“No. Close your eyes.”
* * *
The rich red walls and dazzling array of vibrant gowns in Mrs Mulligan’s costume shop would put anyone in mind for a party. Vivienne admired an exquisite Elizabethan dress of orange taffeta teamed with a black velvet gable hood. Swathed in such sophistication, a lady would command everyone’s attention.
“Pick something less cumbersome,” Mr Sloane whispered from behind. “It would take an age to strip you out of that one, and I would prefer to focus my attention on more pleasurable pursuits.”
He was teasing her again, using shameless comments to incite a reaction. Did he not know every word from his mouth stirred her senses? He could list a ship’s cargo and make it sound erotic. And the mere fact he stood so close turned her mind to mush.
“A man with your skill surely has nimble fingers.”
Vivienne swung around to face him, and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the tricorn hat perched rakishly on his head that made her heart thud. Nor was it the black mask covering the upper half of his face. It was the way his sinful mouth curled into a mischievous grin.
“Keep the hat. It makes you look like a marauding pirate.” The urge to kiss away his confidence pulsed in her veins. “Discard the mask. I wish to look into my husband’s eyes when he’s focused on pleasurable pursuits.”
The air sparked to life.
Mr Sloane’s sharp inhalation made her giddy. He tore off the mask, pinned her to the spot with his indecent gaze. “When writhing beneath me, Vivienne, you won’t give a damn what I’m wearing.”
Mother Mary! Heat settled low and heavy between her thighs. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t form a word.
Mr Sloane glanced over his shoulder at Mrs Mulligan, who was busy serving the only other customer in the small shop. Then he pressed his fingertip to the top button on her pelisse.
“Do you want to know why I’ve not tried to kiss you, Vivienne?” Slowly, he circled the button as if it were a sensitive part of her anatomy. “Because the next time you permit me to devour your mouth, we’ll not stop there. We’ll be lovers before we’re husband and wife.”
Lovers?
The word spoke to her adventurous spirit.
“I thought fondling innocents was not your forte,” she said, hoping to gain ground so she didn’t look quite so besotted.
“For you, Vivienne, I would make an exception.”
“Good afternoon. Have you come to buy an outfit for a masquerade?” The high-pitched voice invaded the intimate moment. “I’ve a magazine filled with illustrations if you’re looking for something unique.”
Mr Sloane whispered through his broad smile, “We shall continue this conversation tonight, Vivienne, somewhere private.” Then he gave the woman who wore kohl and rouge and a flamboyant peacock-blue robe his full attention. “I hear this is the only establishment in town selling beaked masks.”
“Beaked? You mean the Pantalone.”
“No, the one I want has a long, hollow beak.”
“Ah, let me see.” The middle-aged woman reached under the glass counter and retrieved a pile of magazines. She flicked through the pages of one periodical before tapping an illustration with her pointed fingernail. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
Vivienne followed Mr Sloane to the counter. Fear trickled through her veins as she glanced at the image of a hunched figure dressed in a black cloak and sporting the terrifying mask. She had glimpsed the mask last night after Mr Sloane’s surprise confession. On its own, it had appeared less startling, had not caused the clawing sense of alarm.
“Yes, that is the costume I wish to purchase.” Mr Sloane switched the tricorn hat with his top hat and placed it on the counter. “I’ll take the tricorn, too, but I need them both today.”
The woman’s eyes dulled with disappointment. “Today?”
“We’ve a masquerade this evening.”
Mrs Mulligan raised her chin. “Ah, you’re going to Lord Newberry’s costume ball.”
“Newberry?” Vivienne mused. The name sounded familiar. Yes, the countess had taken great delight in discussing her costume, though had informed Vivienne masquerades were not for innocents. Well, after the wicked way Mr Sloane devoured her mouth, she hardly fell into that category. “Yes. Lady Hollinshead is to attend, though I’m sure she mentioned going as Cleopatra.”
A sly smile played on Mr Sloane’s lips. “Did I not say we should have purchased our costumes weeks ago?” He bent his head and beckoned Mrs Mulligan closer. “A masquerade is a place where a lady might satisfy a fantasy. My wife needs a costume to enhance her natural beauty, to cause a stir.”
Vivienne’s heart skipped to her throat. Excitement left her shaking. Not just because she longed to attend a masquerade, but because she liked hearing Mr Sloane call her his wife.