The Wedding Chase by Rebecca Kelley

belong to a man, but were clearly masculine in size and strength. He turned her arm, running his fingers up the inner length to the top of her long glove. Zel shivered as his fingers traced their way down, pausing at intervals marked by tiny buttons. Each ivory ball was in turn eased free until the glove rippled from her arm. He swept the silk off, finger by finger, stroking the warm flesh beneath.
    “Zel.” Wolfgang’s breath hummed across her palm, lips whispering up her arm. His hand crept over her shoulder, following the line of bare flesh from ruffled collar to sleeve. She moaned as he shifted to face her, hand flowing up her throat, coming to her mask. He pulled at the fastenings, sliding it to his lap. She smiled in tune with his compellingly crooked grin. Of their own volition, her hands brought his mask rustling down to join hers.
    His hand returned to her face, cradling her chin, soft as alullaby. In the pale light from the moon she could feel more than see his eyes on her lips.
    “I … should we …”
    “Sssh.” His finger pressed lightly against her mouth.
    Zel closed her eyes, leaning back into the curve of his shoulder and arm. His lips played across hers, softer than the softest pianissimo, then slid over her cheek to her eyes. She sighed and he returned to claim her mouth, the gentleness spending itself rapidly as demand grew. She sat passively absorbing each new chord as he serenaded her lips, her teeth, and the smooth, sensitive tissue of her inner mouth.
    The serenade became a spirited duet as her tongue twined with his. Wolfgang’s hands swept over her body, awakening melodies hitherto unknown. Her hands matched his rhythm as she learned the hard lines of his muscular back. His lips pulled away from hers, leaving both starving for breath as he scaled down her throat and chest, tongue tracing the valley between her breasts. His fingers plucked gently at the silk and chiffon of her bodice, bringing the nipple beneath to taut awareness. Sensation sang through her body, invisible strings strummed by his touch.
    Breaking away abruptly, he stood. He clutched her arms, drawing her up to face him, studying her intently. “Not here, not now. Later when the ball is over.”
    It was not a question, but she answered with a breath. “Later.”
    She walked, clutching his arm, back to the ballroom, the harmony between them still tight, almost palpable.
    Zel danced through the night, helplessly caught up in the power of her own masquerade. Her dark puritan-prince, always nearby, took one more dance, a forbidden third dance, but she was beyond worrying about what anyone thought as she swirled around the floor in his arms. When the waltz ended he leaned over and whispered into her ear.
    “Later.”
    As the ball drew to an end and the guests wandered off,she waited for him to spirit her away for the last few promised kisses, but he did not approach her again, and now with the orchestra closing down he was nowhere in sight.
    She tried to ignore the disappointment flooding over her, the night had been enchanted, she had no right to ask for more.
    By all the demons in hell, he hadn’t wanted a woman like this in years. Maybe he’d never wanted a woman like this. He’d been close to taking her in the garden, barely able to pull himself away and suggest this rendezvous.
    She was not a classic beauty—he’d had his fill of them anyway. But she was surprisingly lovely in that outlandish costume. And his desire for her went deeper than her outward appearance.… No, he wasn’t in a mood for examining the whys and wherefores. He only wanted to continue the sensual magic they had already begun.
    Wolfgang pulled the dressing gown over his bare chest and tied the belt. Slipping into the hall, he watched carefully for signs of other nocturnal wanderers.
    Empty. He smiled in anticipation, rapidly covering the distance between their rooms.
    Should he knock? He paused before her door. No, she was expecting him, and he