The Queen's Nine-Month Scandal by Abby Green Page B

costumes, their faces covered by masks. The guests looked
beautiful and mysterious. Everyone was anonymous here. She could be anyone.
    ‘You look thirsty.’
    It took a second for the deep voice at Analia’s side to
register and she turned with a start to see a glass of champagne being held out
towards her. She looked up, and up again, to see a broad-shouldered man who
quite simply took her breath away. His face was almost entirely obscured on top
by a black mask, and on the bottom by the dark growth of a beard that hugged his
jaw.
    Unlike the other men dressed in tuxedos, he was in a dark suit
but with an open-necked shirt. Unruly dark wavy hair almost touched his collar
and only added to his rakish appearance. The hint of rebelliousness resonated
deep within her.
    His lips quirked, firmly sculpted and so undeniably sensual
that she felt a flutter of something hot, deep in her belly. And then he smiled,
flashing strong white teeth, and Analia was dazzled. She also felt very
strangely as if he was familiar to her, but in a way she couldn’t rationalize. A
little shiver went down her spine.
    She took the glass and murmured, ‘Thank you.’
    ‘I take it you’re not meeting anyone here?’
    Analia took a gulp of the sparkling liquid and let the bubbles
race down her throat before saying wryly, ‘Is it that obvious?’
    The man shrugged minutely, ‘You looked a little lost when you
came in.
    Something pierced her at last and she asked him in turn, ‘And
you? Are you alone too?’
    He turned his face to cast a look over the crowd and Analia’s
belly tightened to see how strong his jaw was. He was so intensely
masculine.
    ‘I know our host, that’s about it.’ He turned to look back down
at her. ‘With all these masks it’s hard to know about anyone else.’
    ‘I like it,’ Analia heard herself blurting out.
    He seemed to know exactly what she meant and said slowly, ‘Me
too...so no names then, or that’ll ruin it.’
    Flutters increased in Analia’s belly. It was as if she’d agreed
to enter into some kind of illicit pact with this man, which was crazy as they’d
only just met. Nevertheless she heard herself saying, ‘No names.’
    Quirking a sexy smile again he said, ‘We could make up
names?’
    He held out a hand, ‘I’m Sasha.’
    Analia felt a giggle rising up, an incredible lightheartedness.
‘That’s a girl’s name!
    He drawled, ‘I think it’s fairly obvious I’m not a girl. I’ll
have you know that
    it’s a very respectable man’s name in Russia where my ancestors
come from. Or not...I could be making it all up.’
    Analia had a sense that he wasn’t making it up. Something about
him made her think of vast open steppes and an inhospitable environment pitting
man against nature. Very aware of her heart pounding, Analia put her hand in his
and seized on the first name she could think of. ‘I’m...Alexandra.’
    Instantly the air around them seemed to crackle with awareness.
Analia was aware of her hand being dwarfed by his. The faint calluses against
her delicate skin. His incredible heat.
    Seconds passed, stretching as they stood there, locked in this
bubble of intimacy. She felt his thumb move ever so slightly against the pulse
of her wrist and her eyes widened under the lace of her mask, her breath
choppy.
    The lighthearted feel of the last few moments seemed to change
to something more intense. Analia could feel blood rushing to her face and other
parts of her body. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples became hard points
against the silk of her dress.
    Without releasing her hand or saying anything else, Sasha
guided her over to where doors stood open, leading her out to a balcony, which
overlooked the canal. Analia felt a little dazed. She’d only met this man mere
minutes ago, and yet she felt bizarrely as if she’d been speaking to him for
hours.
    A couple passed them on their way back into the room and then
they were alone on the balcony, the sound of the party muted. He let