“I’ll have to go back in—I’ll be missed.” Her voice cracked on the wordmissed. Though her back was straight and her chin high, she continually brushed her thumb over her fingertips in a nervous gesture.
He considered her phrasing. She spoke as if reminding him that someone would come looking for her, that she wasn’t alone in the world. He wanted to smack his forehead. She wasn’t afraid of the guy without eyebrows; she was afraid to be out here withhim.
He’d been stupid on so many levels tonight. He had done some preliminary research on her island and their traditions. Women stayed close to their family until their courtships, when they were encouraged to spend time alone with their espoused. She probably hadn’t been alone with a man besides her father or brothers—ever. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but he’d given her very little to trust him on.
“If you would like to go back, I will deliver you immediately to the front doors.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “If you would like to enjoy the fresh air for a moment, I’d be happy to escort you.” He was so glad Nelson wasn’t here to hear him say words likeescort. They used that word almost daily in their business. They escorted people all the time—but they were usually holding semi-automatic weapons, not trying to talk a beautiful woman into walking around a garden with them. He laid as much decency and honesty into his look as he could, praying she read his intentions and found them worthy.
She searched his gaze, her fingers stiff in his hand. After a moment, the tension rimming, her eyes relaxed. “Well, Icouldstay for a few minutes,” she said quietly. “I am curious as to how you’re going to get us back inside. Climb a trellis, perhaps?”
He smiled at her teasing. If he were the type of man who chased women, he might even call it flirting. “Give me a little more credit than that.” He guided her away from the doors and the trouble they contained, and towards the three-tiered fountain in the center of the garden.
She looked over her shoulder and stared at the door, a worried frown marring her perky lips.
He hooked a finger under her jaw, returning her attention to him. “The first rule of running away is to not look back.”
“You have a lot of strange rules.”
He chuckled. “Welcome to life in the navy.”
She nodded once. “We haven’t been properly introduced.”
He laughed. “I’d say we wereimproperly introduced.”
“Quite improper.” She leaned into his arm and he liked the way she fit against him, making him wonder what other ways they’d fit together. Their lips would fit together quite nicely—of that he was sure.
“I’m—l …” She hesitated. “Neese.”
No last name. If she were American, he’d think she was avoiding giving out personal information—a clear sign that she wasn’t that into him. But she wasn’t American. The customs on her island may be different. He decided to follow her lead. “Nice toproperlymeet you, Neese. I’m Tatum.”
She smiled and then shivered. The spring night was chilly, too chilly for bare shoulders and skin that was used to warmer temperatures. He shucked his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and earning a grateful smile in return.
A moment too late, he remembered the knife in the pocket. Taking her left hand, he kept it securely in his own so it wouldn’t find its way around the hilt by accident. Explaining away a cow magnet that could disable alarms was one thing; a weapon would be quite another.
He wasn’t ashamed of his job. On the contrary, he had served his country with honor and believed in the company he and Nelson built. In all that he did, there was an element of darkness. That darkness didn’t belong with an innocent like Neese, and he wasn’t going to be the one to share it with her. For the moment, he pushed out the idea that the darkness was a part of him and he shouldn’t be with her either. Because being with her felt right—like being with Nelson—only in a completely non-best-guy-friend way.
For example, he’d been asked about that magnet over a dozen times and not once had he ever told anyone the truth—anyone but her. That’s how much this piece of home meant to him, how much it grounded him when he thought the darkness might overtake the light. Maybe that’s why he shared the information with her: she was light. It glowed and sparkled around her like sunlight that rained onto the sea and spread out in thousands of tiny droplets, winking and almost laughing with the joy of existing.
She’d surprised him by leaving the party; she had him surprising himself.
“What do you think of America?” he asked.
She frowned.
He grinned. “That bad?”
“No—well, I don’t know. I haven’t been able to see much of the city, much less the country. What is Wyoming like?”
“Dusty,” he answered, then laughed at the shocked look on her face. He hadn’t meant to be flippant. The dust was the first thing that came to mind. They continued to circle the gardens, the sounds of the city muted by the tall brink fence and the shrubbery. Pondering what he missed about home, he finally said, “We have sunsets worth painting and work enough for a lifetime.”
She grew thoughtful, leaning her head on his shoulder as if it was made for that purpose. “We also have sunsets worth painting.”
“I hope I get to see those one day.” If he could ever meet the princess, he might make that happen. His desire to get the contract grew every time Neese’s deep brown eyes met his. He was failing miserably at his purpose for coming to the ball.
“I don’t know if you would like Zimrada,” she said softly.
He wondered if he should be offended, if she was trying to put him off. “Why is that?”
“Life is slower there. We are behind in technology and do not follow Western thinking on many topics.”
