Page 5 of Duke of Seduction

To his surprise, Helena chortled and rolled her eyes.

“You would know all about that, would you not?” she taunted, her black lips forming into a wicked smile. “I do not know why I did not predict that I would find you here. Of course you would be. The illustriousLord of Seduction. Many men take on lovers but not like you. You are a vile species all on your own.”

“I know exactly who I am, you need not remind me,” Morgan countered.

He was well acquainted with his reputation but did nothing to negate it. His appetites ran deep and there was no shortage of women that wanted him to feast on them. Although the virgin requirement was more hearsay, he could not deny the satisfaction he felt when women asked him to be their guide into the world of carnal pleasure. He knew who he was and held no shame about it; if only because he had never once needed to force himself upon a woman.

His mind suddenly flashed with the image of Helena pressed up against the hallway wall with his hand around her throat. Her breaths had been so soft, so full of anticipation. Had she not spoken he would have taken her.

“You must leave,” he insisted, releasing his hold on the jacket and taking a step back.

This was not right. Even if on some level he wished he had never recognized her voice, this couldnothappen. Not with him. Not with anyone else. Helena was not just a lady. She was a good woman who did not need to become mixed up in such debauchery.

“You will get in your carriage, you will go home, you will take off this- this—” his eyes swept down her form once more and he nearly groaned aloud, “this wicked dress and burn it. You will wipe that dark paint from your lips and cheeks, and you will lay your pretty head on your pillow and pretend this was all a dream. Then, when you wake up, you will swath yourself in your normal pretty pink gown and you willnevercome here again. Am I clear?”

To his surprise, Helena’s hands shot out and shoved at his chest as her beautiful face scrunched up with pure fury.

“Howdareyou give me orders!” she hissed defiantly. “If I was Ambrose’s little brother you would not command such things from me. You would be clapping me on my back and pointing me towards the nearest willing woman.”

While it was true that Morgan did not find the standards of their society fair, he was not about to agree with her on the fact.

“Do not be so brattish, Helena. You will leave here of your own volition or I will gag you, tie you, and take you out myself,” Morgan warned, his voice dangerously low.

He pressed his eyes shut at the thought, silently cursing himself for putting such an erotic image into his own head and took another step back.

“You are as bad as him!” Helena spat, tearing his jacket from her arms. She gathered it up into a messy ball, slammed it down onto the floor, and stomped on it angrily with one foot.

Morgan bit back his retort as she slid her mask back on, doing nothing to disguise her anger — and with muttered curses — she opened the door and stormed away.

“Christ in heaven,” Morgan muttered, bracing his hands upon his hips as he watched her leave.

He was as hard as marble from their spat and he hated himself for it. This was Helena! In a way, she was a little sister to all four of them. The little beam of pink light in the darkness that had poured over their lives. And yet, here she was at theDevil’s Masqueradeas though the place existed just for her.

Morgan’s thoughts were interrupted as the door opened and he whirled around, ready to carry out his earlier threat to Helena for daring to return. Disappointment welled in him as he saw Hecate step into the room alone.

She cocked her head to the side, a seductive smile forming on her lips as she pointed towards the one light without its red votive.

“No maskandactual light?” she mused, strutting towards him. “I thought we had planned on meeting in the Spartan room?”

Morgan quickly gathered himself, reapplied his usual carefree smile and pulled his mask back on before replacing the red votive over the small yellow flame.

“We are,” he agreed, pushing thoughts of Helena from his mind. “You caught me in a private moment of adjustment. My mask faltered.”

To him it was a clear lie, but Hecate simply shrugged at his excuse and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Perhaps you should keep your mask off, Your Grace,” she purred, pressing her body tightly against his. “No disguise is as handsome as your face, unlike some of the others here.”

Morgan ignored the sudden urge to pull her away from her. There were rules to theDevil’s Masquerade.Masks and anonymity were a must. Even if individuals were able to recognize the face and title behind the costume.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my lady” he said, barely able to put feeling into the words. “But the mask stays on. Now come, we have an appointment with your friends, do we not? We must not disappoint them.”

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, eyes pricking with tears from an emotion she could not understand, Helena made her way back to the main room of the party and found Teresa. Jealousy and self-pity filled her as she spotted her friend in the white-masked man’s lap, their lips firmly locked together.

Teresa had been the one to object, yetshehad been the only one to receive the desired kiss. Helena tamped down her disappointment as she walked over and tapped Teresa on the shoulder. It took her friend a long moment to pull herself away from the man’s lips, and even then, it seemed to take a moment longer for Teresa to recognize her.

“Hel— oh, I mean, Nyx,” she panted, touching a fingertip to her bruised lips. “There you are. Did you find who you were looking for?”

“I did not,” she stated, her tone harsher than intended as she tugged at Teresa to get out of the man’s lap. “Come, we must leave. There is no one here I wish to kiss.”

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