G-Men: The Series (146 page)

I was adjusting the red-haired wig with the shiny ringlet curls surrounding it so that it fell level to my shoulders. I actually thought I looked pretty damn good as a redhead, though I preferred a modern hairstyle to go with it.

The antebellum gown I had been given rivaled that of what Scarlett O’Hara had worn in “Gone with the Wind.” You know the one…made from the emerald green velvet drapes that were the only thing worthwhile left hanging on the large window at ‘Tara’ after the Yankees had cleaned out the plantation? Mammy had sewn quite a fetching gown out of them, complete with the gold-colored fringe that had made it look like something couture for the 1800’s. It had been my favorite gown when I watched the movie for the first time.

Anyway, mine was sort of like that except without the gold fringe. The red-haired ringlet wig was the icing on the cake, as far as my costume went. All I had to do now was to wait for my “Rhett Butler” to pick me out of the throng of forty-nine other females and claim me as his own. I had no doubt my alpha man, Easton Jamison Matthews, could do just that!

I had sulked the rest of the afternoon after my bath, leaving our suite to hang with Lindsey, Ronnie and Sammie. They knew that something was up. It wasn’t normal for me to be so quiet as they talked about the masquerade ball that night.

Lindsey and Sammie were sure that their G-Men would have no problem whatsoever in “claiming” their women. After all, they were seasoned investigators with an expertise in “sniffing” out the prey—as they so eloquently put it.

“Taz tells me that I put off some sort of a love pheromone scent that he can track no matter how many people are around,” Lindsey said, giggling.

Sammie had done her share of bragging on Slate as well. “Slate knows every inch of my body like his own,” she said. “Even beneath a long dress with frilly pantaloons, he’ll know my curves and edges,” she said, very matter-of-factly.

It was then and only then that I started to have doubts about Easton’s ability to “sniff” me out.

Oh, Dear God!

Maybe I
had
been too hasty in shooting Easton’s idea down about having a secret signal. I could just imagine how irate he’d be if another man claimed me. Knowing Easton, he’d react with his usual possessive jealousy, making something short of a scene until the wrong was righted. I didn’t need the stress of all of that to spoil the evening.

I would simply find him first so that he could claim me and avoid any unnecessary conflict. I wanted this to be our best New Year’s Eve together ever, remembering back to the first one in Belize two years ago.

I sighed, remembering how totally electrifying he was that night; the mysterious E.J., giving me a mind-blowing ‘O,’ and then taking off in a limo into the night. He had been so wicked doing what he had done to me in a public place, where any number of people could have walked up on us at any moment. That was what had made it so fucking hot.

Jo Anna poked her head over the curtain of my dressing room.

“How’s it going milady?” she asked, smiling as she looked me over. “Wow, you rock that gown, babe.”

I giggled as I lifted it up a bit and gave her my rendition of a gentile lady’s curtsy. I had layers of lace-edged crinoline petticoats that served to poof the skirt of the gown out properly. They swished noisily when I walked.

“Is your man gonna be able to find your legs under all of that?” she asked, laughing.

“Yep,” I replied, lifting the layers of ruffles up to present my silk-stockinged leg.

“You’re good to go then,” she said with approval. “Don’t forget your gloves,” she said. “Hands are to be covered, too.”

I slipped the white lacy gloves on and Jo Anna helped me put my masquerade mask on, making sure to free the red ringlet curls from the elastic band in the back.

An unmasked gentleman in a tuxedo escorted me out to the grand ballroom where all of the other women, decked out in similar antebellum gowns and wigs, were enjoying the start of the festivities.

I was handed a flute of champagne as I took a few moments to look around for the others. By the time the double doors to the grand ballroom were opened, allowing the men to enter, I was pretty sure I had identified Lindsey. She was decked out in a ruby red silk dress, with puffed out sleeves and a black wig with a coiled braid wrapped around the crown of her head. She was standing next to a taller woman who was wearing a dark blue gown, and a wig that had a blonde cascade of curls flowing from her head. I was fairly certain
that
was Ronnie.

I started over toward them, sipping my champagne and noticing some of the men that were obviously on a mission to find their women and be done with it. The costumes were fantastic.

Just as I was approaching the woman I thought was Lindsey, a tall gentleman, wearing a powdered wig and looking like someone from the Revolutionary War, bowed before her and presented her with a black silk garter that matched his scarf.

“Raise that dress, baby girl.”

I heard Lindsey’s unmistakable giggle as she lifted her crinolines, allowing Taz to slip the garter up to her thigh.

“Taz,” she gushed, taking his hand as they walked off together to find his name card at one of the tables.

More gentlemen were entering the ballroom and I had decided I needed to work fast to locate Easton and be done with this part of the game. I downed the rest of my champagne, my eyes darting around the room anxiously to see if he’d come in yet.

There! I saw him. At 6’ 3” it wasn’t all that difficult to pick him out in a crowd. I hitched up my dress to make sure I didn’t trip and crossed the room to where he stood, sipping amber-colored liquor in a glass with ice.

That’s his bourbon—ah hah!

He was dressed in a dark mocha brown frock coat, with black, brushed-cotton trousers. He had salt and pepper hair, with an impressive black top hat perched on his head. His dress shirt was starched white, with ruffled sleeves, and he wore a rust-colored, silk puff tie. He had a dapper chap walking stick as an accessory. That had probably been his way of letting me know it was him. It
totally
resembled a crop.

My Easton. Totally predictable if nothing else.

I stifled a giggle as I walked by him, waiting for him to make a move. Maybe he’d pick up on my pheromone scent like Taz had immediately done with Lindsey.

Nothing.

I wondered if he was still pissed at me for snapping at him earlier. I sashayed by him again, brushing my ringlets back from my mask, so at lease he could see the lower half of my face easier.

Nada.

Fuck this shit. I walked over to wear he was leaning against the back of a chair and proceeded to prop my leg up on the seat of the chair, raising my skirt and the petticoats underneath to give him a clear shot at my leg.

“Put the garter on, Easy-E,” I whispered loudly. “Let’s be done with it, okay?”

He shrugged and dug down into the pocket of his frock coat and pulled out a silk, rust-colored garter. I lifted my foot a bit, allowing his gloved hand to shimmy the garter up over my knee to my thigh. He gave my thigh an appreciative rub once the garter was in place.

“Cad,” I whispered, giggling and lowering my skirt back down.

Now I could relax and watch the others find their mates. It was comical to watch as some of the females got perturbed when it appeared obvious their mate was having difficulty.

I grabbed another flute of champagne as a server walked by with a tray, sipping and watching as Jo Anna was now trying to facilitate getting everyone coupled up.

Within a few minutes, everyone had found their mate with the exception of one woman left over.

Huh?

Just then, the ballroom door opened and the missing mate came in, looking resplendent dressed in a black waistcoat, black trousers, and a puffy silk shirt with a royal blue cravat. He looked to be as tall as Easton in those polished black boots.

Jo Anna directed him over to his mate and I watched as she lifted her dress, allowing him to fit the frilly royal blue garter up over her slender leg.

Everyone clapped as the game finished.

Finally.

I was so ready to lose this mask and start some real New Year’s Eve partying.

Jo Anna took the microphone and instructed all of the gentlemen to take their ladies arms and find their name placards at the table they had been assigned.

Easton took my arm and led me over to a table in the center, pulling my chair out for me so that I could take a seat. Each table was large enough to accommodate six people.

I took my seat, scrunching my gown underneath me so that Easton could easily slip into his chair next to me. Then I noticed the name placard in front of his chair. It read: Roscoe Bitters.

The hell…?

~ Easton ~

Bloody hell! I’d over-slept this afternoon after Darcy had stormed out all pissed off at my suggestion—and of course, my choice of words hadn’t helped matters any. I damn near slept through the happy hour of this festivity, getting there just as one lonely female with no mate was standing looking a bit perplexed I imagined, only because I couldn’t actually see the majority of her face because of the mask.

I slipped the bloody garter onto her leg, knowing damn well it wasn’t Darcy, which meant that some prat had gone and claimed my wife as his. Fuck me.

I was instructed to take ‘my lady’ to the table with my name on the placard, which was easy to find since everyone else was already seated. As I held the chair out for whomever it was I’d claimed, I heard a recognizable hiss from the table behind ours. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was definitely Darcy’s voice.

“Okay everyone,” the lady at the microphone called out. “You may remove your masks now. Someone will be by to collect them and then dinner will be served. We have an open bar here, and champagne for everyone as well. So, feel free to mingle and to start enjoying your evening with your New Year’s Eve mate!”

I pulled my mask off, glad to be rid of the bloody thing. My “mate” did the same and I could see she was fairly young and extremely pretty. She looked to be in her late twenties or possibly thirty. She was obviously wearing a wig so I had no idea what her natural hair looked like, but the wig she was wearing was about the same color as Darcy’s natural hair.