Then he slipped his hand completely beneath the gauzy bodice to cup her bare breast. “So we’ll dance now,” he murmured.
Heat radiated into her from his large hand as he gently massaged her, and she wiggled beneath his touch, suddenly unable to lie still as she bit back a moan of happiness. She’d dreamt for years about having his hands on her like this, touching her, caressing her…but she’d never once imagined it would feel so warm and wonderful. So soft yet urgent.
“Lovely dress.” Shifting his weight back onto his knees, he reached his free hand toward her other shoulder and deftly untied the bow. With a tug, her bodice fell away and revealed both breasts to the firelight. And to his eyes, now dark with desire as he gazed hungrily down at her. “So very lovely.”
Despite the goose bumps that sprang up across her skin everywhere he looked, she resisted the nervous urge to cover herself. This was Robert, and he, of all people, had the right to see her. Because she’d known him since she was five. Because she loved him. Because she wanted no one else but him to ever see her like this, tonight and for the rest of her life.
She shyly bit her bottom lip. “You don’t find me…plain?”
He gave a laugh, and the deep sound rumbled through her, swirling down to land between her legs. He lowered his head toward her. “Hardly.”
Her breath strangled. For a moment, she thought he was lowering his mouth to kiss her…there, on her bare breasts. Instead, his fingers gently lifted her chin, and his lips met hers in a kiss so tender that it left her shaking. His mouth was warm, surprisingly soft, and oh-so-wonderfully skilled as he languidly explored and tasted hers, with none of the boyish eagerness she remembered from before, none of that sloppy, inexperienced kissing. This was a man who was confident in himself and knew what he wanted.
And what he wanted—she shivered—was her.
“You’re trembling.” He touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of her lips.
She shook so hard that she had to grasp the coverlet beneath her to hold herself still. “I-I’m n-not.”
“Now you’re lying,” he scolded, smiling against her mouth.
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, and as he bit down gently, he lowered himself over her.
No, she thought as his hard body sank onto hers, definitely nothing boyish about him any longer.
“What else can I do to make you tremble, hmm?” His hand reached down for her skirt and pulled it slowly up her thighs. The promised shivers trailed in its wake.
Miranda rolled back her head and gave herself over to him. She’d wanted this moment for so long, and now that it was finally happening—oh, dear Lord, it was happening! She could hardly believe it wasn’t still only a dream. Robert in her arms, his lips on hers, his hands caressing her seductively. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear the rush of blood in her ears, so rapidly she was certain he could feel it, because when she placed her palm on his bare chest, his heart raced beneath her fingertips.
He nipped his way down her throat, then farther down to lick his tongue into the valley between her breasts. When she shuddered and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer, his lips closed around her peaked nipple and sucked.
She moaned, her back arching off the mattress. “Robert…”
He froze, his mouth stilling on her. Then slowly, he released her breast and lifted his head. His blue eyes pinned hers. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. I just—”
“Christ!” He pushed off the panther mask and revealed his face.
Oh God.
The air ripped from her lungs. “Sebastian.”
Oh God oh God oh God oh God!
“Who are you?” Sebastian Carlisle grabbed her mask and yanked it down. His eyes widened in stunned surprise. “Miranda?”
He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe— Oh, he was looking at her! Red heat flushed her face, and she slapped hard at his bare chest. “Get off me! Get off—”
His hand clamped down over her mouth. “Shush!” Anger furrowed his brow. “Someone will hear you.”
“I don’t care!” she mumbled against his palm.
“You will if they find us together”—another sweep of his gaze down her body—“like this.”
With a mortified groan, she rolled her eyes. She wanted to die!
He crooked a brow in warning to keep her voice down, then withdrew his hand and rolled off the bed, muttering angrily beneath his breath as he snatched up his shirt from the floor and yanked it on.
Miranda scrambled to cover herself, but her fingers shook so hard that she could barely retie the bows at her shoulders. One knotted pathetically.
He wheeled on her. “What are you doing here, Miranda?”
“Me?” she squeaked, her hand jerking and creating another knot. “What are you doing in Robert’s room? You’d better dress and leave before he—”
“This is my room.” He pointed possessively at the floor.
“Your— No,” she protested firmly even as she took a frantic glance around, although she wouldn’t have known the difference between any of the brothers’ bedrooms at Chestnut Hill. But this was Robert’s, she was certain of it, along with the toy soldiers and poetry books. “I asked the footman. He told me this room.”
His eyes narrowed. “You asked a footman which bedroom belonged to Robert?”
“I was discreet.” She sniffed at his insinuation that she’d been reckless enough to confide her plan for seduction to a footman. If a woman planned to drape herself across a would-be-lover’s bed, she certainly wouldn’t announce it to the household staff. Even she knew that much. “And I wore a mask.”
He placed his palms on the mattress and leaned toward her, bringing his face level with hers. “Exactly how does a masked lady go about asking a footman which bedroom belongs to a bachelor gentleman?”
Ugh, he was so frustrating! She pushed at his shoulders to shove him away, but of course he didn’t budge. The man was a veritable mountain of muscle and aggravation.
With a huff, she folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin. “Wearing her mask, she goes to a footman at the party, slips him a coin, and points to the gentleman in his mask, then asks in complete anonymity which room is—”
He held up a hand, stopping her. “If the gentleman was wearing a mask, how did you know which man you pointed to?”
“Because I bribed Robert’s valet yesterday to find out what mask he’d…” The blood drained from her face as she realized her mistake. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” With a grimace, he tossed the panther mask onto the bed at her feet. “We switched masks before the party. The man you pointed to tonight, Miranda, was me.”
Her stomach plummeted. “Sebastian, I had no idea.”
“Obviously.” He drew up to his full six-foot height and looked down at her with that authoritative look that all the Carlisle brothers—and especially Sebastian—thought they could level on her simply because they’d all grown up together. “Now, we’ve determined how you ended up here.” He folded his arms across his chest, the intimidating pose one she knew well. “Tell me why.”
But she had absolutely no intention of telling him that. Wasn’t she already humiliated enough? “It doesn’t matter. I—I need to leave.”
She scooted to the edge of the bed, her hands tugging at her skirt with each wiggle of her hips to keep her legs covered, although she didn’t know why she bothered, considering he’d just had his mouth on her breast.
Her face burned. Oh God—Sebastian’s mouth had been on her breast!
“Now—” Her voice choked with panic and mortification. “I need to go now.”
“Stay,” he commanded with that regal air all three brothers had inherited in varying degrees from their father and which Sebastian as the current Duke of Trent owned in spades.
She stilled at the edge of the bed, silent in her humiliation.