Surely she wasn’t the only one to think it scandalous.
Mary glanced around, but n
o one paid any attention. It was as if such behavior was allowed, overlooked by everyone around the couple.
Embarrassed and uncomfortable, she averted her eyes and went in search of other less salacious sights.
What she found in the next room was the most beautiful man in existence.
She’d danced with her share of lesser creatures, but this scantily clad fellow took her breath away. She moved for a closer look at his scandalous garb.
He was tall, his dark hair peeking out from beneath a golden masked helmet at the nape, but what he wore below his jaw made her mouth suddenly so very moist. She swallowed and drew closer, unable to stop herself from staring.
He wore leather sandals on his otherwise bare feet with ties crisscrossed up his muscular calves. Around his hips he wore a short scrap of white linen that left little to the imagination, trimmed with gold braid and so thin, Mary could almost make out the top of his thighs. A heavier pleated sash, similar to Scottish garb of old but white, draped over one perfectly bronzed shoulder. The garment, if it could be called that, flowed loosely around his broad chest, leaving very little of his torso hidden from view or to her imagination. After studying him a few moments, a great many questions had been answered concerning what men looked like beneath their very proper dress.
“He may as well be naked,” she whispered to herself, then slapped her hand over her mouth. Not that anyone can hear her whisper over the din.
If he had been naked, then the last of her questions about the male of the species might be answered in one evening.
The man toyed with a gilt-handled sword idly, swinging the blade as if the silvered edge was utterly harmless as he watched the crowd around him with restless interest. He seemed to be alone. Perhaps the weapon was harmless, but undoubtedly so handsome a man could not be.
The muscles of his back and strong arms flexed as he shifted position, revealing a lean, muscular frame that made her pulse race. Mary licked her lips, astounded by her reaction to him. She was becoming quite warm and restless too as she looked upon his spectacular form with no idea what to do about it.
Oh, how she wished they could be introduced. Mary was alone, and so was he. However, a masked ball was a place of anonymity so the pleasure of his name would have to wait. She would have to stir her courage to have the pleasure of his company, even if the idea of it turned her stomach into very tight knots.
When he turned, their eyes met, and she couldn’t look away for a full minute. She did glance away eventually, blushing furiously under her veil. What was she doing? She’d never been so captivated before by a man, let alone a stranger in a crowded room. She had come tonight to broaden her knowledge of the real world. Gawking at a beautiful man, no matter how fascinating, wasn’t all she was here to do.
She was looking for a man who might marry her too.
She took a step but a scantily clad male chest materialized before her, halting her progress. Since she’d just studied that chest from afar, she found proximity to the curves and bulges of muscle all the more disconcerting up close.
His deep, masculine voice caught her by surprise too. “Devi?”
She glanced up, into the bright eyes of the stranger sparklingly with barely concealed mirth. The man thought she was a goddess. Who was she to deny him the delusion? Yet she felt an instant connection and smiled at him. “Centurion?”
“At your service.” He bowed elegantly, deeply, and she was smitten anew by the way he moved. “Are you lost, Devi?”
“How could I be lost with such a warrior before me,” she replied in a huskier tone than she usually spoke in, blushing furiously at her deception. Mary shouldn’t have responded to him like this, but since her argument with Ellis Worth, Mary was feeling rather bold. She fluttered her lashes a little.
He extended his hand, and Mary placed hers upon his broad and bare palm. Awareness of him rushed over her senses. Her breasts grew heavy under his warm stare. She lifted her chin, leaning toward him. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“It could be.” He dipped toward her, his grin widening. “I humbly offer my escort, for a dance or to any quarter of the known world that provides amusement, if that is your desire.”
Her desires would get her into trouble. Suddenly, Mary did not care. “Lead the way, Centurion.”
He squeezed her hand, and it felt right to let him escort her around the unfamiliar home and entertain her with his charming wit and generous laughter for the next hour. There was something about him, some swift and unknown symmetry that had brought him to her notice and kept him at her side. Who was she to deny fate?
He passed her champagne when a footman carried a tray past and smiled down at her as she sipped the strange liquid. A warm glow filled her with longing to know him, every time he smiled, her resolve to be careful diminished a little more. Where had this man been all her life? She had to find out who he was. “Do you know our hosts well?”
“I know them as well as anyone who made it past the butler.”
Drat! That meant he could be someone important or a nobody with funds to spare. Their hosts did not discriminate against rank or reputation. Money and connections were all very well but never made up for the lack of character.
“How well do you know them?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh, not at all.” Mary turned her face away, hiding a blush. She had to be careful to find out who he was before she risked her own identity being revealed. “They are very brave to open their home to so many strangers. Do the Fenwick’s not fear being robbed?”
“Everything of value is locked away.” He nodded to a group nearby. “They hire additional servants, men and women costumed to blend in, to ensure the peace and order are maintained.”