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leaned against it letting out a long suffering sigh.
Madeline.
She opened her eyes to see Hardcastle leaning against the wall, his hat in one
hand, the other one rifling through his already disheveled hair.
My lord, she said, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. I& I did not
know you were here. If I had, I would never have dared-
You re presence is not unwelcome.
Well, I& that is& she trailed off, suddenly off balance. She didn t know what
to say. He wasn t the arrogant beast of the night before, if he had been, she was prepared
for him. He wouldn t get away with speaking to her in such a fashion again. But he
hadn t. His voice had been quiet, slightly shaky, almost as if he were uneasy, unsure of
what to say.
My lord, she said, wetting her lips, hoping she was doing the right thing. I
wanted to tell you how gallant you were in asking Miss Billingsworth to dance last
evening. I do believe you had quite an impact on her. It s the nicest thing a gentleman can
Mistress of the Night Charlotte Featherstone 43
do for a lady.
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Madeline followed his gaze, wondering
what of interest was up there. When she saw it was nothing but smooth plaster, she
looked away and decided to peruse the books on a nearby shelf. Obviously his lordship
did not do well with compliments, or perhaps it was his less than subtle hint that he did
not wish to discuss the subject further.
I cannot abide the berating of children by their parents, he finally said. It was
most painful for Miss Billingsworth, and I could not stand by and watch her be destroyed
by her shrew of a mother, or the taunting fools of the ton.
She didn t know if he realized how much he d revealed about himself with that
statement. She wondered if he knew how his voice cracked, hinting at a past hurt by his
own parents.
He d sympathized with Alexandra Billingsworth because he d also suffered at the
hands of his parents. Somewhere in his past he had lived through the same taunts and
jibes. She was coming to understand him, to see why he held himself apart from society.
At some point his parents had told him he was inferior, maybe, perhaps, even an
embarrassment.
I can t remember a time where I displeased my parents so much they would
berate me in front of their peers.
I could never please my parents. She heard him toss his hat onto the table and
sigh as he leaned against the wall. I wasn t what they wanted.
Intrigued, yet aware she was treading very deep water, she plunged forward.
Surely you didn t have to suffer as poor Miss Billingsworth did last night?
She heard him suck in his breath, imagined him stiffening, struggling to draw the
shade of secrecy once again. He had unwittingly exposed his past, and he had at last
checked himself.
Madeline replayed all she knew about him, all she d seen of him. His outburst and
cruel jibes last evening were uncharacteristic of him. He d been lashing out, trying to
distance himself from her, trying to make her turn from him. Blaine was hurting, he was
in need of understanding and love, and yet he refused to take it where it was offered. He
gave in only so far before snatching his hand away and drawing himself back into his
dark depths.
I do not talk of my parents. The past is history, and history can never be re-
written.
He had been hurt. She could hear it in his voice, feel it as the tension in the room
tightened and closed in on them. She felt his anger and pain coil within him only to
radiate out to her. He was so in need of love, and yet, she didn t know how to reach out to
him, how to give him what he needed. He wouldn t let her get close enough to help him.
I should leave you, she said, not knowing if she was doing the right thing,
leaving him alone with only his tortured past to keep him company. But then, what could
she say if she stayed? She didn t know what words to use to breach his tough shell.
She heard his steps, soft and sure behind her, then suddenly felt his breath against
her neck. Don t leave, he whispered, pressing his face against her exposed skin. Don t
run from me.
Mistress of the Night Charlotte Featherstone 44
His breath and lips caressed her neck, while his fingers lightly traced the neckline
of her pelisse before trailing down her spine.
Forgive me, Madeline. Forgive me for what I said last night.
She nodded and with a tremulous swallow, allowed him to nudge her head to the
side, resting it against his shoulder as his lips softly, reverently, nuzzled her neck,
followed by light flicks of his tongue.
I wanted that dance to be with you, Maddy. The whole time I was dancing with
her I thought only of you, wishing we were the only two people in the room so that I
might do this to you.
Her pulse leapt and surged as he continued to caress her neck, his fingers, light
and teasing trailed down her throat, stopping at the peak of her breast, only to travel back
up the column of her throat.
Tell me, he said, bringing her back tight against his chest, his tongue, hot and
teasing flicked along her bounding pulse. What is it you desire?
Her brain screamed that it was him she wanted. That she wanted his kiss. But this
was neither the time, nor the place. It was too dangerous, anyone could walk in and catch
them. She didn t want to trap him, she wanted him to come to her willingly, to reach out
and consciously take her in his arms, to invite her into his life, his heart.
Tell me. His hand traced her breast, then cupped her and she whimpered, trying
to think despite the heavy fog of desire clouding her brain. Never had she felt anything
quite as mind numbing as Blaine s hands roving her body. Never had she been more
aware of the fact that she was a woman--a woman with desires.
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