“You mean Crane?” He nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”
Rosilee swept her gaze over the ballroom. May people were sneaking glances at them, and once more, she resisted the pull to search out her “guardian.” In fact, she caught herself mid-glance, snapping her attention back to the earl. Darnation! Why did her mind keep drifting toward the duke? His broodingpresence had an uncanny way of lingering, even when he wasn’t within arm’s reach—especially when he was not.
“You see . . . what?”
He shrugged, and leaned over to whisper, “Why his expression is so thunderous.”
“Thunderous?” Why should it be? She resisted another urge to look. “Is that so?”
The earl’s smile deepened as his eyes flicked discreetly to where she had left her companion. “He seems to have taken quite an interest in our stroll.”
Her heart pounded. “You must be mistaken.”
“I don’t think I am,” the earl murmured. “I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising.”
Rosilee laughed, and they strolled a few moments in silence before she said, “I imagine he is just protective.”
“And I dare say, if expressions could choke a man, I would’ve been laid out flat the moment you stopped me from dragging you onto the dance floor.”
Rosilee was suddenly amused. “That would mean you haven’t been paying attention to me, my lord. The duke is indeed popular.”
“Oh, I’ve been paying attention to you, which is why I’ve also remained aware of your guardian.”
Her response was cut short by a shadow falling over them, a quiet intrusion that seemed to still the very air around her. Rosilee blinked at the duke, her heart giving a sudden, unexpected jolt. It felt as though the world paused, just for a moment, leaving her breath caught somewhere between marvel and wonder. And a touch of curiosity. He wasn’t supposed to be here, not like this—watching, waiting. And certainly not looking at her so... intensely.
“You’re not dancing.”
Oh, dear lord. That’s right. She hadn’t thought of how it might look to others. But then, she hadn’t expectedhimto look at all.
Didn’t you? Haven’t you been wanting to look, too?
Dear heavens! What was she even thinking?
“Crane,” Stagbourne greeted the duke, his tone far too jovial for the tension that was suddenly sizzling. “Lady Rosilee and I decided to forgo dancing. Is that a problem?”
“No.” Clipped. He glanced at Rosilee. “I . . .”
She watched as words failed this big man. It was quite the spectacular sight. And it made her heart pound like mad.
I’m in so much trouble.
Moments earlier
“Crane.”
Blake stared at an almost—very almost—mirror image of himself. His chest went hot and cold at the same time, instant beads of sweat forming on the palms of his hands beneath his gloves. A scar split the man’s left brow, as much as a unique identifier as the man’s looks, and he sported some light bruising around the corner of his eye.
“You’re a Fury.”
“AFury?” The man laughed. “Is that how you greetahalf-brother?”
Half-brother. The very word felt foreign on Blake’s tongue.
“You—” His voice dropped a low, disbelieving. “What are you doing here? Don’t you Furys never leave Brighton?”
“That’s only Drake. And Saint. We are not all the same. There are seven of us. All handsome. Do you even know which brother you are speaking to?”
“You are the one they call Reaper.” It was a peculiar feeling, meeting a half-brother at such an event, and also speaking with each other as though the cavernous chasm of being utter strangers didn’t gape between them.
