Page 31 of Beneath the Devil’s Mask (The Hidden Hearts Collection #4)

“Oh, don’t,” she cried, clutching at his wrists, seeking to push his hands away. “Don’t feel obliged to say things like that, to try to pretend that I am beautiful.”

“Pretend? And whatever makes you think that you are not?”

“I have only to look in a mirror.”

“Then you have been looking in the wrong one. You should seek your reflection only in my eyes.” He kissed her brow, reveling in the sweet fresh scent of her, the warm silky texture of her skin.

“Before this evening is over, Anne Fairhaven,” he vowed, “I shall not only have you willing in my arms, but also convinced of how beautiful and desirable you are.”

“That could take a very long time, my lord.”

“We have all night. If you truly have no wish to dine, go sit by my fire and warm yourself. You seem quite chilled.”

She obeyed him, marching over to perch upon the edge of the settee with a resigned sigh.

Mandell drifted about the room, extinguishing all the oil lamps until the chamber was lit only by the glow of the fire.

When he moved to take his place at her side, she sat ramrod straight, her gloved hands clenched together in her lap.

He eased himself down, stretching one arm behind her along the back of the settee, taking as great a care as though she were a skittish dove that would flutter away at his slightest movement.

“You have exquisite posture,” he said. “Were you ever in the military?”

His teasing succeeded in coaxing a half smile from her.

“No, but I did have a very strict governess who I am sure could have out-generaled Wellington himself.”

Capturing one of her hands, Mandell inched back her glove enough to expose the delicate, blue-veined area of her wrist. He pressed his lips to her thundering pulse.

“Mrs. Brindlehurst!” Anne gasped.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That was the name of my governess. She always insisted upon proper carriage. She—” Anne eyed him nervously as he began to undo the buttons of her glove. “She always said it was important to remain erect. Otherwise, my frame would start to sag.”

“I have never noticed any part of you sagging.” Mandell tugged off her glove, delighting in the slender grace of her hands until he saw her fingernails. Anne blushed scarlet and tried to curl up her hand, but he refused to allow it, holding up her fingertips, examining them closer.

“My dear Sorrow, what have you been doing to your poor hands?”

“It is a bad habit of mine,” she said. “I bite my nails in times of great stress.”

Mandell frowned, for the first time understanding the agonies of apprehension Anne must have gone through the past week.

“And I have been the cause of that stress?” he said, kissing her fingertips one by one. He felt a shiver course through her.

“You are not exactly the most restful influence in my life, Lord Mandell.”

“Is that what you desire, Anne? To remain calm, no excitement ever to touch your staid and proper world?”

“Staid and proper. That is what I am. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Then it behooves me to teach you.”

Mandell had never felt flooded with so much tenderness toward any woman. His need to take her into his arms and soothe away her fears burned as strong as his desire for her.

“Come here,” he commanded. Urging her to draw her feet up on the settee, he guided her until she lay back across his lap, cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

Anne’s eyes widened as she braced her arms stiffly alongside her.

“Relax, Anne. I am not going to hurt you. Have I been such an ogre thus far?”

“No. But I feel too helpless with you holding me this way and I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I don’t expect anything for now. Just talk to me.”

“What about?”

“Tell me about Eleanor Rose.” He tucked a stray tendril of hair behind Anne’s ear. “Has it made you happy at last, having your little daughter back again?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed. He could feel her begin to melt a little. As he gazed down upon her flushed features, Mandell thought if he were any less a villain, he would put a stop to this now and send her home.

The radiant look shining from her eyes as she talked about her child should have been payment enough for any man. But it also lent her an irresistible beauty, the soft curve of her lips far too tempting.

“It has been all I could do to keep Norrie from making a nuisance of herself,” Anne was saying.

“My sister Lily does not have a great deal of patience with small children, but Norrie is fascinated with watching Lily attire herself for attending balls. I can remember being the same way when I was still in the schoolroom and Lily was making her come out. She is so dazzling. You must have been there. You must have seen her that night she first took Almack’s by storm. ”

“I am afraid not. I have ever eschewed Almack’s. Too many simpering virgins and predatory mamas. No doubt that is how I also failed to notice you.”

“You were not alone in that,” Anne said with a grimace. Mandell doubted she realized it, but she had settled more snugly back against his arm. He suppressed a smile.

“I fear I was something of a disappointment after the debut of both my sisters,” she continued. “Lily and Camilla, the famous Wendham debutantes.”

“Lily and Camilla, their names always made me think of a stroll through a botanical garden. Tell me, my dear Anne, how did you ever escape being christened an Amaryllis or a Columbine?”

“I suppose when Mama peeked into my cradle, I did not make her think of flowers.”

“You make me think of one,” Mandell said, exploring the delicate outline of her lips with his finger. “A blossom whose petals are just about to unfurl.”

He bent forward to brush her mouth with a kiss.

Anne tensed at the first touch of his lips, but his kiss was so gentle and lingering.

It was as though he but tasted her, sampling the texture of her lips, spreading a pleasant warmth through her.

Anne’s mind reeled. She felt giddy, lightheaded, almost floating in his arms.

She clung to him, her fingers slipping across the open neckline of his shirt, making contact with that exposed patch of warm bare skin. She heard Mandell’s intake of breath and drew back immediately, cringing with embarrassment.

“I am sorry,” she stammered. “It is only that you made me feel so dizzy.”

“It is all right, Sorrow. Feel free to touch me. I promise I won’t object.”

His smile was like slow heat, curling in the pit of her stomach.

“I can’t,” she said, blushing hotly. “You must think me so awkward.”

“Actually what I was thinking is that it is time to be rid of those braids. May I?”

“Well, I ...”

He did not wait for her assent, his fingers moving through her hair, removing pins, untwisting the heavy braids she had fashioned with such care. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders, spilling over his arm, feeling gloriously free. He combed his fingers back through the tangled golden strands.

“Lovely,” he murmured. “You should always wear your hair thus.”

“I would look like a half-mad hoyden.”

“You can be a hoyden tonight. You can be anything you want with me, Anne.”

“What a terrifying offer,” she said, closing her eyes as he bent to kiss her again, his mouth demanding a little more this time.

His tongue teased her lips, coaxing, and she parted for him, allowing him access to the innermost recesses of her mouth, allowing him to fill her with heat, to tease, to mate with her as he would.

His hand moved between them, slowly undoing the laces of her vest. When the fabric parted, Anne found it a great relief, realizing she had done the laces far too tight. She was able to breathe again.

Then Mandell cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her gown and Anne found she could not breathe at all.

She no longer felt light, a warm heaviness stealing over her that seemed to center at her woman’s core.

As he stroked her nipple, teasing it to a state of hardness, a sigh escaped her, and the sheer cotton that separated her from his touch became a torment.

He shifted her to a sitting position upon his lap. Breathing kisses against her neck, he reached around her. No lady’s maid could have been more adept at undoing the fastenings of a gown and chemise. But the brief respite gave Anne time to cool down a little.

“No, please,” she could not keep from saying as he began to slip the gown down her arms.

He stopped at once, exposing only her shoulders. “But you are lovely.” He traced the path of her fragile collarbone with his fingers. “Mrs. Brindlehurst was right about the posture. I am excessively grateful to her.”

Starting with her shoulder, Mandell caressed her with his lips, his mouth warm against her tender flesh. Anne drew in a tiny gasp, trying to stem the sparks of sensation he aroused, delicious wild sensations that threatened to overwhelm her.

His own breath coming a little quicker, Mandell eased her gown down farther, exposing the soft upper swell of her breast. As his mouth covered the pulse beating at the base of her throat, Anne stifled a soft cry.

The fabric of her gown fell away to her waist, revealing the full round globes of her breasts to Mandell’s gaze.

She watched the desire flare in his eyes.

No man had ever stared thus at her nakedness, not even her husband. Anne tried to fold her arms protectively across herself, but Mandell stopped her.

“Would you drive me to madness, Anne? Don’t seek to hide your beauty from me.”

When he kissed her again, Anne thought it was she who would go mad. He caught her lower lip gently between his teeth, sipped at her mouth, his tongue skimming hers, re-kindling the fire.

The contact of his warm palm against her bare breast sent spirals of heat through her. He stroked and caressed. She trembled and burned, biting down upon her lip to keep from moaning aloud.