Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and okay, so she had a dazzling smile, even though it looked more like a smirk when she directed it at him.
That turn in her upper lip … he rubbed his fingertips together, feeling a strange urge to grab it and hold it between his thumb and forefinger.
He wondered which of those men swarming around her was her date. They were all young and handsome; tall and broad shouldered. They wore elegant black suits rather than costumes. No doubt so as not to mask their strikingly pretty faces.
He blinked hearing the rush of blood echo in his ears as he watched them leave her, one by one.
She’s alone.
He told himself to move forward, but his legs remained rooted to the ground. Suddenly, he spied another man approaching her.
Damn it.
Something was familiar about him, even in costume. It took Clarke a moment, but soon enough he recognized him.
Fuck.
This night couldn’t get any worse. It’sDownton AbbeymeetsMad Max. Chaos with your crumpets.
Tilney.
Fucking Tilney.
He’d recognize those perfectly aligned Anglican features and slick smile anywhere. Not to mention the tilt of the chin, which left that nose perpetually perched in the air.
Tilney and Clarke had grown up together, their families inhabiting the same circles. Tilney had been awkward and scrawny as a kid, and Clarke had looked out for him when people bullied him. But when the kid hit his growth spurt, it wasn’t only his body that grew but his ego. From then on, he was an asshole.
Clarke could imagine what his interest in Ceci Rivers was. Tilney was racing at the F2 level. He’d do anything to move up to F1.
Well,good luck. Ceci Rivers isn’t some inexperienced, innocent, and trusting teenage girl.
Clarke blinked when three other men dressed as The Three Musketeers swooped in and overtook Tilney—the largest of the three nearly knocking him down. They blocked his path, not to mention his view. The three of them formed an impenetrable wall. There was no way Tilney could get past them.
Clarke chuckled as he watched him storm off, but went suddenly silent when he turned his gaze back on her. He told himself to move, but his body remained fixed. He felt like a stone. Stuck to this very spot. He would need a force outside himself like gravity to nudge his feet. But then he heard the echo of the beat in his chest. His heart was racing.
Let that be the thing that drives me forward.
He swallowed.
Mask on or off?
He bit his lip.
On. At least for now.
Adjusting the mask, making sure it was secure, he drew a deep breath, and ventured close enough to listen.
She had her back to him and was unaware of his presence.
The man standing in the center bowed. “Madam, allow me to introduce myself. I am Athos.”
“Annie Oakley,” she replied, repositioning the rifle she had slung over her shoulder and holding out her hand.
He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. “A divine pleasure. Would you do us the great honor of dancing with us?”
She looked from Athos to the other two.
The man on his right, more pretty than handsome, executed a graceful bow with a playful glint in his eye. “Aramis, milady.”
