“That’s better,” the man said, and Phaedra vaguely noticed they weren’t on the dance floor anymore. They were floating on a cloud away from the dancers. They reached a flight of stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“A more private setting.”
Another man’s face flashed in her mind. “I don’t think that’s—”
His face suddenly came closer to hers. Almost like he wanted to kiss her.
This is not right.
If she didn’t do something, this knave was going to kiss her. While a part of her found that funny, another part—a more instinctual part—recognized that she could not let that happen, no matter what.
A stranger wanted to kiss her.
Phaedra tried hard to collect her scattered thoughts. There was something she should be remembering. A reason why she should be fighting tooth and nail, but her body seemed to have surrendered all rational sense. Her mind seemed like a faraway star, one whose sparkle diminished as it pulled away farther, leaving her no control of her body.
And what her body wanted...
Deerhurst.
Ah, Deerhurst.
The missing thread that guided her back to semi-reality. She was here with Deerhurst. Danced with him. Kissed him. This man wasnotDeerhurst. He had stolen her away from her earl! Their kiss had been so enthralling, Phaedra hadn’t wanted it to end. Now, this rogue’s friends might even be causing Deerhurst trouble. If she allowed this barbarian to touch her, everything would be ruined. Deerhurst would scold her. He would be disappointed in her.
She didn’t want that.Ever.
Slowly, some of the fog lifted from her mind.
Phaedra pushed the man away from her as he came closer. She struggled from his grip, and almost wished she hadn’t. Her leap turned out to be more of a stumble, and the world spun around her. She staggered forward, she thought, but couldn’t be sure, and then suddenly, before she could hit the ground, she was hoisted up into an unwelcome hold.
The man had tossed her over his shoulder.
“No more of that,” he growled.
She was about to cry out for help when the weight of his body disappeared from beneath her and she was placed aside. Punches and grunts followed soon after. It was over before she could scramble to her feet, and then a familiar scent enveloped her, and she was lifted into a strong embrace.
Deerhurst.
His voice rumbled in her ear, “I am going to beat you within an inch of your life.”
Phaedra blinked.
“Four rules. Four! That was all you had to follow. Always stay at my side. Don’t dance with anyone. Don’t accept drink from anyone. Don’t smile.”
Phaedra slumped her head against his shoulder. She wanted to explain, she truly did, but her brain hadn’t yet been able to connect words together into a coherent sentence. Whatever that man had put in that drink, it had thoroughly rendered her a dimwit.
“Then I find you following a man to the private chambers,” Deerhurst bit out. “Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t intervened in time?”
I didn’t follow him.
“Thankfully, your mask is still in place.”
She frowned.
She also wanted to laugh. And cry. In the end, she chose to focus on the warmth of Deerhurst’s body. He alone gave her comfort. She wanted to ask if they were leaving, but her answer came a moment later when he shoved her into a carriage.
Phaedra scrambled to sit upright, but wouldn’t you know it, the only position she could manage was a slump. Why was he scolding her? Where hadhebeen this entire time?
