Chapter Four

Everett, Washington

“Oh, there you are. I’m heading out.” David dropped an envelope on Erin’s desk. “While you were gone, this arrived. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, all right. See you tomorrow,” Erin murmured absently, staring at the return address on the envelope.

Rudliff, Grand Avenue.

The envelope had been sealed with an ornate burgundy wax stamp. Inside was an engraved invitation on thick parchment.

“A costume ball on Halloween,” she whispered.

Lord. She had been unable to stop thinking about Derek ever since they had met at the cemetery. With the way his arresting blue eyes assessed her body, he was not an easy man to forget. More importantly, no one had written a story about him in the local newspapers. With a little luck, perhaps she would be the first. After all, an exclusive interview with Mr. Derek Rudliff could launch her career.

She rose from the chair and gazed out the tall window overlooking the bay. Derek was hosting a costume ball, likely a grand event. She would need to give some thought to her costume. She sighed and rubbed her chin. Perhaps something wicked and fun would be in order.

“Hello, dear, you busy?”

Erin turned toward Frederick’s voice at the door.

“Your father said I could see my way to your office.”

I’m sure he did. She summoned up a warm smile. “What brings you here today?”

He entered the office and stood in front of her desk. “I was down at the dock finishing up on business dealings and realized I was simply famished. May I take you to lunch?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve already had lunch. Perhaps another day.”

His brows knitted together, as his gaze fixed upon the invitation sitting on her desk. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that.” She rose from the chair and waved her hand. “It’s nothing important.”

“The return address says Rudliff on Grand. Tell me you’ve had no further involvement with that man. He has a scandalous reputation. I know. I’ve checked.”

She folded her arms across her chest and heaved a sigh. “You’ve checked? Good heavens, Frederick, are you now my father? I said it’s nothing. It’s just a note — a thank you note.”

“I’m sorry, Erin. I simply want what’s best for you. I’m just trying to warn you. From what I’ve heard, the farther away a woman is from Rudliff, the better.”

She rolled her eyes. “And just what have you heard? Enlighten me.”

Frederick’s eyes bulged wide. “Well, I cannot give details because I’m a gentleman. But allow me to say he has a rather unsavory reputation, having been spotted in sordid establishments and gambling halls near Chestnut.”

The muscles along her jawline pulsed. “That’s it? He’s ‘been spotted’. Many of the men you employ go down there on a regular basis. In fact, if memory serves me, didn’t you once need help getting home from that area after a ‘gentleman’s party’?”

His cheeks flushed crimson. “That was different. My cousin was to be married the next day —”

She took a step forward and poked a firm finger in his chest. “And God forbid a woman walk near that area, right? What would you and your scamps think of that? Would you prefer she were hanged? Or would a scarlet letter sewn upon her bosom be enough?”

His mouth flopped open. “Sometimes your words astonish me, Erin.” He paced to the window and gazed toward the distance. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but your father has been most concerned about your independent nature. He told me you’ve recently taken to going out in the buggy at night and on long walks unchaparoned.”

Erin held up her hands and shook her head. “Excuse me? Have we suddenly gone back to the Dark Ages? What is it with you two?” She dropped her arms to her sides. It was no use. Nothing she could say or do that reeked of feminine independence would ever please him.

She softened her stance, taking pity on the poor narrow-minded lout. He and her father were exactly alike — both schooled in old traditions, both from families whose women sat idle, watching as the world passed by, too busy mending their husbands’ socks to fulfill their own dreams before passing away.

He took her hands in his. “Forgive me. Your father and I just want what’s best for you. While I won’t forbid you to associate with Rudliff, I will —”

“Forbid me!” She snatched her hands back in a flash. “I can’t talk to you about this anymore. I have work to do. Can you find the door yourself, or do I have to show you out?”

“Erin, I —”

“Just go.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Go now before I say something I may regret.”

Frederick pursed his lips into a tight seam and nodded. “Very well.” Starting for the door, he paused and turned around with a menacing glare. “But this matter is far from over.”

* * * *

WITH her long dark hair and green eyes, attending the costume party dressed as a black cat seemed the perfect idea. Wiltse’s Mercantile carried a wonderful assortment of costumes this time of year, and finding the perfect fuzzy, feline ears had been easy. The slinky black dress and feather boa she had worn to the hospital charity ball months earlier were still hanging in her armoire. Tucked away in her cedar chest were black satin slippers that would complete the ensemble.

Erin glanced at the pink roses from Derek, perched in the crystal vase on her bureau. The fragrant bouquet, delivered to her at the newspaper, had come as a complete surprise. Somehow, she had known exactly whom they were from before reading the small-attached card, thanking her for making him feel welcome in Everett.

The very next day, Derek had sent a telegram, insisting she allow him to send his carriage for her the night of the party. Given it would be an evening event, and on Halloween, no less, she sent word back accepting his gracious offer.

The knock on the door filled her tidy bedroom.

“Do you wish to wear the emerald combs, Miss?”

The combs. “Yes, Maggie, come in. I almost forgot.”

The servant entered with a worn, black velvet box and opened the top. “These belonged to my grandmother, God rest her soul. She received them as a gift from an old beau in London many years ago. Apparently, they’re quite old. I thought they would be perfect.”

Erin rescued the lovely heirlooms from their box and brought them to her vanity mirror. “Oh, you’re right — these combs are perfect.” She stuffed them in her hair. Frowning in the mirror, she turned her head from side-to-side.

Maggie laughed. “Hand them over, and let me do it for you. Honest to Pete, you’re all thumbs, just like your father.”

Erin scowled and plopped down on the vanity bench. “I suppose you’re right. Honestly, Maggie, I don’t know how I ever managed without you while I was away at college.”

“Oh, you did just fine, girl.”

Erin watched in the mirror as Maggie brushed her hair to a sheen and removed a few wispy strands to hang from her temples, while the remainder hung down her back. The servant placed a dragonfly comb on each side so the emeralds sparkled luminously when the light hit them just the right way, accentuating the color of her eyes all the more.

“Just look at you now. I must say, you’re one sultry kitty-cat.”

Erin scrunched her nose and purred, and they both laughed.

The sound of iron hooves marching up the street sent Erin scrambling up to look out the window. “I think the driver is here. Can you get my coat?”

Erin slipped into her mother’s calf-length mink. To keep the new style in place, she gently covered her hair with a silk scarf.

What arrived was much more than a simple carriage. Two tall, pitch-black horses, their manes braided into thick twisted ropes of horsehair, pulled a dark maroon brougham. Clearly, they were well-tended animals, for their coats had been brushed to a slick luster resembling black satin under the glowing street lamps.

The driver arrived at the door and tipped his hat. “Good evening, Miss Richland. Allow me.”

He escorted her into the handsome, velvet-lined carriage. She ran her fingers along the plush seat, savoring the smooth texture against her skin.

Derek’s house was a mile away, at most. To the west, menacing dark clouds loomed over nearby Whidbey Island. A threatening breeze blew across Port Gardner Bay, carrying the salty scent of the cobalt sea.

As they neared the final block, the wind kicked up with the approaching storm. Fallen autumn leaves and twisted, broken branches rustled in the streets.

The carriage turned on to Grand Avenue. Just up ahead, the massive cedar-shingled house with a second story turret stood before her. Perched high above the perilous cliffs, the mansion faced the islands in Puget Sound and the incredible fuchsia sunsets often greeting the western skies.

The driver reined in the horses. He promptly climbed down, tethered the horses, and opened the carriage door. With a leather-gloved hand, he escorted her along a cobbled pathway framed with boxwood hedges. Sheltered, fiery torches with bending yellow flames defied the gusting wind, illuminating the narrow path leading to the covered front porch.

Erin undraped the scarf from her hair and slid a loose curl back into place. “This place is truly amazing.”

The driver’s breath caught, his steel-gray eyes narrowing. Her chest slowly tightened as his intense gaze lingered on her face and hair for far too long. She reached up to secure any wayward tendrils, but each and every hair felt in place. Uncomfortable, she cleared her throat.

His gaze snapped away. “Yes, this place is remarkable, Miss Richland.”

The coachman thumped the brass knocker on the massive double-doored entrance. An older woman with hair as white as fresh snow opened the door. Wearing a long black dress enveloped by a contrasting white apron, the slender woman wore a prickly scowl that would scare even the most persistent door-to-door solicitor.

She guided Erin’s coat off and hung it in the entry armoire. “Come, Miss Richland. Master Rudliff has been expecting you.”

Master Rudliff. Well, well. Erin stood in the enormous entry, craning her neck for a better view. The sprawling wood floors, clearly made from the finest Douglas fir trees, were so brightly polished she could see her reflection. Painted a rich color of deep taupe, the plaster walls exuded warmth below the imposing ornate crown molding and high-beamed ceilings.

Centered in the foyer was a round walnut table topped with a stylish vase filled with evergreen sprigs, twisted branches, pinecones, and winterberries. The fragrant arrangement smelled as if she had just stepped into a damp northwestern forest.

A tuxedoed butler wearing what appeared to be a mask similar to the one described in the new French novel Le Fantôme de l’Opéra arrived with a sterling tray of crystal glasses filled with sparkling liquid. “Champagne, Miss Richland?”

“Yes, please.” She took a glass from the tray he extended.

“Allow me to escort you upstairs. Master Rudliff is expecting you.”

Erin followed along the shadowy hallway that appeared to go on forever, leading toward the rear of the house. Trailing the servant up a wide staircase, medieval-style, candlelit sconces hung high upon the dark, paneled stairway, lit their way. Music filled her ears. She looked up and saw Derek standing at the top of the steps, dressed as what appeared to be a gothic count.

“Good evening, Miss Richland. I’m delighted you accepted my invitation.”

Reminding her of a handsome effigy, his body towered over hers as she ascended the last step. She gazed into his eyes, as he reached for her hand and whispered a kiss upon her knuckle.

He tilted his chin. “I must say, you make a particularly lovely feline. Your eyes are especially green tonight, like the exquisite emeralds adorning your hair.” His gaze narrowed. “The dragonfly combs are unusual. Wherever did you find them?”

A warm flush rushed to her cheeks. She fingered the combs in her hair. “Oh, I just borrowed them for tonight. Apparently, they’re quite old and from London.”

A single eyebrow rose. “From London, you don’t say. Most interesting,” he said, leaning forward, surveying the combs more closely.

She smoothed her hair. “I … I believe they’re one of a kind.”

“Yes, I think perhaps they are.” He flashed her a dazzling smile.

Derek made a handsome nobleman. His slicked back hair looked longer and darker than she remembered, giving him a sharp, almost sinister, appearance. He wore black trousers and a crisp white shirt framed by a blood-red vest. A long black cape with red velvet lining completed his costume.

Gesturing with a forward sweep of his arm, he asked, “Shall we?”

She nodded. He touched the small of her back, sending a jolt of warmth clear up to the nape of her neck as he guided her into a large room.

“Oh, my,” she said, entering the dimly lit area. Far larger and more open than she would have expected, the room felt massive with the enormous windows that reached from floor to ceiling, overlooking the bay. Band members, dressed in white tuxedoes, congregated in the corner with instruments. Their hands and faces were painted bright white with thin, black etchings around their eyes and mouths, making them resemble human skeletons.

An oversized, linen-covered table stood in front of the tall windows. A selection of wines, appetizers, and desserts sat off to one side. On the opposite end, a huge roast beast of some sort rotated slowly on a fiery spit. Next to the meat, an assortment of freshly-baked breads lay in wooden baskets lined with black linen cloth. She cast her attention to the magnificent ice sculpture in the shape of a large, predatory wolf, dead-center. Icy, crimson punch flowed between bared, pointed fangs before dribbling into an oversized sterling punch bowl.

All around the room people mingled in extravagant costumes: Marie Antoinette and King Louis the XVI, Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, wicked pirates, and a creepy assortment of witches, goblins, vampires, wolves, and medieval warriors. In every direction, the fantastic costumes worn by the guests made her feel as though she had gone back in time.

“I have some friends I’d like you to meet.” Derek led her across the room toward the couple dressed as Marie Antoinette and King Louis the XVI. The king, seated on a damask divan, rose when he saw them approach.

“Derek. A splendid party, my friend.” The middle-aged man with a stocky build dipped his head and smiled. “And who might this splendid creature be?”

Derek draped his arm over the man’s shoulders. “Edgar and Charlotte Eberhart, I’d like you to meet Miss Erin Richland.”

Charlotte angled her chin and nodded gracefully under her immense white wig. Erin noticed a thin, white scar traversing the woman’s right cheek and another across her slender neck.

“Enchanted,” Edgar said, bowing formally. ”I was hoping it was you, Miss Richland. Derek has had fine things to say on your behalf. Do I understand that you work at the Everett Messenger?”

Erin nodded and smiled. “I’m delighted to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Eber —”

The queen gasped. “Dear girl, please, we’re simply Edgar and Charlotte. We so despise being addressed formally.” She crinkled her nose. “It makes us feel more ancient than we already are.”

“Let her speak, dear.” Edgar leaned forward. “As you were saying, Miss Richland?”

Erin cleared her throat. “Oh, yes. You see, my father owns the newspaper, and I’ve recently bullied him into giving me more responsibility. So, the short answer is, yes. I work at the Messenger.”

“That’s splendid, my dear,” Charlotte said, snapping her fan open with a flick of her pale wrist.

“And have you found the mischievous wolves at the cemetery you seek?” Edgar asked. “I do hope it’s not a breach of conduct that Derek told us about the wretched animals wreaking such chaos.”

Erin looked at Derek for a moment before turning toward Edgar again. “No. No, of course not. The authorities have already been notified, and the caretaker will be on the watch for any more suspicious activity.”

“Excuse me, sir,” the white-haired servant interjected. “I must speak with you a moment.”

Derek’s gaze shifted from Erin to Charlotte and finally back to her. “Excuse me a moment.” He turned to his servant. “Yes. Yes, of course, Mrs. Schauss.”

Erin watched as the two walked toward an unoccupied corner, talking in hushed tones. She smiled and turned toward Charlotte. “Mrs. Schauss appears rather serious.”

Charlotte snorted and lowered her fan. “You could say that.” She tilted her chin. “Edgar, perhaps Miss Richland would like some of the divine party punch. Something tells me it would be to her liking.”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Perhaps not, Charlotte. It’s possible our gracious host would like to offer her a glass himself.”

Charlotte sighed, raised her chin, and snapped her fan open.

“It does look refreshing,” Erin said, attempting to lighten the moment. “I’ll just help myself.”

Edgar leaned forward. “Oh, but the champagne is delightful, my dear. Perhaps you would like more —”

“Let her drink what she chooses, Edgar.” Charlotte lowered the fan and smiled. “Women these days know exactly what they want and what’s best for them. They certainly don’t need a man making decisions on their behalf. Isn’t that right, Miss Richland?”

Erin smiled, delighted to have found a woman in the room with similar insight about the modern world. “Indeed, and well said. Excuse me a moment.”

As she strolled toward the table, she saw Derek and Mrs. Schauss still conversing in the corner. The servant gestured dramatically with her hands while Derek stood tall and rigid, his lips pursed tightly together, shaking his head.

“Hmm. I wonder what that’s about.” She reached for a chilled silver goblet, held it under the fountain, and watched as the fluid dribbled like liquid garnets into the metal cup.

Suddenly, Derek was by her side.

“Is the champagne not to your liking?”

She flinched and placed a splayed hand across her chest. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry. I … I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He gestured toward her goblet. “Perhaps a different champagne — or wine — would be more to your liking?”

She glanced around the room, taking notice that everyone appeared to be drinking from the chilled goblets. “That’s not necessary.”

A band member in full tuxedo fanned out his tails and took a seat behind an organ. Without pause, the band began playing a haunting gothic piece. The butler turned the lights off so only the candelabras and faces of the skeleton band glowed, giving the eeriest feel to the darkened room.

Ignoring the chill creeping up her spine from the evocative music, Erin smiled. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Rudliff. This is impressive. I’m almost frightened.”

“I enjoy hosting a good party now and then.” He took a step forward and placed a hand in his trouser pocket. “But please remember, Miss Richland, my name is Derek to my close friends.”

The nervous flutter of her eyelashes tickled the top of her cheeks. She lifted her gaze to his. “Is that what we are? Close friends?”

The color of Derek’s eyes deepened. “I’d certainly like to think so.”

His eyes followed her every move as she took a healthy sip from the goblet. His tongue darted out and moistened his full bottom lip. Instantly, the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck twitched.

“You’ll have to tell me how you like the punch. It’s an old family recipe.”

Erin tilted her chin and licked her lips. “It’s very good. Different. Earthy.” She drank more, allowing the liquid to linger against her tongue, trying to determine the unique flavors before swallowing. A solitary drop dripped from her lip, landing on her chin. “Oh, I’m so clumsy —”

“Allow me.” Derek pulled a silk handkerchief from his vest pocket and blotted her chin, his dark pupils narrowing in on her lips.

“Good thing I didn’t come as an angel dressed in white.”

He gazed into her eyes. “Do you like it?”

“The punch? Oh, yes, very much.” She drank from the goblet again.

Derek reached toward her chalice. “Ah, ah, now, not too much. It’s rather potent for those unaccustomed to its unique —”

“Nonsense,” she said playfully, furrowing her brow. “Everyone’s drinking the punch. It’s delicious.”

His eyes widened as she downed the rest and set the empty goblet on the table. “Erin, you must —”

“Derek. Another grand party.”

Derek turned. “Ah. There you are.” He patted the younger man on the back. “I’d like you to meet someone special. Gregore, meet Miss Erin Richland.”

Dressed as a Franciscan friar, Gregore smiled and bowed. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Richland.”

She dipped her head. “The pleasure is mine, sir.”

“There you are, Gregore. Come dance with me,” called an approaching costumed woman.

Gregore’s face brightened. He leaned in toward Erin, his eyebrows waggling, and whispered, “I love to dance.”

And just like that, the playful friar was gone in a flash, whisked away by a chatty pirate wench.

Derek looked into Erin’s eyes, his piercing gaze so intense the back of her eyes stung. He offered his arm. “Shall we dance, my dear?”

My dear. The sultry cadence of his words slid from his lips straight to a secluded place deep within her pelvis. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she said automatically, still captivated by the intensity of the eyes staring back at her.

Leading her toward the center of the room, Derek slid his hand along the silken fabric of her dress at the small of her back. Within seconds, they were moving across the dance floor. Costumed guests, sitting off to the side, whispered with one another. Soon, couples joined in on the dance floor.

Erin gazed up into Derek’s eyes. “I suspect you’ve done this often?”

“Done what often?”

“Danced like this. Like an expert.”

His fingertips dug into the sleek fabric as he swept her across the room in a waltz, his cape wavering behind him as if flying on its own.

“I’m not an expert, but I have done this several times over the years.”

The thought of him dancing with other women needled her. She quickly brushed the ridiculous reaction aside. Derek was devilishly handsome and terribly wealthy. Surely, he’d had many opportunities to dance with women. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at the other women with the same soulful gaze when they danced, the kind of contemplative stare that made a woman feel as though they were the only people in a room.

Had the house grown warmer? A sudden flush of heat spread like tiny sparks of fire seeping into her skin.

Derek guided her, but her feet felt as though they had gone numb, moving on their own, while the penetrating warmth probed every inch of her skin.

The steady drizzle of rain outside intensified, as though suddenly closing in around the house, surrounding them, the showers pounding the roof like a blaze of gunfire. The wind wailed, howling like a mournful dog across the eves. The pace of the music increased, grew louder, the beat deeper, more powerful, echoing across the wooden floors as Derek glided her around the floor, over and over, keeping with the rhythm.

Beads of moisture formed across her neck as costumed guests hemmed in closer, dancing with curious smiles, then quickly retreating. Bodies moved in, then out: Marie and Louis, Napoleon, Abe Lincoln, a vampire dancing with a ghost. As the music intensified and the drums beat with the rhythm of her racing heart, guests glided by, smiling and nodding, but others stared as if grimacing before darting away. An angel and a wolf danced nearby, moving within inches of them. The wolf lurched toward Erin, bared his teeth and snarled, then whizzed away.

She gasped and gripped Derek’s broad shoulder. “Is … is it hot in here?”

His eyes narrowed. “Not particularly. Are you feeling all right?”

Warmth slithered like a serpent through her veins. She fanned her face. “I think so, but would it be all right if we got a bit of fresh air?”

Derek stopped in mid-step and looked out the set of large windows. Her gaze followed his. In the distance, dimly-lit ships bobbed like tiny, floating candles in the rough sea below.

“The storm is fierce outside,” he said with a frown. “But I know where we can go.”

He took her hand and led her through a back door to a covered porch overlooking the bay. Immediately, the wind seized their clothes, and his cape swirled like a winged bat taking flight. She reached up, holding her fuzzy ears in place as the gusts whipped wildly about.

“Over here.” He escorted her under cover.

She pressed her back against the cold cedar wall, relishing the cool sensation against her heated skin beneath the dress. Spreading his cape, he moved in and towered over her for extra protection.

Beneath the soft glow of the porch light, her head felt as though it were bobbing like the boats in the distance. The punch, the storm, his masculine presence looming over her, all of it made her suddenly breathless.

He stood in front of her, their bodies inches apart. Through his clothes, heat radiated from his skin, sparing her from the biting wind. Towering treetops of massive evergreens bent and bowed; twigs snapped like brittle bones, and large branches crashed to the ground nearby, echoing across the tall bluff.

Derek’s eyes remained fixed upon hers, glowing like an azure sea in a tempest. His nostrils flared as though catching an invigorating scent within the swirling current of air.

She closed her eyes and inhaled his unique virile scent of bayberry cologne and the rich, earthy aroma of the northwestern forest. God, how she wanted to wrap her arms around his broad back, breathe in that wonderful scent that was all Derek, and pull him into a deep, passionate kiss.

As if he had read her mind, she felt the scratch of his mustache on her upper lip as his mouth came down upon hers. He kissed her gently at first, his lips closed, but when she responded with a soft moan, he softly coaxed the seam of her lips open with his tongue. The kiss intensified, growing passionate, heated, seductive, as he wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, pulling her hard against his broad chest.

Erin gave into the intimate embrace while the storm swirled like a beast breathing cold air down the back of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the tips of her toes barely touching the ground, as her tongue joined his, dancing with the frantic beat of her heart.

A violent rush of icy wind ripped across the bay, slapping her hard across the cheek.

Oh God.

She withdrew from the kiss and pressed her cheek to his. “Derek, this … this isn’t like me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

He slowly pulled back, his heated gaze fixed upon hers, deep blue eyes boring into hers as though speaking on some unearthly level.

The soothing tempo of stringed instruments from inside the house suddenly changed to a feverish pace, the drumbeat matching the thumping beat of her racing pulse.

She closed her eyes as Derek slowly leaned in and kissed her again. Urgent hands slid around her back, his fingertips digging into her skin, sending fevered heat down the length of her spine as his tongue explored her mouth. His taste, her pounding heart, the warm serpentine dance slithering up her backbone, all called to her on some primal level. The next thing she knew, her body fell limp in his arms.

“Come now,” she heard him whisper as he lifted her in his arms and carried her through the back door.

The fevered music, his strong arms carrying her, the heat penetrating her skin — she felt as though she were spiraling, her mind and body detaching from one another, every part of her existence seeking solace from the storm.

The anxious look in Derek’s eyes made her heart pound so hard she could hear the harsh whirl of blood beating inside her ears.

“Derek, I feel so … strange.”

“It’s all right. Everything will be fine,” he whispered against her cheek.

Her vision blurred, the surroundings growing hazy, the walls slowly moving in and out. Set against the primal music playing at an excited pace, sounds of muffled laughter echoed across the tall ceilings and polished floors.

She clung to his neck as he deftly carried her through a long, darkened hallway. They passed candlelit rooms, doors ajar, each one with what appeared to be blurry scenes of fur and half-naked women sprawled out on red satin sheets.

He came to the end of the hall and kicked the door open wide. She gasped at the sound of the heavy wooden door slamming against the wall. Lying within his arms, another rush of heat swept through her entire body. Was this all her wild imagination? The punch?

Oh, God. Perhaps I’ve gone mad.

Through hooded lids, she surveyed the candlelit room as he placed her down upon the large bed. Her body went limp as a rag doll as she melded into the thick mattress. His gaze narrowed as he hovered over her, his outstretched arms perched at each side of her shoulders. “Erin.”

Had he just called her name? She tried to focus on his deep voice and the candlelight flickering in his black pupils as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “Derek, I … I feel so hot, so … ”

His lean body perched above her, his sensual scent, the seductively lit bedroom — all merged with the heated, sexual sounds coming from other rooms.

Desire rushed through her veins, warming her face, her neck, her breasts. Her hunger for his touch grew so fierce she could barely breathe beneath the pinching corset. “Kiss me. Kiss me, Derek,” she whispered.

A seductive smile spread beneath his mustache. He rose up, removed his cape, and tossed it on the leather bedside chair.

His gaze wandered the length of her body. “Now, where were we?”

He slowly slid above her, gentle hands brushing away the wispy tendrils of her hair that had fallen against her cheeks.

Lifting her neck from the pillow, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

He stared into her eyes, his gaze so penetrating her heart skipped a beat, then two.

“My pleasure.” In a flash, he slipped a hand beneath her neck, and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss.

Every inch of her skin grew sensitive, ignited with longing so intense she felt as though she were burning from the inside out. She pulled from his lips, breathless with desire, and kissed his neck. “This is madness,” she whispered.

“My God, woman,” he breathed against her ear. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Inhaling his scent, her heart bounded to life. She raked her hands through his thick hair, down his back, across his broad shoulders.

Derek moaned a low, throaty growl as his large hands slid across the curve of her waist, her hips, her thighs. He moved his pelvis, rubbing slowly, rhythmically against her.

Was it her imagination, or did her heart match the tempo of the pounding drums?

“I want you,” he breathed against her earlobe.

She moaned in reply and moved her hips, joining his seductive pace.

His hand glided down the length of her silky dress, inching the fabric higher. She gasped when he reached her sensitive naked thigh.

Urgent fingers slipped beneath her garter, heated fingertips digging into her inner thigh as though branding her with his touch. Her entire body trembled, breath catching deep within her chest, as she groped for the top of the bed.

“Erin, my sweet.”

His husky voice seemed to call to her from every direction as his fingers inched inward. She closed her eyes and moaned when a solitary finger penetrated her depths. Arching up, she pressed her palms against the thick mahogany headboard.

His moustache scratched her bare neck, and a gritty moan hummed against her throat. He paused for a moment. Did she hear a hushed groan?

Like a quill to an inkwell, his finger penetrated her again. And again. She bit down on her bottom lip, stifling the escaping moan, as he slowly withdrew. His hand slid up the thin fabric of her dress, reaching her covered breast.

The animated sounds of heated pleasure and whimpering moans in the nearby bedrooms added to the intensity of the pounding music and her growing desire, threatening to consume her entire body. He trapped a taut nipple between two fingers, and she cried out.

In a flurry of fabric, they discarded their clothing, tossing the garments to the floor with hasty abandon.

She lay on the satin sheets in only her silk garters and black stockings. He stood above her, stark naked, his hair tousled, and as powerfully virile as anything she could have imagined.

His jet-black pupils narrowed as he scanned the length of her near-naked body. His nostrils flared. His shaft stiffened, and her breath caught so deep within her throat she thought she would faint.

He sank in the bed next to her and gently pulled the emerald dragonfly combs from her hair, fingering the heavy ebony mass spilling across the satin pillows.

He reached for a thick strand and rubbed it between his fingers. “You’re so lovely.” He positioned himself above her, slowly inching down until his full body lay on top of her. “So very beautiful.”

The matt of curled hair on his chest tickled her breasts. Heated breath scorched her neck as his hard shaft pressed against her belly, making the yearning for him almost unbearable.

Derek kissed her hard, demanding, his strong hands roaming along her hips, her torso. He cupped a breast, kneading the sensitive skin and circling her pebbled, erect nipple.

He pulled from the seductive deep kiss and trailed his tongue down the slender column of her throat. Kissing her neck, his lips lingered at her racing pulse point before blazing a path to her breast. His tongue darted out, dancing like the devil around fire as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin and trapped a peak between his teeth.

A jolt of electricity seized her body, narrowing in on her moist, heated core. “Oh, Derek,” she moaned.

He slowly maneuvered his hand down her torso, stopping between the apex of her legs. Firm fingertips dug like claws into the flesh of her inner thighs, and just as she cried out, he slid a finger inside, silencing her.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered against her throat, “so very ready.”

His voice. His touch. It all felt familiar, yet so far away, like an old dream she couldn’t remember the longer time passed. The music rose to a fevered pitch; squeaky violins shrieked, and fingertips pounded on the organ, echoing across the tall ceilings. She closed her eyes as sounds of nearby laughter, panting, and growling reverberated inside her head.

“Make love to me, Derek,” she said, the words floating from her mouth as if someone else had spoken them.

He inhaled jagged breaths against her throat. Slowly, he positioned himself so that the tip of his shaft sat at her moist entrance.

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back after this,” he whispered.

She answered with a nod and squirm of her bottom, wetting the smooth tip of his manhood.

In one single plunge, he went deep, so deep she gripped the post of the bed and cried out, her sounds of pleasure instantly extinguished by the frantic music growing increasingly louder. Pouring rain pelted the closed window, and pounding fists hammered from somewhere outside the bedroom walls, merging with eerie echoes of hissing and laughter.

He slid within her depths, riding with her, against her. She cast her gaze toward the firelight scratching the dark walls and ceiling like twisted, deformed fingers.

He plunged deeper, his hips moving with precision, faster, harder, the pounding on the walls echoing inside her head.

“Derek.” She moaned, breathless with yearning, drawing closer to the edge of sweet release.

“Erin. My sweet, sweet angel,” he whispered against her ear.

He wrapped his hands in her hair and swept her into a deep kiss. His limbs tightened, and the last thing Erin saw was a blast of blinding white light as they climaxed together, their sounds of passion drowned out by the storm and the frenzied echoes coming from all directions within the large house.

The music stopped dead; the sounds from the nearby rooms instantly silenced.

They lay wrapped in each other’s arms, legs tangled in a puzzle so familiar it frightened her. She tugged the coverlet to her chest and looked in his eyes. “God help me, Derek. I hardly know you.”

Darkness crept into the bottomless depths of his eyes. He sighed and pulled her against his chest, gentle fingers slowly combing her tangled hair.

Drifting to sleep, enveloped in Derek’s strong arms, she gazed through half-closed lids at the emerald dragonfly combs perched on the night table, winking like mischievous dancing fireflies.