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A Game of Chance
    By Kate Roman
    Sebastian, the young Duke of Avon, moved carefully through the press of chattering party-goers. His black silk mask was skillfully tied, his wig carefully arranged to hide all clues to his identity. The fashionably high red heels to his shoes disguised his height and the cape he wore served well to hide his build. No one at the masquerade would know him. He could be any man of the Upper Ten Thousand.
    At least until the midnight unmasking.
    Sebastian deftly avoided a flirtatious, forward young girl in a pale pink taffeta gown and matching mask. She was obviously a debutante, using the privilege of anonymity to throw off the demure behavior expected of her. Sebastian smiled wryly as he headed for the small entrance at the rear of the ballroom. He knew exactly how she felt.
    The door he sought was a discreetly curtained servants’ entrance, set behind an ornate screen. Sebastian paused and drew out his snuff-box. He took a pinch as he carefully scanned the crowd. The dowagers were seated facing the dancers and the musicians were busy with their instruments. No one was looking his way.
    Satisfied, Sebastian slipped behind the screen and through the curtained doorway.
    The passageway he entered was dim, lit only by a wall-sconce at each end. He paused, looking this way and that, wondering which way to go. The conversation he’d overheard had mentioned only the door from the ballroom.
    There had been talk of deep play and the forbidden game -- whether dice or cards, he had no idea, but either would do. He listened carefully, but heard no sound save the music and laughter from the ballroom. That meant it must be cards: he would hear the rattle of the dice box. Cautiously, he started down the hallway toward the far end.
    “I feared tonight I was the only player.” A deep voice, smooth and thick as velvet sounded in his ear. Before Sebastian could turn, strong hands closed on his shoulders and pulled him back against the heat of a man’s body.
    Sebastian gasped with shock, struggling. “I beg your pardon--”
    “This way.” There was a rustle of heavy fabric and Sebastian realized he had been pulled into an alcove off the passageway, hidden by a thick black curtain. A single candle burned in a sconce on the wall, illuminating a wooden bench and a tiny carved table. On the table stood a decanter and two glasses, and a small unlabeled bottle. There was neither a dice box nor a pack of cards in sight.
    Drawing a deep breath, Sebastian turned and finally got a good look at his captor. The man was tall and broad-shouldered and his features, like Sebastian’s, were hidden by a black mask. Beneath the mask, he wore a satisfied smile. “Let the games begin,” he growled, tightening his grip on Sebastian’s shoulders.
    Sebastian was opening his mouth to ask questions -- what games, what were the stakes, were they the only players -- when he was jerked hard against the stranger’s body, held fast by one strong arm across his back. He looked up, shocked, and met the stranger’s eyes, glittering black and predatory through the mask. An instant later, the stranger’s mouth was on his, rough and crushing, tongue forcing an entrance.
    Sebastian struggled weakly, but he was held fast and every movement seemed to inflame his captor. He fell still, frightened, as the man’s tongue explored his mouth, lewd and uninvited. He was at the mercy of this stranger and his game. The thought should have been terrifying, but instead, Sebastian felt a rush of excitement up his spine, a thrill stronger than anything he’d ever felt at the gaming table. His knees started to tremble as heat flooded his groin and he swallowed a groan.
    Sebastian caught his breath as his cloak was pulled from his shoulders and he was turned around and pushed face first against the wall. He knew he should protest, explain that there had been a misunderstanding, but his voice would not obey him, and as the stranger’s arm closed