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I move to make my escape, taking only two steps before I hear the deep, accented voice say, “Stop.”
I do as it commands, though I keep my back to him. His steps grow closer and closer, the harsh sound ringing in my ears. I sense his proximity and am forced to acknowledge that my hands have begun to tremble as he stops just behind me.
“Turn around.” His thick Scottish brogue makes the words vibrate through me.
I don’t want to look at him again. I want to keep moving forward and act as if he is not standing close enough for me to feel his body’s warmth. But he would think I’m a coward, not worthy of my family’s name, andthatwill never do.
I inhale the deep breath I desperately need and hesitantly turn around. Again, I am unable to hold in a gasp, one loud enough to echo through the hall. He’s in uniform. “My God, you’re a…a…captain in the King’s Navy,” I hiss as my fingers come up to my lips, holding in words I might regret.
“Aye, I am. And yer a spy.” He pauses, arches a brow and smirks. “Or perhaps ye are a true voyeur, in every sense o’ the word.”
Appalled at his suggestion, my spine straightens as my hands land firmly on my hips. “I beg your pardon! How dare you suggest such a thing?”
He throws his head back and laughs, deep and masculine, and I despise that a part of me enjoys the sound. “Ah, lass. That is humor at its finest. How could I possibly come up with such a preposterous conclusion?” He leans forward, head bowing to look down at me with his blazing turquoise eyes. “I am a bit surprised to find ye are a proper lady. What is yer name?”
I refuse to answer right away, so I hold my ground and return the hardest stare I can muster. How and why did God create a man so physically appealing it makes my hands ache with wanting to touch him? To reach up and trace the perfect outline of his wide lips with the tip of my finger, to run them all through the glossy black tresses that were disheveled, hanging just below his shoulders in the conservatory but are now perfectly combed and plaited at the nape of his neck. A part of me wants to hate him for his perfection, but perhaps more so because of his unwavering confidence in what should be a terribly awkward situation. In a show of courage, I offer him what he asked for, albeit incomplete. “Ella.”
His eyes lose all humor as the blue-green color that glows against his tanned skin is almost completely hidden by the black center, like an animal in the night. “Where are yer wings, Ella?” TheRs roll through his nonsensical question before he pauses to say my name like I have never heard it spoken before. The four simple letters have never sounded more beautiful, more feminine than the way they did when spoken by this man. A man that seems to enjoy playing with me like a cat plays with a mouse.
“That is an absurd question.”
“Ah. Then ye don’t know the meaning of yer lovely name.” He continues to stare at me, as if to study the features of my face. The intimacy of it making my heart race and my body heat up uncomfortably. He reaches up to run his thumb along my jawline, my knees weaken as he explains, “Ella… faerie maiden.” Again, his brogue makes the simple words seem special somehow. But his unusual definition of my name, the warmth of his touch, and the spicy scent surrounding him are making my stomach fill with butterflies.
When he pulls his hand away, he stands a little straighter and focuses on my eyes. “I can’na think of a more perfect name fer the ethereal creature that snuck up on me in the conservatory. Although, fer a faerie maiden, ye weren’t very inconspicuous.” His words and voice are hypnotic as they melt down my spine. “I could sense yer presence. Knew ye were excited to see me. It drove me mad…” He moves closer to me, forcing my head back further. “I could feel ye there more than the sweet lass that was kind enough to pleasure me.” He pauses again, continuing the intimate perusal of my face. “Did ye know my compliment was meant fer you,notfer her?” His question intrigues me in a way that makes me afraid…afraid of him and the feelings he stirs inside me.
I’m becoming lightheaded. Like this is a dream. Gentlemen do not talk to ladies this way. It is beyond improper. Yet, he has captured my attention, for I believe that he is telling the truth; he could feel me—for I could certainly feel him— and that notion has my entire body tingling with wanton desire.
“You cannot talk to me this way. You…you can’t say such things.” I shift my gaze from his and step back, far enough to give myself room to breathe and glance around to ensure no one is near. “As a gentleman, you should know better. This conversation could ruin my reputation.” The fear of that reality snaps me out of the trance I believe he has purposefully put me in.
“I would’na let that happen,” he responds without hesitation.
“Is that so? Then I shall walk away, and this time you will not stop me. Just standing here talking to you unchaperoned is enough to start rumors that will make it so.” Taking another step back, hoping to begin my retreat, I see his eyes drop to my chest. The subtle action makes my breasts seem heavy and tight.
Lifting his chin, he smiles, his eyes clearly locked on the necklace I now regret wearing. “’Tis lovely. It matches yer eyes.” His accurate observation makes me shy as I look away, not wanting him to see his effect on me. “Look at me, Ella.” He seems able to command my every move as I do as he says, wishing the way his accent on my name didn’t cause my stomach to do flips inside me. “They remind me of the clear waters surrounding the Bahamian islands. Ye cannot find a more beautiful shade of blue anywhere in the world.” He looks down at the stones resting upon my chest. “The aquamarine is said to be a treasure of the mermaids. It is used as a talisman by sailors to bring them good luck and protection.” He reaches up and gently takes hold of the dangling trail of gems, his fingers caressing the skin he should never take the liberty of touching. My nipples harden painfully, and my breath stops on a sharp inhale. The back of his hand is warm and heavy as he rests it there to rub his thumb across the smooth surface of a stone. My eyes close as I fight against the desire forming in my core.
“Open yer eyes, faerie maiden.” Again, I do as he commands. His voice is smooth, like velvet. “The aquamarine is also said to encourage truth-telling.” His smirk accompanies an arched brow. “I think we should test the theory.”
I don’t like where this is leading. My heart is beating so erratically in my chest, he must feel it as his fingers are still resting just above it. I look up at him with a desperate plea to release the hold that his touch, his voice, his scent,those eyeshave on me. “Tell me, Ella. Did ye enjoy coming undone while ye were watching me?”
Without a second’s hesitation, my open hand lands a stinging slap across his perfect face. “You bastard!” The angry word escapes my mouth for the first time in my life. “I will not stand here and allow you to insult me with your arrogant games any longer. How dare you take such liberties with me! Clearly that uniform has been wasted on a lowlyScot. The king may try with all his might to refine you barbarians in the north, but I fear his charitable efforts have gone to waste.” With haste, I turn for the ballroom entrance, wanting desperately to disappear from this humiliating scene.
“Ella!” My name echoes around me.
I stop just before I reach the door and peer over my shoulder. My heart sinks at the sight of his expression. I don’t care. I can’t. “Do not ever speak to me again. I am the daughter of the Duke of Somerset, which meansyouare beneath me. It will do you well to remember your place.”
Without another word or moment’s hesitation, I enter the crowded ballroom.
