"Girl, you look great!"

Sarah admired her friend's ensemble and her glittering eye makeup. "You look good enough to eat!"

Rebecca laughed at her friend's uncharacteristic bold comment. "You know," she whispered, "I'm hoping someone will agree with you." They both laughed. Rebecca cried out excitedly, "I can't believe I got these tickets. You know, this will be one of the hottest parties this season."

Securing their masks to their faces, Sarah and Rebecca made their way into a large, stately home. Velvet brocade drapes hung from the ceilings, and huge candles burned from large candelabras. Sarah's heart soared as she looked around in astonishment at the splendor. People were milling about in all kinds of costumes, gliding across the black and white marbled floors.

Rebecca led the way to a refreshment table and ordered wine from an attractive bartender. He was well built, with blond hair falling to his shoulders, and Rebecca was at full force. Sarah wouldn't have been surprised if she heard Rebecca purr as she chatted him up.

They took their drinks away--thanks to Rebecca, free drinks--as her friend pocketed his number. "Did you hear? He is an actor. Of course, with those great looks!" Rebecca rolled her eyes.

As they stood around sipping their drinks, Sarah's attention was caught by a tall man in a Lone Ranger outfit who approached the two women. "Ladies," he greeted, as he tipped his hat to them.

"You both look mighty fine tonight," he stated, looking at both of them, but his gaze rested on Rebecca.

Sarah fought a lump of disappointment in her throat. It didn't matter how she looked tonight, her friend always outshone her. Ashamed of the jealousy that filled her, Sarah hated her envy of Rebecca's luck with men. Just once, though, Sarah wanted to experience what her friend took for granted. To have a sexy stranger approach her tonight and ... She forced her concentration back to enjoying the ball.

Sarah sipped her white wine and politely listened to their flirting conversation. The Lone Ranger's real name was Greg--and he wasn't a cowboy, he was an investment banker--but to Rebecca, who was fawning all over his hat and boots, he might as well have been the real thing.

Sarah's attention strayed around the large ballroom. There must have been easily a couple hundred people here, she mused. Some of the costumes were quite elaborate. People milled about, mingling, and also in some small pockets, dancing to the soft music in the background. Beautiful, echoed in her mind as she surveyed the party. It was so sudden she shivered. Had she imagined that voice? She shook her head and continued her observation of the room.

One man in particular stood out. Dressed entirely in black, including a large cape, there was something magnetic about his energy. He definitely stood apart from the others. As in head and shoulders above them. Impossibly tall, what was he, six-foot-five? Six-foot-six? And the width of his muscular frame! She could not see his face due to the white mask he wore, but he turned slowly and faced her direction as though in response to her scrutiny. It was impossible, of course, he was too far away to know she was looking at him, yet Sarah swore she could feel his hot stare directly back on her. It was so disconcerting she looked around to see if there was somebody behind her that caught his attention.

A group of women were standing several feet away, laughing and drinking. There was, to be sure, many French maids, cat suits and Cleopatras roaming about. Her disappointment was so strong, its bitter taste filled her mouth. At least her costume was original--possibly even one of a kind.

Sarah wondered if there were other rooms guests could enter. She had joined the conversation a couple times with her friend and her new interest as they tried to include her, but being a third wheel just wasn't fun. She smiled politely and pointed to her empty glass.

She went back to the bar to order another white wine. "Do you have any good reds? Preferably Italian?" Sarah surprised herself with what had just come out of her mouth. She didn't usually drink red wine. She took the glass given, bemused at her choice.

Is that an influence of you, Countess? She joked inwardly. So, I am ready to wear my heart on my sleeve. Do your worst ... actually your best. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as she made her silent wish. Opening them, she saw the party continued on, same as before, and sighed.

Carrying her wine, she moved out in the hall, looking around. Should she be out here? Spying a small room, Sarah entered. There was a fireplace glowing, and a number of books on a desk. Some kind of study, she guessed. A shadow loomed over her.

"Are you having fun tonight?"

She jumped at the sound of the voice, spinning around. A man cloaked in black stood towering behind her. The same man who had caught her attention earlier.

"Good evening. I did not mean to startle you. I was enquiring whether you were enjoying the party."

Sarah's breath caught. His size was not the only thing that was imposing. Even masked, with his strong jaw and black hair, he was darkly attractive.

"Yes, I am having a good time. Th-the manor is beautiful."

"Your dress ... is beautiful. So is the lady wearing it."

Sarah's skin heated behind her mask at her confusion. "Thank you, you're very kind."

"I am anything but kind."

Behind the mask, his eyes burned into hers. Black, fathomless orbs. The polite, innocuous words suddenly took on more meaning, hinting at danger. His voice had a trace of an accent that was hard to place.

"You caught my attention with your drink order. It's one of my favorite vintages, Italian reds. I had to come over and see the lady who ordered it."

"It's my first time trying this wine," she admitted.

"And--do you enjoy the taste?" The way he inquired sounded as though he was asking something else entirely.

Sarah cleared her throat. "Why yes, the wine is kind of smooth and mellow, maybe from the tannins." Sarah cringed inwardly. Why was she pretending to be a wine expert? She was trying too hard. If he agreed he gave no clue. Instead, he smiled enigmatically, as though he expected her response.

There was a pause as the stranger continued to look deeply into her eyes. I feel so warm, Sarah realized.

"So, what do you do?" The question was a bit cliché, but she wanted to fill the silence that was stretching out. His formality and manner came straight from another era, yet were directly at odds with his open appraisal of her. He had moved easily into her space, much closer than polite acquaintances. It forced her to gaze up at him.

"My life is not what interests me. I would much rather know about you. Besides, this is a night for mystery and masquerade. It's All Hallows Eve."

"Perhaps then, I shouldn't share my secrets." Sarah smiled playfully at him.

"Oh, I don't know. I have a feeling I know all about you."

Sarah laughed lightly but felt stirred at this man's claim of knowledge about her. He stared at her intently, and his dark orbs glittered. What color were they? Sometimes they flashed blue or green. Even amber.

This wine was potent. Too potent. She wrapped her arms around her waist. The stirrings of desire flickered like flames now, running throughout her body.

"Oh, do you? Okay, what is my favorite color then?" Her voice was a bit coy.

"You think your favorite is blue, but it should be yellow because that color is most becoming on you."

"It is blue. Okay, you have my attention now. But blue is pretty popular. What else do you know about me?" she teased.

"This dress--" He touched the sleeve reverently, "Is meant to be worn by you. You have the build of a woman--lush, feminine, and yet you let society dictate what is attractive. Society that changes its whims based on fashions that come and go."

Sarah lowered her gaze.

"I did not mean to embarrass you. It's just you are a truly beautiful woman and I don't sense you see it."

That he saw her beauty made Sarah's heart beat erratically. His voice became smoky as he continued. "I know you enjoy bubble baths by candlelight."

Her neck snapped up.

"Many women do," she said shakily.

"I am sure none look as you, though."

It was as though he knew about her getting ready for the ball, had been there. Seen the way the light played off her skin, felt her deepest yearnings. Which was impossible, of course. Sarah dismissed the ridiculous notion and wondered if she should cut the conversation short. He was acting too familiar with her. Flirting with her. No, seducing her. And yet she felt frozen in front of him, as though in a trance. Sarah was exhilarated to be the attraction of such a man ... this stranger.

"So you are picturing me in a tub ... am I by myself in your fantasy?" Sarah almost gasped at her boldness. How did that come out of her mouth?

He came closer and leaned down to her. "No," he whispered, stroking her collarbone with the pad of his thumb. "And you weren't by yourself in your mind, either. You're wondering what would happen, if just once, you let your guard down. If just once, you let your passions out with no concern of tomorrow."

Sarah was faint. He made her feel weightless. All her senses were heightened.

"To be seduced, taken, by a stranger. To be overcome with desire."

"Who are you?" she asked softly. She was so weak his hand on her back held her up.

"No, no names," his lips whispered in her ear. "You know everything you need to know tonight."

"Yes, you are right," she breathed.

"If this is what you want, just take my hand." The man held his hand out to her. "All you have to do is accept."

Sarah paused as she stared at his outstretched palm, then slowly placed her hand in his. His lips curved into a wolfish smile. Forget caution. For once, she would know what she was missing out on.