Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

"And nearly as many men were attired in togas-men whose rotund figures most assuredly should not have been draped in sheets." Emily gave an all-over shudder.

"I'm almost sorry I missed it," Carolyn said with a smile.

"With a few minor adjustments we could turn you from Galatea into Aphrodite," Sarah said to Carolyn with a speculative air. "The goddess of desire is who I wanted you to be to begin with."

"Absolutely not," Carolyn said firmly. "What would people think?"

Sarah reached out and lightly clasped her hand, her brown gaze serious as it rested on her. "That you are a young, vibrant woman who deserves to enjoy herself."

"I'm a thirty-two-year-old widow who is too old and too sensible to parade about in an unbecoming fashion." She said the words softly, to take any sting from them. She knew Sarah meant well, and truly she appreciated her sister's efforts on her behalf. But ever since she'd reentered Society, she sometimes felt as if in her determination to get on with her life everything was moving too quickly. As if she were losing part of herself, of the person she'd been for the last ten years-Edward's wife. She occasionally had difficulty recalling images of him that used to be so clear in her mind. Couldn't precisely recall the sound of his laughter. The warmth of his touch. The slow leaching of those memories confused and saddened her. And frightened her. For if her memories of Edward faded away, she'd have nothing left.

"There is nothing unbecoming about you," Sarah said gently, squeezing her hand. Then she smiled. "And we are all going to have a grand time this evening."

Carolyn returned her sister's smile, although she wasn't as optimistic. The idea of a costume ball had sounded exciting when she received the invitation, but now that the day was here, she felt decidedly less enthusiastic. She'd allowed Sarah to talk her into the Galatea costume, because as her sister pointed out, Galatea was brought to life, just as she herself wanted to be brought back to life. What she hadn't pointed out to Sarah was that the statue of Galatea was only brought to life because Pygmalion, the sculptor, fell passionately in love with his work of art. Love had brought Galatea to life. At one time, love had done the same for her, but she knew in her heart it would not, could not, happen again.

Standing in a shadowed corner of the crowded ballroom, Daniel Sutton, Earl Surbrooke, was about to sip from his glass of champagne when he saw her. His hand froze partway to his lips, his drink forgotten as he stared at the Greek goddess garbed in pure ivory across the room. Flickering light from the dozens of candles in the overhead crystal chandeliers cast her in a soft, gilded glow. Her costume left both slender arms and one shoulder bare. His avid gaze drifted over the exposed creamy skin, and his imagination instantly conjured his fingers skimming along the silky smoothness. His lips tracing a trail along her delicate collarbone. Her name whispered through his mind and he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from saying it out loud.

Carolyn…

Desire, hot and fierce, gripped him. Even with her honey-colored hair powered white and a mask covering most of her face, he'd recognize those perfect, lush lips, that slender neck, the curve of her cheek, that regal posture anywhere.

She stood alone, scanning the crowd. He would have given a great deal to be the person she sought, but he knew she'd be searching for her sister Sarah or one of her close friends, Lady Julianne or Lady Emily.

Someday very soon you'll be looking for me, his inner voice promised. Yes, her gaze would seek him out just as his did her at every opportunity. He intended to see to it. For he'd wanted her with a bone-deep intensity from the first instant he'd laid eyes upon her.

To this day he recalled that moment with such vivid clarity it could have happened ten minutes ago rather than ten years ago. He'd seen her-a vision in a blue gown-across the ballroom during a party hosted by one of his Eton friends, Edward Turner, Viscount Wingate. For a few brief seconds it felt as if time had stopped. Along with his breath. And heart. A ridiculous, inexplicable, visceral, and unprecedented reaction. True, she was beautiful, but he was accustomed to stunning women. Of course, he'd prevailed upon his friend to introduce him. And Edward had obliged, presenting Miss Carolyn Moorehouse.

They'd exchanged pleasantries, and Daniel fell more deeply in lust with the blushing beauty with each passing moment-a state of affairs he couldn't understand, as innocents were not at all to his taste. But something about her grabbed him by the throat and wouldn't let go. He wanted her, in his bed, naked and trembling with desire, and by God he was determined to have her.

Perhaps the fact that she wasn't an aristocrat was what he found so utterly refreshing and alluring. Regardless of the reason, he'd never been so wildly and instantaneously attracted to any woman. He was about to begin his seduction by asking her to dance when Edward requested everyone's attention-then announced that Miss Moorehouse had consented to be his wife.

Now, a decade later, Daniel still recalled his dumbstruck reaction. It was as if all the color had leaked from the room, leaving everything painted in dull, dismal shades of gray. After shaking himself from the stupor into which the news had thrust him, he saw what he'd been too stupefied to observe earlier-that Edward adored Carolyn, and she clearly felt the same about him.

He'd attended their wedding two months later-an occasion that left him feeling empty. The marriage was obviously a love match, and Edward was a friend. And while Daniel's actions didn't always fill him with pride, he drew the line at cuckolding friends. He therefore forced Carolyn from his thoughts and kept his distance from the happy couple as much as possible, reminding himself that he had no real interest in her other than bedding her, and there were plenty of other beautiful women available to slake his passions.

But the truth was that every time he found himself in the same room as Carolyn, he had trouble concentrating on anything other than her. The sensual fantasies she inspired confounded him for his inability to dispel them. Luckily she and Edward didn't attend many soirees, so he rarely saw them. He'd gone on with his life and finally convinced himself that his inappropriate lust had been an aberration.

After Edward's sudden death three years ago, Carolyn had gone into seclusion, retreating from Society entirely. He was therefore stunned several months ago to learn she was to be a guest at a country house party at the estate of his best friend, Matthew Devenport-a party Daniel was instantly impatient to attend. Before he arrived at Matthew's estate, he reminded himself that the oddly fierce attraction he'd experienced all those years ago was an anomaly. That he'd no doubt take one look at her and yawn. Still, not wanting any distractions or possible encumbrances, before leaving for the house party he amicably ended his brief yet steamy affair with Kimberly Sizemore, Countess Walsh, knowing the gorgeous widow would quickly move on to the next man.

When he arrived at the house party, however, it only required one look at Carolyn to bring all the lustful urges she'd once inspired roaring back. Her mere presence rendered him befuddled and bemused and tongue-tied in a way he might have found amusing had it not been so utterly irritating, uncharacteristic, and bewildering. He didn't lack for expertise or confidence when it came to women, yet somehow this sedate, petite woman made him feel like a bumbling lad in knee pants. It required all his finesse not to simply gawk and babble in her presence.

He learned through their conversations-during which he managed not to gawk and babble too much-that she remained devoted to her dead husband's memory and had no desire to ever marry again. Which only made her more perfect, as the last thing Daniel wanted was a wife. No, he wished only to bed her, and determined then and there to do what he hadn't when he first met her-seduce her. A challenge indeed, given her continued worship of her dead husband. But he was a patient man and he'd never wanted a woman more, his every nerve ending heating with anticipation at the upcoming game of enticing her to his bed, where the fire she'd ignited ten years ago would finally be extinguished. They'd enjoy a quick, mutually pleasurable affair, unmarred by messy emotions, then they'd each go their separate ways. He'd established a nice rapport with her in the country, and now that they were both back in London, he was prepared to begin his seduction in earnest.

Starling right now.

He handed his untouched champagne to a passing footman, but before he could move, a man costumed as a pirate approach his quarry. Daniel's eyes narrowed when, after several seconds, Carolyn extended her hand to the masked buccaneer and smiled. He didn't know who the bloody bastard was, but realizing that he had tarried here in the shadows too long, he set a determined pace toward Carolyn. It was his intent to prod the pirate along-using the point of the bastard's own sword if necessary-yet before he took more than half a dozen steps, a feminine hand curved around his arm.

"You make a very dashing highwayman, darling," said a throaty voice he instantly recognized. He turned and found himself the subject of a thorough perusal through Lady Walsh's mask. His gaze flicked over her. Garbed in a revealing outfit, Kimberly looked wickedly desirable and stunningly alluring. And he wanted nothing more than to escape.