Page 3 of A Duchess to Unravel
“You think rules can stop me?” Vulcan growled. “I am the God of fire and iron; I bendallthings to my will.”
“Let go,” she bit out, trying to wrench herself away.
Something was very much wrong with this man. While they had all assumed names of the Greek or Roman Gods and Goddesses for cover, no one she had yet met had tried to assume the actual identity of such an immortal. Yet this man was speaking as if he was not human at all, as if he truly believed that he held such powers. His level of disillusionment startled Theo, and for the first time since attending theDevil’s Masqueradeparties, she wondered if she had made a mistake.
She looked around for Poseidon, hoping that he had finished his dallying, but who she found walking toward her instead had her eyes growing wide behind her mask and her pulse jump.
A man, taller and broader than any she’d every seen before was stalking straight toward them. His horned skull mask hid every part of his face but his lips and chin, the painting of it so detailed that it had Theo wondering if the thing had actually been made of human bone. She tried to catch his eyes, but they were not aimed at her. They were trained solely on her captor.
“The lady has requested ye stop,” the large man stated. He did not hold the proper and tight clipped tone of an English noble’s voice but instead had a Scottish brogue that somehow sounded both sophisticated and wild. The deep, rough tone of his voice slid against Theo’s ears, making her shiver for a new reason.
He reached for Vulcan’s hand, not waiting for him to let up on his own, and pried the man’s fingers from Theo’s arm before shoving Vulcan’s hand down to his side. A sigh of relief left Theo’s lips as she felt the release of pressure from her arm, and she quickly moved her other hand up to rub the bruised spot as the two men glared at one another. Vulcan was noticeably shorter and smaller-chested than the skull-masked man, but that didn’t stop him from being rude.
“Who are you to interrupt the lady and I?” Vulcan demanded, curling his hands into fists.
“The Masquerade has those that ensure the rules are kept,” the skull- masked man replied. “I am such. So, I say again, the lady has requested ye to stop.”
“You do not know the rules of which we play together,” Vulcan retorted, “she does not need your help.”
“Oh, really?” The smooth Scottish brogue rumbled. “Let us ask the lady then, shall we? Make it clear what her wishes are.”
The skull-masked man turned to Theo, and it was only then that she caught his near black irises. They startled her; intrigued her. Yet they did not frighten her.
“Do ye know this man?” He asked, nodding toward Vulcan. Speechless at the sight of his strange eyes, Theo shook his head.
“Do ye want his attention?” He asked next.
Again, Theo shook her head.
“There ye have it then,” the skull-masked man said, turning back to Vulcan. “The club has rules. You are in violation of them. I suggest ye leave, before I make ye leave.”
He took a step toward Vulcan, peering down at the much smaller man.
“Ye dinnae want me to put me hands on ye again, Lord,” he practically purred the threat. “I can promise ye, ye willnae like it.”
Theo stood tensely to the side, watching as the two men stared at one another in silent standoff. Then Vulcan’s masked face slowly turned to her, followed once more by that eerie tilt of his chin.
“Youwillremember me next time, Calypso.”
He said it as if it were a call for her to heel.
Theo raised her chin, refusing to show how he had unnerved her, and made a point of slowly dragging her eyes down his figure before staring into the black fabric that covered his eyes.
“Unlikely.” She stated dryly.
A grumble of agitation rose from Vulcan’s chest. He looked for a moment as if he were going to step toward her, then seemedto think better of it as the mammoth of a man shadowed his movement. Without another word, without a look toward the man that had stopped him, Vulcan turned away, walking through the dance floor occupied by other Masqueraders and straight to the exit.
Theo let out a pent-up breath of relief as he disappeared, and let her shoulders slump. Perhaps Tristan had been right. Perhaps that Masquerade was more dangerous than she thought. This was the second time now a man had tried to force himself on someone. First it was Amelia, targeted by her former suitor. Now this Vulcan fellow. Something was changing within the secret club. Or perhaps, in the men that were joining it.
“Ye know I was told that London society was more sophisticated than the Scottish,” the behemoth, skull-masked man stated, reminding her of his presence. “Now that I am here I dinnae see how that is true.”
Theo, despite the tension, let out a weak laugh.
“It was not always this way,” she replied, then shook her head. “You know I cannot say that for sure. Perhaps our society has always held its own form of savagery.”
She smiled at him, the gesture feeling false, empty, and curtseyed.
“I thank you, though, for your help, Sir,” she told him. “You did in fact come at the perfect time. I had assumed that theMasquerade had some sort of guardian; up until now I had not seen the need for one to act.”
