Douglas. How delightful to see you,” I replied with a warmth I did not have to manufacture.
The clever and oft irreverent Lady Letitia Douglas was amongst the very few ladies in the ton whom I counted as a friend.
“How did you know it was I?” I asked, unfurling my fan once more. I admit half my thoughts were with Guy and the possibility he was now somewhere in the press of guests, seeking me out.
She gave a throaty laugh. “I confess I guessed his lordship first. Even swathed in the domino, there is something quite distinctive about your husband’s walk.”
Lady Douglas tilted her head and tapped her chin with her fan as if in the deepest of thought, then leaned in to murmur in my ear.
“It is almost as if he couldn’t be bothered to hurry even if his favourite bitch was on fire and needed a good dousing.”
I pressed my lips together to contain my mirth. Lady Douglas, who knew of Horace’s less-than-discrete attachments, had made it clear in the past she was singularly unimpressed with his choices.
“And whom do you believe is his favourite, Lady Douglas?”
There was mischief brewing in those brown eyes as they glinted with flecks of gold.
“I believe its name is-Fleming? Can it be that La Fleming is responsible for that amusingly hideous mask he is wearing?”
I shook my head slowly, my lips curling into a smile beneath my veil. “No, I would say the sole blame for---that--lies with his lordship. I do not believe the lady in question is in London at present. He appears to be finding amusement amongst other ladies and at his clubs since we moved our household to London for the season.”
I glanced around the ballroom in as casual a manner as I could muster as I spoke.
~Still no sign of him~
Turning my eyes back to hers, I placed my hand on Lady Douglas’s arm. “It truly is good to see you. How long have you been in London?”
“Ah, we came a bit later than usual this year. We’ve been here less than a week. There were some tiresome matters involving the estate with which Lord Douglas had to deal. And then we discovered our little Emily was suffering from a fever,” Lady Douglas explained.
“I hope the child is in good health now.”
“Oh, yes, positively blooming.” Her eyes flickered down towards her belly and then looked back at me.
“I have another one on the way. Three months or so gone. Of course, Lord Douglas is, naturally, hoping for a second son--” Lady Douglas paused abruptly, the light in her dark eyes dimming a little.
I knew why she cut off her words so suddenly. She was remembering all those tiny graves in the Dillingham family cemetery, and a nursery dark and empty.
Children died all too often; it was to be expected. Even in my mother’s large and boisterously healthy brood, we had lost a sister who died in infancy.
I, however, seemed to have particularly bad fortune.
“Oh, my dear Lady Montrose. Forgive me my stupid tongue--”
With a half-smile, I shook my head and gave her arm a light squeeze.
“There is no need to castigate yourself. I am very glad to hear your news, truly. Congratulations are certainly in order,” I said. “And the other children-are they well?”
I heard a soft expelling of breath, and I was certain she wore a relieved smile beneath her mask. Lady Letitia loved a good jest and possessed a sometimes tart tongue, but she was in truth a kind-hearted woman.
“Jack and Fanny are very well. I thank you for asking, Lady Montrose.”
“Ah, so it is the fair Lady Montrose.” I turned to see to whom those rather deep and affected vowels belonged. A tall figure was gazing down at me, and for the briefest of moments I thought---but no.
~Not tall or broad-shouldered enough. And the hands. Much too small. And not a rose petal in sight~
The eyes studying my face from behind a black and white chequed mask were blue, but of a watered-down sort, with fair lashes.
~Merely a pale shadow of the man I await~
“You look exquisite, milady,” said the gentleman, raising my hand to his mouth for a kiss of sorts, his style of mask preventing his lips from touching me.
~All the better~
He held my hand just a fraction longer than was proper, and from the corner of my vision I could see Lady Douglas eyeing us with interest.
“Thank you.” I smiled and dropped a curtsy as I politely, but firmly, tugged my hand free of his.
“Surely your husband has not already abandoned you on this gala evening? I cannot believe that,” the gentleman drawled.
“The emerald shade of your domino matches your eyes exquisitely. And what a charming mask . . .”
He was leaning in again and I found myself taking a step back, feeling rather like the poor lamb being pursued by the hungry wolf.
“You are very kind, sir . . . please excuse me, I-see someone I must speak to,” I said, bobbing a hasty curtsy and making my escape.
I had not actually seen my highwayman as yet, but I felt a strong urge to escape this unknown would-be admirer.
“You must let me share a dance with you this evening . . .” I heard him call out as I moved through the crowd. Glancing back over my shoulder, I wondered just who the deuced fellow was, when I felt myself about to stumble. A hand grasped my arm.
“Take care, my lady. I would not have you fall to be trampled in this crush.”
A deep, rumbling voice with a rather delicious French accent rang in my ears.
I looked up into a pair of eyes of sapphire blue behind a silver mask. A mask formed in the face of a cat, its wearer gazing down at me from beneath a black cowl lined in deep blue silk.
~A cat. How fitting~
“Monsieur.” The word came out breathlessly. I could feel my heart beating a little faster.
~He is here. He is here!~
“Madame.” Panther gave an elegant bow.
“Pour vous,” he said, as he carefully tucked a single white rose behind my ear. “Une belle fleur pour une belle femme.”
As his eyes swept over me, I basked in the glow of once more being in his presence.
“Votre costume est magnifique, madame--que la couleur est jolie! Elle correspond a vos yeux.”
The compliments all sounded so much lovelier coming out of my highwayman’s sweet mouth-and in French.
“Merci, monsieur.” I breathed in the rose’s sweet perfume even as my eyes still drank in my beautiful Guy, so tall and regal in his black domino, a prince amongst men.
“J’aime beaucoup votre masque . . . un chat noir merveilleuse,” I said.
I saw the answering gleam in his eyes as he took my left hand and, leaning down, lifted my fingertips to his mouth. Unlike my husband, Panther had wisely chosen a mask design giving him more freedom.
~Ah, but then he is quite experienced with disguises, is he not?~
Kissing each fingertip lightly, his eyes never leaving mine, Guy finally relinquished my hand. Truth be told, I never wanted him to let it go.
~*~*~*~
I saw the flash of emerald green from across the ballroom. It had to be my Lizzie. I felt that curious twist to my heart.
~Please, let it be my angel~
I moved forward. Her back was turned to me. She-if it was she-was speaking to a woman in a pale blue domino.
I was aware the musicians had begun to play; yet in spite of my fondness for music, I could not tell you the tune.
I hurried my steps and as I drew closer, a figure stepped forward-from his height, I assumed it to be a man-and took her hand. It seemed to me he was behaving as if he was an intimate friend of Lizzie’s.
I was startled to recognize a certain emotion coursing through me.
~The Panther, the thief of hearts is-jealous. What have you done to me, my protectress?~
When she broke away from the unknown gentleman, I confess my heart gladdened. It did not appear she had particularly welcomed his advances. At least, I hoped not.
Lizzie was hastening forward, yet still looking back, as if to see whether or not the man would follow her. I was certain she was going to stumble and fall if I did not intervene.
If I had held them outswept, as I wanted to, Mon Ange would have walked right into my arms. In spite of our disguises, I feared giving her a passionate embrace would not be wise in so public a place.
As I caught her arm, she looked up into my face, her green eyes shining as she recognised me. I was certain there was a smile beneath that veil.
As charming as her mask was, I longed to tear it from her face, to gather her in my arms and press ardent kisses to her soft lips and slender white throat and make her mine, completely mine.
That night I was masquerading as a French duke, and so I showered Lizzie with compliments in la belle langue, and kissed those sweet fingertips, longing for so much more . . .
~All in good time, Duc de la Bellefontaine. All in good time~
“I believe, my lady, the musicians are about to play a tune for the minuet. Would you care to join me?”
Mon Ange made a pretty curtsy as she inclined her head.
“With pleasure, monsieur.”
*~*~*~*
He took my hand and we joined the other couples gathering in the centre of the ballroom to dance.
“Do you dance often, monsieur?” I queried as I suspended my fan from my wrist.
“Not as often as I wish, madame . . . I am very much looking forward to dancing with you. I hope to dance with you many times tonight.”
His voice of chocolate and velvet caressed my ears as he spoke. The look in Panther’s eyes suggested to me it was not solely the stately minuet or the lively gavotte he had in mind.
Dancing with him was just as I had imagined it would be. We danced the sarabande, the rigaudon, the courante and the passacaille; I had never enjoyed a ball more than I did on that night.
I forced myself to make polite conversation with fellow masked guests, as did he in his guise as French nobleman; we did not wish to completely give ourselves away.
But I would not have cared if every single one of them had disappeared . . . leaving only the Panther, his lady and the music.
My highwayman was amazingly light on those large and handsome feet of his, graceful and economical with his movements. His warmth pulsed through the kidskin of our gloves every time we touched, his smouldering glances sending a frisson of delight through my being.
It was as if I had walked into a dream that night at Arlington Place, one from which I wished never to awaken.
Yet even in a dream, one may find oneself growing breathless and thirsty from such pleasant diversions.
“Shall we enjoy some refreshment, my lady-and, perhaps, a turn on the terrace for a little fresh air?”
With that familiar tilt to his head, Guy looked down at me, his voice, husky and honeyed, suggestive of greater delights . . .
I expelled a breath.
“I should very much like to take some refreshment and fresh air, monsieur. And, afterwards, perhaps, somewhere we can-converse--in privacy?”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he gently caressed the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb. A simple movement that made me catch my breath.
“Absolutment , madame. Vos désirs sont des ordres . . .”
*~*~*~*
There was no doubt. My Lizzie was as hungry for me as I was for sweet Lizzie.
“Mon Ange,” I murmured as I raised her hand to my mouth once more, the tip of my tongue darting out beneath the mask to glance across her flesh.
“But first, milady, you must spend a little time meandering.”
There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Must I-meander?”
I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Trust me. I am very good at this sort of thing . . .”
“This-sort of thing?”
I chuckled as I raised my head. “Subterfuge, of course. First, I shall go to the refreshment room and partake and attend to one or two things--and then, I shall wander outside. And you will follow suit. Later, we will come back into the house.”
I paused, my lips twitching beneath the mask.
“Although not necessarily in the same manner as we exited it, milady-but most certainly to a more private place . . .”
I leaned in again. “Did I tell you I am quite familiar with this grand house of the earl’s? It would be a folly not to be, you know.”
“I suspect there is a great deal I need to discover about you, Monsieur . . .” she said, green eyes glimmering with mischief from above her unfurled fan.
~Ah, you do not know the half of it, my girl~
I inclined my head. “It will be my pleasure to further educate you, madame. My great pleasure . . .”
*~*~*~*
As instructed, I had meandered through groups of other guests, lazily waving my fan as I courteously bowed my head left and right. Not knowing just who was behind most of those masks, one ran the risk of snubbing a person of higher rank without such intentions.
“Lady Montrose.” It was certain it was the deep, haughty voice belonging to the Chequered Domino calling out from behind me.
~Not again. Especially not now!~
I saw Lady Douglas a short distance in front of me, and hurried forward to engage her in conversation.
“Dear Lady Douglas, I am attempting to evade a certain gentleman who seems determined to chase me down . . .”
She tilted her head, her dark eyes shining with undisguised curiosity as she took my arm in a companionable manner.
“Ah, the annoying fellow who so admired you earlier, I suppose?”
I expelled a sigh. “Exactly so.”
“Where do you wish to go, Lady Montrose?”
“To the refreshment room for now, and then-out for a breath of fresh air.”
“Mmmmmm. Perhaps-to meet a certain cat?”
I tried to stifle my gasp. ~Did she know about Panther?~
She laughed, shaking her head. “I could not fail to notice you with the delicious creature in the feline mask. A French nobleman, I believe. Have no fear. Go and enjoy and I shall detain our ‘friend.’”
I gave a small sigh of relief and patted her arm. “Thank you. You are an absolute angel . . .”
I made my escape without looking back this time. I was certain Lady Douglas was more than my mysterious admirer’s match.
Within the refreshment room, long tables were lined with silver trays of cold meats, dainty pastries, blancmange, trifle, tipsy cake and more from which to select, and plentiful quantities of wine punch. Very thirsty, I drank two cups of it before I ever left the room, but only managed to nibble on a bit of chicken, pastry and cake.
Butterflies seemed to dance in my stomach as I anticipated meeting with Panther. I set down my plate and refilled my cup, drinking it down quickly.
Slipping back through the guests, I stepped out onto the terrace, where a light, pleasant breeze carried the sweet scent of late spring blooms wafting through the night air.
Looking around me, I did not see my great cat amongst those guests illuminated by the light of the torches surrounding the terrace. What was it he had said? Something about a folly . . .
I smiled to myself.
~But of course, you clever cat~
Arlington Place had its own small folly in its garden.
Rarely did one see such a structure, normally found on country estates, within London boundaries; however, the owner of Arlington Place, the Earl of Fultondale, liked to do everything in very grand style.
As slender fingers of moonlight parted the clouds and swept across the landscape, I saw a flash of silver amongst the marble columns of the small circular temple.
~Silver. The colour of Panther’s mask~
I followed a winding little cobblestone path toward the folly.
“Ah, madame, you have discovered my place of retreat,” Guy said, one black-gloved hand pressed against a marble column, the wind swirling his domino around his tall form.
“Yes, I followed the trail of a-cat,” I replied.
“My clever girl,” he said with a purr in his voice as he grasped my hands and tugged me inside to a bench.
A shaft of moonlight illuminated the temple’s interior through its broken roof. I could see his eyes gleaming near-black behind his silver mask.
“You can move amazingly fast for such a-robust man,” I said, a little breathless as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against his chest.
“I am a robust man on a mission, milady. Can we remove these damned masks for a few moments? Hang waiting for the clock to strike midnight.”
His voice was both teasing and determined.
“Y-yes.” I pushed back the bauot of my domino and reached for the ribbons holding my mask in place.
“Here, let me.” Guy reached around me and deftly untied the ribbons, lifting the mask from my face.
“How beautiful you are tonight . . .” He said in a soft, husky whisper.
Pushing back his cowl, Guy untied his own mask. Casting it aside, he took my face in his broad hands, stroking my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his voice low and intimate.
“ I have been wanting to do this all evening, from the first moment I saw you, Lizzie. I have missed you . . .”
His mouth claimed mine, capturing first my upper lip and gently suckling it before moving to do the same with my lower lip.
Between the potency of the punch mingled with Guy’s delicious kisses, I felt positively giddy-headed. I wrapped my arms around his neck, entwining my fingers in his silky black waves.
Feeling his tongue trace the outline of my lips before parting them, I shivered.
“Are you cold, Mon Ange?” he murmured as he lifted his mouth from mine.
“Oh-no, no. Do you suppose one can--shiver from-happiness?”
He gave a low chuckle. “If you wish it to be so, milady.”
“Kiss me again, Guy. Kiss me-”
Guy answered with a small growl deep in his throat, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my nose before claiming my mouth once again in a deep, long and passionate kiss.
If I had thought myself breathless before, I was positively gasping for air when he finally lifted his mouth from mine.
Guy, his own breathing rather laboured, smiled into my eyes, the seductive smile of a dark angel.
“I-believe we need to find that place of--privacy that will also offer more comfort than the hard, cold marble bench--or floor, Mon Ange. Shall we don our masks once more and return to the house?”
I nodded as I laid my head against his chest.
“Please.”
*~*~*~*
I confess I had to restrain myself from making love to my angel right there in that miniature Greek temple.
But I could not take her like some doxy with skirts hiked, rutting against the wall. She was a lady, after all, even if she had a beguiling wanton side to her.
Still, Lizzie might find a little danger and intrigue rather enjoyable.
And that is why I had planned ahead.
“We must be very quiet and stealthy, Lizzie,” I whispered as we approached the house by a different route than that traveled to the folly.
“Like a pair of cats, Guy?” She queried, smiling up at me.
“Yes, exactly so.” We were approaching the windows to the library; a library that I knew had most comfortable furnishings.
After slowly raising one of the window sashes, I turned to Lizzie. “There is a window seat here. It will make it easier for you to climb inside,” I whispered.
She clasped her hands behind my neck as I scooped her up into my arms and lifted her through the open window, then climbed in beside her and closed the window behind me.
The heavy curtains of the window were drawn; no light from the chamber illuminated the window seat, and the moon had nearly disappeared behind some clouds. “My, this is very cozy, Guy-two cats curled up in this window seat,” Lizzie murmured, snuggling against me.
“Yes, it is.” I pulled off my mask and hers, bending down to nuzzle her neck before whispering in her ear.
“There is only one problem. As wonderful as it is to touch you, I cannot fully appreciate how lovely you look in this cursed darkness . . . oh, Lizzie, I am-so very hungry for you.”
*~*~*~*
My heart was beating wildly in my chest at his words.
“I am for you as well, Guy. I, I-missed you so very much.”
“Then, my lady, I think we must show each other just how much.”
He parted the curtains and, lifting me up once more, carried me into the library where candles flickered above the fireplace and on side tables flanking a large painted Venetian sofa.
“I thought this sofa looked rather inviting, Mon Ange. Commodious, comfortable and quite elegant . . .” Guy lowered me onto the sofa.
Standing over me, he unfastened his domino and flung it aside with a flourish, then tugged his gloves with those gleaming white teeth, peeling each one from his hands.
I felt that sweet stirring deep in my belly as I watched him, resplendent in his black frock coat and waist coat embroidered in silver, snug black breeches that showed off those beautiful long and muscular horseman’s thighs . . .
“Would you do the same for me, Guy?” I said, holding up my gloved hands. “With your teeth . . .”
“Ah, you like that, do you?” He gave me a wolfish grin.
“I do . . .” I sighed. “Sometimes, I dream of you doing such things.”
“Interesting. I wonder what other things you have dreamt.”
A wicked gleam in his eyes, he sat down beside me and caught the tip of my glove with his teeth, tugging as he peeled the supple leather from my hands.
I pressed my now bare hands to his face, stroking that strong jawline as I gazed into his beautiful dark-lashed eyes.
“Now I can truly feel your warmth . . .”
He took my hand in his, fervently kissing it before pressing his lips to mine once more.
I pulled away as an unhappy thought entered my mind.
“But-shall we have to worry about being-interrupted, Guy?”
He gave me one of those lop-sided grins, shaking his head as he unfastened the closure at the neck of my domino. “The door is locked, my dear, I made sure of it earlier. Locked in such a way it cannot even be opened with its key . . .”
I raised my brows. “So--I am locked in with you?”
He slid the domino from my shoulders, expelling his breath with a hiss of satisfaction when he glimpsed the generous swell of my breasts above the bodice of my gown.
“Yes, you might say you are my prisoner, my lady-to do with as I will.” Guy’s voice seemed even deeper and huskier than usual.
He leaned down and pressed kisses to the tops of my breasts, nuzzling them, his hands wrapping around my waist.
“Your dress is most becoming to you, Mon Ange, most becoming, albeit a hindrance--”
Guy claimed my mouth again, our lips parting and tongues dancing as he cupped one of my breasts through the fabric of my gown. I could feel the nipple harden beneath his thumb as he teased it, and that intoxicating sensation fluttering deep in my belly.
My hand slipped between his thighs, fingers seeking and finding that bulge in his trousers. I cupped it in my hand, gratified to hear the growl from deep in his throat.
Oh, how I wanted him . . . and yes, the clothing was certainly a hindrance. But we were not in the ideal place to strip ourselves naked, even with Guy’s precautions about the door.
Where there is a will, however, there is a way . . .
“If we unlace my stomacher, my breasts can be freed . . . and if we-take off the pannier and the petticoat-I will be able to recline much more easily,” I said with a breathless eagerness, caressing his iron-hard member, wanting desperately to have him inside me again.
“We can push up my skirt . . .”
He pressed a finger to my mouth and gave me another of those dark angelic smiles. “Then we must begin.” He stood up and quickly stripped off his frock coat and waist coat and undid his stock, baring his long column of white throat.
“And now, the pannier and petticoat, milady.”
Soon I was free of those encumbrances, thanks to Guy’s very capable hands, and reclining on the sofa, Guy kneeling over me, straddling my legs. My own eager and trembling fingers worked my laces loose on my stomacher.
“Allow me,” Guy said, and pulled the stomacher free of my bodice, parting the fabric so that my breasts spilled out.
He groaned as he cupped my breasts and then put his mouth to my hardened nipples, laving and suckling them while he slid my skirt ever higher. His hands moved to caress my stocking-clad thighs, setting my flesh afire everywhere he touched me.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and softly moaned as I felt one of his long, elegant fingers at the entrance to my sex, stroking the outer folds.
“You are so very wet, Mon Ange.” Guy slid a little further inside me, then withdrew his finger. I gave a moue of disappointment. Guy laughed and slid in two fingers this time, curling them to tease my swollen bud.
My back arched, my hips lifting involuntarily, unable to resist his touch and its effect on me.
“Ah, you like that, do you?” Guy rumbled. Gazing down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, he lifted those fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick my juices from one.
“And you taste so very good. So delectable . . . taste yourself.”
I took the finger that was still wet with my juices and licked it, then took it in my mouth and began to suck it. Something told me it would please my Panther.
Guy’s lips parted, his eyes heavy-lidded as he slid his finger in and out of my mouth and I sucked and licked it, swirling my tongue around it.
I paused. “Ah, you like that, do you?”
He gave me a wicked grin. “You are a quick learner, Lizzie.”
I reached out and cupped his iron-hard bulge again, massaging it with my fingers. His eyes fluttered shut as he groaned deep in his throat, his hand moving to cover mine.
“See what you do to me, Mon Ange . . .” He opened his eyes, giving me one of those lop-sided smiles. “Will you help me with these-breeches? They are becoming-most uncomfortable.”
“Mais oui, monsieur.”
I eagerly helped him peel those snug-fitting breeches past that beautiful peach-like arse, freeing his erection, standing proud in its thicket of black curls.
I wrapped my fingers around the shaft, still amazed at his length and girth, reveling in the velvety surface of his iron-hard member. Knowing that I enflamed such desire in him was intoxicating.
“Oh, Lizzie . . . use your pretty hand to take me inside you, as much of me as you want.” His voice was husky.
I guided his shaft to the entrance of my sex, between its outer folds, and then inside me. Oh, it felt so-wonderful to be joined with him again.
Closing my eyes, I gave an exultant sigh and wrapped my hands around his sinuous hips, moving them to cup his lovely arse.
~The feeling of him moving inside me, filling me up. So very different than the Great Grunt and Shudder~
“All of you-I want-all of you, Guy.”
*~*~*~*~*
I thrust into her slowly at first, her velvet channel, so warm and inviting, gripping me snugly as her legs wrapped around me.
Her eyes were black orbs of desire, lips so ripe and swollen from my kisses, her body warm and fragrant and pliant. She was beautiful-and she was mine.
“Guy, oh Guy, don’t stop.” She was panting, her hips bucking, exciting me all the more. Thrusting harder and deeper, I pressed hot, moist kisses to her lips, her throat, her breasts; she tasted so sweet and wonderful.
I slowed my thrusts down and slid a finger inside her, teasing her swollen bud. She whimpered, arching her back. I knew she was close to her climax . . . as was I.
“Hold--on to my neck, Mon Ange,” I said breathlessly, sweeping Lizzie into my arms as I sat upright, my cock still deep inside her.
*~*~*~*
Now I was straddling Guy, riding my beautiful black stallion once again, threading my fingers through his tousled mane as he thrust forcefully into me; drinking in his scent, savouring his animal maleness.
We moved in tandem, looking into each other’s eyes, becoming more and more breathless.
“Regards-moi, Mon Ange. Regards-moi,” Guy panted, cupping my face in his hands, his lips parted and nostrils flaring, eyes dark with desire.
~Surely he is the most beautiful, desirable man in the world . . .~
When I felt the waves of pleasure begin to wash over me, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in exultation. Guy threw back his head, eyes fluttering closed, groaning as he gave a few more furious thrusts before spending himself inside me.
~No, not at all like the Great Grunt and Shudder. This is what it can be like between a man and a woman~
“Ah, my sweet, sweet Lizzie . . .” He said softly, nuzzling my neck and nipping my earlobes, his hands tugging me against his chest as he enfolded me in his arms.
“I have missed you terribly, my protectress. Your smile, your laughter-your kisses . . .” Guy sighed.
“Oh, Guy--” I laid my head on his shoulder, pressed my hand against his chest, felt the beating of his heart beneath that solid, muscular flesh.
I spoke, not looking into his eyes, fearful, I suppose, of what I might see there.
“Perhaps I should not tell you this. But-I-have fallen in love with you, Guy.” He said nothing and I felt my face flush.
“ I know it is foolish of me, that dozens of other women have felt the same, but--”
“There has been no-one else.”
I lifted my head. “No-one else?”
He smiled as he gently stroked my cheek and cupped my face, looking searchingly into my eyes.
“There is no other woman I have-loved, not in the way I love you, sweet Lizzie. I did not intend to fall in love. But as you have admitted, I suppose I must, too.”
Guy kissed my forehead. “There has only been one who truly had a claim on my heart, and she did not want it, and told me so from the very first.”
“Oh, Guy . . . she hurt you.”
He gave me a half-smile and shook his head. “Only a little. I was very young and had much to learn. She was my first lover.”
His hand slid between my legs, his fingers teasing my sex again.
Guy smirked, his voice grew even deeper and huskier as he slid two fingers in and out, giving special attention to my swollen bud.
“And she was a very good teacher, would you not agree?”
I caught my breath. “Oh-yes.”
Guy pressed kisses in the cleft of my breasts, his tongue darting out to lave my skin even as he continued to tease me below with his capable fingers.
“And you will enjoy further lessons from me, my sweet Lizzie?”
My voice was faint. “I am quite sure I will, Guy . . .”
~My beautiful lover-who loves me. Truly loves me~
And that was the inopportune moment when someone started rattling the library door.
Guy cursed beneath his breath and shot a venomous glare at the doorknob.
“Dear Lady Montrose-are you there?”
The affected drawl from outside the door was unmistakable.
Guy raised a single quizzical brow. I sighed.
I decided I hated the Chequered Domino . . .
*~*~*~*
Author’s Notes: A bahoo or baout is a large hood with stiffening inside to allow it to cover a lady’s head without disturbing her coiffure that was sometimes worn with a domino. The domino looked not unlike a modern graduation gown and was a popular choice for gentlemen and ladies for masquerades in the 18th century, along with “fancy dress” events with guests in a variety of colorful costumes.
Mask styles varied; I did discover certain Venetian masks that covered the entire face but still allowed access to the mouth, such as Guy’s bauta style and Lizzie’s using a veiling to cover the lower face.
What we now refer to as peau de soie (often used to make dye-ready shoes for wedding parties) was called paduasoy in the mid-18th century.