FOREVER KNIGHTS: #12 Primal Intent
RHYERS - Taunting My Ebony

InnerCircle City, Mane Country

RHYERS

Ebony showed up at the ball cringing at the probing eyes of other women. She scanned the room and her eyes landed on Rebecca.

She came to spite the other girl. Rhyers knew. Good.

As always, his eyes were immediately drawn to her. And without thought, he found his feet carrying him toward her.

I haven’t thanked her for helping me the other day. He explained to himself. Justifying his actions.

I don’t even know what I’m going to say. He realized. Discovering that the plan he evolved as he approached showed a depth of sophistication, he had been unaware he possessed.

As she walked toward him she was gazing over her shoulder at another girl who was quickly approaching her. Waving emphatically.

Rhyers impulsively stuck out a shined boot before her. As expected, she squawked and stumbled, lurching forward. Rhyers caught her.

“Whoa, Lady Marshall.” Rhyers clucked chastisingly. “You prove yourself clumsy even as a woman grown.” He had her braced against him. Her small hand folded in his larger one, and her legs still hanging limply behind her.

Several other girls gasped.

“Are you okay Ebony?” One asked breathlessly.

“Of course, she is. Bodin Rhyers caught her.” Another giggled. “I’d be just fine with him catching me!”

He gave the other young woman a sideways look. With his pale green eyes narrowed in warning.

Ebony was staring up at him, doe eyes huge and blinking at him. “You startled the hell out of me.” She stared into his strange bright eyes, eying the curls of the white wig. His tall slim frame was molded by his favorite long blue overcoat trimmed in gold embroidery. And accompanied by a vivid white cravat. And black breeches fitted over his long legs and tucked into shined black boots.

Boots that had tripped her. He heard her thinking. And fought not to smile.

“Ladies don’t use such profanity.”

“You do!” She defended.

“Rarely.” He dismissed. “And I’m no lady.”

She scrunched up her nose and he knew what she was thinking but the middle of a ballroom floor was not the proper place for her to proclaim he was more a lady then she.

Thankfully.

“Rhyers.” She snarled.

“Yes, Miss Marshall.” He grinned.

“You did that apurpose!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You tripped me!” Lifting her onto her feet abruptly he took a step back and pressed a hand to his chest feigning horror. “You would blame me for your gaucheness?”

Her lip curled.

“If you must…” Sniffing he turned his back. Tossing over his shoulder, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

She gasped, opening her mouth to retort but saw his high powdered wig vanishing into the crowd.

As the night wore on, several young men arrived to bow over her hand and press their lips there. Asking for dances.

Eying them cautiously, she allowed several to take her out on the floor.

They fawned over her, and her gaze slid around the room, bored.

Is she looking for me? Rhyers couldn’t help wondering.

When the boredom had grown nearly unbearable, Rhyers materialized at her side. Offering a glass of punch. “What’s this look on your face?”

“Tedium.”

“Now that you have been on a grand adventure, normal balls are tedious?”

“They’ve been tedious a long while.” She grumbled. “And it wasn’t much of an adventure. I had to do most of the work. You were supposed to be showing me the ropes of spying. Instead I had to do it all.”

“All of it?” Rhyers’ voice rose.

“Indeed.” She nodded. “I expected to be mentored.”

He knew her thoughts were flashing back to her uncomfortable seduction of the Fine Lady at the Ball.

It made her stomach roll to think of it.

And he felt an instant pang of remorse overtop the shame at her perception of the adventure. The next mission, I’ll show her what I can do…He vowed to himself.

I’ll tutor her. He thought. Eying her profile, nearly a foot shorter than him, in his peripheral. The small jutting chin, the curved feminine jaw, high cheekbones and small pert nose, all complimenting her lovely dark eyes and long lashes.

She’s a terrifyingly tiny thing. He noted.

She handed him her punch cup. Face forlorn as she watched the approach of a man.

“This is the next one.” She groaned.

He took her cup chuckling. “Happy dancing.” He lifted it in cheers.

“Perhaps I shall step on his toes and end my pain quickly.”

Mayhap he’ll step on yours. He shrugged.

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