She nodded. “Yes, please continue. I’m a little nervous, that’s all.”
His mouth moved to her neck, and he played with the ribbons on her stockings as he slid his hand up into her undergarments. She opened her legs a little more, and when his fingertips brushed her sex, she gasped and threw her head back.
“That’s it, my darling. Relax and let me touch you. Enjoy how it feels.”
Sensations spiraled through her, and she whimpered in anticipation each time he touched her.
“I don’t wish to hurt you,” he murmured. “But it may hurt this first time.”
“Yes, I know.” She relaxed as he continued to touch her. When he pressed a fingertip inside her, it was tight but she welcomed his gentleness. He continued to rub his finger inside her until the wetness there increased and she relaxed a little. She circled her hips, and his finger sank deeper.
Then he withdrew his hand and unfastened his trousers. “I wish we had more time. I want to kiss every inch of you.”
“I want that too, but we haven’t time.” She cupped his cheek, and he leaned down to steal one more kiss as he settled between her spread thighs and pressed inside her. The sudden pinch of pain faded as he continued to kiss her. Then he filled her—that was the only word to describe it. The sensation of no ending and no beginning between them.
He rocked his body against hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him as something wondrous built between them.
“Can you see the stars?” he asked as they moved together.
Her eyes lifted to gaze at the blanket of stars above them, and it was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
“I wish you could see them,” she said.
“I do, my darling. I see them reflected in your eyes.”
She threaded her fingers in his hair and touched the black ribbons that held his mask to his face. She wished she could pull it off and see his features. Was his face as handsome as the rest of him? His jaw was strong and straight; there was no weak aristocratic double chin or placid jawline. Gentle mischief gleamed in his whiskey-colored eyes. He seemed handsome, but she could not be certain, not without seeing him without his mask.
But he would have to remain a mystery. They both needed the anonymity. If she were to ever see him again, even if she were free, as she hoped to be, it would only hurt her heart. They would have this one moment, this one night. The heat building in her lower belly began to intensify, and she felt some strange wildness come upon her. It frightened her a little.
“My lord . . . I feel faint,” she whispered. It felt as if she were falling, as if she might . . . die. Was that possible?
“Do you wish for me to stop?” he asked.
“No, don’t stop. Please, never stop.” If she was about to die, she would enjoy this with her last breath.
He moved more urgently, his body thrusting against hers. She gripped his shoulders as that wildness overtook her. She was so stunned by the fierce rush of pleasure that she cried out. He covered her mouth with his, drinking in the sound. Their lips broke apart a moment later as he gave a shout of his own. Something hot flooded her womb, and she curled her legs tight about his waist, afraid he would suddenly sever the connection between them before she was ready to let him go.
They stayed fused together for some time before he moved away. He removed a handkerchief from his coat and gently cleaned her and himself. Her virgin’s blood was a dark smear upon the white cloth in the moonlit sky.
“Did I hurt you very much?” he asked.
“Not much. It felt quite magnificent at the end.” She was glad the mask hid most of her blush and the night hid the rest.
“Would you like to go back inside now?” he asked.
“Can we stay just a moment longer and watch the stars?” Sabrina wanted desperately for this moment not to end.
“Of course.” He sat beside her, and they gazed up at the night sky. He reached over and covered one of her hands with his. She wasn’t sure why tonight of all nights she needed this, to be out beneath the night sky watching the stars flicker in their celestial distance. It was as though a season of her life had passed this night, and a great change would soon be upon her.
She was afraid of that coming change. It would be a harsh winter—she could feel it deep in her bones. But tonight, it was like a late-summer eve where winter was but a distant dream yet to come.
“Thank you for tonight, my lord.” She finally got to her feet. He retrieved his coat and, after beating the grass off it, put it back on.
“I wish . . . I wish I could do more for you, my lady,” he said. The honesty was so clear in his voice that she knew he meant it.
“You’ve saved me from a terrible fate. It is enough.”
“Will you let me walk you back?” he asked.
She nodded and accepted his arm. Whatever came tomorrow, she would always have her memory of this night to warm her heart.
Peregrine walked the mysterious beauty back to the ballroom. He studied her face a long moment, wishing he could see her features clearly, but he could tell that she was beautiful. He could hear it in her voice and see it in the way she carried herself. Even if her face was unremarkable by other men’s standards, Peregrine knew this woman was the world’s most beautiful. His own personal Helen of Troy, destined to ruin him.
In this one brief encounter, she had made him rethink his stance on marriage and settling down. And that was so very dangerous. That was how his father had felt when he’d met his mother, that marrying her would be everything he’d dreamed, and she had imagined the same. But they had both been gravely mistaken in their beliefs. Love and marriage were no recipe for happiness. They were a condemnation, a prison sentence.
He nodded toward the refreshment table. “Please, let me fetch you a drink. You must be thirsty.”
She smiled at him, and his stomach fluttered wildly. “Thank you, I’d like that.”
“Stay here. I shall return.” He went briskly to the refreshment table and collected two glasses. Then he returned . . . only to find she wasn’t there. He glanced around, searching the crowd for the beauty in a stunning silver gown.
She’d vanished, just as he’d feared.
“Who was that enchanting woman you were with?” Rafe asked as he joined him.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You danced with her. You must have at least introduced yourselves.”
Peregrine shook his head. “She never said her name, not even when I asked. My God . . . she’s truly gone. I’m beginning to wonder if I dreamed it.”
“If I hadn’t seen you dance with her, along with half of London’s highest society, I would have to agree. But you did dance with her, she does exist, and everyone is simply buzzing with questions about her.”
A middle-aged raven-haired beauty approached Peregrine and Rafe.
“Lord Rutland, who was that enchanting creature you danced with?”
“You see?” Rafe said.
“You do not know her, Lady Germain?” Peregrine asked.
She laughed and pulled away her black-and-red mask, which she held on a stick. “No, but I wish I did. I have run my mind over all the young ladies I issued invitations to, and I cannot think of who she is.”