Frontier Engagement

by Regina Scott

  He bowed his head. God, show me what You want me to do. Send me a sign or—

  Rhett jerked as something bounced off his chest and landed on the floor near his boot. He knelt to examine it more closely. An arrow? It was. Though, it had been made in miniature out of papier-mâché.

  He glanced up to find a woman grinning down at him. She was dressed in a pink dress that flowed and draped like those of ancient Greece. A small set of wings peeked out from behind her shoulders and she carried an equally small bow to go with her arrows. Was she...? Cupid. She was Cupid, which meant...

  He stood and crossed his arms. “Ellie Williams, who gave you a weapon?”

  The blonde glanced around as if looking for someone, then vanished into the crowd. She returned with her husband of two months in tow. “Lawson gave me a weapon and showed me how to use it.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking.” The small shake of Lawson’s head was exaggerated by the huge hat, which, along with his costume, designated him as one of the three musketeers. Rhett was pretty sure that meant Lawson’s brothers-in-law were the other two.

  Lawson winked at Ellie. “She’s already dangerous enough without it.”

  Rhett glanced away, feeling decidedly uncomfortable as Ellie sent her husband a look that was warmer than Texas in the spring. Once they were finished staring into each other’s eyes, Rhett presented Ellie with the arrow. “I believe this is yours.”

  “You can keep it, Rhett. I have plenty of them left. Look, it says ‘Happy New Year’ on the shaft.”

  He handed it back to her anyway. “Thanks, but—Wait. How do you know who I am? I thought my costume disguised me pretty well.”

  Lawson nodded. “It does. Ellie, how did you know it was Rhett?”

  “I have my ways.”

  Her cryptic answer didn’t fool him. “You saw me, didn’t you? You saw me try to ask that woman to dance.”

  Lawson frowned. “What woman?”

  “Cleopatra,” Ellie answered, then winced. “I mean, what woman?”

  “What happened, Rhett?”

  “Same old, same old,” he said. The couple had witnessed his limitations when it came to communicating with the opposite sex on numerous occasions. “Who is she, though, when she isn’t Cleopatra?”

  Ellie shrugged. “What makes you think I would know? Midnight isn’t too far away. Stick around for the unmasking and find out for yourself.”

  “Actually, I think I’m going to head home.” He hadn’t decided on that until he said it, yet he knew that was probably the best idea he’d had all evening. They both protested, but Rhett knew it was the right decision. There was no point in sticking around. He’d probably only find some way to make a fool of himself again. It would be far wiser for him to go home. Of course, he’d be alone on New Year’s Eve. But how was that different than any other day?

  He pushed away the loneliness and disappointment that threatened him. It was going to be a new year. Perhaps it was time to put old dreams aside and move on.

  * * *

  Tonight, she was a woman of intrigue, sophistication and mystery—Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.

  At least, she would let herself pretend to be that until the stroke of midnight when the masks would come off, and she’d turn into a pumpkin. Or, more accurately, she’d go back to being practical, boring and uninspiring Isabelle Bradley. There were only fifteen minutes left before that would happen. That mean meant the only person who knew her true identity, besides the four male boarders who’d escorted her from her family’s boardinghouse, was Marc Antony.

  He smiled down at her. “You look beautiful, Isabelle.”

  She feigned disinterest. “What makes you think my name is Isabelle?”

  “Because you’re the only one who ordered a wig like that from my family’s mercantile.”

  Her dance partner was Chris Johansen, then. She’d suspected as much. She didn’t even bother to hold back her frustrated huff. She’d gone through a lot of trouble to disguise herself from her older sister’s former suitors. Apparently, her efforts hadn’t worked. “Sophia promised she wouldn’t tell anyone that I’d ordered the wig.”

  “Don’t worry. My little sister refused to answer a single one of my questions about who it was for. I figured it out on my own by looking at your account records.”

  Why he’d go through all of that trouble was beyond her. She simply couldn’t get used to the tenacity or attentions of Chris and her other so-called suitors. They’d never paid her any mind before her sister’s elopement. She could hardly take them seriously now when, despite their best efforts to prove otherwise, it was obvious they were only seeking a replacement for Amy. Isabelle aspired to few things in life, but allowing herself to become a faded tintype in the eyes of a man who should cherish her for herself was not one of them. She’d try to make that clear by avoiding the men altogether. They didn’t seem to be getting the message. Perhaps she ought to try being a bit more assertive. Starting with “Mark Antony.”

  Isabelle pinned him with an accusatory stare as he whirled her around the crowded dance floor in a waltz. “Well, all I have to say is you’ve got a lot of nerve, Chris Johansen, dressing to match me. What exactly are you trying to achieve by doing this? Because the only message I’m getting is that you’re a cheater.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks. You won’t stay still long enough to listen.”

  No, she hadn’t, but perhaps he’d leave her alone if she let him say his peace. After a long-suffering sigh, she nodded. “All right, I’m listening now. What is it you want to say?”

  “You and I have been friends a long time, haven’t we?”

  “Uh-huh.” She found refuge from his too-intense eyes by scanning the crowd of onlookers. It wasn’t until her gaze landed on the tall, powerfully built pirate who’d approached her earlier that she realized she’d been looking for him all along. He stood at the edge of the dance floor talking to a couple. They must have been saying their goodbyes for he shook the man’s hand and received a quick hug from the lady. He turned. For one intense moment, their eyes caught and held across the distance. But then the steps of the waltz spun her around and she lost sight of him.

  “Isabelle, did you hear me?”

  She forced herself to refocus on her partner. “Hmm?”

  “I was trying to ask you—” He froze, which was probably a good thing since he looked downright exasperated.

  It was only when he turned slightly away from her that she saw the man at his heels. Dressed in a costume fit for a drawing room in Regency England, he gave a shallow bow. “May I cut in?”

  Chris scowled. “No.”

  The gentleman stroked the curves of his immaculately shaped auburn mustache as he affected a very poor English accent. “Mr. Johansen, it is common courtesy to yield in such occasions.”

  Chris’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know who I am?”

  “As an artist always knows his own work, a barber recognizes every haircut he gives.”

  As Chris slid his fingers through his blond hair, Isabelle barely withheld a groan of recognition. She should have recognized Amy’s childhood sweetheart the second she saw his mustache. “John Merriweather.”

  “Miss Isabelle, I presume.” He bowed again. “May I have this dance?”

  Chris kept hold of her hand. “Now, see here, John. You’ll just have to wait—”

  “Absolutely, you may cut in, Mr. Merriweather.” She glanced between two men—one dejected, the other gloating. Lifting Chris’s hand, she placed it squarely in John’s. “It might look a little strange, but you gentlemen enjoy yourselves.”

  She lingered only long enough to watch their mouths drop open as they jerked their hands back and glared at each other. Their protests rang in her ears
as she left them on the dance floor. Fearing one or both might attempt to follow her—once they were done arguing with each other—she slipped out a side door into the hotel’s garden. A cold wind set her teeth chattering and hastened her down the path leading to the wide back porch. She reached for the door to reenter the hotel, but hesitated. Stepping farther into the shadows of the porch, she considered her options.

  If she went back into the ballroom, she’d likely spend the rest of the night trying to avoid Amy’s spurned suitors. Her only other option was to leave the masquerade altogether. She grimaced at the thought of returning home early on a night free from her parents’ suspicious and watchful gazes. As much as she loved them, their overprotectiveness of her and her fifteen-year-old sister, Violet, had become stifling.

  In the aftermath of Amy’s elopement with a former boarder at the family’s boardinghouse, her parents had become fixated on not letting that situation repeat itself. They’d even gone so far as to say they’d sell Bradley Boardinghouse if one more thing went wrong. Isabelle had laughed the first time they’d said it, thinking they were joking. They weren’t. However, all they’d done so far was talk about the possibility of selling. She was certain that with a little time they’d regain their love for the boardinghouse and no longer be tempted to consider anything as drastic as that. In the meantime, she’d simply have to make sure nothing else went wrong.

  The sound of the door opening startled her from her reverie just as a man stepped out onto the porch. It wasn’t merely any man, though. It was the pirate she’d noticed inside. A coat covered most of his costume now, but he still wore the unmistakable tricornered hat. He paused to remove it. His mask came off next. A soft gasp filled her lungs as the golden light of a nearby lantern illuminated his handsome features. Shock eased his name from her lips with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Rhett Granger.”

  He spun toward her. His eyes widened as she stepped from the shadows. “It’s you. What— Why are you out here? In the cold porch. On the cold. In the porch. I mean...” He shook his head and gave up.

  Tilting her head, she stared at him in confusion. Land sakes! What had happened to him all of a sudden? She hadn’t heard him stumble around with his words like that since he’d been sweet on Amy.

  From what she’d seen, Rhett had been left truly brokenhearted by Amy’s elopement. Isabelle had gotten to know him relatively well in the few months since her best friend, Helen, had married his best friend, Quinn. Before then, she’d only really thought of him as one of Amy’s admirers. Now she knew for certain that he was as honest, trustworthy and honorable as his reputation said he was. He was also about ten times as exasperating—usually.

  Tonight, his amber eyes showed a vulnerability she’d never seen before. It prompted her to offer a gentle smile. “It was getting a little crowded in there. What about you? Where are you going?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Home. I’m not really in a party.”

  He didn’t seem to notice his mistake this time, and she didn’t have the heart to point it out. Stepping forward, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and rattled them lightly in an attempt to shake him to his senses. “But it’s New Year’s Eve!”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that.” He softened the statement with a teasing grin. She felt his chest swell against the coat as he took a deep breath, which made her realize she was still holding on to his coat. She immediately released it. Before she could step back, he’d taken off the coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You must be freezing.”

  “I didn’t realize how much until now.” She snuggled into the coat’s warmth. “Thank you.”

  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black leather pants and tipped his head toward the door. “You should go inside where it’s warm.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Then will you at least allow me to walk you home?”

  Suddenly realizing she still had her mask on, she lifted her chin. “Do you know where I live?”

  She was really asking if he knew her true identity. He seemed to understand that because he stepped even closer. He lifted her chin to survey her more closely. She watched his gaze trail from the tip of her nose over her cheeks. It rested upon her lips for an interminably long time before dropping to her chin and returning to her eyes. It only seemed fair that she take the same liberties. The dark shadow of a two-day-old beard covered his square jaw, stopping right below his perfectly sculpted nose and cheekbones. His eyebrows were two thick slashes over his dark lashes. As she watched, the color of his amber eyes deepened.

  Encircling his strong wrist with her hand, she tugged lightly. He released his hold. She stepped back and struggled to gather her thoughts. What had they been talking about? Oh, yes.

  “Well? Do you know where I live?”

  * * *

  Rhett could do nothing but stare into the face of Isabelle Bradley. Had she felt it, too? There had been some kind of tug between them. He’d felt in that moment as though he could have done something crazy—like kiss her.

  He’d noticed little things like the myriad shades of green that made up her eyes and how they shifted like when the sun hit the waters of a slow-moving creek. Her lashes were so dark brown they almost would have looked black if not for the hint of gold that shone in the lantern light. Her lips were pink and bow-shaped. He couldn’t help wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Startled by that thought since he had no business thinking it, he gave his head a little shake.

  This was Isabelle Bradley. The woman had made no secret of the fact that she found him exasperating. In truth, that was no surprise because he’d tried his hardest to be exasperating. Something about her had always gotten under his skin. She made him uneasy—not in a way most women did that so often resulted in his stuttering and stammering. It was more akin to when he was at the forge waiting for something to reach the right temperature. That anticipation, that sense of knowing was the same. He merely hadn’t realized it until now.

  “Rhett?” The impatience in her tone made him realize she was still waiting for an answer.

  Of course he knew where she lived. A person couldn’t be in town more than a few minutes before hearing about Bradley Boardinghouse. It was one of the best and most reputable places to stay in Peppin. The only reason he wasn’t living there was because the man who’d sold him the smithy had offered him a cabin as a package deal. However, that didn’t mean he was going to let Isabelle know that he was onto her. He figured if Isabelle had wanted him to know who she was beneath her mask, she would have already told him. He didn’t see any harm in playing along with her. “Sure, but Egypt is pretty far away. Don’t you think we’d better start walking?”

  The triumph in her smile told him he’d made the right choice. “Actually, I have a better idea. I don’t want to go back to the party and neither do you. So let’s don’t. Let’s go on an adventure instead.”

  If he’d had any doubts to her identity, they would have been put to rest then and there. He only knew two women who’d suggest something like that. One was inside dressed like Cupid and attacking people with arrows. The other was standing before him on the porch with pure mischief in her smile. He lifted a brow. “Is that right? And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? If I remember my history lessons correctly, men who hang around Cleopatra for too long end up dead.”

  She gave a delightful little laugh. “Oh, and associating with a pirate isn’t dangerous?”

  “I prefer buccaneer, but you make a valid point.” He took her hand and pushed back the sleeve of his coat to reveal the set of bracelets draped around her wrist. He trailed a finger across the most expensive-looking one. It was gold with a set of emeralds. Realizing the clasp was slightly open, he eased it closed. “Perhaps you should reconsider giving a command like that when you wear treasure such as this.”

  “There’s nothing
to reconsider.” She affected a haughty tone to fit her character. “I’m not a woman whose decisions or opinions can be easily swayed by danger...or men.”

  “An admirable quality in a queen to be sure. However, there is one small problem.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to confide, “I’m not a man who’ll accept a command without question.”

  “And what is your question?”

  He broke from her gaze for only an instant before whispering, “Where are we going?”

  That won him a smile. “If I told you that, it would take away part of the adventure. I can tell you a few things. It’s somewhere not far from here. Few people know about it. We will be able to view the fireworks undisturbed. How does that sound?”

  Scandalous. Yet, it was hard to say no to that hopeful look in her eyes while she was all but swallowed in his coat. She was adorable and beautiful all at once. Furthermore, romance was in the air and he wasn’t panicking. He had no idea why that was the case, but he knew one thing. He wasn’t going to leave her side until he found out.

  Copyright © 2015 by Noelle Marchand

  ISBN-13: 9781460388853

  Frontier Engagement

  Copyright © 2015 by Regina Lundgren

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