Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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Monday Puzzler- 28 Jan
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Deb, I don't usually read stories like this one..but I loved the cover so I had to buy it. I started reading it and I couldn't put it down- I loved it! This is book one in the trilogy.


"Remove the mask, heroine."
Heroine bit back a sharp retort, unwilling to comply with Hero's demand. The black silk mask she wore to conceal her identity provided a small measure of protection against his dark, probing gaze.
He stalked closer, looking more beautiful and dangerous than she could ever remember. And she remembered everything about him.
"Perhaps you need assistance," he said.
She could tell from the tone of his voice that his protective instincts were fully engaged. Always sensitive to her welfare, he would not understand her attendance at Mrs. Lancaster's masked ball. No one would, really, except Somerton, but then he was not keen on her presence here, either.
Why, tonight of all nights, did Hero have to return to England? Had he already learned of her purpose for coming to the masquerade? She studied his expression and decided he had not. His features reflected determination and a guarded curiosity...and a compulsion to admire the indecent amount of flesh above her crimson bodice. No, if he had know why she was dressed in such a revealing gown and what had caused the flush across her cheeks, he would be hauling her out of here like a misbehaving child.
She glanced around the small sitting room she had ducked into earlier to compose herself. It was free of other guests, and Hero's broad shoulders blocked the French doors leading out to the small terrace. She set her jaw, knowing he would not relent until he had his way. "That won't be necessary, you beast."
She tugged on the ribbon holding the mask in place and felt a wave of vulnerability was over her. She, too, had transformed in the intervening months. Would he like what he saw? Would she measure up to all the exotic ladies he had met during his travels?
The mask fell away, and a new intensity sharpened his features. "You've changed." He stepped closer, his gaze traveling over every square inch of her face. The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek. "Matured."
His voice-a richer, deeper, more languid version of the one she recalled-burrowed beneath her skin, causing chill bumps to cover the surface. The warmth from his hand made her want to lean into his touch and absorb his strength. Se would need it now-more than ever.
Instead, she tilted her head away the slightest bit to break contact. "I should hope so." She pulled on her gloves, praying he did not see her hands tremble. "Is that all you have to say after spending a year and a half abroad? Have you no 'It's nice to see you again, Heroine'?"
She did not wait for his answer. "Now that I have done as you have ordered, perhaps you can explain why you were spying on me."
He blinked. "I wasn't spying on you."
"Oh? Do you normally smash your face against your hostess's terrace door?"
A light flush colored his cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous."
She raised one brow. "What is it you want, then?" She hoped he never discovered her true reason for attending tonight's affair. Why hadn't Somerton mentioned Hero's return?
The curiosity in his eyes gave way to something darker, more dangerous. Something normally not shared among friends.
Liquid heat spiraled into the area between her legs, reigniting the slow burn of awareness her earlier activities had aroused. Following Somerton's instruction, Mrs. Lancaster had planned this exclusive masked ball, with all its excesses, for Heroine's introduction to the art of seduction. Although Somerton had been initially reluctant to consider her proposal, he had finally conceded the fact that she could not infiltrate France's elite as a missish debutante. With that in mind, Somerton's mistress had made certain Heroine knew what it was like to touch a man's warm, naked flesh and to be touched in return.
The woman had done her job well, for now Heroine's mind sifted through the courtesan's secrets as she met Hero's gaze.
He moved closer. So close that is unique musky scent wrapped around her, melting her defenses. His finger slid beneath her chin, and lifted.
Time slowed. The room disappeared.
She could hear her own pulse, feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.
"What I want," he said in a husky undertone, "is to know why my best friend's little sister is masquerading as a Cyprian? Not that I don't like the view."