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Authors: Georgina Devon Nicola Cornick Diane Gaston

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sity. It was all that she could do not to jerk away.

‘And what is your role tonight, sir?’ she asked, her

voice a little breathless.

Once again she had the impression that the black

domino was smiling. ‘Can you not tell, madam?’ he

asked gently.

Rebecca shivered. ‘The rake? The seducer?’

‘You injure me,’ the black domino said, and this

time the laughter was clear in his voice. ‘After res-

cuing you from Fremantle, do you not cast me as the

protector of innocence, my lady?’

Rebecca shot a look at him from behind her mask.

It was impossible to tell whether he had recognised

her, for the mask hid everything but his eyes and their

expression were unreadable. She felt her nerves

tighten with a mixture of excitement and vivid appre-

hension. As though sensing the pulsing exhil-aration

within her, his arm hardened about her waist and he

drew her close against his body. She could feel the

desire and the latent power in him and almost stum-

bled and fell.

It seemed that dancing was not his aim after all. He

drew her into an alcove that was tucked away from

the ballroom. It was draped with golden hangings and

furnished with a gold brocade love-seat. The black

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The
Rake’s
Mistress

domino seized two glasses of wine from a passing

waiter and handed one to her, guiding her to the seat.

Rebecca looked at her wine dubiously.

‘I do not think this a very good idea, sir.’

‘Why so?’

‘The wine is remarkably strong and I am...’ Re-

becca hesitated ‘...I am tired.’

‘I will take care of you,’ the black domino said.

That was precisely what Rebecca was afraid of. He

was sitting very close to her, his thigh pressing inti-

mately against hers within the narrow confines of the

seat. Suddenly the rub of the slippery silk against her

skin seemed almost unbearably sensual. She shifted

uncomfortably, aware that it had been her intention to

escape him as soon as she could, yet even now she

was contradicting her own good sense by lingering too

long. Already she had no urge to break free.

‘Tell me who you are,’ the black domino said softly,

persuasively, in her ear.

‘Certainly not.’ Rebecca turned her face away.

‘There are no names at a masquerade, sir.’

He put a gloved hand lightly beneath her chin and

turned her face to his. His touch was light, but it set

her feelings blazing. That shadowed gaze scrutinised

her with unnerving closeness.

‘Hmm,’ he murmured. ‘Peerless blue eyes and a

mouth made for kissing... I could almost swear that

we had met before, perhaps even kissed before, my

lady.’

Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat. ‘You seem

very certain, sir.’

Nicola
Cornick

105

‘Not so certain that I would not like to put my the-

ory to the test. For then I would know...’

He was leaning forward to suit actions to words, but

Rebecca eased herself from his grip and placed a hand

against his chest to hold him off.

‘Not so fast, my lord!’

‘Such modesty at a midnight masque,’ the black

domino said, with a sardonic look at the couples that

whirled past them in debauched abandon. He ran one

finger thoughtfully down her bare arm above her

glove. Rebecca could feel her skin responding to his

touch, tingling beneath the caress.

‘So who are you, madam, if not a lady of the night?’

‘Did I say that I was no courtesan?’ Rebecca said,

a little huskily.

‘You did not need to tell me, sweetheart.’

‘Once again, you sound very confident, sir. You

must have a great deal of experience of such matters.’

‘I have enough,’ the black domino agreed, ‘and

were I to kiss you, your innocence would be some-

thing else I could prove.’

‘Then the matter must remain unproven,’ Rebecca

said.

The black domino smiled. ‘So what is Lord Fre-

mantle to you, madam?’

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. The more they spoke the

more likely it seemed that he knew her identity. She

definitely should not have lingered so long, nor en-

gaged in this fascinating but ultimately dangerous con-

versation. She made to rise, but his hand on her wrist

held her still and his imperative touch demanded an

answer.

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The
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Mistress

‘He is nothing to me,’ Rebecca said.

‘He would like to be something.’

‘His wishes are no concern of mine.’

‘And my wishes?’ the black domino mused. ‘Do I

have a chance of success where Fremantle has failed?’

‘No more than any other man,’ Rebecca said, al-

though the desire that started to burn within her told

a different story.

The black domino laughed. ‘But no less?’

‘It makes no odds.’ Rebecca knew she sounded a

little breathless. ‘None of you has any chance.’

The black domino’s gaze was inscrutable. ‘So when

Fremantle demanded to be first, what did he mean?’

Rebecca blushed behind her mask. ‘I have no notion

what he meant,’ she said, ‘but none of his wishes are

likely to be granted.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘I

thought that you wanted to dance, my lord, rather

than—’

‘Rather than make love?’

The words hung in the air between them. Rebecca’s

breath caught in her throat. She felt the sensual lan-

guor sweep her blood. This was so out of character

for her, and so perilous. Yet now she was embarked

upon it, there was something compelling about the

masquerade, about playing her part. It felt like an es-

cape, almost as though she had stepped into another

world, just for one night.

And there was also something about this man, who

even now was shifting a little closer along the gold

brocade sofa and raising his hand to stroke the soft

skin on the nape of her neck. His glittering gaze held

hers; his touch set her on fire. He leaned closer and

Nicola
Cornick

107

his lips brushed hers. Rebecca sat as frozen as a statue

whilst the warmth unfurled within her.

He was watching her face and now he laughed, a

soft sound of triumph. ‘You are nowhere near as cold

as you pretend to be, my lady.’

He leaned forward again and the tip of his tongue

touched the corner of her mouth lightly but deliber-

ately. Rebecca’s lips parted of their own volition. She

could not help herself. A second later he had taken

advantage, deepening the kiss, sending the ballroom

and its dazzling, shrieking crowds spinning from her

mind as she became consumed by the warm intimacy

of his mouth moving over hers. It was sweet, intoxi-

cating pleasure and she wanted to drown in it.

His lips left hers reluctantly. ‘Have I persuaded you

yet?’ he whispered.

Rebecca tried to focus. ‘I...no. I do not believe you

have.’

He smiled. She could see it in his eyes. ‘Still re-

sisting me...’

But her resistance was weakening. In desperation,

Rebecca got to her feet and held out a hand to him.

‘Come, my lord. We have yet to dance.’

He got to his feet with languid grace and took her

hand in his. Warm and strong, his fingers interlocked

with hers.

If Rebecca had thought that to dance with him

would provide some respite from the sensuality that

flickered between them, then she swiftly realised her

mistake. Their bodies seemed to burn at every point

of contact. Together and apart, hands touching, his

thigh brushing her skirt, his arm grazing hers as they

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The
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Mistress

moved through the slow steps of the quadrille... They

were trapped in a sensual haze and each time Rebecca

turned away from him she felt a frightening compul-

sion to turn back. She felt dizzy and helpless, weak-

ened by feelings she did not understand, and she did

not need to see behind his mask to know that he un-

derstood exactly what was going through her mind.

The dance ended and she felt almost limp with ex-

haustion, breathing as though she had been running

rather than dancing. The black domino tucked her

hand through his arm and she had no thought to refuse.

‘As a means of escaping what is between us, I have

to say that that was remarkably unsuccessful, my

lady,’ he drawled.

Rebecca shivered. ‘Escape...’ she whispered.

He shook his head. ‘It cannot be done, sweetheart.

Whatever it is that burns between us cannot be denied

and it will be there until we accept it and—’

‘And?’

‘And act on it.’

Rebecca stared at him. There was something about

his stance and the predatory way that the dark eyes

behind the mask swept over her with a gleam of desire

that turned her throat to sawdust. She knew that he

spoke the truth and she did not know what she was

going to do. And as she hesitated, he took a very pur-

poseful step towards her as though he were about to

carry her from the ballroom and make love to her here

and now.

‘Here you are!’ Nan’s voice exclaimed. She did not

sound pleased. ‘I have been looking everywhere

for you!’

Nicola
Cornick

109

Rebecca wrenched her gaze away from that of the

black domino. She felt dizzy and disorientated. ‘I beg

your pardon, Nan. Were you wishing to leave?’

‘Not at all,’ Nan said. Her calculating gaze went

from Rebecca to the black domino, who was watching

them in quizzical fashion. ‘I did not expect that you

would throw yourself so wholeheartedly into the eve-

ning, however.’

She grabbed Rebecca’s arm and dragged her away.

‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’ she

hissed.

‘I did not mean to become entangled with him,’

Rebecca said miserably. She felt like a naughty

schoolgirl. ‘He... I do not know what happened.’

‘I did not mean that!’ Nan was dismissive. ‘You

may flirt with whomever you choose with my blessing.

The only problem is that Fremantle is in a foul mood.

He claims that you snubbed him for your black dom-

ino.’ Her gaze sharpened on Rebecca’s face. ‘I do not

blame you, my dear, for he looks a well set-up sort of

a fellow, but is he rich, that is the question?’

‘I do not know,’ Rebecca lied, glad for once that

the mask hid her reddening face. ‘I did not ask...’

Nan tutted crossly. ‘You have fallen for pretty com-

pliments. It is a beginner’s mistake, Becca. You
must

discover if a gentleman is well breeched before you

promise him anything.’

‘I am not beginning anything, nor promising any-

thing,’ Rebecca said rebelliously, ignoring the small

voice in her head that told her she had both promised

and given a great deal to the black domino and would

have given much, much more had Nan not intervened.

110

The
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Mistress

Nan shook her head, frankly disbelieving. ‘Another

half-hour and you would have been in that gentle-

man’s bed,’ she said shrewdly. ‘I saw the way he was

looking at you.’

‘Nan!’ Rebecca felt aghast. Was the flagrant attrac-

tion she felt for Lucas Kestrel so evident for all to

see? It appeared so.

Nan shrugged. ‘And a good thing too, were it

not—’ She broke off whatever she had been about to

say. ‘Anyway, I need your help, Becca. My last part-

ner was clumsy enough to step on a flounce of my

skirt and I wondered if you would be able to pin it up

for me?’

‘Of course,’ Rebecca said automatically. She flicked

a glance over her shoulder as they started to climb the

stairs. Lord Fremantle was watching them, but she

barely spared him a glance. The black domino was

still standing where she had left him and there was a

quality of stillness about him as he stared at her that

made Rebecca bite her lip.

No
escape.

The thick carpet was soft beneath her slippers as

they ascended. Nan hustled her into a small bedroom

on the first floor, furnished opulently with a big four-

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