This is Prompt No. 13-Lust

"Mademoiselle, might I have a dance with the loveliest lady in the room?" The voice was deep and almost harsh in its hardness. Mitchie turned and found a young man with piercing black eyes staring down at her, almost a full head taller than she. His request startled her, for no one but the harlequin in the corner had taken any notice of her tonight in her out of fashion gown. For some reason, she felt unable to speak.

Lady Tess answered for her, giving her a little push towards the young man, who was already standing rather close. "Of course you may," she told the gentleman. "Take good care of her."

There was something about the way the man's cold eyes sparkled as he said, "Oh I will," that made Mitchie shudder as he pulled her easily into his arms, wheeling her out onto the dance floor to swirl around with the other couples. Mitchie let her gaze drift from the man holding her to the corner where the harlequin had been sitting and found him still there, watching her intently. Could that even be a scowl on his face, partially hidden under that black mask of his?

There was no doubt in Mitchie's mind that this man that danced with her was of excellent breeding, for he handled her with the perfect poise and grace, but there was a hardness in the way he gripped her waist, and a possessiveness in the way he spun her around that made Mitchie guess that he was a man rather used to getting his way with women. The thought made her shudder again, and the action proved to be her undoing.

"Cold, my darling?" the young man asked.

"Since when have I become his darling?" Mitchie wondered, and the thought delayed her answer for too long.

"Come," he commanded, gripping her elbow and giving her no choice but to follow. "We shall see what we can do about that."

They left the ballroom and the young man practically dragged Mitchie down the hall to a small study of to the side. The sounds of the ballroom were distant, and Mitchie knew that should she call out, there would be no one to hear her. She cringed and tensed as the door closed, struggling in vain. It was up to her now, for she was all alone.

No sooner had she thought this than the young man had backed her into a corner and was pressing himself closer and closer to her, his eyes gleaming at the promise of a conquest this night. Mitchie kicked and squirmed, making it perfectly clear even to someone rather simple minded that she wanted no part in these loquacious activities, but the man persisted.

"Don't!" she gasped out, just as the door to the study flew open.

The man who held her captive whirled around, dropping Mitchie to the floor in an undignified heap in his surprise. There, with his brown eyes flashing behind his mask, stood the harlequin, his whole body tensed for a fight. "She said don't," he said evenly, and his voice, so different from that of the Frenchman's, soothed Mitchie's nerves even in this tensed situation.

To her dismay, she saw the Frenchman tense as well, clenching his fists. She pushed herself back into the corner of the study, gulping. This young man was not about to relinquish his prize so easily.