If she’d considered it, she’d have assumed they would take the tram to the outskirts and then clamber onto buses specially hired from outside the magical city for the event. The Coldstream streets were too narrow for large vehicles to navigate comfortably, and cars were rare – unless you were the likes of Alexander MacTire, and even then magic and technology didn’t mix particularly well.
What Mallory hadn’t expected was a carriage drawn by two gleaming black horses. ‘We’re travelling inthat?’
‘The first night we met you didn’t appear impressed by the fact that I owned a car,’ Alexander said. ‘This seemed more appropriate. Besides, this is a ball. Horse and carriage is surely the best way to travel.’
‘I’m Goldilocks, remember? Not Cinderella.’
A small smile curled his mouth. ‘But I’m trying to be Prince Charming.’ He opened the carriage door. ‘Here, I’ll help you up. I can assure you that it’s quite spacious and comfortable.’
She allowed him to take her hand and she clambered inside. He was right: the carriage interior was large, with a padded seat along one side and – of course – a small bar along the other. Two chilled champagne flutes were waiting.
‘A wee aperitif?’ Alexander asked, once he’d settled beside her. ‘I can promise you it’s a good vintage.’
Feeling squirmingly awkward, Mallory nodded. ‘Sure. Yes. Thank you. That would be lovely. Very nice.’ She pulled a face.
Alexander turned his amber eyes on her. ‘You’re nervous?’
‘Of course. I’m not used to this sort of thing and I want to make sure that we find you the right person. This is important.’
‘It is.’ He continued to watch her. ‘I’m nervous, too.’
He didn’t look nervous. Not now. She wetted her lips. ‘A drink would be great.’
He retrieved a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket, poured two glasses and handed her one as the carriage rolled forward. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the cobbles was charmingly audible without being loud enough to intrude on their conversation.
‘Neither of us should be nervous,’ Alexander said. ‘It’s quite illogical to feel that way.’
Mallory raised her eyebrows and took a small sip from her glass. ‘Go on.’
He grinned. ‘You’ve already told me I look like a romantic hero in this kilt.’
‘I didn’t quite say that.’
‘You said I had great legs.’
‘I’ll give you that,’ she replied grudgingly.
‘As I’ve told you before,’ Alexander murmured. ‘I’m handsome, charming and sex on legs – sex on great legs, in fact. Can there possibly be a woman attending the Wolf Ball who won’t think that?’
‘I can’t imagine so,’ Mallory responded drily. ‘And the best part is that you’re so very modest.’
He laughed. ‘Oh, I’m not reserving the compliments for myself. You will be a great success, too.’
She snorted.
‘You’re Mallory Nash,’ he continued softly. ‘Of course you’ll be successful.’ He raised his glass. ‘To us.’
She swallowed. ‘To us.’
He took a sip but he didn’t stop looking at her. ‘Mallory,’ he began. ‘I…’
‘You’ll find her tonight, Alexander,’ she reassured him quickly. ‘I’m sure of it.’
He blinked and looked away. ‘Yes.’
She took another gulp of champagne. ‘Do you remember Isadora Jones?’
His brow furrowed slightly. ‘Yes.’
