The Cinderella Obsession (2 page)

* * * *

Tucking the full skirt of her gown into her compact Ford Escort was no small feat. It occurred to her that her sturdy, practical little sedan wouldn’t be the kind of car the other guests would arrive in. In fact, her car would stand out among the crowd specifically because it was so ordinary. For someone who wanted to remain anonymous, this was not a good thing. As she drove toward the posh Rosedale area of Toronto, the solution clip-clopped right by her. A hansom cab. Vanessa found a parking space about a mile from Erin Gate mansion and carefully drew herself, and her gown, from the car. She flagged down a hansom cab and rode through the gates of the estate and up the winding road to the mansion in style, feeling quite pleased with herself.

* * * *

As they reached the top of the hill, Vanessa saw a beautiful stone mansion. Off to one side of the main building stood a huge six-car garage, probably a carriage house a hundred years or so ago. A drive circled by the front walk, allowing chauffeurs to drop guests off, then pull away. Moonlight spilled over the stone walkway, a cool contrast to the warm lights glowing from the many windows of the immense house.

So this was where her stepmother had grown up. No wonder she had felt cramped in the small townhouse her father provided for them. This beautiful structure went on and on, spreading into the darkness without end. Vanessa gathered her skirt together as the driver hopped to the ground to help her from the cab. She tried to alight like the graceful lady she appeared, then walked to the door, excitement rising with each step.

She slid the
white feather
mask over her eyes, then grasped the heavy brass knocker and rapped on the door. A moment later it opened and a butler greeted her in a polite British accent.

Vanessa felt caught up in the pure magic of the occasion as soon as she stepped inside the door. The room beyond the entryway had a cathedral ceiling that rose a good three stories high. Her father’s whole house would have fit in this single room. She smiled as she saw a small balcony on the second story overlooking the gigantic room. A man stood at the railing, watching the throng of people around her. He stood in shadow so she couldn’t see much of him, but she felt his gaze catch on her and follow as the butler led her through a door to a crowded room with a food table and pointed out the bar. Her skirts swished around her legs as she followed the music to a ballroom. Bright colored costumes flashed by her--Rapunzel, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast.

Lively music flowed around her and she watched as couples twirled around the dance floor, barely hindered by their sometimes cumbersome costumes. A waiter carrying a silver tray filled with crystal champagne flutes drifted past her and she swept up a glass and sipped. The bubbles tickled her nose and the warmth that started in her throat slowly crept through her entire body until she wiggled her toes in the end of her pretend glass slippers. She stifled a giggle of sheer joy.

For a while she drifted between groups of people, connecting to one and listening to the conversation for a while, then drifting on to another. The varied topics ranged anywhere from banking to the latest movies. Vanessa stayed on the outskirts, listening.

Another waiter with a silver tray floated past and she discarded her empty glass and scooped up a full one. Vanessa paused, the rim of her glass just touching her lip, as her gaze locked on the perfect Prince Charming. An incredibly gorgeous man, he dressed the part in purple and gold, an ermine-trimmed cape slung over his shoulders and a golden circlet nestled in the dark wavy hair curling around his ears and over his collar. He wore no mask and his strong, masculine features were deftly chiseled to form a classically handsome face. As Vanessa watched in fascination, wishing she could get up the nerve to go and talk to him, he chatted amiably to a woman dressed as Snow White. A fleeting sweep of jealousy flickered through her as she realized the woman must be his date, but she pushed it aside. After all, she didn’t even belong here, let alone with a man who traveled in this social circle. What a laugh. Little Vanessa from the wrong side of the tracks on the arm of a man like that. An unbelievably attractive, compelling man.

As she smiled at the thought, the man’s gaze flicked up and fastened on her. Vanessa froze in mid-breath, her smile locked in place. His eyes glowed. The smile spreading across his face slowly lit up his features and, though she would have thought it impossible, made him look even more heart-wrenchingly attractive.

He said something to his companion, then strode toward Vanessa. She quickly patted her wig and brought her hand to her
feather
mask, ensuring it was secure. Why would he be coming over here? Did he suspect she shouldn’t be here?

But he continued to smile so brilliantly. Maybe he just wanted to talk. But why? There were so many beautiful women around her--like the one he’d just left behind. Maybe it would be better not to find out, she decided.

She turned and slipped through the crowd, but had only gone a few yards when someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. She found herself face-to-face with a tall, attractive man dressed as a prince from the Arabian Nights.

"So you are here. Weren’t you even going to say hello?" His face looked taut, almost angry.

"Hello," she stammered hoarsely.

"What’s wrong with your voice?"

She stared up at him, wondering what to do. If she talked, he would know she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. The only thing she could do was establish a reason why she couldn’t speak. She remembered that the woman she replaced tonight was sick, so she roughened her voice into a hoarse whisper as she said, "Laryngitis."

"I see. You really shouldn’t use your voice but…." He took her hands and held them tightly, staring into her eyes intently. She could feel his tension like a cord tightening around them. "It’s important that we talk, sweetheart. I don’t want things to end between us. Will you meet me after the party?"

She’d been wrong. Anger didn’t tinge those troubled eyes with darkness, but frustration, with the added shading of tenderness and concern.

Good heavens. What had she gotten herself into? Had she dropped into the middle of a lovers’ quarrel? She didn’t want to make life difficult for the innocent woman lying sick at home tonight, but she couldn’t agree to meet him. How would she explain?

Luckily, she didn’t have to decide because at that moment, Prince Charming arrived.

"Amy, here you are. I didn’t think you could come." He drew Vanessa’s hand to his lips and brushed them across her knuckles. "You look enchanting."

The touch of his lips sent a shivering tremor through her. She looked into his eyes and felt her insides melting. His spicy scent stimulated her senses. Intoxicating. She breathed him in, his essence infusing her body with desire. She fought the urge to lean toward him and nuzzle his neck, to inhale her greedy fill.

His smile warmed and he gathered her hand in his. The
frisson
of excitement that rippled through her at his touch exhilarated her.

"Amy, you haven’t answered me," the Arabian prince demanded.

"Kyle, Amy is with me tonight. I don’t really think it would be appropriate for her to go off with you after the party, do you?"

"With him?" the man named Kyle directed at Vanessa. "Is that right, Amy?"

Vanessa glanced from one man to the other and couldn’t think of any reason Prince Charming might by lying, so she nodded.

Kyle scowled. "And I believed you when you told me the two of you were just good friends." He turned to the other man. "You didn’t wait long to move in, did you?" He turned and stormed away.

Vanessa’s sensible side scolded her for doing anything as foolish as coming to the ball. At the same time, she felt a thrill at being fought over by two such magnificently handsome men. Especially the one by her side now.

"I’d say he’s definitely jealous." He tucked her hand in the bend of his elbow. "Come, you must dance with me."

Stunned, she started to stutter a protest, but fear of discovery held her silent. She didn’t want to risk trouble for both herself and Rachel.

Before she knew it, he swept her onto the dance floor and slid one arm around her waist. He led her around the other dancers with graceful ease and she found herself relaxing slightly, enjoying the ride.

She watched him surreptitiously from behind her mask. So, he thought she was a woman named Amy. Obviously he knew Amy fairly well, judging from the fact that he felt comfortable kissing her on the hand and holding her close on the dance floor without any encouragement at all.

"Amy, you’re not saying much tonight."

She patted her throat and shook her head.

"Laryngitis? Are you contagious?"

Vanessa shook her head again. He pulled her tight to his body and, suddenly, she felt very glad Amy had taken sick. Could this man be Amy’s lover? Vanessa pushed aside the sharp stab of jealously at the thought. It didn’t really matter, because all Vanessa could possibly hope for would be this one evening with him. Still, a girl could dream.

"I’m glad. Now we can get on with the plan."

Plan?
If the plan was to drive her insane with wanting, then it was working wonders. She felt his warm breath wisping against her ear, then his lips brushed her temple and tremors of excitement quivered through her. He swirled his tongue around her ear and, at her slight gasp, he whispered, "This is just the beginning, sweetheart."

Things were getting badly out of control. Her pulse and heart rate had taken a quantum leap. She slid her hands to his chest and pushed weakly, desperate to distance herself from the source of fervent longing overtaking her senses.

His eyebrows raised slightly. "What? Too much?" He stroked his hand seductively down her back.

She avoided meeting his gaze, still sane enough to realize her eye color might not be the same as Amy’s. The song ended and another started up. He took her hand and led her off the floor.

"Let’s go somewhere more private," he murmured.

She slowed, their arms pulling taut between them. If she went somewhere private with him, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. She felt wild and reckless. The way he affected her senses gave her far too much pleasure. It couldn’t be good for her.

"But not too private, right?" He winked, as he continued across the room to a pair of French doors. He opened them and led her outside into the mild spring night. The quiet, broken only by the occasional chirp of a cricket, enveloped them both. The sweet smell of cherry blossoms filled the air and stars glittered like diamond dust sprinkled across the sky. She started to shake her head and reach for the door handle, terrified of being alone with him on a night designed for romance.

"Don’t worry, Amy. Everyone knows we’re out here. Including Kyle."

Kyle? Why should Amy care if Kyle knew she’d come out here? Was that this man’s way of telling her she was safe with him? He led her through the garden to a lovely white gazebo. Under the silvery light of the moon, the heady scent of
lilac
s caressing her senses, he pulled her into his arms and gazed down at her. "Amy, this is what you told me you wanted. Are you still sure?"

Silver moonlight cast his face in soft shadows. Mesmerized by his riveting blue eyes, she could only nod. Was he going to kiss her--or rather, Amy? She should protest. She must. But his body, strong against hers, felt so right, and a raging hunger tore through her, demanding that she let this happen. She’d never felt anything like this overwhelming need.

She nodded and his lips captured hers in a sweet, gentle assault. Her hands slid up his chest and curled around his neck, feeling the soft locks of his hair brush against her fingers. His tongue tantalized the edges of her mouth and she parted her lips and slipped her tongue out to meet his. A growl started low in his throat and what had been a light kiss flared, turning white hot and fiercely passionate. She clung to him tightly, moving her lips on his in an answering declaration of need. The impact vibrated through her body, reflected in his.

"Oh, God, Amy. You’ve never…." He pulled back and stared down at her intently. His fingers gently caressed her cheek. When she felt a slight tug on her mask, she jerked away, gasping.

"You aren’t Amy, are you?"

The tremors of passion turned to ripples of fear.

"Who are you and why are you wearing Amy’s costume?"

She pushed against his chest, trying to free herself from his embrace. One thought blazed in her mind, blinding her to everything else.

She had to get away.

"What’s wrong with you?" He grabbed her wrists tightly, preventing her escape. "Why are you so panicky? Have you done something wrong?"

Good heavens, why did he think that? But her guilty conscience shouted that she had done something wrong. She’d crashed the party.

"Let me see your face," he coaxed.

He started to reach for her mask again but, with a burst of strength, she jerked her hands from his grasp, batting his other hand from her mask. He caught one wrist before she could flee.

"My God, you’re afraid of me." He stilled her struggles with gentle hands, pulling her close to his body, sliding his arms around her. He brought his lips to hers in a gentle, giving kiss, then murmured against her lips, "I won’t hurt you. I don’t care why you’re in Amy’s costume or why you’re here uninvited." His lips caressed the length of her neck, nuzzled at the pulse point pounding wildly at the base. "Just come with me now." His persuasive words wrapped around her and squeezed away common sense. "We’ll go somewhere private and talk." He started to pull her across the moonlit garden, still holding her in the warmth of his embrace. "Give me a chance to get to know you."