Without thinking, Matteo pulled Helena with him behind a large hedge. She was so surprised that her protest came late.
“What are you doing? Unhand me!” She demanded.
“Be quiet,” he hissed.
“I demand that you let me?—”
Matteo gently covered her mouth with his hand, effectively silencing her. At that very moment, the group emerged. They stopped and occupied the same bench that she had earlier sat on.
“Did you see what the countess was wearing?” said one of the ladies.
“Indeed, how could you not?” replied the other lady. “She shone like a beacon with her orange trims and frills!”
Laughter followed the exchange.
“Really, ladies,” said one of the gentlemen, chuckling, “must you be so severe on your own sex?”
“Well, I am but stating a fact, sir,” said the first lady.
“But that is not the most interesting thing that has happened tonight,” said the second gentleman. “The Duke of Valen is in attendance at a debutante’s ball. Imagine that!”
“That can perhaps be explained by the Duke of Icedale’s recent marriage. It seems that the Duke of Icedale is trying to reform a rake!”
“That will be the day!”
They all laughed at that.
Helena turned her head to look at Matteo. At her raised eyebrows, he shrugged. Matteo had learned a long time ago not to be bothered by what people thought of him, at least those people that he cared nothing for.
The time when he cared too much about what people thought had long passed. If he had been thought a disappointment by those who should have valued him, then why should he concern himself with anyone else?
With her standing so close to him, Matteo could feel her breathing. She stood stiffly in front of him, her back touching his chest, his arm around her shoulder as he covered her mouth. He felt her warmth seeping through to him.
During their stay at Icedale Castle, he had realized that she was a beautiful woman buried under frowns and disapproving looks. Indeed, he had teased her repeatedly because he was attracted to her. And tonight, seeing her again, he could not deny that he wasstillattracted to her. He wondered what would happen if he acted on his attraction? How she would react if he were to reach?—
No! What am I doing?
He must not allow himself to start thinking those kinds of thoughts towards Helena. He blamed the nearness of her, the scent of her hair, as her coiffure tickled his chin. For a moment, Matteo forgot why they were even hiding.
The group continued talking for a few more minutes until they finally decided to head back to the ball.
When their voices and footsteps could no longer be heard, Matteo dropped his hand from Helena’s lips. He slowly turned to her. For the life of him, he could not step away from her.
He motioned for her to remain still and silent. He wanted to be sure that everyone from the group had completely gone.
Quietly, Matteo stepped from behind the hedge and peered at the area of the garden bench. It was finally empty.
“Come, my lady, they have left.”
Gingerly, Helena followed his directions. She looked towards the ball. Matteo could read from her expression—eyes narrowed, lips tightened as if she would like to purse them disapprovingly—that she thought the incident too close a call. He wondered if she had any idea how expressive her face was. Or how beautiful.
Indeed, she was beautiful. And serious, and immensely lacking fun. But there was something about her way, about her manner that had pulled at him.
He had known beautiful women. But he knew that beauty alone could not produce attraction. Certainly not the kind he was feeling now.
She turned to him, and Matteo stared into beautiful blue eyes.
He could not help it; he leaned down, bringing his face so close to hers that they were only inches apart.
