The Princess and The Masked Man. Valerie Parv

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СКАЧАТЬ his mask they were a clear, dark blue like the waters of a bottomless lake, and just as unfathomable. They met hers with a directness she seldom experienced other than from members of her family. He didn’t act like one of the castle staff, she thought, struggling to put a name to what she could see of his face. He must be a friend of Maxim or Eduard. No employee would meet her gaze so unflinchingly, as if daring her to accept him as anything other than an equal.

      His hair was as black as midnight, the slightly untamed strands skimming the collar of his pristine dress shirt. The contrast was startling. Only an hour ago, she had joked with her lady-in-waiting about meeting her Prince Charming at the ball, never expecting it to be a possibility.

      It wasn’t a possibility now, although it was difficult to remember, when her heart thudded against her chest and her breath felt strangled. He was only another guest, although he looked as if he had stepped straight out of her dreams.

      “I don’t—that is, I’d better not in case I have to resort to pain medication during the evening.” She was furious with herself for stumbling over the words.

      She imagined eyebrows as black as his hair winging upward beneath the mask. “Are you in pain now?”

      His concerned tone provoked a frisson of response. “Nothing to worry about.” The faint twinge had been forgotten at her first sight of him.

      He gestured at the sedan chair. “Unusual mode of transportation.”

      She could have kissed him for offering the conversational lifeline, then almost sighed at the thought. Kissing him would be an extraordinary experience. One she wasn’t in the least likely to have. It didn’t stop her from imagining his generous mouth claiming hers, their breath mingling.

      It had been a long time since she’d been kissed by anyone. Really kissed. There was Robert, of course. But he never made her feel this confused or needy. Maybe that’s why she felt driven to end the relationship. She wanted a man who made her feel more than he did.

      The way she felt now.

      She gathered her scattered wits. Although her medication had been tapered almost to nothing, it must be to blame for her confusion. How else to explain the fast hammering of her heart, and her sense that the ballroom was overheated suddenly?

      She tried for a normal tone. “The sedan chair is a museum piece that belonged to my grandmother, Princess Antoinette. I had to choose between using the chair or a walking stick.”

      “I saw the chair on display in the Tower Hall a couple of days ago and wondered how riding in it would feel,” he observed.

      “Bumpy.” His voice reminded her of hot chocolate, smooth, rich, delicious.

      She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head to clear it. It wasn’t done to seek introductions at a masked ball and take the mystery out of the occasion, but she found herself wanting to. She settled for saying, “We haven’t met before. Are you staying at the castle?”

      He inclined his head. “For the moment.”

      An answer that told her precisely nothing about him. “I would like some sparkling water,” she said, feeling her mouth dry.

      She regretted the request when he turned away from her at once. Stay, she wanted to command, feeling a sense of desertion sweep over her. Then she retracted the thought, as watching him brought its own gratification.

      He moved with a controlled strength that was like poetry, muscles fluid under the black suit. A man of action, she decided, one used to having his body obey him without thought. When he brought her glass of water, his fingers looked strong around the fragile flute. He gave it to her and a tingle traveled through her as his hand brushed hers.

      Trying not to show how unnerved she was, she said, “Thank you.”

      His dark gaze swept the crowd around them. “This can’t be much fun for you, Your Highness.”

      Something in his gaze inspired her confidence. “It beats spending two months with my mother.”

      A sparkle of understanding lit the blue depths. “Prince Maxim told me you were staying at Taures Palace. I gather it wasn’t a picnic.”

      He must be one of her brother’s guests, she concluded. All the same she shouldn’t be discussing her family with someone she didn’t know, although she was tempted to do just that. “What’s the old saying? ‘You can’t go home again.”’

      Did she imagine the sudden tightening around his mouth? All he said was, “Quite.” He shifted as if to move away.

      “Stay and talk to me,” she said, shocking herself slightly. Feeling needy was one thing, but indulging it with a stranger was quite another. Her mother was bound to have a rule against such behavior.

      He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. “I don’t wish to monopolize your time. Protocol…”

      “To blazes with protocol,” she said, then moderated her tone, “As you can see, there’s not much competition for my attention.”

      He took a sip of champagne. “Perhaps they’re intimidated by you.”

      “Because of the sedan chair?” It did look somewhat like a throne, she conceded.

      “Sitting in that thing, you look terrifyingly regal.”

      “You don’t seem intimidated.”

      His deep blue eyes shone. “Fishing, Princess? All identities remain a mystery until midnight.”

      “Wondering,” she compromised. “No law against that, is there?”

      “Not unless your family chooses to make one.”

      “You aren’t going to give me any clues, are you?” He had already given one when he’d mentioned Maxim so familiarly. “Are you a friend of Max’s?”

      All he admitted was, “I know the prince.”

      All the guests were connected by their association with the castle, either as members of the Merrisand Trust like her and Max, friends who supported the trust’s charitable work, or senior members of the royal household. “The same may be said of anyone here.”

      “True enough.”

      She found she liked the sensation of sparring with him. “You have me at an unfair advantage. You know who I am, but I don’t even know what to call you.”

      He seemed to think for a moment. “You could try Clark.”

      “Although it isn’t your real name.” She didn’t know how she knew, only that she did.

      “My daughter put the idea in my head when I was getting ready this evening.”

      A stab of disappointment lanced through her. So he was married with a child. She should have known. “You should be grateful she didn’t suggest something more bizarre.”

      She saw the corners of his mouth lift. “Considering the alternatives the mask suggested to her, Clark was the mildest option.”

      A flash СКАЧАТЬ