Page 21 of Her Heartless Duke
For a moment, they both shared a look before they burst out laughing. Never before had Olivia felt such lightness, such freedom. It was as if her chest opened up and she could soar over the din of the people.
“Wait here for a moment,” he told her before turning back to the pavilion where a couple was handing out tankards of ale to their waiting customers. He secured two of them and gave one to her.
Olivia had never drunk ale before, but her mouth was parched from all the dancing. She raised her tankard to her lips without hesitation and allowed the liquid to quench her thirst, only to end up sputtering in disgust.
Isaac burst out in laughter, earning for himself a glare.
“It takes some getting used to,” he advised her gently.
“It is horrid,” she countered.
He merely laughed again, and Olivia decided that she liked the sound of his laughter, the deep rumble of it was like a drug seeping into her veins and the way his eyes danced when he did was a sight to behold.
“So, I have an idea.” Isaac leaned over the table and his broad shoulders seemed to dwarf the shoddily crafted piece of furniture. “I was thinking that maybe I could write a letter to Lady Vivian.”
Olivia felt as if there was a string tugging her back so suddenly that she crashed to the ground. It took all her self-control to not wince visibly.
Lady Vivian? But must we talk about her right now…?
Instead, she nodded and drank lightly of her ale once more. “I think that is a brilliant idea, Your Grace.”
“Call me Isaac,” he told her. “There are many things I want to say to her, but I fear that I may overwhelm her, or I may end up saying the wrong things.”
“Yes, yes—you are right.” She did her best imitation of an encouraging smile and added, “Then, I shall see what I can do to get her to write a letter to you, too.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You would do that?”
“I… will?—”
She was cut off by a scream tearing into the air. Olivia quickly turned around to see what was wrong, only to have her line of sight blocked by Isaac.
“A fight has broken out,” he told her. “It would be best for you to avert your gaze.”
"A fight?” Horror filled her features. “Should we—”
“Just a brawl between drunk men. Stay here for a moment.”
Olivia watched as he waded in through the throng. He was so tall that he easily stood head and shoulders above all the others.
For a moment, she watched with bated breath as he tried to pull the drunken louts from each other, but to no avail. It would seem that those men—if they could be called that—had just about had enough of drinking and were looking for other diversions now.
Olivia had been craning her neck for what seemed like an eternity to her before Isaac emerged unscathed, thankfully. He flashed her a roguish grin as he threw his cloak over her.
“Shall we head elsewhere, my Lady? There is no reasoning with them when they are well and thoroughly intoxicated.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I thought you would never ask.”
He laughed as he put an arm around her shoulders and ushered her through the growing chaos of the street. They pushed through what seemed to her like a horde of bodies—some of them fleeing the fracas and some of them rushing headlong into the fray.
Isaac steered her into a relatively empty alley, the din growing fainter between them. They kept running until they entered what appeared to be a dilapidated stable of sorts. The hay beneath their feet was already moist and there were no horses in the pens.
He closed the door behind them. Fortunately, there was a lamp that had some oil left in it still and Isaac expertly lit it, the faint, flickering flame casting a soft circle of light around him.
“Are you alright?” he asked her. “You are not hurt anywhere, are you?”
And Olivia knew that she should have been furious with him for bringing her to this place, for exposing her to such danger, and yet, all she could do was burst into laughter!
“No!” she exclaimed, exhilaration still pumping through her veins. “I am perfectly alright, as you can see.”