And she does not recognize me ...
As we start to move, I fumble for a way to think of safer things. Isabeau moves like something feral and powerful, and I have always liked it far too much.
“I was at the wall because I have no interest in dances or any of this ...” I glance around the room, desperate to focus on anything but her. “I will make my vow to the queen and depart.”
Isabeau is silent a moment. “Your eyes flash when you are irritated.”
I smile despite myself and hint, “You should see what my weapons do.”
The laugh from Isabeau is followed by a tightening of her hand, as if to stop me from fleeing. She smirks before asking, “Do you enjoy swords, then?”
My escaping laughter is a mix of shock and genuine amusement. When I can control my amusement, I ask, “Was that your way of asking if I prefer the company of men? Or do you meanliteralswords?”
“Both.”
“I have no preference for men or women.” I meet Isabeau’s gaze. “I have kissed both.”
I wish Isabeau would ask who, almost as much as I wish I could stop thinking of our long-ago kisses and caresses.
“I am not looking for a spouse, however,” I offer quietly. “I am not seeking entrapment.”
“A lover, then?”
“I have had a lover.” I thrill at the freedom the mask is allowing me in making such a bold confession. “Despite many attempts at intimacy, I was not impressed by him.”
This time, it’s Isabeau’s burst of laughter that draws glances our direction. “Is that a challenge? I would not disappoint you.”
For a moment, I debate.Is it a challenge?
“I have kissed you before, Maudite.”
Isabeau smirks. “I fear that does not narrow the list of names. Shall we go somewhere more private and remove our masks?”
“I was offered a dance.”
“So you were.” She looks at me in a hungry way that makes moths set flight in my stomach. We flow through the crowd of dancers, drawing too much attention for my comfort. The duke is an even more masterful dancer than when we were last on a ballroom floor.
After several silent moments when I cannot decide how to answer, Isabeau releases her grip on my side to spin me out, then draw me in again. “Do you want to be seduced?”
“By you? Yes, but my mask cannot be removed,” I say cautiously, admitting the rare hunger that is rising in me, the sort of longing that Isabeau has always evoked. “No names exchanged.”
“Ah, but you already know my name.”
“I do. Isabeau, Duke of Maudite. You are unforgettable.”
“Perhaps I will know your name when I kiss you,” Isabeau taunts. “Perhaps, I already do.”
I laugh at the thought. For all her claims to care for me, she did not recognize me in the park. She does not recognize my voice now.
“I doubt that,” I admit with more sorrow than I like to share. I want her to know me the way I do her.
Visibly intrigued by either my words or my tone, Isabeau spins me out, and this time her hand is slightly higher when she pulls me back in. Her thumb brazenly grazes the curve of my breast as she whispers, “I want to see your face, although your maskislovely.”
“And your mask is barely present.” I let myself be led across the floor in our dance, trying not to notice all the envious looks that are shot my way. “You had to realize that everyone would know who you were anyhow with those breeches.”
“You think I should still have gone along with the pretense that I can hide?” Isabeau sounds genuinely curious.
“I think we all do things that the queen orders, and you ... did not.”
