Free The Wedding Chase by Rebecca Kelley Page B

roasted pheasant, stewed mushrooms, asparagus in butter sauce, and fruit tarts.
    “A feast for the palate to accompany a feast for the eyes.” He laid out the plates and pointedly scanned her from the top of her feathered headdress to the sharp tips of her slippers.
    Flicking her fan coquettishly, Zel attempted to cover the blush she knew tinged her, from stomacher to wig. “Yes, it all looks delicious.”
    “But
you
are the most delectable. Your eyes are a storm at sea, your skin moonglow.” He smiled crookedly. Tonight he would indeed play her prince.
    “I am not one to be swayed by pretty words.” She tapped him with her fan. “I demand proof of your devotion.”
    “The proof lies beneath this plain puritan dress.” He paused, sweeping his hand down his long torso. “Where my heart beats for you.”
    Zel paused, confused, he could not be saying what it seemed he was saying. But Madame Pompadour would never be flustered, so she gamely proceeded with the charade. “Such insignificant proof you offer me.”
    “Madame, I assure you my proof is far from insignificant.”His eyes and low inviting tone flashed a challenge. “Would that I could reveal it to you.”
    “One cannot show the trueness of the heart.” She tried to avoid his intent gaze so at contrast with his playful words.
    “The heart can only be guessed at, but other signs may be more readily observed.” His eyes beneath his black mask never left her mouth. “Meet me later in the garden, and I’ll offer you such proofs, that the most doubting would be convinced.”
    “Oh sir, such sweet temptation. Dare I accept?”
    His eyes lifted to hers. “Dare you refuse?”
    When supper ended, Zel returned to the ballroom, already knowing she feared joining him in the garden. After that interrupted embrace at the picnic she was no longer sure she was the party in control. What would have happened if Melbourne had not happened on them?
    As the ball progressed, she found herself courted by gentlemen in all manner of dress. With those of the house party, she guessed their identity quickly, but they were obviously unsure of hers. When Lord Newton, outfitted as a devil, leered at her chest and claimed a dance, she almost refused, but convinced herself she was being unnecessarily rude.
    Zel regretted doing the polite the instant she realized the set was a waltz. The unpleasantness of such close proximity to Newton contrasted with the memories of the earlier waltz. The music faded, and before she realized what he was doing, Newton pulled her through the leaded glass doors, out onto the terrace. She tried to break away but he only pulled her closer to his whipcord-slim frame, his grip unbreakable.
    “Release me.”
    “My dear, I don’t believe you wish to draw unnecessary attention.” His low, breathy tone crept down her spine.
    “What do you want?” She held herself completely still.
    His harsh laugh held a note of cruelty. “Such an innocent.”
    The music had ended, others would be entering the terrace. She pushed at his chest. “Let me go.”
    “The lady made a request, Newton.” Zel could have wept with relief. Her puritan-prince. Her rescuer.
    Newton released her, a tight smile passing over his face. “And neither of us would ever deny a lady anything.” He pivoted on one foot and was gone.
    “Devil’s begotten,” Wolfgang spat, whirling to follow.
    Zel grasped his arm. “Let him go. Nothing happened.” She smiled into his tightly drawn face as he turned back to her.
    The stiff lines around his mouth eased. “Walk with me a few moments, before we go indoors. I could use a little cool air.”
    She nodded, aware of the hardness of his arm beneath her hand, the warmth of his body brushing against her.
    He stopped before a carved marble bench and pulled her down beside him. She did not resist when he took her gloved hand, studying its shape with his long, bare fingers. His hands, so slender and perfectly formed, were almost too beautiful to