For some reason, this struck her as funny and she burst out laughing. And then he did as well. His laughter made her laugh even more. Maybe because it sounded so genuine. Even from behind that iron wall.
The orchestra began playing another song, “Moon River.”
She stiffened.
“Ceci!” A man’s voice came from across the room.
It was only then she realized the Man in the Iron Mask still had yet to let go of her, because at the sound of her name he suddenly did. Her hand hung midair, suspended with nothing to hold onto, and the rest of her body quickly followed suit as he took a step back.
She turned to see one of the three guys she’d come with waving at her.
She hardly knew them. They were friends of a friend. But it had sounded like fun when one of them asked her to join them. A masquerade ball? At a country estate? Why not, given she would be here in England for a little over a week before returning to New York. She could use the distraction. Especially after what had happened at Silverstone a couple of weeks back. Not to mention those DMs from Sir Stick.
She peered at the man wearing the mask. Those DMs had surprised her. Sir Stick had never come back at her like that before. True, it wasn’t in person. He didn’t have to look her in the eye. So that might account for it.
“Ceci!”
He’s coming this way.
Ugh.
All three of them were so damn boring. They’d made her regret coming. That is, until the Man in the Iron Mask showed up.
“Hey, Ceci!”
Now there were two of them.
“Shit,” she muttered. “It’s WP. Or DC.” She paused. “Or maybe STP.”
“What?” the Man in the Iron Mask asked.
Exasperated, she waved her hands.
“Whoopie Pie, Dirt Cake, and Sticky Toffee Pudding!”
She couldn’t see his face. And yet something about his reaction told her to laugh. But she didn’t have time.
She took off to get away from them but then saw the one remaining tool of the trio just up ahead.
“Ceci!”
She made a quick about-face and ran smack into a man’s chest. The impact sent her reeling. She shut her eyes, waiting for the inevitable hard landing on the unforgiving marble tile, but it never came. The man’s arms wrapped around her, and he took the hit against the floor as she landed softly, virtually unscathed on top of him.
Although there was something hard beneath her.
Okay, yes his biceps, which she held onto, and his chest, which felt like granite. Not to mention his impressive thighs. But her attention was drawn to what was in between those thighs. A surge of heat rose from his body to hers.
She was thinking she ought to thank the man and was beginning to imagine all the ways in which she might do so, when she caught sight of his face.
The Man in the Iron Mask.
How the hell did that mask stay on?
“Ceci!”
She quickly scrambled to her feet and looked about frantically, trying to figure out which direction to run to escape them when she felt his hand grab hers and pull. Before her brain manifested the thought to follow him, her body had already decided to do so.
Soon they’d traveled the length of the ballroom, and she found herself running down a maze of hallways with so many turns she lost count. The eyes in the portraits hanging on the walls to their left and right staring back at them became a blur. She would never find her way back.
