able
to find the hidden fountain.”
Marissa swallowed hard as she realized the hedges now seemed
to be rooted in the frosty ground. There was no way anyone could have altered their
route.
“I already told you—I simply walked through to the center.”
Her voice wavered a little as she surreptitiously pulled at one of the hedges.
It bent, but its roots held firm.
The stranger moved closer, staring intently. “We have not
been introduced, Miss…?”
Was this more role-playing? If so, it had gone entirely too
far. “Who are you?” Marissa shot back.
“Rhys Montford,” he said, almost expectantly.
“I’m Marissa Blythe,” she replied, mollified by his
continued politeness. “Ah, it must be this way. Surely the exit cannot be far.”
Lord Rhys, fifth Baron Montford, followed the girl, trying
not to appreciate her curvy body too much. So she had wandered into the maze to
avoid gossip? He was here for the same reason. The last thing he had expected
to find was a genuinely beautiful young woman sitting in his own personal
refuge. How had she gotten through the maze so easily? And how had he missed her arrival at his own party?
Upon finding her, Rhys had been immediately suspicious that
someone had conspired to spirit the girl through the maze, creating a
compromising situation designed to embarrass him. Yet the girl truly seemed not
to recognize Rhys, focusing solely on exiting the maze. Rhys found himself
fascinated.
He trailed her silently as she uncertainly navigated her way
forward. Marissa. Unusual name, easy on the tongue. Her accent marked her as
American—what the devil was she doing in rural Shropshire?
Any minute now she would give up trying to get through the
maze. It was a miracle she hadn’t gotten lost on the way in. What had she been
thinking, setting off without a chaperone or, at the very least, a warm coat?
Had she been involved in an argument?
It was difficult to be silent when he was consumed by such
intense curiosity. Somehow he managed to keep his mouth shut, waiting patiently
at a junction as Marissa explored a double dead end. As she came back, he
resisted the urge to grab her around the waist and direct her toward the right
way. He wanted to see just how determined she really was.
There was a steely glint in her eye that made him think she
wasn’t going to give up easily. Oddly enough, she clung to her belief that the
maze was easy, that someone had magically changed the paths to confound her.
A quarter of an hour later, the girl had made some progress,
doggedly continuing on despite the many setbacks of the complicated hedge
paths. But she was getting cold, and Rhys was too much of a gentleman to let
her struggle on in silence. His conscience bit at him as he caught sight of
goose bumps on her arms. She really needed to be inside by a roaring fire with
a hot drink.
That meant escorting her inside and into what would most
certainly be a storm of controversy over his entrance with a single woman.
“Can I not assist you?” Rhys moved to her side, resisting
the urge to rub warmth into her bare skin.
“It shouldn’t be this complicated,” Marissa replied. “The
maze looked quite simple at the entrance.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
She glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze with her
deep brown eyes. “Yes, they can. I learned that very early on in life.”
Was that why she had deliberately not recognized him? He had
to admit her lack of fawning was incredibly refreshing. The ladies his mother
had invited to today’s party—every one painfully eligible—were all too aware of
who he was. None of them would have dared venture into this maze.
Society would be scandalized if it knew he was out here with
an unchaperoned lady. His mother, on the other hand, would seize any chance to
finally see him wed and producing grandchildren. She had been flinging girl
after girl at him, all of them decent baroness material, on paper at least. In
person, most were
to find the hidden fountain.”
Marissa swallowed hard as she realized the hedges now seemed
to be rooted in the frosty ground. There was no way anyone could have altered their
route.
“I already told you—I simply walked through to the center.”
Her voice wavered a little as she surreptitiously pulled at one of the hedges.
It bent, but its roots held firm.
The stranger moved closer, staring intently. “We have not
been introduced, Miss…?”
Was this more role-playing? If so, it had gone entirely too
far. “Who are you?” Marissa shot back.
“Rhys Montford,” he said, almost expectantly.
“I’m Marissa Blythe,” she replied, mollified by his
continued politeness. “Ah, it must be this way. Surely the exit cannot be far.”
Lord Rhys, fifth Baron Montford, followed the girl, trying
not to appreciate her curvy body too much. So she had wandered into the maze to
avoid gossip? He was here for the same reason. The last thing he had expected
to find was a genuinely beautiful young woman sitting in his own personal
refuge. How had she gotten through the maze so easily? And how had he missed her arrival at his own party?
Upon finding her, Rhys had been immediately suspicious that
someone had conspired to spirit the girl through the maze, creating a
compromising situation designed to embarrass him. Yet the girl truly seemed not
to recognize Rhys, focusing solely on exiting the maze. Rhys found himself
fascinated.
He trailed her silently as she uncertainly navigated her way
forward. Marissa. Unusual name, easy on the tongue. Her accent marked her as
American—what the devil was she doing in rural Shropshire?
Any minute now she would give up trying to get through the
maze. It was a miracle she hadn’t gotten lost on the way in. What had she been
thinking, setting off without a chaperone or, at the very least, a warm coat?
Had she been involved in an argument?
It was difficult to be silent when he was consumed by such
intense curiosity. Somehow he managed to keep his mouth shut, waiting patiently
at a junction as Marissa explored a double dead end. As she came back, he
resisted the urge to grab her around the waist and direct her toward the right
way. He wanted to see just how determined she really was.
There was a steely glint in her eye that made him think she
wasn’t going to give up easily. Oddly enough, she clung to her belief that the
maze was easy, that someone had magically changed the paths to confound her.
A quarter of an hour later, the girl had made some progress,
doggedly continuing on despite the many setbacks of the complicated hedge
paths. But she was getting cold, and Rhys was too much of a gentleman to let
her struggle on in silence. His conscience bit at him as he caught sight of
goose bumps on her arms. She really needed to be inside by a roaring fire with
a hot drink.
That meant escorting her inside and into what would most
certainly be a storm of controversy over his entrance with a single woman.
“Can I not assist you?” Rhys moved to her side, resisting
the urge to rub warmth into her bare skin.
“It shouldn’t be this complicated,” Marissa replied. “The
maze looked quite simple at the entrance.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
She glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze with her
deep brown eyes. “Yes, they can. I learned that very early on in life.”
Was that why she had deliberately not recognized him? He had
to admit her lack of fawning was incredibly refreshing. The ladies his mother
had invited to today’s party—every one painfully eligible—were all too aware of
who he was. None of them would have dared venture into this maze.
Society would be scandalized if it knew he was out here with
an unchaperoned lady. His mother, on the other hand, would seize any chance to
finally see him wed and producing grandchildren. She had been flinging girl
after girl at him, all of them decent baroness material, on paper at least. In
person, most were
Similar Books
