“Matthew!” His mother’s tone was sharp and pierced his stunned fog.
“Yes?” he asked, making himself look at her.
“What is wrong?” she asked. “Aside from Winter’s being here, I mean. I’ve said your name three times.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t know.” He glanced back at Winter and his companion. She was still not facing him and his head began to spin. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”
He walked away from his mother, faintly aware of her saying his name yet again. He ignored it, too caught up in the swirling drumbeat of horror that was the situation unfolding before him. One he didn’t understand completely, but recognized was not going to end well. How could it?
He staggered up to James and Emma, who were standing beside the dancefloor, heads close together, whispering and giggling to each other. When he interrupted them, James’s expression immediately fell.
“What is it?” he asked, catching Matthew’s arm.
Matthew felt glad for the grip. It brought him back to reality a bit. “I—Winter,” he muttered.
James jerked his gaze in the direction Matthew looked and his eyes widened. “Christ, I’m sorry. I had no idea he would be here.”
“Neither did I,” Matthew gasped out. “Who is that woman with him?”
James looked again, as did Matthew. When they did, the lady finally pivoted to stand beside Winter, and Matthew got his first look at her face. And there was no longer any doubt or hope that she wasn’t his stranger. He could tell by the shape of her lips, the curve of her jaw, the color of her dark eyes.
It was her.
James began to shake his head when Emma drew in a long breath. “That is Isabel Hayes,” she said gently. “She is…she’s Angelica’s cousin, Winter’s niece. She has been staying with him for about a year. She’s been in mourning most of that time, for her late husband.”
Matthew’s ears began to ring as he stared at the lady, the swan…Isabel, once more. She was even more beautiful when her face wasn’t half covered by a mask.
“No.” He choked on the word. “No.”
“Matthew,” James said. “Matthew, what is it?”
Matthew couldn’t answer. He stared, unblinking, as Winter said something to Isabel and then stepped away from her into the milling crowd. She shifted, a look of discomfort crossing her face. Her lying, deceiving, utterly gorgeous face.
He said nothing to explain himself but headed off across the room toward her. The room was crowded, but it didn’t matter. All he saw was her. All he could think about was her. Her and her lies and whatever horrible plan she had hatched in her head.
As he pushed through the groups of revelers, she turned, and her gaze settled on him. He watched emotion flood over her. Her eyes widened almost impossibly, her cheeks went bloodless, and in her gaze he saw abject terror.
All of which only proved what he knew all the more. She was his lady. And she had absolutely known exactly who and what he was.
He crossed the last few steps toward her and she pivoted, turning as if she would run. He didn’t allow it. He caught her bare elbow and tugged her back, trying desperately to ignore the flash of heat and desire that rushed through him when his skin met hers.
“Come with me,” he growled beneath his breath. “Mrs. Hayes.”
Isabel couldn’t breathe as she was dragged through the winding halls of Lord Callis’s enormous house. Her vision was blurred and she couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart. She staggered, but Matthew didn’t slow his pace, he just steadied her as he pushed into a parlor. As he released her, she staggered forward, flinching as he slammed the door behind them.
She didn’t want to look at him and so she stood, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisted at her sides, her back to him. That moment stretched into an eternity before he barked out, “Turn around.”
She was shaking from head to toe and tears stung her eyes as she slowly did as he ordered. He was still standing at the door, staring at her with his arms folded across that broad chest.
Gone was the lover who had so thoroughly tended to her needs over and over again. Gone was the man who confessed he was just as confused by the physical connection between them as she had been. Gone was all the softness and gentleness that made her believe he wasn’t capable of hurting her cousin.
Left in the wake was rage, bubbling just below the surface. And contempt that turned his gorgeous gray eyes into stormy seas.
“Was it all a trap?” he snapped, his voice clipped. “A plot?”
She caught her breath at the accusation. At the emotion that echoed behind it. For a wild moment, she thought of lying, of denying she knew anything about what he asked. Of pretending she’d never been his stranger, his swan.
Only she couldn’t. He arched a brow and it was clear that lie wouldn’t save her any more than all the others had. The time had come for truth, and to let go of the brief foolishness that had placed her into his arms.
