Chapter Seven

"It appears they aren't coming back," said Stephen.

"Maybe they live nearby and only came to the hotel for a meal."

"We've waited all day. This is ridiculous. How often will we be in New Orleans? Let's get out of here and enjoy ourselves." Stephen made the suggestion but his heart wasn't in it.

After venturing out to see the sights and eat local cuisine, they returned to a party at their hotel. People arrayed in colorful costumes and masks filled the dining hall.

"Why don't we join them? It looks like fun," Charles suggested.

Stephen agreed and they returned to their room to quickly dress in their finest suits. They purchased masks from the hotel boutique and then entered the celebration. Party goers stood in two lines, females on one side and males on the other. Stephen and Charles stood across from companionless females and joined the dance.

Charles laughed and flirted with his partner. Her long blonde hair swished back and forth as she over emphasized each move.

Stephen's partner was reserved. When they lifted their hands to walk in a circle, the masked lady turned her face away. Following the dance moves, they drew close and then backed apart, then came together again, and yet he still hadn't glimpsed her face.

Each movement brought a plethora of fragrances. The young woman smelled like a cornucopia of flowers. Her heady scent was intoxicating.

A thin strip of air was all that kept their hands from connecting. If he moved his but a fraction of an inch–

The announcer called above the music, "Everyone step down the line one person and find a new partner!"

The woman moved away. Stephen's new partner was Charles' old partner. She was chatty and forward. Instead of their palms rising to meet air, she clasped his hand and held it tightly. When they drew together, she said, "I do love a rousing dance. Don't you?"

Stephen nodded as the woman continued her inane chatter. Relief came when the announcer told everyone to shift again. Charles raised his hand behind the girl's back and mimicked her moving mouth.

The night waned and Stephen wished to find his first partner. It was the mystery girl from that morning; he was sure of it. But why was she shy now when she had been so bold before?

Tired from dancing, Charles and Stephen found an empty table. A waiter brought them drinks.

"New Orleans is amazing. We should visit more often," Charles said with enthusiasm.

"I'm sure with all of our responsibilities of being landowners we can just pack up and visit whenever we want," Stephen responded, his voice full of sarcasm.

"Don't remind me. If my uncle hadn't agreed to watch the plantation, I wouldn't be here now."

Stephen sipped his drink. "How did you convince him to stay?"

"I just asked him."

Stephen's glass banged the table. "What?"

Charles shrugged. "I told him you wanted company on a trip and he agreed to run things until I returned."

"Aren't you suspicious?"

"Of course." Charles blotted his mouth with his napkin. "But I don't see the harm. It's not like there's anything of great value there—besides the property. Let's stop worrying about home and start thinking about tomorrow. Have you arranged our transportation?"

"A carriage will pick us up at nine."

"And where will we stay when we reach Beaumont Lane?"

"All guests are to be placed within the house."

"The plantation must be huge. When we were at the market I heard people speaking of the party. It seems the girl has yet to come out for marriage. Every eligible bachelor will be vying for her hand."

"You can't be serious?" said Stephen, sitting up straighter.

"I confirmed it. Besides, you indicated the girl's letters all but said the same thing. She fears marriage. Now we know why. Some of the characters seeking her hand seem shady."

"What shall I do? I thought her letters nothing more than innocent ramblings."

"You thought to be the only eligible male?"

"Foolishly, so it seems."

"Not to insult a friend, but you should have realized there would be competition. Her father, after all, is a wealthy landowner. Her dowry must be hefty."

"She never mentioned it, but I would imagine so."

"Maybe you should consider staying here and finding your mystery woman. She would probably be more accessible to you."

As couples swirled across the dance floor, Stephen pondered Charles' words. Over the rim of his glass, he spotted his dance partner leaving the room.

While Charles distracted himself by chatting with other females, Stephen pushed away from the table and followed her. Cool night air blasted him and he shivered.

"You should always bring a jacket; even in a place as warm as New Orleans."

The feminine voice chastising him from behind had him spinning. The mystery woman leaned casually against a stone railing, moonlight bathing her pale skin. A mask covered her features.

"In the future, I will heed your advice." Stephen stepped slowly toward her.

"See that you do. Oh, and you must stay away from the mosquitoes. The nasty little critters like to bite and spread disease. Before you visit any place you should research the area. Dangers lurk in the most unexpected places."

"Yes, I've heard the rumors. But what makes you think I'm not from here?"

"Your accent."

"Ah, of course." Stephen inhaled sharply as she took a step toward him, closing the gap.

"And have you faced many dangers since you arrived?"

"Only one."

"Really? What might that be? Was it a disease infected insect, a creature that rips a person apart, or a criminal?"

"None of those."

The young lady placed her long slender fingers against her chin. Her small tongue darted out and touched her top lip. If he took one step they would be practically touching.

"If none of the above, then what? I'm dying of curiosity," she said.

"A woman."

"Pardon? I don't think I understood. Did you say the only danger you've faced is a woman?"

"Yes."

She spun as if to walk away, but he reached for her arm and tugged her to his chest. He could feel her heart racing and see a vein beating wildly in her neck.

He moved his hand to the back of her head. Silken tresses fell over his fingers as he leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. A sigh escaped her parted lips and she pushed up on her tiptoes to press her mouth more firmly to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he splayed his hands around her tiny waist, fighting to control his growing desire.

****

His lips tasted of salt and sweet wine. The heady mixture caused Millicent to feel lightheaded. Sated by their kiss, she pulled free. With her forehead placed against his chin, she drew in ragged breaths, her heart pounding in her ears. Suddenly she became aware of the man speaking again.

"As I was saying, the only danger I've faced is that of a woman."

Millicent covered her mouth as a giggle escaped.

"I'd like to invite you inside for a drink?"

She shook her head.

"If not a drink, then would you sit at my table so we can talk?"

Again, she shook her head no. His fingers caressed her waist before he released her altogether. Taking a step backward, he ran a hand through his thick black hair. His blue eyes shone through his mask with an intensity magnified by the moonlight.

"You don't mean to stop talking now that we've shared a kiss, do you?"

She shook her head.

He walked to the railing and leaned against it. Not looking at her, he asked, "Then what would you like to do? Pretend this never happened?"

"That would be for the best."

"What if I can't pretend?"

"I beg you to forgive me for my forward behavior. Now I must leave."

He stepped to touch her arm. Even as she looked at his hand, he slowly ran it the length of her exposed skin, sending tingles all the way to her shoulder. He said, "Don't go. I promise to ask for nothing more than what you can give."

Millicent glanced upward toward her family's suite of rooms. Lanterns burned brightly behind the curtains. Before long her father would come for her. If he found her in the arms of a man, he would be livid. Since her new dress would have her mother at odds with her, she couldn't bear to have her father angry as well.

But what of the stranger? He was the man from the dining room that morning; the one she had touched so boldly, and now the one with whom she had shared a kiss. A kiss she would never forget as long as she lived. If she married an elderly gentleman who could offer little in the way of romance, at least she had this one moment to remember. Unfortunately, it had to end.

Lifting her skirts, she met his gaze. The mask hid most of his face but she had already memorized his strong chin and muscular neck. She glanced at his broad shoulders and firm chest. Without warning him, she turned on her heel and ran. Over her shoulder, she called, "I will never forget you."