Clarice placed one slender, bejeweled hand on Natalia’s forehead, her lovely face full of concern. “You don’t feel hot. Is it your stomach?”
Natalia nodded and turned to her father. “Would you mind if I left the party early, Father?”
The duke stared at her for a long moment, but her flushed face and the tremors of excitement she couldn’t conceal seemed to convince him she was truly sick. “Go ahead, I’ll make your excuses.”
Hardly daring to believe her luck, she fled the ballroom as quickly as propriety would allow, careful not to glance in Captain Blake’s direction even once. She didn’t want her disappearance linked to the one he’d make in just a little less than forty-five minutes.
Once inside her room, she dismissed her maid, Cora. She refused to allow the girl to unlace her gown on the pretense she might want to return to the ball later, after she’d rested a bit. Then she sat in a chintz-covered chair in front of the fireplace.
With so much time to analyze her actions, she couldn’t help but regret her impetuous actions. Whatever had she been thinking? If she were found out, it would ruin her.
Was it worth it, to risk so much over a man she barely knew?
Closing her eyes, she remembered the way it felt to be in his arms—the intensity in those beautiful gray eyes when she’d told him she wanted to see him in private. He’d seemed so surprised to have finally won her favor, so genuinely glad she’d admitted her feelings.
Hugging herself tightly, she knew she’d risk anything to have that again. To have more than that. A kiss. A caress. Sweet words in the dark…
As Clarice had so eloquently reminded her, she was running out of time. This would be her one act of rebellion. The only thing she’d ever done for herself.
Tomorrow, she would once again become the duke’s dutiful daughter. She would marry whomever he decided without one whisper of complaint. She could endure anything, as long as she had memories of a night with Dylan to keep her company.
The minutes crawled by, but at last, the appointed time arrived, and she crept out of her room and down the long silent hall. She descended the back stairs, her heart pounding in her chest as she evaded the busy servants.
Once outside, she breathed in the crisp rose-scented air and made her way to the secluded nook of the garden where she’d arranged to meet Captain Blake. A stone bench covered by a small wooden arbor squatted in the corner against the wall. This area was hidden by an overgrown hedge and was the perfect place for an illicit tryst.
Time passed, and her panic grew as she faced a fear that hadn’t even occurred to her before. What if he didn’t come?
Thankfully, she didn’t have to contemplate such a horrible thought for long. He materialized out of the darkness, a tall lean figure dressed in black. As he rounded the hedge, a shaft of light from the house illuminated his stark male beauty. His pale gaze locked with hers for one heartrending moment before he stepped back into the shadows.
Enchanted, she stood and moved toward him. He caught her in his arms, spun her round and round, and laughed beneath his breath. After a moment, he stopped, and she buried her face against his chest.
“I didn’t think you were going to come.” She reveled in the simple pleasure of his embrace. Her father was not a demonstrative man, and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had simply held her.
Not that being held by Dylan Blake was like anything she’d ever experienced. His strength and warmth seeped beneath her skin and cradled her very heart. His scent, a clean, crisp mix of soap and leather, overwhelmed her. She didn’t want him to ever let her go.
He raised her chin so he could meet her gaze, his own eyes full of rueful amusement. “I shouldn’t have. I didn’t intend to. But in the end, I couldn’t bear to let this moment slip away.”
She lifted her hand and touched his cheek with her fingertips. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He held her for a moment more and then looked over his shoulder, as though to ensure no one else was around. Satisfied, he pulled her toward the bench, taking them farther out of sight.
She settled beside him, so close her skirts brushed his thigh. Holding her gaze, he took her wrist and unbuttoned her glove. Intimacy wrapped around them like a blanket, and her pulse accelerated as he peeled the glove away. When he finished, he tucked the scrap of silk into his breast pocket and lifted her hand to his lips.
His mouth was warm and surprisingly soft against the center of her palm. She inhaled sharply, and he looked up at her through those extravagant lashes, a troubled frown turning down the corners of his sensuous lips.
“Why me? You’re taking a huge risk, meeting me this way. I don’t understand.”
She didn’t really understand herself, but she sensed he wanted far more from her than a glib reply. “I fell in love with the very thought of you,” she admitted, embarrassed by the naïve young girl she’d been such a short while ago. “I’ve read all the newspaper articles of your exploits, and I desperately wanted to meet the hero, Captain Blake.”
“I’m not a hero, Natalia.” As he spoke, he stroked her palm with the warm pad of his thumb. The sensation melted something deep inside her, and she had a hard time remembering what she wanted to say.
“You risked your life to save someone else’s. If that’s not the definition of heroism, I don’t know what is.”
He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe the extent of her foolishness. “What was I to do? Leave those men to die? There was no heroism involved. Anyone else would have done the same thing.”
“No,” she whispered. “Most people would have only worried about their own necks. They wouldn’t have gone back into the fray three times to drug wounded men to safety.”
“Well, if you thought me such a hero and were so eager to meet me, why did you rebuff me the first time I asked you to dance?” He closed his hand around hers and stared into her eyes as though he could somehow see inside her soul. “You realized right away I wasn’t the man you thought me to be.”
