Page 11 of Disguised Desires of a Scarred Duke
Three dances and a glass of punch later, the man she’d seen staring at her by the courtyard suddenly appeared again. This time, he was close enough to touch, and it startled her.
She tried to determine who he might be, but when he bowed in front of her, he kept his eyes aimed at his feet.
“Pardon me, Miss. I wanted to apologize for earlier. I thought you were someone I knew.”
Eleanor looked up at the tall man in the black and gold mask as a prickly feeling of deja vu slid down her spine. For just a second, she mistrusted her instincts. Maybe it was Cecil Phillips behind the mask and she should make haste to leave his side.
But Cecil wasn’t that tall or broad. Ormuscular.
Cecil’s hair wasn’t that long or dark or alluring. And Cecil never made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as if lightning was about to strike.
“AmI someone you know?” she asked, then almost laughed at the sight of him working very hard to avoid her eyes.
“Not yet,” he said, then finally looked right into Eleanor’s amused gaze. “Would you like to dance? Or is your ankle still hurting?”
Eleanor gasped as her bright violet eyes locked with his smouldering obsidian stare.
It’s him! The man with volcanic eyes!
They studied each other’s masked faces as the first notes of the waltz played through. Then he offered his hand, and she took it.
Eleanor could barely keep her heart inside her chest as she felt those same calloused, masculine fingers touch her skin again. The thought that he was about to hold her one more time made staying on her feet a challenge of mind over matter.
As he swung her around the dance floor, Eleanor couldn’t catch her breath. He was the dark-haired pirate of her fantasies in the flesh.
She’d dreamt of him every night, and here he was. So close and so real. It was suddenly too much, and she couldn’t figure out why.
One more time around the floor found her clutching her throat as she tried to pull her tight collar away from the rest of her dress. The urge to tear away her bindings and pull his body into hers was so shocking she felt positively possessed.
Eleanor pressed her hands on the man’s chest and asked him to stop. She couldn’t keep going, or she might faint.
“I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. Will you please escort me outside? I would like to talk to you.”
Still clutching her throat and not caring if what she’d just said was proper or not, Eleanor turned and walked briskly towards the entrance to the courtyard, hoping the man was following her. When she reached the far side of a large stone fountain, she plopped down on a stone bench and took as much of the fresh night air into her lungs as they could hold.
“Miss. Miss! Do you need a doctor?”
Not only had the obsidian-eyed man followed her, but he was acting as concerned as he had the moment they’d collided in the street.
“I believe that’s the second time you’ve asked me that since we met,” Eleanor said as she pulled her mask off her face again. Still breathing heavily but feeling a bit stronger now, she stood and held out her hand.
“Hello. My name is Eleanor Whitfield. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The man with shiny coal-coloured eyes hesitated, then put his hand in hers.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Whitfield. My name is …”
Eleanor and her dance partner stared into each other’s eyes again for a few more seconds before he finally revealed his identity.
“My name is Anthony. I’m Anthony Black. And you need to tell me why we’re out here before I have to carry you to safety again.”
Eleanor smiled and felt the heat of a blush rising through her cheeks. She wished she could see this man’s face again, out from behind the mask. All she could recall from their first meeting were his hypnotic eyes. And the back of his body when he’d bolted away from her after touching her ankle.
What had he been wearing then? What did he say after I ran into him on the street?
Her smile grew brighter as Eleanor realized that Anthony Black’s incredible black eyes had knocked every other memory of him right out of her head.
“Hello, Mr Black. Or should I say, Lord Black? Forgive me. I don’t know how to properly address you yet.” Eleanor curtsied and allowed her eyes to glide downward along Mr Black’s physique to admire it in more detail.
