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“Uh-huh.” She found refuge from his too-intense eyes by scanning the crowd of onlookers. It wasn’t until her gaze landed on the tall, powerfully built pirate who’d approached her earlier that she realized she’d been looking for him all along. He stood at the edge of the dance floor talking to a couple. They must have been saying their goodbyes for he shook the man’s hand and received a quick hug from the lady. He turned. For one intense moment, their eyes caught and held across the distance. But then the steps of the waltz spun her around and she lost sight of him.
“Isabelle, did you hear me?”
She forced herself to refocus on her partner. “Hmm?”
“I was trying to ask you—” He froze, which was probably a good thing since he looked downright exasperated.
It was only when he turned slightly away from her that she saw the man at his heels. Dressed in a costume fit for a drawing room in Regency England, he gave a shallow bow. “May I cut in?”
Chris scowled. “No.”
The gentleman stroked the curves of his immaculately shaped auburn mustache as he affected a very poor English accent. “Mr. Johansen, it is common courtesy to yield in such occasions.”
Chris’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know who I am?”
“As an artist always knows his own work, a barber recognizes every haircut he gives.”
As Chris slid his fingers through his blond hair, Isabelle barely withheld a groan of recognition. She should have recognized Amy’s childhood sweetheart the second she saw his mustache. “John Merriweather.”
“Miss Isabelle, I presume.” He bowed again. “May I have this dance?”
Chris kept hold of her hand. “Now, see here, John. You’ll just have to wait—”
“Absolutely, you may cut in, Mr. Merriweather.” She glanced between two men—one dejected, the other gloating. Lifting Chris’s hand, she placed it squarely in John’s. “It might look a little strange, but you gentlemen enjoy yourselves.”
She lingered only long enough to watch their mouths drop open as they jerked their hands back and glared at each other. Their protests rang in her ears as she left them on the dance floor. Fearing one or both might attempt to follow her—once they were done arguing with each other—she slipped out a side door into the hotel’s garden. A cold wind set her teeth chattering and hastened her down the path leading to the wide back porch. She reached for the door to reenter the hotel, but hesitated. Stepping farther into the shadows of the porch, she considered her options.
If she went back into the ballroom, she’d likely spend the rest of the night trying to avoid Amy’s spurned suitors. Her only other option was to leave the masquerade altogether. She grimaced at the thought of returning home early on a night free from her parents’ suspicious and watchful gazes. As much as she loved them, their overprotectiveness of her and her fifteen-year-old sister, Violet, had become stifling.
In the aftermath of Amy’s elopement with a former boarder at the family’s boardinghouse, her parents had become fixated on not letting that situation repeat itself. They’d even gone so far as to say they’d sell Bradley Boardinghouse if one more thing went wrong. Isabelle had laughed the first time they’d said it, thinking they were joking. They weren’t. However, all they’d done so far was talk about the possibility of selling. She was certain that with a little time they’d regain their love for the boardinghouse and no longer be tempted to consider anything as drastic as that. In the meantime, she’d simply have to make sure nothing else went wrong.
The sound of the door opening startled her from her reverie just as a man stepped out onto the porch. It wasn’t merely any man, though. It was the pirate she’d noticed inside. A coat covered most of his costume now, but he still wore the unmistakable tricornered hat. He paused to remove it. His mask came off next. A soft gasp filled her lungs as the golden light of a nearby lantern illuminated his handsome features. Shock eased his name from her lips with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Rhett Granger.”
He spun toward her. His eyes widened as she stepped from the shadows. “It’s you. What— Why are you out here? In the cold porch. On the cold. In the porch. I mean...” He shook his head and gave up.
Tilting her head, she stared at him in confusion. Land sakes! What had happened to him all of a sudden? She hadn’t heard him stumble around with his words like that since he’d been sweet on Amy.
From what she’d seen, Rhett had been left truly brokenhearted by Amy’s elopement. Isabelle had gotten to know him relatively well in the few months since her best friend, Helen, had married his best friend, Quinn. Before then, she’d only really thought of him as one of Amy’s admirers. Now she knew for certain that he was as honest, trustworthy and honorable as his reputation said he was. He was also about ten times as exasperating—usually.
Tonight, his amber eyes showed a vulnerability she’d never seen before. It prompted her to offer a gentle smile. “It was getting a little crowded in there. What about you? Where are you going?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Home. I’m not really in a party.”
He didn’t seem to notice his mistake this time, and she didn’t have the heart to point it out. Stepping forward, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and rattled them lightly in an attempt to shake him to his senses. “But it’s New Year’s Eve!”
“Yeah, I’m aware of that.” He softened the statement with a teasing grin. She felt his chest swell against the coat as he took a deep breath, which made her realize she was still holding on to his coat. She immediately released it. Before she could step back, he’d taken off the coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You must be freezing.”
“I didn’t realize how much until now.” She snuggled into the coat’s warmth. “Thank you.”
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black leather pants and tipped his head toward the door. “You should go inside where it’s warm.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then will you at least allow me to walk you home?”
Suddenly realizing she still had her mask on, she lifted her chin. “Do you know where I live?”
She was really asking if he knew her true identity. He seemed to understand that because he stepped even closer. He lifted her chin to survey her more closely. She watched his gaze trail from the tip of her nose over her cheeks. It rested upon her lips for an interminably long time before dropping to her chin and returning to her eyes. It only seemed fair that she take the same liberties. The dark shadow of a two-day-old beard covered his square jaw, stopping right below his perfectly sculpted nose and cheekbones. His eyebrows were two thick slashes over his dark lashes. As she watched, the color of his amber eyes deepened.
Encircling his strong wrist with her hand, she tugged lightly. He released his hold. She stepped back and struggled to gather her thoughts. What had they been talking about? Oh, yes.
“Well? Do you know where I live?”
* * *
Rhett could do nothing but stare into the face of Isabelle Bradley. Had she felt it, too? There had been some kind of tug between them. He’d felt in that moment as though he could have done something crazy—like kiss her.
He’d noticed little things like the myriad shades of green that made up her eyes and how they shifted like when the sun hit the waters of a slow-moving creek. Her lashes were so dark brown they almost would have looked black if not for the hint of gold that shone in the lantern light. Her lips were pink and bow-shaped. He couldn’t help wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Startled by that thought since he had no business thinking it, he gave his head a little shake.
This was Isabelle Bradley. The woman had made no secret of the fact that she found him exasperating. In truth, that was no surprise because he’d tried his hardest to be exasperating. Something about her had always gotten under his skin. She made him uneasy—not in a way most women did that so often resulted in his stuttering and stammering. It was more akin to when he was at the forge waiting for something to reach the right temperature. That anticipation, that sense of knowing was the same. He merely hadn’t realized it until now.
“Rhett?” The impatience in her tone made him realize she was still waiting for an answer.
Of course he knew where she lived. A person couldn’t be in town more than a few minutes before hearing about Bradley Boardinghouse. It was one of the best and most reputable places to stay in Peppin. The only reason he wasn’t living there was because the man who’d sold him the smithy had offered him a cabin as a package deal. However, that didn’t mean he was going to let Isabelle know that he was onto her. He figured if Isabelle had wanted him to know who she was beneath her mask, she would have already told him. He didn’t see any harm in playing along with her. “Sure, but Egypt is pretty far away. Don’t you think we’d better start walking?”
The triumph in her smile told him he’d made the right choice. “Actually, I have a better idea. I don’t want to go back to the party and neither do you. So let’s don’t. Let’s go on an adventure instead.”
If he’d had any doubts to her identity, they would have been put to rest then and there. He only knew two women who’d suggest something like that. One was inside dressed like Cupid and attacking people with arrows. The other was standing before him on the porch with pure mischief in her smile. He lifted a brow. “Is that right? And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? If I remember my history lessons correctly, men who hang around Cleopatra for too long end up dead.”
She gave a delightful little laugh. “Oh, and associating with a pirate isn’t dangerous?”
“I prefer buccaneer, but you make a valid point.” He took her hand and pushed back the sleeve of his coat to reveal the set of bracelets draped around her wrist. He trailed a finger across the most expensive-looking one. It was gold with a set of emeralds. Realizing the clasp was slightly open, he eased it closed. “Perhaps you should reconsider giving a command like that when you wear treasure such as this.”
“There’s nothing to reconsider.” She affected a haughty tone to fit her character. “I’m not a woman whose decisions or opinions can be easily swayed by danger...or men.”
“An admirable quality in a queen to be sure. However, there is one small problem.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to confide, “I’m not a man who’ll accept a command without question.”
“And what is your question?”
He broke from her gaze for only an instant before whispering, “Where are we going?”
That won him a smile. “If I told you that, it would take away part of the adventure. I can tell you a few things. It’s somewhere not far from here. Few people know about it. We will be able to view the fireworks undisturbed. How does that sound?”
Scandalous. Yet, it was hard to say no to that hopeful look in her eyes while she was all but swallowed in his coat. She was adorable and beautiful all at once. Furthermore, romance was in the air and he wasn’t panicking. He had no idea why that was the case, but he knew one thing. He wasn’t going to leave her side until he found out.
Chapter Two (#ulink_78f5bed6-c31b-5b39-8cee-f0b2200e2e1a)
Sometimes... Well... Rarely, Isabelle had an idea so brilliant she surprised even herself. As she stepped from the fire escape to the roof of the hotel with Rhett right behind her, she knew this was one of those times. Rhett didn’t seem quite as convinced. He frowned at the flat expanse that slanted only slightly toward the back of the building. “Are you sure this roof is safe?”
“Certainly. It was inspected only a few weeks ago. It’s in tip-top shape.”
He glanced at her curiously. “You know that for a fact? How?”
“I just do.” Her father was a silent partner at the hotel in addition to being the owner of Peppin’s best boardinghouse, but there was no reason to mention that and give a hint to her identity yet. “It sure is dark up here. I guess we should have picked up a lantern or a candle when we stopped to get my coat.”
He shook his head. “We wouldn’t want to chance a fire.”
“True.” The soft glow from the gardens below drew her toward the back edge of the roof. Suddenly, the cold wind changed direction with a mighty swirl that made her stretch out her arms and close her eyes. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly? Imagine. The ground racing by beneath you. Nothing holding you up but air. It must be so freeing.”
“Yeah, we won’t be trying that tonight.” He caught her arm and guided her away from the edge.
“Am I worrying you, Rhett?”
“Not at all.” His nodding head belied his statement.
She laughed. “Well, if I can’t fly, how am I supposed to have my adventure?”
He thought for a moment then grinned. “I’ve never danced on a rooftop, have you?”
“Danced on a... No, I can’t say I have, but there’s no music.” Realizing she could still hear the faint strains of a reel from the ballroom, she amended, “Leastwise, none loud enough to be useful.”
He pulled his harmonica from his pocket, which she was pretty sure was its permanent residence. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I didn’t.”
He ignored her. “Stay on this side of the roof if you want to avoid breaking your neck. How about a waltz—Chopin, Number Seven?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
It was. She shook her head when he began playing almost before she’d even finished talking. Her protests fled after his first few notes. They were soulful, smooth, lilting. Her lashes drifted closed without her permission as the passion he infused into each note enveloped her like a warm embrace. Before she knew it, the last note was fading into the night. She opened her eyes to find Rhett watching her with a bemused half smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t dance.”
“That was... You...didn’t, either. Play it again, Rhett.”
This time she couldn’t break away from his riveting gaze as he started over from the beginning. She swayed in time with the music then smiled when he mirrored her movements so that it felt as if they were dancing together without even touching. The sway became a waltz. Isabelle spun, her skirt swirling out around her. Rhett brushed past her. Suddenly, they were waltzing around each other, nearly colliding at times but never touching, held only by each other’s gaze until Rhett drew out the last note long enough to give a deep, courtly bow. She responded in character with a regal curtsy.
A gust of wind swirled past her with enough force to urge her a step closer to Rhett, yet she hardly felt the cold as she responded to the warmth of his smile with one of her own. The faint sounds filtering up from the party below turned into a full-blown commotion. She forced herself to speak, though her words came out rather low and breathless. “I suppose it must be midnight.”
“Must be.” He tilted his head and lifted a brow. “There’s a small matter of tradition, you know.”
“Tradition?” She watched the focus of his amber eyes shift toward her lips. Realization spread through at the speed of her racing heart and instant blush. “Oh, I suppose there is. However, under the circumstances...”
He eased close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to look at him. She had a feeling she should step back, but the message didn’t quite make it to her feet, which stayed resolutely put. The moon drifted from behind a cloud to highlight the strong angle of his jaw and she got a little distracted. She’d been saying something. “What I mean is, I don’t think it’s necessary...”
A distant whine filled the air before a pop of sound and color filled the night sky. The fireworks were starting. She should point that out. My, but he was taking his time, wasn’t he? If he really was going to kiss her, why didn’t he do it instead of hovering a breath away and making her all sorts of confused? Her lashes fluttered closed of their own accord. His first kiss was featherlight and unsatisfyingly brief. Just as disappointment set in, he kissed her again. This time, pressing one hand against her back to draw her closer and tilting her chin upward. She leaned into him.
Light flashed against her closed eyes while a boom rattled the building beneath her feet. She assumed it was a side effect of the kiss until Rhett pulled her down to kneel on the roof beside him. Dazed, she stared up at the black sky as balls of colored fire rained toward them, out of control and dangerously close. She screamed as sizzling green light whizzed past her, then she covered her ears as the explosions continued. “What is happening?”
“The fireworks. They’re misfiring. We need to get off this roof. Now.”
He practically carried her to the fire escape. She tried to keep up with him as they began their descent but her skirt billowed in the wind, making it hard for her to see each step. Rhett offered her a guiding hand. She shook her head. “Go on ahead. You’ll make it down faster without me. I’ll be right behind you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, Isabelle.”
“You’re part of the fire brigade. Someone may need help. Go!”
He hesitated only long enough to nod before taking off down the stairs.
* * *
Rhett hated to leave Isabelle behind, but she was right. He was a volunteer firefighter and, by the look he’d gleaned while they were on the roof, something had already caught fire from the initial explosion. Whatever it was looked to be close to his own cabin, which meant it was in a residential area. Someone could be trapped or hurt. Still, as he neared the bottom of the steep, winding staircase, he couldn’t help glancing upward to make sure that Isabelle was managing all right. She looked to be making a steady, if somewhat cautious, progress down the stairs.
Missing the next step completely, Rhett stepped into nothingness. He pitched forward, tripped down the next couple of steps and grasped the railing in time to keep from tumbling the rest of the way face-first. His panting breaths filled his ears along with the thundering of his racing heart. Pausing only an instant longer to regain his equilibrium, he marched back up the stairs to Isabelle. He ignored her startled look as he grasped her hand to help her navigate the last flight of stairs. “I almost broke my neck rushing down. There’s no way I’m letting you do the same.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, Rhett, did you hurt yourself?”
“I don’t think so.” A twinge of pain in his right ankle belied his statement, but he ignored it as they finally made it safely to the ground. He didn’t bother to release her hand as he led her toward the back garden gate. “Come on. I know a shortcut.”
They cut through the alley to the next street, where they merged with the stream of people rushing toward the fire. The whistling and popping of fireworks had faded away, leaving only shouts and confused murmurs to fill the night air. The pain in his ankle continued to build until it slowed his steps enough for Isabelle to notice. She latched on to his arm with her free hand as they wound through the crowd. “You’re limping.”
“I’m fine.” That wasn’t entirely true, but at the moment he didn’t care. They were getting close to the corner where he lived. Too close. He ignored Jeff Bridger, the local deputy, who was trying to keep everyone back, and pushed to the very front of the crowd. His stomach dropped all the way to boots then rose to his throat. He swallowed hard even as a groan filled his chest.
Isabelle’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Is it your leg?”
“No, that’s my house.”
He heard Isabelle’s gasp as she took in the sight for herself. Meanwhile, he could do nothing but stare at the bright orange flames that engulfed the entire front half of the structure. Plumes of smoke drifted upward to mingle with the night sky. Fanned by a gusting wind, the fire sent sparks spiraling toward the house next-door to his. The sight was enough to set him in motion. He stepped forward to speak with the deputy. “Jeff, have my neighbors been accounted for?”
“Yes, and they said you were at the masquerade.” Jeff must not have attended for he was dressed in his normal cowboy garb complete with a badge on his chest. “The sheriff was looking for you, though. I reckon he wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Suddenly, a musketeer and a man in a Renaissance costume broke free of the crowd. Deputy Bridger called out a warning to anyone who might try to follow them. Ignoring it completely, Rhett went after them, drawn by the urgency in their gestures. They stopped to speak to another musketeer who’d been dousing a pile of leftover fireworks. Rhett could only maintain his running stride for a few seconds before the pain in his ankle forced his steps to slow to a walk. That gave him time to recognize the voice of his best friend, Quinn Tucker, despite the man’s Renaissance costume. “There’s no time to argue. I’m going in.”
“I’m the sheriff of this town,” Sean O’Brien declared. “It’s my responsibility to keep everyone safe. I’m going, and that’s final.”
Rhett finally made it to the outskirts of their small circle. “How can y’all be arguing at a time like this? No one should be going anywhere until we put that fire out.”
The three men turned to stare at him with shock and relief plainly written across their faces. Quinn stepped forward to pull him into a bear hug. Rhett thumped him on his back more in an effort to knock some sense into him than anything. Having had enough of the display, Rhett stepped away only to have Lawson, the third man from the argument, slap him on the shoulder. “We were arguing about who would have the privilege of saving your hide.”
“My hide is fine, but I do appreciate your concern.”
Sean blew out a heavy breath of relief then nodded beneath his jaunty wide-brimmed hat. “We were afraid you might be trapped inside the house since you’d told Lawson and Ellie that you were going home early.”
“Oh.” Rhett glanced back in search of Isabelle, but she’d been swallowed by the crowd. “I meant to, but I got a little distracted.”
“Good thing, too.” Quinn crossed his arms and nodded toward the fire. They all turned to follow Quinn’s gaze in time to see the front of the house collapse in on itself. Rhett braced himself for the wave of despair that was sure to hit. Instead, he only felt the numbness of shock. That was probably for the best. Right now, his focus needed to be on others. “Was anyone else hurt?”
“My pa would know.” Lawson scanned the crowd, presumably for his adoptive father, Doc Williams. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere. I think I’ll scout around to see if I can find him or someone who might need him.”
“My house is a lost cause. Our focus should be on keeping the fire from spreading.”
