Moonlight Masquerade by Kasey Michaels Page B

had
been wrought by the grieving brother, but she couldn’t. This was no
time for a sermon.
    Slowly, fearful that he might run from her,
she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, desperate to heal the inward
scars that were a hundred times more damaging than these thin white
lines.
    Standing on tiptoe, her body pressed tightly
against his, returning stare for stare, she tilted her head
slightly to one side and touched her lips to his, showing him
without words that, to her, he was still the perfect Vincent of the
moonlight, and still welcome in her life. As the heat of his mouth
melted her fears, she sighed, slowly allowing her eyes to flutter
closed.
    Vincent’s strong right hand, raised in the
act of pushing her away, stilled, and formed itself into a tight,
trembling fist. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make himself do the
right thing—the honorable thing.
    He needed her too much.
    Slowly his fingers opened, and he lowered
his hand to clasp her waist as he allowed himself to be pulled more
firmly into her embrace. His mouth crushed hers, hungry, searching,
seeking, tasting the forbidden fruit. She was so soft, so open, so
giving.
    It was all so wrong.
    It was all so right.
    “Christine,” he breathed hoarsely when at
last the kiss was over and her head was once more pressed against
his chest. “Christine.”
    “ Christine! ”
    He felt her stiffen, then move away from
him. “It’s Aunt Nellis,” she said unnecessarily as he quickly
slipped the woolen muffler back over his face. “I must go. I—I
don’t want to go, to leave you like this. Oh, Vincent...” There was
so much she needed to say, so much he needed to hear.
    “ Christine, where are you? ”
    She kissed her fingertips, then pressed them
to his cheek. “Tonight?”
    Vincent nodded, clearly not trusting his
voice, then stayed behind the tree, out of sight, as she walked
back toward the house, calling out, “I’m here, Aunt Nellis. Go back
inside before you take a chill.”
    “Tonight,” Vincent repeated softly, dropping
to his knees in the snow to lift Christine’s muff and rub it
against his cheek. “Dear God, I have to put an end to this before
it’s too late—for both of us!”

Chapter 12

    V incent took his
dinner alone while Christine and her aunt had their meal in the
formal dining room, thankfully situated at the opposite end of the
house. He had broken his promise to join them there, choosing to
hide himself in his study, away from Christine’s searching eyes,
safe from her sure-to-be-probing questions.
    “She’s a child. A foolish, romantic child.
She has no real experience of love. She doesn’t know what she’s
doing, what she’s daring,” he told the uneaten food congealing on
his plate. “She sees me as a challenge. The poor, tragic reclusive
earl, hiding a scandalous secret, bearing scandalous scars. I
should demand that her aunt confine her to her chamber until the
roads are passable.”
    He reached over to ring the bell that sat on
the table beside him. “Lazarus,” he ordered when the servant
appeared almost immediately, as if he lived his life just outside
the study door, waiting for his master to summon him, “kindly
convey my regrets to the ladies and tell them that I am indisposed
for this entire evening.”
    “All evening, your lordship?” Lazarus asked,
clearly referring to Miss Denham’s proposed visit once her aunt was
abed.
    “All evening, Lazarus,” the earl pronounced
flatly, motioning for the servant to remove the dinner tray.
“Surely my request wasn’t that convoluted. I wish to be alone. Just
leave the decanter on the table on your way out. I don’t care to be
disturbed again.”
    “Very well, sir, if you think it’s for the
best,” Lazarus said, obviously approving.
    “It is such a comfort to me, dear Lazarus,
to know that I have pleased you,” Vincent said softly as the
servant exited. He stood, shaking his head free of the hood he had
forgotten he was wearing, then allowed the cloak