Authors: Shelley Bradley
One Wicked Night (3 page)
“Stop it!” he demanded, whipping the blade up to her neck.
Nodding stiffly, Serena watched his fingers close about her wedding ring. Ignoring her cry of distress, he yanked the band past her knuckle, and pocketed the jewelry into a dark waistcoat.
The leaves around them rustled with intrusion and her assailant jerked his gaze up to the sound. Serena held her breath as another man crashed into the clearing. Her attacker rose and whirled to meet the threat of the larger man.
“Did someone scream?” the newcomer mumbled.
The thief raised his knife above his shoulder, the point of the blade aimed menacingly at the second man’s chest.
Cursing, the stranger lunged for her armed assailant.
Serena reacted, pushing at the thief’s legs with every ounce of her strength. He tripped, sprawling to his knees at her rescuer’s feet. The knife dropped to the ground.
The thug scrambled upright and jabbed the second man in the ribs with a vicious elbow, then darted away through the shrubbery. With a grunt, her rescuer fell, clutching his side.
At her assailant’s abrupt departure, Serena drew in a deep, jagged breath as relief crashed through her. Incredibly, her ordeal had ended as abruptly as it had begun, thanks to the stranger.
He turned to face her and clasped large, solid hands about her shoulders, eyeing the trail of blood across her collarbone. “How badly did he hurt you?”
Serena’s hand automatically lifted to the small cut where her attacker might have ripped out her heart had the whim suited him. The gravity of the attack and the magnitude of what might have happened slammed into her.
No words came forth. Serena opened her mouth as she knelt near the stranger. He eased his arms around her. Breath hitching in her chest as she held back tears, she accepted his solace. Security enveloped her at the feel of his strong arms about her. She pressed her face against his hard chest and let loose a broken sob of relief and latent fright.
“Shhh,” her rescuer soothed, hands gliding lightly down her back. “You’re safe now.”
Serena lifted her head, lifted it a long way, before her grateful eyes found his face. Black velvet masked the upper half of his face, accentuating a strong, square jaw and black, collar-length hair. He, too, looked dangerous, dressed like a highwayman for the masquerade. The imposing width of his shoulders lay barely concealed beneath a dark cape and blocked out all light save that from the full moon. His eyes glittered with danger, their color indiscernible in the near-dark as he probed her face intently. She didn’t understand why his stare made her shivery and hot.
Yes, this man was definitely dangerous, in a different sort of manner than the first. She leaned away.
“Come now. I’ve no wish to hurt you,” he murmured.
He lifted his fingers from her back, touching his way up her bare shoulder. A warm flush suffused her skin at his touch.
“Tell me what happened.” He helped her to her feet with a steadying arm, until he staggered a moment himself.
Finding her courage and her voice, Serena answered, “I was watching the dancer and he--he pulled me into the bushes. He took my money and jewelry.”
“Did you see him well enough to describe him?”
Serena’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall. “He seemed taller than average. Ah...” She sighed. “Of average build.”
“Did you see the color of his hair or eyes? Notice what he wore?” His voice became crisper with each word.
She shook her head. “He wore a hat. Other than a black waistcoat and breeches, I could see nothing.”
“Did you perhaps notice anything odd about him?” he pressed. “Anything about his voice or speech.”
Serena looked sightlessly into the night, scanning her memory. Something there tugged and pulled, but she could pinpoint nothing specific. “I’m not certain.” She sighed in frustration. “It...I was too frightened.”
“Think on it,” he suggested. “Perhaps it will come to you.”
Her rescuer put a gentle hand beneath her elbow and eased her against his side. Again, she became aware of his height as he towered above her, of his breadth beside her. He could easily protect or harm her, as his mood allowed.
He pushed the shrubbery aside, and they exited. No one around them noticed except a young man in worn workmen’s clothing. A sly smile crept across the boy’s pale face. Clearly, he thought they had engaged in something illicit. Had the stranger seen the young man’s expression, read his thoughts? Serena risked a sideways glance at her rescuer.
He looked down. Met her stare. Catching her first glimpse of him in full light, Serena was ill-prepared for such utter male magnificence. Her breath caught in her throat.
Green. His eyes were green—deep as an ancient forest, as expressive as poetry, as seductive as sin—set deep in a face of hard, classic angles. Serena felt frozen, unable to look away.
His eyes crinkled up at the corners with a smile. “That chap has some interesting ideas about us, it seems.”
Blood heated her cheeks—and oddly, her belly. She cleared her throat. “Indeed.”
“Let’s see if we can find a constable and put an end to this frightful business, shall we?” he suggested.
Serena shook her head, wanting nothing more than the familiar surroundings of home. “`Twould hardly come to any good now. The thief has more than likely fled.”
He nodded. “There is that chance, I fear.”
Serena gazed down at her shaking hands, at the blood running in rivulets down the fingers of her left one.
Her rescuer peeled away the remnants of her tattered glove and produced a snowy handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket. He pressed the cloth, along with his palm, against hers.
“Are you here with someone?” At her slow nod, his gaze asked what his lips did not: Who?
“I came with friends,” she answered. Odd, the way her pulse hammered in her chest the longer she looked at him. Nervously, she smiled. “I shall have to find them.”
“I’ll help. Clearly, you’re not safe alone.”
Was she safe with him? Moments ago, she had thought so, but something about him, his powerful, thoroughly male presence, made her unsure. With his hand enveloping hers, security had given way beneath the depth of his green stare to an inexplicable disquiet.
She freed her hand from his grasp and gazed through the crowd, toward the platform where Madame Saqui had taken her last leap. She gazed about frantically for Melanie and Lord Highbridge. They were nowhere in sight.
“Melanie,” she called futilely among the crowd. “Melanie!”
Her rescuer whispered beside her, “It’s not likely you’ll find her among fifteen thousand people, especially if your Melanie is kissing a beau beneath this full moon.”
“Kissing?” The startling word struck a warm chord within her.
The corners of her rescuer’s full mouth turned up in a slow, smile, showing a flash of white teeth. “You know? Lips pressed against soft lips, exchanging breaths in a sigh. It’s a pleasant pastime.” He leaned closer. “Do you not agree?”
His tone hinted that he was no longer referring to Melanie. Instead, his voice intimated something more personal. With sudden, shocking clarity, she pictured her rescuer bending to her slowly to cup her cheek in his palm. She imagined his intense stare fixed on her as he drew closer...before brushing her lips tenderly with his own.
She shook her head to clear the improper image. What was wrong with her, indeed with everyone, tonight? She should not be talking to this stranger. True, he had saved her, but what did she really know of him? They had not been properly introduced.
“My thoughts do not dwell on kissing.” The crisp comeback she intended sounded more like a whisper. “Thank you for your assistance. Now, excuse me. I must find my friend.”
Before she could turn away, he responded with a devilish grin that charged her stomach with heat. “Hmm. Why have you not thought of kissing? Has no man inspired you?”
Until he had crashed through the bushes and flashed those eyes of green fire, no. Such inspiration could only lead to immorality. Yet she felt swept up in his stare.
“No.” Uncomfortable with such a realization, she strode toward the Prince’s Pavilion in search of Melanie and quick escape. The stranger reached inside her domino and gripped her arm. A shiver snaked up her spine at his touch. A flurry of tingles shot up her arm at the warmth of his fingers.
“I daresay I could only hope to inspire you, lovely lady, half as much as you’ve inspired me.”
His words filled her body with a foreign heat her mind recognized as dangerous. She needed to escape, but turning her back on him seemed impossible.
“I’ve no wish to be inspired,” she said, even as she wondered if this was how her mother had fallen prey to sin. “Thank you again for saving me, sir. I greatly appreciate it, but I must be on my way. Good evening.”
Discreetly, she tried to free her arm. He did not release her, but instead leaned closer, until he loomed above her. His glittering gaze held her mesmerized.
“I would rather hear ‘good morning’ from your sweet lips.”
The smell of alcohol, faint and sweet, carried on his breath. She stepped away as much as his firm grip allowed. “You’ve been consuming spirits.”
His raucous laugh resounded. “No, I’ve been drinking, and I’m well on my way to drunk. Which is a great relief. For the first time in eighty-nine days, I feel nothing.” He shrugged, wearing a suggestive smile. “Well, next to nothing.”
She frowned. “Why would you want to deny your sentiments?”
His smile faded. “Ever endured the death of a loved one?”
Understanding dawned. Sympathy stirred within her, and though unwanted, her heart ached for her dark, unlikely hero. “I lost my aunt two years ago, and my parents before that.”
“Then you know death is a living hell.” He tipped his head forward. “My condolences.”
Serena closed her eyes, remembering the inconsolable grief she had experienced at Aunt Constance’s passing. Only Cyrus’s strength and patience had made the time bearable.
“I’m sorry for your loss, as well,” she answered. “I remember that bleak time well.”
“I shall never forget it.”
Serena could think of nothing more to say, not even the traditional platitudes strangers muttered awkwardly in sympathy.
Through the uncomfortable silence, she felt the splatter of a water drop on her face, then another on her arm. She watched several fall on the man’s mask before the sky opened wider and rain poured through.
The stranger grabbed her hand and darted for shelter, tugging her along. Together, they hurried to the Prince’s Pavilion and found a dry spot inside. Unfortunately, hundreds of other patrons sought the same protection. Serena soon found herself and her uncomfortably wet clothing crushed against the stranger’s broad chest.
She met his gaze. Her heart all but stopped at the heat on his masculine face.
“If I had known this would happen, I would have prayed for rain sooner,” he whispered, his hot breath caressing her temple.
Ignoring the illogical thrill his words incited, she said, “Step back, if you please.”
“Actually, it wouldn’t please me. I like where I am.”
His voice, like his mask, was velvet—smooth as it glided over her senses. She swallowed hard. “Truly, sir. I cannot breathe.”
He inched back. “Better?”
“Very much. Thank you,” she answered in her primmest tone.
“You’re quite welcome.” That naughty grin spread across his face again. “If I can do anything else to please you, pray do not hesitate to let me know.”
Another suggestion cloaked in polite chatter. Serena knew she should be offended or afraid. She wasn’t for some unknown reason, and that fact confused her.
“I—I truly should go now. It’s been a harrowing evening.” She risked a peek up at him. The gleam in his eyes sent her breathing into a faster rhythm. “Thank you again, sir, for saving me.” Before he could object, she spun away, trying to find a path through the thick crowd.
Immediately, Serena encountered a pair of unkempt sailors. One red-faced, foul-breathed man wrapped his arm about her waist. With a lift of her chin, she stepped back—only to meet her rescuer’s chest. He put a possessive hand about her waist, fingers splayed across her abdomen. With a curse, the sailors turned away. The stranger’s hand lingered before dropping to his side.
She turned to face him, appreciation for a second, more subtle rescue ready on her tongue. But a flurry of tingles raced over her skin where his hand had been. Without doubt, such a reaction, one that brought back a picture of their imagined kiss so forcefully, was wicked.
Her gratitude caught in her throat as she glimpsed his full mouth tip up in a roguish smile, displaying dimples once again.
“It would seem you’re not safe tonight anywhere, except with me.” He paused and gazed at her, an expression in those exotic eyes she could only term hungry. “My God, do you realize how beautiful you are?”
His voice caressed her as the stark black of his cape made her doubly cognizant of his captivating eyes. Serena did not know how to respond. The man was somewhat less than a true gentleman, and she really should not talk to him. But she was. She should be frightened of strangers, particularly one with questionable intentions. Without knowing why, she wasn’t.
How would it feel to have him for a lover?
The vision of his imaginary kiss lingered. She shoved it to the corners of her mind. She was not her mother and would not engage in illicit thoughts.
“Sir, you should not say such things. I do not know you.”
