The Texan's Courtship Lessons. Noelle Marchand
from the edge.
“Am I worrying you, Rhett?”
“Not at all.” His nodding head belied his statement.
She laughed. “Well, if I can’t fly, how am I supposed to have my adventure?”
He thought for a moment then grinned. “I’ve never danced on a rooftop, have you?”
“Danced on a... No, I can’t say I have, but there’s no music.” Realizing she could still hear the faint strains of a reel from the ballroom, she amended, “Leastwise, none loud enough to be useful.”
He pulled his harmonica from his pocket, which she was pretty sure was its permanent residence. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I didn’t.”
He ignored her. “Stay on this side of the roof if you want to avoid breaking your neck. How about a waltz—Chopin, Number Seven?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
It was. She shook her head when he began playing almost before she’d even finished talking. Her protests fled after his first few notes. They were soulful, smooth, lilting. Her lashes drifted closed without her permission as the passion he infused into each note enveloped her like a warm embrace. Before she knew it, the last note was fading into the night. She opened her eyes to find Rhett watching her with a bemused half smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t dance.”
“That was... You...didn’t, either. Play it again, Rhett.”
This time she couldn’t break away from his riveting gaze as he started over from the beginning. She swayed in time with the music then smiled when he mirrored her movements so that it felt as if they were dancing together without even touching. The sway became a waltz. Isabelle spun, her skirt swirling out around her. Rhett brushed past her. Suddenly, they were waltzing around each other, nearly colliding at times but never touching, held only by each other’s gaze until Rhett drew out the last note long enough to give a deep, courtly bow. She responded in character with a regal curtsy.
A gust of wind swirled past her with enough force to urge her a step closer to Rhett, yet she hardly felt the cold as she responded to the warmth of his smile with one of her own. The faint sounds filtering up from the party below turned into a full-blown commotion. She forced herself to speak, though her words came out rather low and breathless. “I suppose it must be midnight.”
“Must be.” He tilted his head and lifted a brow. “There’s a small matter of tradition, you know.”
“Tradition?” She watched the focus of his amber eyes shift toward her lips. Realization spread through at the speed of her racing heart and instant blush. “Oh, I suppose there is. However, under the circumstances...”
He eased close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to look at him. She had a feeling she should step back, but the message didn’t quite make it to her feet, which stayed resolutely put. The moon drifted from behind a cloud to highlight the strong angle of his jaw and she got a little distracted. She’d been saying something. “What I mean is, I don’t think it’s necessary...”
A distant whine filled the air before a pop of sound and color filled the night sky. The fireworks were starting. She should point that out. My, but he was taking his time, wasn’t he? If he really was going to kiss her, why didn’t he do it instead of hovering a breath away and making her all sorts of confused? Her lashes fluttered closed of their own accord. His first kiss was featherlight and unsatisfyingly brief. Just as disappointment set in, he kissed her again. This time, pressing one hand against her back to draw her closer and tilting her chin upward. She leaned into him.
Light flashed against her closed eyes while a boom rattled the building beneath her feet. She assumed it was a side effect of the kiss until Rhett pulled her down to kneel on the roof beside him. Dazed, she stared up at the black sky as balls of colored fire rained toward them, out of control and dangerously close. She screamed as sizzling green light whizzed past her, then she covered her ears as the explosions continued. “What is happening?”
“The fireworks. They’re misfiring. We need to get off this roof. Now.”
He practically carried her to the fire escape. She tried to keep up with him as they began their descent but her skirt billowed in the wind, making it hard for her to see each step. Rhett offered her a guiding hand. She shook her head. “Go on ahead. You’ll make it down faster without me. I’ll be right behind you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, Isabelle.”
“You’re part of the fire brigade. Someone may need help. Go!”
He hesitated only long enough to nod before taking off down the stairs.
* * *
Rhett hated to leave Isabelle behind, but she was right. He was a volunteer firefighter and, by the look he’d gleaned while they were on the roof, something had already caught fire from the initial explosion. Whatever it was looked to be close to his own cabin, which meant it was in a residential area. Someone could be trapped or hurt. Still, as he neared the bottom of the steep, winding staircase, he couldn’t help glancing upward to make sure that Isabelle was managing all right. She looked to be making a steady, if somewhat cautious, progress down the stairs.
Missing the next step completely, Rhett stepped into nothingness. He pitched forward, tripped down the next couple of steps and grasped the railing in time to keep from tumbling the rest of the way face-first. His panting breaths filled his ears along with the thundering of his racing heart. Pausing only an instant longer to regain his equilibrium, he marched back up the stairs to Isabelle. He ignored her startled look as he grasped her hand to help her navigate the last flight of stairs. “I almost broke my neck rushing down. There’s no way I’m letting you do the same.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, Rhett, did you hurt yourself?”
“I don’t think so.” A twinge of pain in his right ankle belied his statement, but he ignored it as they finally made it safely to the ground. He didn’t bother to release her hand as he led her toward the back garden gate. “Come on. I know a shortcut.”
They cut through the alley to the next street, where they merged with the stream of people rushing toward the fire. The whistling and popping of fireworks had faded away, leaving only shouts and confused murmurs to fill the night air. The pain in his ankle continued to build until it slowed his steps enough for Isabelle to notice. She latched on to his arm with her free hand as they wound through the crowd. “You’re limping.”
“I’m fine.” That wasn’t entirely true, but at the moment he didn’t care. They were getting close to the corner where he lived. Too close. He ignored Jeff Bridger, the local deputy, who was trying to keep everyone back, and pushed to the very front of the crowd. His stomach dropped all the way to boots then rose to his throat. He swallowed hard even as a groan filled his chest.
Isabelle’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Is it your leg?”
“No, that’s my house.”
He heard Isabelle’s gasp as she took in the sight for herself. Meanwhile, he could do nothing but stare at the bright orange flames that engulfed the entire front half of the structure. Plumes of smoke drifted upward to mingle with the night sky. Fanned by a gusting wind, the fire sent sparks spiraling toward the house next-door to his. The sight was enough to set him in motion. He stepped forward to speak with the deputy. “Jeff, have my neighbors been accounted for?”
“Yes, and they said you were at the masquerade.” Jeff must not have attended for he was dressed in his normal cowboy garb complete with a badge on his chest. “The sheriff was looking for you, though. I reckon he wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Suddenly, a musketeer and a man in a Renaissance costume broke free of the crowd. Deputy Bridger called out a warning to anyone who might try to follow them. Ignoring it completely, Rhett went after them, drawn by the urgency in their gestures. They stopped to speak to another