“Should’ve known better than to try my hand against you. You’ve the devil’s own luck.”
As if sensing Tess’s presence at his side, the stranger raised his head.
A shock of something elemental, almost like recognition, flashed through her as their eyes met. If someonehad asked her to describe a “dangerous man,” it would be him. Flint-gray eyes, high cheekbones. Lips that looked like they could command—or kiss—with consummate ease.
They’d never met in person, she was sure, but she knew him: he was every wicked fantasy she’d ever dreamed, come to life.
Handsomeseemed too weak a word. Shrewd intelligence blazed in his eyes, and Tess had the strangest sensation that he was looking right through her, through dress and skin, to the very heart of her. She felt exposed, all her secrets laid bare.
She gave herself a mental shake. She was being fanciful. He wasn’t reading her soul. He was probably just imagining her naked.
As she was doing to him.
His gaze traveled the length of her body in a searing head-to-toe appraisal that took in her crimson gown and bloodred mask in one calculating sweep. His dark brows rose.
In interest? Disdain?
She couldn’t tell.
Tess returned the bold appraisal with one of her own, even as heat flushed her body at her daring. A thrill shivered along her spine. Sothiswas the lust the poets raved about. This dizzy, drunken feeling of excitement.
At last.
She felt breathless, and also extremely relieved. In recent months she’d started to worry that there was something wrong with her, that she was somehow numb. The lukewarm interest she’d felt on a few previous occasions paled into insignificance when compared to the scorching reaction she was having to this man.
Surely this was a sign from the universe?
The stranger’s lips curved up at her prolonged inspection of him, as if he appreciated her boldness. He stood in a fluid movement and Tess took an involuntary step back; he was taller than she’d expected. More intimidating.
He must have thought she was about to leave, because he reached out and captured her wrist, encircling it gently with his fingers.
“Don’t go, sweet. You’ve brought me luck.”
Tess’s belly twisted in glorious confusion. His voice was as delicious as his face; deep, with a hint of cynical amusement.
She managed a scornful laugh. “Pfft. Your friend just said you’re always lucky. My presence had nothing to do with it.”
He smiled at her refusal to accept the easy compliment and adjusted his grip to raise her hand to his lips. He kissed the back of her glove, like a gallant, and the heat of his lips burned through the satin.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“I don’t believe we have. I’m—” Tess quickly tried to decide which alias to use.
“Masked,” he finished smoothly, noting her hesitation. “And therefore disinclined to reveal your name. Or your face.” He bowed over their joined hands, and the gleam in his eye was an invitation to spar with him. “Forget I asked. I’d rather have no name than a lie. I’ll call you Scarlet.”
Tess smiled, amused by his perspicacity, and matched his playful tone.
“Scarlet will do nicely. And yes, I like the anonymity of a masquerade. Unlikeyou,it seems. Do you think yourself so handsome that you don’t want to deny the ladies the pleasure of looking at your face?”
His brows rose. “Not at all. Although I appreciate thecompliment. Areyouso beautiful that you’re wearing a mask to prevent every man in the room from falling at your feet?”
“Maybe.” Tess shrugged. It wasn’t far from the truth. Her looks were usually at the root of her problems. Tonight, she would take them out of the equation entirely.
His fingers tightened on hers as he turned them both toward the ballroom. Tess glanced back at the card table. “Don’t you want to collect your winnings?”
“Simms will see to it. We should dance.”
He ushered her through the throng, never releasing her hand, and when they reached the dance floor, he swirled her effortlessly into his arms.
