Read Online Susan Carroll by Masquerade - Free Book Online Page A

few
questions you did not ask me, my lady."
    Taking a hesitant step backward, she scarce
knew what to do next. She could not bodily eject Armande from
Ewan's room as she would have liked to have done. The most ladylike
course of action would be to stalk away in high dudgeon to find her
grandfather. The marquis was half naked, and even now she could
hear one of the maids coming down the hall.
    Impulsively, Phaedra bolted forward and
slammed the door closed behind her. The abrupt movement brought her
brushing up against Armande. Flinging out her hands to ward him
off, her palms pressed against the warm, firm flesh of his
shoulders. She received the briefest of warnings from the sudden
intensity of his gaze and jerked her hands back as though she had
been seared. But it was too late. His arms banded about her,
imprisoning her against him. Heart thudding, for one moment she
forgot herself enough to allow him to draw her close. But at the
first heated touch of his lips, his mouth grazing hers with the
promise of sweeter fire to come, she struggled to be free. To her
surprise, he readily released her.
    "How dare you!" she gasped.
    He shrugged, and whatever desire she had seen
flare to life in his eyes was gone. " Milles pardons ,
my lady. It would seem I misread your intent. In France, there is
only one reason for a woman to so rush into a man's
bedchamber."
    So the kiss had been but another of the
marquis's mockeries. Phaedra drew in a tremulous breath, raising
one hand to her burning cheek in an attempt to cool it. "This was
my husband's room. I came to see what you are doing here."
    "Dressing myself."
    He was baiting her she thought, and enjoying
every minute of it. She replied in as cool a voice as she could
muster. "You cannot stay here, especially not now that I've
returned from Bath. This room adjoins my bedchamber."
    “You can always keep your door bolted, if you
wish," he said. In his voice was the barest suggestion that she
might not wish it.
    Phaedra's hand fluttered to the neckline of
her gown. "So I shall, for the rest of your brief stay here."
    He merely smiled and walked leisurely toward
the bed, where his plain white shirt lay spread out on the blue
velvet counterpane. He picked up the shirt, easing the .linen over
the muscular contours of his shoulders. Did not the man have a
valet? Phaedra wondered. That was odd for a great nobleman. Either
he could not afford a manservant or he wanted no one in such close
attendance upon him. The elegant cut of his clothes, and the heavy
ruby glinting upon his finger, made a lack of funds seem
unlikely.
    When he had put on the shirt, he glanced up,
looking as though he were surprised to find her still there.
    "Should I invite you to take a seat, my lady?
Forgive me. I am not accustomed to holding levees for ladies."
    Phaedra realized she been staring, the blush
threatening to rise into her cheeks anew. She blurted out, "You
don't look like a marquis."
    "And have you examined that many marquises so
closely that you can pass such a judgment?"
    For once, the smile tugging at his mouth was
more teasing than mocking. Her mouth curved in reluctant response.
"No, you are the first."
    She knew she was behaving outrageously,
lingering in this room with the same man who had threatened her
only last night. And yet he scarcely seemed like the same man.
Could the absence of the wig and white powder make that much
difference? She studied the way his rich sable-brown hair waved
back from his brow. It softened the planes of his face, making him
appear less arrogant, and the light in his blue eyes was not quite
so chilling. Perhaps Gilly was right. Perhaps it was only her
imagination that made such a sinister figure of the marquis.
    "If you continue to stand there watching,"
Armande said, "I may press you into service, tying my
solitaire."
    "Would you trust me to knot something about
your throat?" she retorted.
    His smile faded, his hand going up toward his
neck. The gesture drew Phaedra's