In the distance, he caught a glimpse of a Titian-haired cyprian towering over short, plump, and obviously bedazzled Lord Ferris. Katie, as usual, was right. The wench was spectacular enough to take Ashcroft’s fancy. But somehow tonight he couldn’t summon a jot of interest.
Time he went home and shook himself out of this unwelcome humor. He nodded to two acquaintances, both like him unmasked, both married, and began to clear a path toward the entrance. Difficult when traffic flowed into the cavernous room rather than out. He tried not to admit that it was embarrassingly early to seek his bed. Especially as he went alone.
For all his height, strength, and sheer bloody arrogance, he became trapped in an eddy, unable to proceed or retreat. His attention dipped to the woman facing him.
Tall. Graceful. Hauntingly familiar.
“Lord Ashcroft.”
Her voice slid over his skin like perfumed oil. How she achieved this effect over the hubbub was a puzzle. Every cell in his body went on instant alert. The nagging dissatisfaction that had dogged him all night vanished.
His heart pounded out a single word. Mine. Mine. Mine. The reaction was as elemental as a hungry lion scenting an antelope.
Except this particular antelope smelled of freshly harvested apples.
“Diana.” He, famous for his eloquence, was lost for words.
His eyes devoured her. He retained enough self-awareness to wonder how he recognized her among hundreds of women. Her black-and-gold mask was large and gaudy and hid her face to the jaw. Her eyes were mysterious, concealed, but he could see her mouth, pink, moist, full. He’d know that mouth if he were dying.
He wanted that mouth on him.
“You know who I am?” The cool jade didn’t sound surprised.
“Yes.” Hell, he needed to untangle his tongue before she discovered just how she bamboozled him. If only he untangled his to
ngue ready to use it on her. The carnal images rocketing through his mind made him rigid as iron. “What are you doing here?”
She was suddenly still, even as the crowd flowed around her.
Was she afraid? Previous acquaintance indicated little frightened her, even when it should. Then, to his amazement—and reluctant admiration—that luscious mouth curved into a confident smile.
He caught a flash of defiance in the eyes she leveled on him. “Looking for you, of course.”
Her boldness scattered what little sangfroid he retained. “I believe our dealings came to an end two days ago, madam.”
“I lost a preliminary skirmish, my lord, not the war.”
His instincts still screamed danger. But nothing could make him retreat, even when the crowd divided, and a path opened to the door. “What if the enemy is invincible?”
Her smile broadened, developed a mocking edge. “Are you my enemy?”
“I’m not your friend.”
“What a pity. You’d make a good…friend.”
The euphemism for “lover” in that suggestive tone roared through his blood like fire. He hadn’t touched her, and already he wanted her more than any woman he remembered.
He ached to tear off her mask. Her eyes glinted behind their covering, but he couldn’t read her expression. All he had to go on was that sinful curl of her lips and the warm, laughing voice. Warm, laughing, sensual, knowing.
She sounded considerably more self-assured than the woman who had accosted him two days ago. He shouldn’t like it—he’d thought her overweeningly confident then, and she was more brazen now—but somehow his body didn’t heed his criticism.
“I told you I like to do my own hunting.”
Presumptuous baggage. His rakish attitude didn’t cow her. He wished he didn’t find her nerve so appealing. He wished he didn’t find her so appealing. He battered back a wild impulse to kiss that smile from her mouth until she joined him in the turbulent storm.
“If you insist, I’m willing to run away from you, my lord. Not too fast.”
He laughed again. He couldn’t help it. She was so damned impudent. “Are you implying I’m in my dotage?” At most, he was only a few years older than the chit.