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Details registered, each hitting me with the precision of a punch. He occupied and totally owned a space just past the doorway. Around thirty years old, he stood well over six feet tall. He wore a tailored, pinstriped suit that failed to mask his muscular physique. Far more beautiful than zipper guy, with sleek black hair, icy blue eyes, and an amazing complexion without a single laugh line. Trim dark scruff covered a strong jaw.
“I told you to be ready by three sharp.” His crisp words slashed the atmosphere between us. He looked me up and down, his lids narrowing. “This is not ready.”
Did he and Isobel work together to abduct innocent tourists?
“Who are you?” I demanded with all the vim and vigor I could muster.You’ve got to be kidding me. I evensoundedlike the redhead. Not her lyrical pronunciation, just her voice. “Where’s Isobel?”
There was no alteration in the man’s expression as he checked the diamond-studded watch strapped to his wrist. A bejeweled signet ring glinted from a blunt-tipped finger. “There’s no time for your games. Change clothes. And stop using that atrocious American accent. It’s worse than theothers. This reception would’ve taken place last night if you hadn’t drunk yourself into a stupor.”
“Mygames?Mine?” What did he mean, atrocious? Lots of people found my slight southern drawl pleasing, thank you. And what other accents? “I mean it. Who are you? Where am I? Where’s my necklace? What are you planning to do with me?” And where was the dog?
“Isobel,” he grated with a glare. “Enough. I married you. Now you will do your duty as my wife, exactly as agreed. Understood? Change clothes.”
A shudder rocked me. He’d called me Isobel. Which meant he, too, saw the redhead when he looked at me. What if Isobel had drugged us both?
My fury downgraded to concern. “You’ve got to listen to me, sir. My name is Elizabeth. I’m not Isobel, and I didn’t marry you.” I would never! He was hot and all, but way too bossy for my tastes. Although, yes, if he were fictional, I might marathon read his series. Because of course he would have a saga spanning decades. “As wild as this sounds, I think we’re both hallucinating. We require medical care. And an arrest warrant for Isobel Campbell.”
He flicked the tip of his tongue over an incisor. “Do you want to be executed? Because that’s where such talk is headed.”
Fear iced my veins, and I gasped. “You just threatened to kill me.”
“Donna be ridiculous. You know I never bother with threats. I’ll give you two minutes to don proper attire. If you fail to act, I’ll force you to go just as you are.”
Forget my accent. He had just developed one, and all kinds of menace layered the undertone. Somehow, it was far worse than the (definite) threat. “That was a threat.”
“That was apromise.”
Self-preservation instincts sparked. I might not have my mother’s fiery temper or my father’s unrufflable calm, but I had something invaluable. Stamina. I’d started running in high school and never stopped. I could go for miles. And I definitely needed to run. My companion wasn’t interested in the truth.
“I hear you loud and clear, big guy. Dress better. Got it logged now.” I tapped my temple. “Why don’t you step in the hall, and I’ll get started?” I’d sneak out a window.
He didn’t budge. Rather, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared me down.
Okay then. We’d do this in plain sight. I chanced a glance over his broad shoulders. No one loomed in the open doorframe. Excellent. I pasted on my brightest smile, then faked left and darted right, tearing past him. I left Tall, Dark and Commanding in my dust.
My heart thundered in my ears as I sprinted across the hall toward a winding staircase. Down I went, noticing blue this and blue that. But who cared? Where was the exit? Two maids in uniform dusted at the bottom. They offered me a half-hearted bend of the knee. Weird.
“How do I get out of here?” I rushed out.
Silent gaping met my question. They peered up and performed true curtseys.
I tracked their gazes. Gah! Tall, Dark and Commanding had followed me. He towered at the top of the staircase. “There’s got to be a front door. Back door?”
Features schooled in a blank mask, he descended at a leisurely pace. I wasn’t sure how, but his ease proved more terrifying than anyone else’s rage.
“Where?” I demanded of the women.
When he nodded permission, the shorter of the two pointed to the leftwith a shaky finger.
I didn’t stick around to thank her. Or him. Just dashed through an immense sitting area beyond a gaggle of other maids. There! The door. But gah! Isobel’s bodyguards, Buzz and Ponytail, flanked it.
Good guys or bad guys? I’d soon find out. “Help me,” I commanded. “The man in the suit threatened to kill me.”
The pair cast confused looks in said man’s direction, allwhat should we do, boss?Yeah,they worked for TDC, not Isobel. Though my stomach twisted, I didn’t change course. To gain my freedom, I must overcomeanyobstacle. Even behemoths.
They didn’t attempt to stop me as I gripped the knob. The gold handle turned easily. Hinges glided without impediment as the thick wooden slab with a stained glass cut out opened. Still, the bodyguards did nothing as I fled.
Afternoon sunlight and a warmish breeze scented with heather enveloped me. Where to go, where to go? I hastened forward, scanning... To the left and right, trees. Up ahead, a circle drive with an elaborate marble water fountain as its centerpiece. A sleek black sedan waited nearby, the engine already purring. Another vehicle parked behind it.
