Seth stared at the weasel before him. Such jackasses abounded among the ton, making him wish he still fought on distant shores.

Billings glanced at the drink in his hand. As though suddenly remembering his purpose, his gaze shot back to Aurora.

“Pardon me, did not mean to detain you with idle chatter. Especially with so much more pleasant activities available.” Billings moistened his nearly nonexistent lips. “I’ll just collect this little tart and be on my way. We’ll find another room.”

Aurora drove back another step, heedless that she trod over Seth’s foot.

Without thinking, Seth flexed his hand around her arm and announced, “I’m afraid not. The lady is unavailable.”

“Now see here, Rutledge,” Billings blustered, puffing out his chest. “I found her first.”

Seth cocked a brow. “And you’ve lost her.”

With a decided amount of force, Billings set the drink down on a marble-topped end table, sending the contents sloshing over the rim. “Fine. There are plenty of other light-skirts about to frig. No need to get proprietary.”

Even as he uttered the words, he scoured Aurora with a hungry leer.

Seth stroked her arm in lazy circles, and she shivered.

Quivering with anger, Billings bit out, “Enjoy yourself, Rutledge. I’m sure I’ll get another go at her when you’re finished.”

She flinched in his arms.

A growl rose up from the back of his throat. “I don’t think so,” Seth grated, wondering at the sudden and fierce protectiveness that surged through him.

With a flare of his nostrils, Billings stormed from the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

And they were alone again.

“I take it he was the reason you were contemplating escape through the window?”

She whirled around, her eyes flashing. “I’m no light-skirt!”

“I never said you were,” he countered.

She pressed her lips into a mutinous line. “But I’m here. At this ball.” She waved a hand. “I’m sure that’s what you judge me to be.”

“And why should it matter so much what I think?”

She stared at him for a long moment before a nervous laugh escaped her. It was a wholly uncalculated sound that sent a lick of heat spiraling through his stomach. Which was insanity. He was waiting for Fleur to join him, yet he could not stop himself from thinking of ways to seduce the tantalizing creature before him.

“It doesn’t, of course.” Her chin went up another notch.

She edged back another step, reminding him of an exotic bird, ready to take flight. He sensed he had her for only a moment more. And for some reason, he found the notion intolerable.

Stepping forward, he grazed his knuckles over her cheek. Her eyes widened, but she did not pull back.

Watching her closely, gauging her expression in the event distaste should emerge at last, he trailed his fingers down her neck, tracing the delicate line of her collarbone.

Dipping his head, he tasted the warm skin of her throat, his tongue licking at the wildly thrumming pulse point, spiced rum against his tongue.

Her breathing grew harsh. He pulled back to stare into her masked face again. No distaste there.

His stomach knotted at the way her eyes consumed him, as if she could see him and not the scar at all, the real him right down to the marrow of his bones.

Absurd, really. No one knew him. Not a single member of his family, alive or dead. Not a soul existed that he could talk to, share his deepest thoughts. But then, no one had ever fit that description. For a brief moment, a face flashed through his head—a young girl with freckles, scraped knees, and a wild mane of hair never pinned in place. Jane. They had been friends.

Confidantes. His heart twisted. Time changed all.

Yet this woman, this stranger with her large eyes peering at him so intently, so starkly, made him feel oddly connected to her. She felt… familiar. She felt like home.

“Why do you look at me as though you know me?” he demanded. “Do you?”

She blinked those wide eyes of hers. “No. Of course not.”

And why, he wondered, should he care if she did? If they had met, it had been long ago. It could matter little now. He should be working at seducing her out of that scandalous gown and burying himself to the hilt in her sweet body, quenching the maddening lust she had roused within him.

Once he sampled her charms, he would see she was no different from any other woman.

She gave a small shake, as if caught in some kind of daze and needing to jog sense back into herself. Her gaze drifted beyond him, over his shoulder.

Sensing the moment had arrived when she would take flight, he grasped her arms and pulled her back to him. Her eyes flared wide and she trembled against his length.

“You don’t have to go,” Seth murmured, then, incredibly, added, “Please.”

Staring at this creature that had awakened desire in him, he felt unbalanced, as if he hovered along a great precipice, waiting to see whether or not he would drop like a stone through the air.

“I can’t,” she replied in a ragged voice that ripped through him.

Again, he had asked.

Again, he had been refused.

Some lessons were never learned.

Still, he could not let her go. Not until he knew something about the sadness in her eyes, something about the way she looked at him. His grip tightened on her arms.

Ridiculous as it seemed, he would uncover the mystery of her, would know everything about her before they were finished.

Starting with what she looked like out of her gown.

“Come, this is a masquerade. A place where one can cease to exist.” His fingers caught hers gently and twined with the slender digits. “You can do anything you want, be anyone you want to be,” he coaxed.

She shook her head stubbornly.

“Then why are you here?” he challenged. “Why don a mask and come here tonight?”

“I can’t—” she began, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. Soft lips. Intent on seduction, he traced her plump bottom lip, learning its texture, its shape.

Her mouth parted and he dipped his thumb within, stroking the moist heat of her mouth, running the pad of his thumb over her tongue.

Her eyes widened.

Unable to stop himself, he lifted his other hand to remove the black fabric covering the top half of her face.

In a flash, she turned wild, struggling like a trapped animal in his arms. He hauled her against him, smothering her mouth with his. Her body stilled in his arms, soft lips frozen beneath his.

His kiss gentled, coaxing a reaction.

Her mouth softened, lips parting beneath his with a sweet sigh. She wound her arms around his neck, raising herself on tiptoes, soft curves melting against him.

Groaning into her mouth, he lifted her off the ground, deepening the kiss, drinking from her mouth like a man starved, swallowing her tiny mews as if they were the sweetest sips of wine.

One of her slippers slid along his booted calf and he groaned, wishing it were her bare foot, wishing they were unclothed, flat on a bed. A sudden, burning need to strip off their garments seized him. To see her without the scandalous gold gown, without the black domino, to see her face, her expression in all its passion for him as he sank deep inside her.

Stranger or no, he felt as if he knew her, recognized her on some primal level. Madness, he knew, especially considering he did _not _ know her. Not her name, not her face. Still, he wanted this woman, his Aurora.

Startled at the comparison, he pulled back and looked at her.

Noses almost touching, their ragged breaths mingled, congesting the air as he gazed into eyes that reflected an astonishment similar to his own. In them, a deep need burned, echoing his own hunger—a fire that he damned well intended to stoke to its highest flame.

Chapter 6

Seth reclaimed her lips, helpless to prevent his desire for this woman from spiraling through him with the speed of a firestorm. She had awakened something within him, ignited a dark burn in his blood he was powerless to resist.

Hands diving through her flowing hair, he angled her head for better invasion and forgot that passion—recklessness—ceased to rule him. Forgot that women had little affect on him. Forgot that he deserved only emptiness in his life.

With a moan of her own, she clenched fistfuls of his jacket, pulling him closer. Growling, he dropped one hand to her backside and pulled her hard against him, grinding himself against the softness of her belly, reveling in the freeing of himself from the fog that gripped him these many years.

Suddenly, the door clicked open behind him.

He tore his lips free as Fleur entered the room.

“Seth.” Her eyes raked the woman he held in his arms appraisingly. “I had no idea you were interested in a little menage à trois this evening.”

Scowling, he dropped his arms from Aurora, a deep ache filling his chest as she put several feet between them. “You misunderstand the situation.”

Toying with the fringe edging her bodice, Fleur’s lips twisted in a mocking smile. “Unlikely.”

Releasing a sigh, she dropped her hand. “I can only blame myself for leaving a morsel like you alone for so long. Forgive me. You wish me to leave you and your friend, mon cher?”

“No!” Aurora quickly objected, avoiding his gaze as she moved to the door. “I was leaving.”

He watched her, fists clenching at his sides, mixed emotions tumbling through him. He did not want her to go. Exhilaration ripped through him at the taste of her on his lips, the scent of her in the air, the feel of her in his hands.

Obviously she knew he wanted her.

Obviously it failed to matter.

Short of tying her up and tossing her over his shoulder, he could not stop her. And perhaps it was for the best. She made him feel. Too much hunger, too much need, too much… everything.

Liaisons with women such as Fleur were controlled, safe… enough.

Without a word, his angel slipped from the room like a fast-fading curl of smoke.

He stared at the doorway, cold regret sweeping through him.

He yearned to give chase. Only he did not _chase _ after any woman. Not again. Once was enough.

Enough to learn that no woman was worth losing his head over. Or his heart.

As the moments passed, Aurora slipping farther and farther away, his longing deepened, growing into a gnawing ache as he stared at the empty threshold. Every passing moment heightened his anxiety that he would never see her again. It was not to be borne.

“Something tells me you’re no longer interested in my company.”

“Forgive me?” he asked in a distracted voice, moving toward the door, his strides quick, purposeful.

“Of course, love. My ego won’t suffer,” Fleur called. “She was interesting. Not the usual fare to frequent one of my fetes.”

 Interesting. Yes, she was that. That and more. Her heavily lashed eyes flashed through his mind.

He still did not know their color. And yet those eyes had seemed to convey so much. Only he hadn’t a clue what.

With a curse, his strides quickened. Letting her get away wouldn’t solve the mystery of her. Nor would it douse the fire in his blood.

No doubt about it. Seth wanted her. And suddenly enough wouldn’t do.

Jane shoved through the crowd, using her elbows to nudge those who wouldn’t move, desperation driving out good manners. In her absence, more guests had arrived, cramming the room tight with bodies. The orchestra played louder, no doubt to compete with the deafening din.

Struggling to still the wild hammering of her heart, to block the sound of blood rushing to her ears, she spied her friends through a part in the crowd. Falling upon them, she gasped, “Let’s go.

At once.”

“Where have you been?” Astrid swept a shrewd gaze over her, then looked beyond her shoulder.

“Where is Desmond?”

“Did he harm you?” Lucy grasped one of Jane’s trembling hands, her blue-gray gaze searching.