CHAPTER 21
Arwyn
I couldn’t stop looking at him.
Forget Darcy or Bingley or even Mr. Knightley—Zaki Marsch was the Regency dream guy. Dressed to the nines in his perfectly tailored kit, the man should have been a supermodel. When I was squished up against him, the hard muscles of his arms and thighs burned through my cloak and gown and made my skin hot.
There were eight other people in the limo—beautiful people—and I couldn’t take my eyes off the man next to me.
Occasionally, I forced myself to turn my head. Xavier and Jason, who’d been away representing the USA, were back from the Olympics, just for the night, and Zaki hung on to their every word. They’d played their qualifying games and now had a few days off during the women’s qualifiers. Penny shone in her new gown, and Lauren glowed in her fifth month of pregnancy. On the other side of Penny, Gabby and Noel’s faces were glued together, and his hand rubbed her belly like it was a genie’s lamp. I had a feeling there would be another announcement coming soon. On the other side of Zaki, their new teammate Flynn and his fiancée, Meggie, were quietly taking it all in.
“Look!” Penny pointed out the side window as the car turned on to the winding road that led to the resort. “It’s like a winter wonderland!”
Brenna Trotter, our town’s premier wedding planner and wife of Edge defenseman Brendan Trotter, had told me about this place in the winter. But her description did the actual scene before me very little justice. The massive exterior with its intricate towers and balconies was bathed in warm, golden light that dazzled in a display of elegance unmatched by anything I’d ever seen. Behind it, the towering silhouettes of the Rockies framed the classic Mediterranean-style buildings. Strings of twinkling fairy lights connected the old-fashioned streetlamps, creating an enchanting and inviting ambience.
Inside, the gilded and marble lobby dripped with wealth and luxury. Outside the ballroom, I removed my cloak at the coat check and handed it to Zaki, who gave it and his overcoat to an attendant. Sadly, formal manners dictated he give over his top hat as well. We proceeded to the step-and-repeat backdrop for photos, which made me a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t too bad.
The ballroom … The ballroom was right out of a Regency novel. Ornate chandeliers, gilded mirrors, and nineteenth-century furniture sets were arranged throughout the space. Long banquet tables stretched from the door to the dance floor, set with towering topiaries, fine porcelain dishes, gleaming silver, and gilded candelabra.
“This is the best research ever,” I whispered to Zaki as we walked arm in arm to our seats. “There are too many distractions for me to think about the crowd, and no one I’ve met so far seems fake or insincere.”
“There are a lot of great experiences outside your comfort zone, Wynna-bun. But give it time—the fake and insincere part,” Zaki murmured into my ear. “Hang with me, and you’ll get your fill.”
I frowned. “Surely, anyone here who’s a fan is sincere about it.”
“You’d think so. But my photo and autograph are commodities. Most people don’t care about the player; they care about the status of being with the player or the autographed item they can showcase or sell. And keep your guard up—they may try to get close to you since you’re close to me.”
“I hate that for you,” I said. “How do you decide who you can trust?”
“You keep your net wide but your circle small. Family, longtime teammates. Teammates’ families. That’s about it. And you nurture those relationships when you get split up. I’ve known Jason and Kingston since the minors. When Kingston went to play in Montana, we got together when the teams played each other. And he invited us up there to visit. Lauren and Viki are still close, and she’s been a good friend even when Viki started to pull away. We don’t let the people we care about quit.”
I turned his last sentence over in my mind. I knew what he was referring to, but it was his marriage that jumped to the front of my mind. It was admirable, the way he’d tried to save it. But ultimately, Viki had quit him.
“Sometimes you have to give up things, Zaki. Things that bring you down. Things you can’t fix. It’s not always quitting. And it’s okay.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. We arrived at our table, and he pulled my chair out for me. On my other side was Flynn, whom I hadn’t said more than a hello to. Across the table were our other limo-mates, and within minutes, Zaki and Gabby, the most extroverted of the group, started a conversation we could all participate in. I didn’t even notice when Penny disappeared.
Promptly at seven o’clock, the soothing sounds of classical music stopped and the emcee welcomed us all. He spoke about the charity, introduced Mr. and Mrs. Biddington, and passed the mic to Monty, who spoke about the silent auction, whose proceeds would benefit children in local pediatric cancer units. Then we all stood for Penny’s rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
By the third course, I was having a great time getting to know Zaki’s teammates and their significant others. Tasha and Monty stopped by to say hello. Tasha’s belly bump looked adorable under her ribboned empire waistline.
After dessert, members from the local symphony took the stage and performed popular classic and modern selections. Couples took to the dance floor, and Zaki turned to me.
“Arwyn,” he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the lilting strains of the symphony. He offered his hand, absent of the white gloves. “Would you grant me the honor of a dance?”
The question was simple, friendly. But his eyes … his eyes said something more. Bright, hopeful, playful, and a touch mischievous, they locked onto mine with a fervent intensity. My pulse quickened, and heat crept into my cheeks as I nodded. I’d have been content to watch from the sidelines, to quietly melt into the background on a settee in the corner and soak in the atmosphere and lose myself in the romance of it all—for research purposes, of course.
But the way he looked at me made it impossible to refuse. His grin—oh, that grin—lit up his face, boyish and unguarded. I laid my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch even through the fine fabric of my lacy glove.
“If the gentleman has determined a dance to be part of the lady’s research,” I began, grateful my voice sounded stately—and far steadier than I was feeling—“then how is the lady to refuse?”
Zaki tugged me up from my seat gently and tucked my arm into his. “Splendid.” Then he bent to whisper in my ear, his warm breath coaxing goosebumps to make an appearance. “How’s my impression so far?”
“Of?” I teased. Above us, the chandeliers glittered like the stars in my eyes, illuminating the grandeur. The melody of the strings on stage summoned me like a piper as Zaki guided me through the dancing couples into the center of the dance floor.
“You wound me. My impression of a gentleman, of course. I risked my reputation watching clips of Regency films on the plane. Tell me I didn’t waste my time?” In one swift motion, he placed my free hand on his shoulder, his right hand settled lightly at my waist, and the left held mine firmly but gently.
“Smooth move,” I murmured. “You learned that from a movie clip?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Not that one. That’s all Marsch. Impressed?”
I fluttered my eyelashes. “By your roguish move and charm? I’m on guard, for sure.”
His expression changed from teasing to serious. “You never have to be on guard with me, Wynna-bun.”
I swallowed, surprised by the intensity behind his statement. “Noted.”
The symphony transitioned to a waltz, and his expression lit up again. “I should warn you,” he said softly, “I’m an expert dancer.”
He guided me effortlessly, confident and smooth. I clung to him, relishing the strength beneath my hand on his shoulder and grateful for the lacy fabric of my glove, which was surely absorbing the clamminess.
Was there anything this man couldn’t do? It was as if the music flowed through him, and I relaxed into the rhythm of the dancing, not needing to count and putting my trust in him completely to lead.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I asked. “You’re a natural.”
“I was born waltzing,” he boasted.
“Really?” I challenged, my brow knitting.
“It’s you, Wynna-bun. You’re making me look good,” he countered.
“Hmm.” I wasn’t convinced, but if he didn’t want to tell me, it was easy to assume he’d learned to dance with his ex, and I for sure wasn’t going to bring her up during this perfect moment.
“Look at me, Wynn.”
“It’s not a paso doble,” I protested. “No eye contact required.” But my eyes found his again, and the warmth radiating there blurred my thoughts. For what it was worth, we could have been dancing the paso the way he was looking at me.
“I can dance that, too,” he challenged. “Do you want to see my best matador moves?”
Whew.
Okay.
“Maybe another time,” I squeaked. If he kept talking like that, I’d lose my ability to form coherent thoughts, never mind witty replies.
As we box-stepped and twirled, the room and the people blurred around us, the hems of their gowns swept the polished wood, and the very small space between became charged with an electricity that made my breath catch each time his hand adjusted slightly at my waist or our eyes met for just a beat too long. The song began to build to its crescendo, and he pulled me just a fraction closer, enough to catch the scent of his soap or shampoo or?—
The instruments quieted as the music changed to an upbeat but slow cover of Maroon 5’s “Girls Like You” in the style of the Vitamin Strings Quartet, and I relaxed against him, daring to stretch my arm up past his shoulder to cup the back of his neck.
His look of surprise at my forwardness made me regret the action, but I didn’t retract, waiting to see what he would do.
Nothing. He did nothing.
Oh my.
I turned my head to my left to catch my breath and jumped when I felt the hair on his cheek graze mine. “Three dances in a row.” He clucked his tongue, the soft vibrations causing an encore from my goosebumps. “Scandalous. People will talk.”
“What shall we do about it?” I whispered back.
“I’d like to keep dancing with you. If there’s room on your dance card?”
There was no dance card, of course. But if there had been, I’d have let him write his name on every line. But he had a point—three dances with the nanny was probably pushing the friend-zone line.
Gah! I couldn’t deny my attraction to him or that my heart cared about him more than it should.
I couldn’t deny that when I read my historical novels, I pictured his face on the hero.
And I couldn’t deny that, had circumstances been different and he had plans to stay in Colorado, I might take a chance on something more than friendship.
“I’d like to keep dancing with you, too,” I said.
So much for restraint.
“I’m glad. It feels like I’m in another world, dancing here with you.”
“Pretending to be in the past can help medicate a present that isn’t well,” I said softly. “It’s meant to be an escape. A temporary one, of course. We can be in this world of nineteenth-century finery but not of it.”
“Yes. I should escape more often. Maybe you’d join me? I’m sure there are Regency balls and galas one can attend regularly?”
“I, um—yes. The closest is Once Upon a Dream Ball in Denver, but there are countless others.” His head was still bent next to mine. I slid my hand from the back of his neck around to his lapel and moved in closer so that we were almost nose to nose. “Why?”
“This elegant world of the past suits you,” he said. “You have a timeless quality about you, fitting in here like you were born for the era, not in the chaos of the modern world.”
I smiled, warmed by his words. “You’re surprisingly poetic for a rough-and-tumble defenseman who pranks his friends for fun.”
The glint of mischief I loved returned to his eyes. “What can I say? I see beauty, deep to the core, natural, effortless beauty in front of me, and I can’t not comment.”
My breath hitched, and for a moment, the world truly did fall away.
His gaze dropped to my lips, just for an instant, before returning to my eyes. It was barely noticeable, but it sent a rush of heat through me.
“Arwyn,” he said, his voice so low it rumbled. “There’s something I want to tell you. But I’m not sure if I should.”
I opened my mouth to respond as the final note of the song hung in the air. Applause erupted around us, shattering the fragile bubble we’d created and giving me time to formulate a response.
I stepped back and somehow pulled my hands together to join in the clapping. Zaki’s hand lingered at my waist before he brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled.
My mind spun with questions I wasn’t ready to ask and feelings I wasn’t ready to name. The emcee announced the orchestra’s break and handed control over to the DJ, who began to play a blend of upbeat music.
And still, I couldn’t speak.
Brendan appeared next to Zaki, and they appeared to exchange some sort of signal.
“Stay here.” He winked. “The show’s about to start.”
“The show?” I echoed.
“No idea,” Brenna said from behind me. I turned, and she shrugged. “They’re up to something. All we can do is wait and hope not to be part of it.”
I was sure I looked like a deer in headlights. “Excuse me?”
The blond ringlets framing her face bounced as she chuckled. “Just a hunch.”
I followed the trajectory of her gaze, and sure enough, Zaki and Brendan were jogging up the side steps of the stage, each with a mic in hand. They’d removed their tailcoats, rolled up their sleeves, and donned dark sunglasses.
I gulped.
But he’d said I could trust him. He knew I was as introverted as they came and I preferred to be anywhere alone than in this crowd.
With every muscle in my body, I resisted the urge to run.
Also, I couldn’t have. His teammates and their significant others were beside and behind me, making an exit impossible.
“How’s it going tonight?” Brendan shouted into his microphone, and the crowd cheered. “Marshy and I have a surprise for you all. Now, Monty, I know you weren’t expecting this, and we do apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.”
Zaki explained. “You see, I gave you a very heartfelt and thoughtful birthday present. Two, actually.” He tapped his heart and turned to Monty, who was now at the side of the stage, eyebrows raised coolly, but inside I would bet he was seething. “I went out of my way after the bird release to drop the second gift off on your doorstep. And you returned it. It hurt, man. It really hurt.”
He made a sad face and paused, the guests all awwing and further fueling his act.
“So.” Brendan again. “He decided to try a little harder. During the band’s break, we arranged to bring you…”
“Karaoke!” Zaki announced.
“Oh my!” I laughed.
“Look at Monty.” Penny giggled. “I think these two will have to double their donation if they want to attend next year!”
“At least!” Brenna agreed.
“So, do I have any requests?” Zaki asked the audience.
“I have a request,” Brendan replied. “I’m in the mood for some ABBA.”
“ABBA, huh?” Zaki asked. “I didn’t know Monty liked ABBA.”
“Only one way to find out,” Brendan suggested. “Let’s, ah, take a chance?”
Brenna snorted and leaned into my ear. “This is gold! Save my spot while I get my phone!”
Brendan wrapped his fingers around the top of his mic. “Take a chance, take a chance, take a chance.” He repeated the phrase over and over as the music filtered in.
Zaki watched him pace the stage, hyping the crowd with his free hand and getting the guests to join in his background vocals. Then he turned to face the audience and hit me straight on with the first line of the song. It was like he was speaking to me directly, telling me if I changed my mind, he’d like to be the first in line.
But it was just a song, right? A song Monty didn’t like, a gag to prank him back?
An explosion couldn’t have touched the magnetism keeping our eyes locked. I clapped along, mouthing the background lyrics, but no sound came out. There was a line about being all alone when the pretty birds had flown, which was enough for the audience to believe he was referencing the prank war, but I’d bet my business the lyrics were a veiled message to me.
He couldn’t get me off his mind?
He dreamed about being alone with me?
He knew I was afraid of starting a love affair?
I stopped clapping and fanned my face. A fan! I should’ve brought a fan! Why hadn’t I thought about bringing one to hide behind?
Because you don’t need to hide when you’re with him.
The realization struck me like a puck to the face. Stopped me short. Hurt a bit.
Okay, a lot.
A lot a lot.
As I watched him ham it up on stage, a fire burned inside me. It started as that warm glow in my cheeks, then moved down to my chest and fanned out all over, setting my nerves on fire. And when the song ended, he handed Brendan his mic, jumped down from the stage, the sea of people parting, and strode straight toward me like a man on a mission.
He must have seen the panic on my face, because he slowed as he approached. “Join me for a walk in the gardens?”
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
We fled the stifling ballroom and retrieved our outerwear from the attendants. I tucked my arm in his, and we followed the signage to the doors that led outside. The cool blast of air stung my face, but I welcomed it.
It wasn’t just my skin that needed cooling.
“Wow.” Ahead of us, the still waters of the lake shimmered, the lit fountain in the middle spraying water and sending out ripples that caught the moonlight and reflected the warm glow of the windows from inside the main building. More trees adorned with the same fairy lights we’d seen in the front of the building created a canopy over our heads as we slowed our paces, traversing a curvy stone pathway, guiding us through the manicured landscaping toward the lake. Ornate iron benches peppered the path, tucked into the bushes to offer privacy to their canoodling occupants.
“It’s so lovely,” I breathed as we reached a small unoccupied gazebo, just off the main path in an alcove of pines. Adorned with the fairy lights that illuminated the single bench inside, it seemed magical, otherworldly, unmodern, and?—
“Perfect spot.” Zaki peered down at me. “Shall we?”
I nodded, and we continued in the direction of the gazebo.
I stopped just short of the steps. I needed to ask him the thing. “Wait, before we sit…”
“Yeah?” We faced each other, and the slight breeze blew my carefully coiled tendrils across my face. Zaki reached up to tuck them behind my ear. The gesture was gentle, tender. His roguish charm made my stomach flutter.
“You … Back in the ballroom, you said you had something to tell me. And then you sang that song and invited me out here. Am I … Am I to believe that you … that I … that we…?”
“Wynnie … Wynna-bun … I’m falling for you. I’ve tried not to, but it’s happening fast and easily and completely. I can’t stop it. And I don’t want to. Because I think you’re falling for me, too. Am I right?”
Well now, he didn’t mince words, did he?
Okay, Wynnie Wynna-bun. You can be direct, too. Out with it.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears, so loudly the nighttime sounds around us faded away. But instead of panic, I felt peace. Out here, in this setting, dressed for the past but very much living in the present, I could be myself.
I could be myself with someone who wanted me to be me.
“Yes,” I whispered. “And I don’t want to stop it, either.”
Those beautiful blue eyes held mine as I tipped up my chin. When Zaki’s lips touched mine, every muscle in my body went weak. I reached up to take hold of his face, to keep it in place, just in case he thought of pulling back from the most perfect kiss ever. I closed my eyes and let him lead.
Oh lordy, what have you done? If this doesn’t work out, you’ll be spoiled for any other man because surely, no one else can kiss like that.
His hands were around me, pulling me into him. One thing was certain: Zaki Marsch had a way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary.
Suddenly, a series of bright flashes forced me to close my eyes tighter.
Fireworks?
“That’s not fireworks,” Zaki murmured, turning me away from the light and tucking my head protectively into his chest. “It’s paparazzi.”