Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,6

charm and appeal than anyone she had ever met in New York or Paris.

“Come with me, darling,” he said softly.

He was smiling now, like that grinning devil in the painting. He took her hand and slowly backed up. Captivated by the playful glint in his eyes and the engaging way he looked at her, Clara followed him around the bottom of the staircase until she realized, with hazy, besotted awareness, that he was leading her away, into the dim, private shadows beneath the stairs.

Chapter 2

Warning bells rang inside Clara’s head, but a more willful part of her nature—the part that wanted to experience what this man offered—somehow managed to silence them.

He backed up against the wall, pulled her toward him until her breasts were pressed firmly, thrillingly against his chest, and with a smile, he leaned close for a kiss

It was one of those life-altering moments, when all that she believed about herself would be tested. Clara should have stopped him. She should have placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back, but alas, she did not. She did nothing to stop the snowball from rolling, nor did she try to control her desires, for there in the dark, she and this gentleman were hidden from view.

He was the most exciting man she’d ever encountered. After two long years of self-inflicted emotional repression to try and fit into a strict, upper-class society, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to taste freedom. She wanted to burst forth like a flash flood, breaking through a dam.

She gazed into the man’s eyes and felt her proper convictions break.

His eyes were smiling when he kissed her. His tongue swept in and touched hers with the confident skill of an experienced lover, heating her blood and igniting a fire that roared like a monster in her ears. She swayed into the kiss and into his body, relying on his strong hands around her waist to keep her steady through her knees, which incidentally, in the last few seconds, had turned to warm pudding.

If she had any sense at all, she would put a stop to this immediately, but her lusty curiosity wouldn’t allow her proper scruples to gain a foothold. She’d never imagined a London ball would be as exciting as this. It felt like she was dreaming. Or drowning.

“Ah.” He sighed against her cheek. “That was the most enchanting kiss I’ve had in...I don’t know how long.”

He pressed his lips to hers again, closing in on her with his whole body, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Come with me upstairs,” he whispered in her ear.

“Upstairs?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s still early, love. I doubt all the rooms would be taken yet.”

“All the rooms?” What in the world did he mean?

Then all at once, panic pooled in her belly and she woke from the dream.

“If we’re going to go,” he added, “we should go now. The hall is getting crowded. All the corners have been taken up.”

He stepped away from the wall to collect Clara, as if he fully expected her to follow, as if this little tryst were perfectly normal and acceptable.

Earlier, Clara had sensed that something wasn’t quite right about this ball, but she hadn’t been sure what to do about it. She’d hoped Sophia and James would arrive and make sense of it for her. Now, the need for action was imminent.

“Sir, I believe you must have me confused with someone else. I can’t possibly—”

“Why ever not, love? You’re here, aren’t you? And we seem to have developed a rather intoxicating rapport.”

She realized that she should have heeded her instincts sooner, for clearly, something was very wrong. “Where is here, exactly?”

He gazed at her for a moment, then the set of his jaw changed. His expression darkened.

“You don’t know where you are?”

“I’m afraid I do not, and I would be grateful if you would enlighten me.”

All the warmth and seduction from seconds ago vanished like a drop of water on a hot stove. Clara’s stomach lurched.

“This is a private ball, madam. Only those with an invitation are permitted to enter.”

Clara backed away from him and moved out of the shadows and into the open hall. A sick feeling crept into her belly as she watched him follow her.

“I did have an invitation,” she told him.

“Was it yours? How did you get it?”

“It was my sister’s.”

He stopped following and closed his eyes. “Please, tell me that you’re married.”

Clara’s brows flew up under the half mask, which suddenly felt very tight on