Masque of Betrayal by Andrea Kane

demanded, further irritated by Jacqui’s amused reaction.
    “Nothing,” she assured him. She frowned at the blood now trickling along Dane’s jaw. “Come into the house and I’ll treat those scratches.”
    Instantly, Dane’s irritation vanished. “All right.”
    He allowed himself to be led into the Holts’ spacious sitting room, leaning back and closing his eyes as Jacqui tended to his cheek. The brush of her hands was heaven.
    “Am I hurting you?” She paused, assuming that his tightly closed eyes implied pain.
    “No, sweetheart.” Dane gave her a slow, devastating grin. “If this is the only way to convince you to continue touching me, it was well worth the price.” He opened teasing silver eyes and caught her hand in his. “In fact, I only wish that your wretched little cat had done his minor damage to those portions of my anatomy that truly require your attentions.”
    Jacqui flushed and yanked her hand free. “You are not supposed to say such things to me,” she informed him.
    One dark brow lifted in amusement. “Really? And why not? You obviously liked hearing them; your face is flushed and your eyes are sparkling.” He dragged her hand back to his face, this time bringing her fingers to his warm, open mouth.
    She didn’t deny his words, nor did she reclaim her hand. “That is not the point.”
    “Then what is?” He kissed each of her fingertips, then her palm, letting his tongue stroke her soft skin. “You have already informed me that you are nothing like other women, nor do you care what people think of you.”
    “Yes … but …”
    “But?” he prompted, feeling the pulse in her wrist throb frantically.
    “But this is totally irrational,” she tried, tingles running up her spine as Dane’s warm breath caressed her arm.
    “This?” he questioned softly.
    “Yes, this.” She gestured from herself to him. “What is occurring between us. We hardly even know each other.” Her token protest was uttered in a small, bewildered voice.
    Dane kissed the delicate veins on the inside of her wrist, then lifted his head, giving her a look of tender understanding. “Some things, my beautiful little scholar, defy logic. Our attraction”—he frowned at his own choice of words—“our mutual fascination,” he corrected, “is one of those things.”
    “But it is only a physical fascination,” Jacqui qualified.
    Dane pressed her hand to his cheek. “Is it?”
    For a long moment there was silence as he held her gaze with his.
    Acutely aware of Dane’s warm skin beneath her hand and mesmerized by the intensity of his probing silver stare, Jacqui could barely remember what they’d been talking about. She licked her lips nervously. “Would you like a drink?” she blurted out.
    Taking pity on her, Dane released her hand. “A drink would be splendid, both for pleasurable and medicinal purposes.” He moved his jaw gingerly. “Not only will I be able to enjoy your exceptional company, but perhaps a drink will take my mind off my injuries.”
    Jacqui rolled her eyes heavenward. “It is only a scratch, Dane, not a fatal wound.” Seeing his disappointed expression, she smiled. “You will find that my sympathy is not so easily attained.”
    “Nor is your affection,” he noted with a mock sigh. He leaned forward, catching a soft fold of her gown and using it to tug her closer to him. “Tell me then,” he asked, tracing the contours of her slender waist with teasing, suggestive fingers, “what will you offer me, if not sympathy or affection?”
    “ I will offer you a glass of brandy,” Greta announced loudly, stalking into the room and thrusting a drink at Dane. She stood, glaring, until he had released Jacqui’s gown and taken the proffered glass. Then, without waiting for thanks, Greta slapped a newspaper down onto the table beside Dane and placed a small tray of food next to it. “Your newspaper, Fräulein Holt,” she barked. “Also some homemade white gingerbread, still warm, for