The Scoundrel's Lover Read Online Free PDF Page B

forbidden touch. She spun so her back was to him, hands clenched at her chest and breath coming far too short.
    “I should go home,” she gasped.
    He was quiet for long enough the she nearly turned to face him. But finally he said, “I will escort you.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut. Considering her feelings, her desires, that was a terrible idea. To be alone with him for close to half an hour? To be shoehorned into a carriage together where it was dark and close when she wanted to feel his fingers on her flesh again?
    A very bad idea.
    “You needn’t trouble yourself,” she said, her voice shaking.
    His eyes narrowed. “You came here with my man and he is now busy, so there is nothing to it. I will take you back to your brother’s home, Miss Flynn. That is the end of the discussion.”
    Annabelle suppressed a very strong urge to turn around and have a wildly inappropriate tantrum, and instead smiled at him when she faced him again. “Fine. I appreciate your concern.”
    “Wait here a moment, I’ll have the carriage brought back and then I’ll escort you through the main hall.” He cast her one more look before he slipped from the room.
    When he had closed the door behind himself, Annabelle let out a long, ragged breath. The man stole all the air in the room when he stood there, looking so intimidating and handsome and…delectable.
    “Stop thinking those things,” Annabelle ground out to herself through clenched teeth. “Stop. Stop. Stop .”
    “So sorry.”
    She froze at the sound of Crispin’s voice from the bed behind her. She moved toward him. In the firelight, he looked very young. Very lost. But his eyes were still closed, his mouth a frown even in his inebriated and semi-conscious state.
    Marcus said he wouldn’t remember this night. She hoped that was true. She wished it were true for herself.
    Gently, she smoothed a dark blonde curl away from his forehead. “It will all be better in the morning,” she whispered.
    But it didn’t feel like it would be better. Suddenly all the perfect plans she had been making for her debut, catching a respectable man and living a staid life seemed threatened and not just by her brother’s unpredictable behavior.
    The door opened, and Marcus Rivers stepped back into the room. He motioned for her, and she leaned down to press a brief kiss to her brother’s forehead.
    “Will anyone know who I am?” she asked as she slipped from the room.
    Rivers motioned for a servant who returned to the chamber to watch over her brother, then shut the door firmly behind them.
    “That’s why Abbot had you wear a mask. Protection,” Rivers explained.
    “And my brother? He wore no mask.”
    Rivers’ lips thinned. “He took it off at some point, I suppose. Many forego them, especially the men. They do not feel it as important to protect their identities. They are more allowed to pursue their desires in the open.”
    Annabelle tried very hard not to stare at the very low cut gown of a lady playing cards with a group of men in the main hall. They were all in varying levels of undress and leering at each other openly.
    Her body stirred, and she ignored it. “But their actions… his actions…could have an impact on others in their lives.”
    Rivers maneuvered her into the foyer and down the steps where the carriage she had come in was waiting for them. Back in she went, only this time it wasn’t the thin, disapproving Abbot who was her companion, but Rivers. And he looked ever so much more handsome in the dim light.
    “I suppose that is true,” Rivers said slowly as the carriage began to move. “And I also suppose you mean yourself.”
    She hesitated and took a moment to remove her mask and set it on the carriage seat next to her. Sharing her fears with this man seemed an intimate exercise indeed. But talking about her plans could only remind her about her decorum. Perhaps it would silence the needs that bubbled up whenever she thought of the Donville Masquerade or its