He gaped at her as they assumed the correct position to begin. “Dare I ask what else you’ve planned?”
“I wouldn’t.” She winked and he swore he felt the ground beneath his feet shift.
Then the dance was underway. For the first few steps, he concentrated on putting his whole attention on the waltz; it had been some time since he’d last do the pretty like this, but he needn’t have worried. The knowledge came back to him as if it had been ingrained. At every dip and swirl, Isobel somehow returned to him closer than before.
How had she managed that without him realizing?
For the moment, Royce didn’t care, for she was an engaging bundle. The heat of her seeped through his gloves while her breasts brushed his chest with just enough teasing that he feared the teasing would drive him mad. “What are your plans beyond this dance?”
“That largely depends on how much I can push you past the bounds of your own comfort.” The fingers that rested on his shoulder tightened slightly as she cocked an eyebrow. “Have you an objection to that?”
“Not necessarily.” When was the last time a woman had affected him on every level as she did now? “However, I am curious.”
With the simple direction of her fingers on his shoulder, she encouraged him a fraction of an inch closer. As brazen as if she were alone with him instead of in a ballroom full of people, she dropped her gaze to his mouth before meeting his eyes. “Then I’ll tell you this. I plan to slip away once this waltz concludes, perhaps find a study or library on this floor. What happens after that is up to fate.”
His heartbeat quickened. “I see.” The steps of the dance temporarily took her away from him, but when they came back together, he asked, “What about the impending scandal if we’re caught?” He would flat out refuse to put himself into a situation in which he might need to ask for her hand in a forced situation. Neither of them needed that. And a bout of heated kissing didn’t warrant marriage.
Isobel snorted. “Remember, Doctor, we are not ourselves this evening. That scandal—if we’re caught—will rest squarely on Miss FitzHerbert as well as the Duke of Thistlewaite.” Her eyes twinkled behind her mask as she leaned into him. “Imagine what people will say.”
“I don’t have to, but I’m certainly glad it’s their future to worry about.” Feeling more reckless than confident, he twirled her about the floor with grand and sweeping finesse. “You’re quite a bad influence.”
All too soon the music concluded. The assembled couples drifted to a halt and polite clapping went about the room. Royce escorted her over to the sidelines while another set formed. “Shall I fetch you some punch, Miss FitzHerbert?” he said in a voice louder than usual for the benefit of anyone eavesdropping?
“That would be quite refreshing, Your Grace. While you do that, I’m going into one of the ladies’ retiring rooms. I seem to have torn a hem.” With an elevated eyebrow, she headed toward one of the doors leading from the ballroom.
Royce exited from a different door. His heart beat so hard he feared someone would hear it as he navigated his way through the corridor and then down another, shorter one. Each time he came to a door, he tried the latch. Some were locked, but some weren’t. Finally, he located a dimly lit library, and with his heart in his throat—for the chance of discovery and hitting upon his real identity if he were ordered to unmask was quite high—he entered the room, pausing to check the corridor before closing the door behind him with a soft snick.
“Isobel?” The whispered sound of his inquiry seemed overly loud in the heavy silence.
She came out of the shadows; her shimmering gown reflecting the light from the candelabra burning upon one of the low tables in the center of the room. “There is no one here by that name.”
Ah, she would play the role to the hilt. Minx. He grinned. A streak of recklessness went down his spine. “Miss FitzHerbert then?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Before he knew what she was about, Isobel tugged at his cravat, moved him off to the side and into the shadows, and then gave him a shove until his back connected with the wall. “I hope you’re here for an erotic interlude. If you’re not, I shall have to find some other willing gentleman to relieve certain… needs.”
Damnation! I’m in a spot of bother.
Then a stab of something went through his chest at the thought of her with another man before he’d ever delved deeper into the real Isobel. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” He reached for her, sliding a hand about her nape, and hauling her to him. Then, with his other hand at her hip, he claimed her lips with his.
She gave into him with a sigh, but he never expected a complete surrender. Though her lips were as soft and as yielding as they’d been before, there was a certain urgency to this kiss. Perhaps it had been the teasing and flirting they’d already indulged in, but there was something about this woman he couldn’t ignore. When she pressed her body into his and angled her head for better access, Royce groaned. The damned masks kept bumping and sticking together, but he refused to stop long enough to remove them. He settled her more comfortably in his arms with the intention of kissing her senseless.
If only to evict her from his mind and cool the ardor in his blood.
When that didn’t provide nearly enough, he flipped positions. Holding her captive between his chest and the wall, he moved over her lips, nipped the plumb bottom piece of flesh, nibbled at the corners until she opened for him. The tiny moan she made spurred him onward. Satin slid against silk as their tongues dueled from dominance. With every thrust and parry, she wound her arms more tightly about his shoulders, and he moved his hand upward, dared to brush his fingers along the curve of her breast.
She mewled like a contented kitten. When she sucked on his bottom lip and then released it with a slight pop, Royce’s hold on control slipped a fraction. His pulse roared in his ears. Hot need rushed through his length, tightening with arousal. He put a knee between her legs, and she moaned again, slightly sliding up his thigh. Did she enjoy the sensation of her skirting, his leg, at the center of her being?
Wanting to give her pleasure and to see how far she was comfortable leading him, he dragged his lips down the column of her neck. The soft, fragrant skin was addicting, as were the soft sounds of encouragement she made. One of her hands burrowed beneath his waistcoat, sliding down, down, down his abdomen toward—
The slight click of the door latch echoed in the room. The sound wormed its way through his passion-fogged brain. Royce wrenched away, trying to regulate his labored breathing. “Someone’s here,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
Isobel clung to him as they waited. Would scandal chase them from the house?
Slowly, the door swung open. “James?” A woman’s soft call sounded directly on the other side of the door from their location. Obviously, her assignation wasn’t in this room. Just as slowly and quietly, the panel closed, and Royce breathed a sigh of relief.
He rested his forehead against Isobel’s. “We should probably go lest we find ourselves caught.”
“But we haven’t finished here.” The tiny whine in her voice caused him to snicker.
“There will be other times to more fully explore what we’ve only just discovered.” With a kiss to her cheek, he pulled fully away and shoved a hand through his hair. “Go to the refreshment table. I’ll join you there in a few minutes.”
“Fine.” Her kiss-swollen lips turned downward in a pout, but she left the room without further argument.
“Bloody hell.” Yet he couldn’t hold back his grin. That was, by far, the best evening he’d spent in quite some time. Even if that string of kisses had done nothing to break the desire he had for her.