“I am sure she is somewhere nearby,” Colin replied, weaving her arm through his once more. “She is not the sort of lady who would allow her daughter to wander unchaperoned. Fear not.”
Frowning, but knowing that Colin was right, Isolde allowed herself to relax again. Soon enough, she settled back into the peace of the gardens, following Colin’s lead as if they were back on the dance floor. Although, shedidlisten out more intently for the telltale crunch of her mother’s shoes on the pathways, but as the time wore on, that comforting sound never materialized.
“She must be lost,” Isolde said, pulling away from Colin, intending to make her way back through the gardens until she found her mother.
But Colin’s hand closed around her wrist, tugging her into him rather vigorously. “Do not worry about your mother. She is up there somewhere, conversing withmymother.”
“What do you mean? How can you possibly know that?” Isolde tried to shove him backward, but he would not budge.
“I asked her to intervene on my behalf,” Colin replied, holding her so tightly that she could not breathe, as if he meant to crush her against his chest. “I thought it might be of benefit to the two of us if we were entirely alone for a short while. Indeed, I cannot very well kiss the most beautiful lady in society in front of everyone, now, can I? I should hate for us to cause a scandal.”
Isolde released the rebellious girl who, for the most part, remained hidden inside her, buried deep. She glowered at Colin and slammed her palms into his chest, noting his wince with some satisfaction. He still wore his bird mask, but the mask beneath had slipped; he wasnotas nice nor as gentlemanly as he would have had her believe.
She told him as much. “I do not appreciate tricks and deceits, Lord Fenton,” she hissed. “Invite me into beautiful gardens under false pretenses at your peril. You do not know my true nature, and I doubt you would find her as gracious as I am being right now. So, with the greatest disrespect, please unhand me.”
“But I have not had my kiss,” Colin purred, eyes glinting. “I will not be going anywhere until I have savored what those other gentlemen in there can only dream about. So, with the greatest respect, hold still so I can kiss you, and truly stake my claim.”
Her hand flew up and smacked against his mouth as he tried to dip his head to kiss her. She pushed with all her might, his neck arcing back, but his arms around her waist held her firmly.
“Unhand me,” she seethed, furious with herself for trusting in the sweet words of such a man.
A crunch of heavy footfalls on the pathway preceded a gruff, gravelly voice that growled, “You heard the lady. Take your hands off her.” The footsteps drew nearer. “As for staking your claim, think again. And never again touch what is not yours. I do not tolerateanyonetouching what is mine.”
Isolde did not know the voice, did not know what he meant by his words, and though she feared the insinuation, she feared Colin more in that moment.
“Yours?” Colin scoffed, thrashing his head to escape Isolde’s clawing hand.
A shadow emerged from a gap in the torchlit hedge, a short distance away. A tall figure in a greatcoat, apparently oblivious to the balmy warmth of the evening, the tails of the garment flapping in the light breeze. He wore a top hat and in a flare of amber light from the flickering flame, she caught the glint of an elegant mask beneath the rim: bronze roses and thorns coiling and weaving across the upper part of his face, his eyes dark and menacing through the almond-shaped holes.
A rough hand seized Colin’s arm and flung it away with considerable strength, while another rough hand grabbed Isolde by the wrist and pulled her from danger’s grip, hauling her toward the mysterious figure instead. He tugged her so fiercely that she hit his chest with a thump, but she made no attempt to run from him or to free herself fromhisgrip.
His powerful arm snaked around her waist, strong and secure, and though he did not squeeze her or constrict her or hold her there with any distinct force, she felt quite breathless in his unexpected embrace. Her cheeks, too, were flushed with such heat, as though she had sprinted through the gardens back to the palace already.
It is the night air, that is all,she told herself, fully aware that it had more to do with the hard muscle underneath her palm, and the way her unknown champion had almost curved himself around her to keep her safe; his broad shoulders rounded.
“You spoke of your mother,” the man said in that same rumbling growl. “If you do not want her to find out that she raised a scoundrel, I suggest you begin running.”
Colin’s mouth opened and closed like a beached fish, but he finally found his voice. “How long have you been following us? Are you some manner of degenerate?”
“I know a sly weasel when I see one,” the rescuer replied. “I thought it best to keep an eye on you. And Iwillbe keeping an eye on you, Lord Fenton, so remember to watch your back. You never know where I might be next, and I might feel less generous on that day.”
Colin did not need to be told a third time. Whirling around, he took off up the shadowed pathway, sprinting as if Isolde’s masked savior were chasing him, leaving the scene of his crime without so much as an apology to the woman he had tried to kiss without permission.
But I shall have an apology,she vowed, glaring after the cretin.
“Thank you,” she said, turning toward the tall, unseasonably dressed gentleman who had likely saved her reputation, though there could be no denying that the night was truly ruined now. And, surprisingly, not at Edmund’s hand.
The man released her slowly, and she had to resist the urge to cling on a while longer, embarrassed that she would even have such a notion. But he did not respond to her thanks, simply bowing his head. Perhaps, he might have said something eventually, if the sound of ladies’ voices had not drifted on the breeze to their ears at that moment.
Passing by the torchlight, he turned and left her with one lingering, gleaming glance before he disappeared through the gap in the hedges, melting back into the shadows from whence he came.
Stung as she was by her rescuer’s silence, Isolde wasted no time breaking into a run of her own, eager to find her mother and return to her brother as quickly as possible. In truth, she had had quite enough of the palace gardens, and society in general, for one evening.
Her debut, it seemed, had no choice but to be cut short.
“And you never heard his name?” Prudence hugged the pillow she had snatched out from under Isolde’s head to wake her up, desperate to hear all of the events of the night before. At three-and-ten, the youngest of the Wilds sisters had a greater thirst for gossip than even the most seasoned of society’s scandalmongers.
Isolde shook her head, glancing at Teresa, who perched daintily on the end of the bed, pretending to read a book. But she had not turned the page in at least twenty minutes, not while Isolde hadtold the thrilling tale of a mysterious stranger who had emerged from the shadows to save her from the clutches of the dastardly Marquess of Fenton.
