The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) (19 page)

Sam leaned back, but his head was still facing me.
“Do you still love him?”

“I was never in love with Andrew. I saw him as my
way out of the Phantoms, and since I respected him, I thought we
could have a tolerable life together.”

His gloved fingers slipped under my chin, and he
raised my face until I was looking at him. “You deserve so much
more than ‘tolerable,’ Bess. Which returns me to
our...predicament.”

My breathing stilled, before rushing forward. “What
do you propose we do?” There was no malice, no contempt in either
my words or my emotions. A ridiculous part of my heart and mind
wished that it were true that we did belong to each other, so it
was with an aching head and heart that I waited for his reply.

“We do nothing yet. It is my earnest wish that you
will allow the idea to ruminate for the time being. Once we have
dealt with the Holy Order, we will discuss the subject again.”

The moon had burst through the clouds and was
shining down on us, illuminating us as if we were actors on a
stage. His gloved hand cupped my jaw, his thumb rubbing circles on
my cheek. My breath caught in my throat; desire held me hostage,
demanding me to do something as payment, something I had never done
before.

Before I could reconsider the forward action, I
pressed my lips against his. My cheeks burned from embarrassment,
but I held my mouth against his, waiting, hoping that he would not
push me away. I needed him to kiss me back.

His other hand came up to hold my face and his mouth
pressed hard against mine; his lips parted, parting mine with them.
His kisses were masterful, filled with desire that sent a thrill of
want through me. My arms moved until they were wrapped around his
neck. I allowed my fingers to delve deep into his curls. It was
something I had wanted to do since the first time he kissed me,
nearly nine months ago.

A groan came from deep in his throat. His hands
wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until our legs were
touching, my chest against his. I was possibly losing my mind, or
dreaming, though my dreams had never been this wonderful. He kissed
the edge of my mouth and then my chin. He made his way up my jaw
from my chin to my ear. His hot breath against my ear caused a
shiver to course through me. When his lips touched my earlobe as
his hand spread against the small of my back, I needed his mouth on
mine. I wrapped my hand against the back of his neck, directing his
mouth back to mine. He smiled as his lips met mine again, but the
smile faded in the roving of his mouth against mine, playing,
nipping, drawing me out until I was nothing but a fiery ball of
passion and want. I think I may have moaned, or it could have been
him, I was not sure. His lips pulled away from mine, but he still
touched me resting his forehead against mine, our heavy breaths
intertwining.

“Bess, we must stop this,” he said in a deep
whisper, “now.”

“What if I do not want to stop?” I was as breathless
as he. Thankfully he could not see my scorched cheeks.

“Darling Bess, I would be a cad to
take advantage of the situation,” he paused and I felt his jaw
working, “more so than I have.” His hand came up, resting against
my cheek. “Your kisses are to be treasured, not taken advantage
of.”

No one had ever referred to a kiss from me that way.
The only men I had ever kissed were Jericho, Ben, and Andrew.
Jericho’s kiss had been a ploy; Ben’s kisses were innocent and
filled with promise, and Andrew’s were duty. When Andrew had kissed
me for the first time, I had compared it to Sam, finding it
lacking. I never had the desire for his kisses that I was feeling
for Sam. Nor had I longed to be around him the way I did with Sam.
I loved the way Sam made me laugh, the way we argued, the way we
fought side by side; his intensity that only came out with me. I
loved his need for justice and his caring treatment of his
sister.

Andrew had crushed my pride and my dreams, but Sam
filled me with new dreams.

“What are you thinking, Bess?”

I even loved the way he called me Bess, instead of
Elizabeth like Andrew did.

“You are noble.”

I meant it as a compliment, but he gave a harsh
laugh, running his hand through his curls.

“I am not noble, Bess. Far from it. I have wanted to
kiss you like that since the moment I saw you again.” He leaned
close and kissed my cheek; his whiskers brushing against my skin
and leaving an imprint for life.

“Come, I will escort you home.”

He was trying to protect me. I did not want to go
back into the ballroom and pretend like Andrew’s presence did not
affect me, to answer questions about our supposed betrothal, to act
like I had not been sharing a wonderful embrace with Sam. Sam
understood me like Jack did, without my having to say a word. As we
rose, he took my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“You do not have to go with me. Surely you are
needed here.”

Sam pulled our hands up, kissing the back of my
gloved hand. “They may need me, but I need you.”

My heart fluttered in my chest like a butterfly
trying its wings for the first time. For a moment, I thought about
my brother; where he could be and what his feelings would be upon
hearing the news of my betrothal to Sam, but it was only a moment
before Sam consumed my thoughts again.

Jack

A
rriving
late for Sam’s ball was something that could not be helped. Leo and
I had gone to meet Gideon and a man he thought could lead us to the
Holy Order. The man never arrived, and by the time we returned and
cleaned up, the house was stuffed to overflowing. Leo had been
invited to attend the ball, and though he was reluctant, I brought
him around.

As we made our way downstairs, I
did not see Sam anywhere, or anyone else that I recognized. When
Leo and I were passing the dining parlor, Leo halted, glancing from
the ballroom to the dining parlor. He looked in need of strong
refreshment that of which he would not receive at a ball. It was
his first time attending a party as anything other than a servant,
so I could not fault him when he excused himself saying he would
find me.

Sam had shown me around his house my first night
staying with him, so I had seen the ballroom. Sam had said that
Charlotte saw to the decorating of the ballroom, transforming it
into a garden to match the paintings on the wall. It was light,
happy, and elegant.

As I was not a tall man, seeing over the heads of
people was not possible, so I made slow work around the room until
I came upon Rose seated on a chair against the south wall.

“Why, Mr. Martin, you arrive at last.”

I sat on the chair beside her, smiling. I liked Rose
Eldridge. She was kind and beautiful and knew how to put people at
ease. She reminded me of my mother, though I would never tell her
so. I did not know her age, but she could not be many years my
senior.

“Good evening, Mrs. Eldridge, and may I say you
outshine the garden in which you are sitting.”

Rose looked behind her at the wall then smiled. “If
you are searching for your sister, Sam escorted her home.” Rose
looked away from me, fanning herself slowly.

“Allow me.” Taking her fan, I waved it before her.
“Was Bess all right?”

Rose’s eyes rested on something across the ballroom.
“Tell me, Mr. Martin, does that gentleman know your sister?”

I followed her gaze, and my hand immediately
stilled. Andrew Madison. What the devil was he doing in Charleston
and Sam’s house? “Unfortunately so.”

“One does overhear so many whispers, but, am I in
the right that he is the man formerly betrothed to your
sister?”

“Yes. If you will excuse me, Mrs. Eldridge, I
believe I will go renew our acquaintance.” I snapped her fan shut
and handed it back to her.

Rose raised her eyebrows at me and placed her hand
on my arm. “Murder in a ballroom is not of our class, Mr.
Martin.”

“It is fortunate then that I am not contemplating
murder.” I stood, but before I could take a step, Charlotte was
upon me.

“You, sir, are late.”

“Fashionably,” I said, bowing before her.

“Fashionably would have been an hour late, not
three.” She flashed me a coy smile.

“I am touched to know that my absence was marked in
such a crowd.” Charlotte was staring at me with a smile tilting up
her lovely lips. I glanced toward Andrew, but he was leading a
brunette into the next set of dances. “Will you dance with me, Miss
Mason?”

Charlotte’s mouth dropped open a moment before she
smiled radiantly and agreed. I made sure that I stood right in
Andrew’s line of sight. When he saw me, he winced.

The dance was a reel, so conversation was
impossible, but I enjoyed it immensely. Charlotte was not the least
out of breath when the dance ended. She looked as if she thrived on
dancing, and the pink staining her cheeks added to her beauty. She
was universally beautiful and had an allure that attracted men
young and old, but I was not among the ranks. My taste ran to women
with red hair and striking purple eyes.

Charlotte led me toward Andrew and the brunette who
was clutching his arm possessively.

“Anne, I want to present someone to you. This is Mr.
John Martin. Mr. Martin, this is my cousin Anne Crawford and her
betrothed Mr. Madison.”

My gaze shot up to Andrew’s, but he was looking
anywhere but at me. So that was what had Bess upset enough that Sam
had to take her home. At least Sam had been there for her. Both
Anne Crawford and Charlotte were staring at me, and I apologized
before greeting Anne, then telling them that Andrew and I knew each
other well. Anne looked expectantly at Andrew.

“The Martins were acquaintances of mine in
Philadelphia,” Andrew said.

Andrew’s eyes warned me not to say anything to
contradict his words. I wanted to choke him, but I refrained as
Rose’s words came back to me.

“Wait,” Charlotte said, “are you
that Mr. Madison—”

Stifling a chuckle I interrupted her, saying, “Miss
Mason, I do believe they are beginning a country dance, will you do
me the honor?”

Charlotte agreed happily, and as I whisked her away,
I glanced over my shoulder. Miss Anne Crawford was speaking to
Andrew, and he did not look pleased in the least.

As we danced, I told Charlotte that he was the man
that Bess had been engaged to. She said that she and Rose had heard
rumors, but Bess had never said anything to them about Andrew, so
she thought it all a misunderstanding.

“He deserves to be horsewhipped,” Charlotte said
angrily, shooting dagger glances at Andrew, “and now he is marrying
my cousin. What nerve!”

I would have agreed, but my attention had been
captured. Leo had not only braved the ballroom, but he had asked a
woman to dance. At the end of the line of dancers were Leo and
Rose. When he glanced at me, I raised my eyebrows. Leo was as
impassive as ever.

“Sam is not here, correct?” Charlotte asked
suddenly.

“No, he has kindly escorted my sister home.”

“Good,” Charlotte said in a satisfied voice, her
eyes on something over my shoulder, “then Miss White cannot sink
her claws into him, not that she could any longer.”

“Who is Miss White?”

“Her,” Charlotte said.

As I looked in the direction Charlotte was
motioning, surprise covered me a moment before desire slammed
against my chest.

Leo had escorted Guinevere to a house on Queen
Street after the fight at the race, but when I went there to see
her, the house had been deserted.

Guinevere was standing in the doorway, and her hair
was yellow, giving her the appearance of someone else, but I could
never mistake those eyes, lips. They haunted my dreams.

After the dance ended and Charlotte had been handed
over to her next partner, I moved toward Guinevere, staying behind
taller men and larger women and keeping as close to the wall as I
could. Guinevere’s attention was focused on someone. Following her
gaze, her eyes were locked on Rose, and Rose was staring back. A
rather curious look passed between the two, but my attention was
pulled back to Guinevere. I reached her a moment after a group of
young men surrounded her.

At the back of the group and hidden by taller men, I
heard one sharp voice say, “Mason’s inattention is our gain, Miss
White.”

“We all know who now holds his attention,” claimed
another.

“I heard that they are betrothed. Announced it in
this very room.”

Some men gossiped worse than women, though what they
were saying intrigued me.

“Who, pray tell, is that, Mr. Adams?” Guinevere
asked with a sharp note to her voice.

“Why, the new heiress in our midst. Miss
Martin.”

Sam...and Bess? Betrothed? The likelihood was small.
Though, Andrew was here. Would Bess be so reckless as to commit
herself in such a way all for revenge against Andrew? The truth
was; there was little Bess would not do when in a fit of rage.
Surely Sam had more sense.

Then again Bess had said that Guinevere was playing
a deep game using Sam as her pawn. It had caused me great annoyance
to hear it, and even more to see it, but it would cease
immediately.

I tapped on the back of one of the men, and when he
turned to look down at me, I edged my way through the group.
Guinevere’s eyes met mine, and I saw panic, longing, love, and then
panic again flash through her eyes.

“Miss White, I believe this is our dance.”

One man, a Mr. Adams, stared at me in potent
dislike. “And who are you to approach Miss White?”

Guinevere’s voice squeaked, “This is Mr. John
Martin, the brother of the new heiress.” Her eyes remained locked
on mine, and it was evident that she was trying to decide whether
to try to run or to stay and face me.