Page 53 of Almost A Scoundrel

“It will be my greatest pleasure.”

My oh my oh my.

She could not help asking, “Is this a mischievous ball with mischievous people?”

He grinned. “The very most mischievous of the mischievous.”

“How thrilling.” She gave him a curious look. “Normally, a gentleman would not take a lady to such a ball. Why are you? Surely, it’s not just to distract me?”

“I admit, this was the only event tonight that offered a measure of concealment.”

“Very stealthy, I agree. And you received an invitation to such an event?”

“I receive many invitations to many sorts of events. If you do not wish to go, we won’t go.” Deerhurst’s lips twitched as if he already knew her answer.

Phaedra wanted to kiss him.

Should she let that be her confirmation? It would be a degree more fun than saying a simpleyes. The moment the mask had fastened at the back of her head she felt transformed. As though “Phaedra” had been shelved for the night, replaced by a brazen, daring, provocative woman.

Deerhurst broke her train of thought by leaning forward, reaching for her mask.

She held her breath. “What are you doing?”

He tugged at the edges with gentle fingers. “That’s better.”

She cleared her throat, hoping her voice didn’t sound too affected when she said, “Thank you.”

The air crackled between them.

What would he do if she kissed him? Could she kiss him? She should kiss him. Definitely kiss. But would that be too brazen?

So what if it is?

Even her aunt had alluded to flirting and kissing—the freedom to cavort.

“Where is your mask?” Her whisper weaved through the heightened tension like a sensual touch. She watched the skin around his jaw flush.

His gaze drifted over her face, and he removed a matching black mask from a pocket. “No one will recognize us, so let’s have some fun.”

“You are even more memorable than I am.”

He grinned at her. “But no one expects the two of us to attend such a ball.”

Phaedra’s gaze dropped to his lips.

He didn’t seem to notice or perhaps he did but chose to ignore it. Either way, a dangling mask entered her sight. She lifted her gaze to meet his. His green eyes were full of devilry.

“Would you mind helping me secure it?”

This was too much. This was the best.

Phaedra nodded and scooted forward. Her fingers artfully drew the laces from his, the delicious brush of their hands sending sparks of electricity down her spine. She thought she heard his intake of breath.

Perhaps it was hers.

She inhaled sharply, drawing the familiar aroma of tobacco and coffee into her lungs. She swore his scent took root there, ensuring that no other man would ever smell as good as him.

Her fingers worked lazily to loop the ties together, lingering a moment—just as he had done.