Divided Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

only to take her hand. “You promised me the first three dances, Miss Grace.”
    The young woman grimaced, but without another word allowed Mr. Jameson to lead her out onto the dance floor, leaving Bran quite alone.

 
    10
    Grace
     
    “ T rust me, Miss Grace.” Mr. Jameson’s grip was iron and quite uncomfortable as they waltzed across the ballroom floor. “You don’t want to get mixed up with the likes of that man. He may cut a fine figure—” Mr. Jameson’s mouthed tightened in displeasure, “—but coming from the south, he’s sure to have no manners, and wouldn’t know how to treat a lady properly.” He smiled condescendingly down at her and it took everything Grace had to keep from smacking him upside the head. Pompous fool.
    When they turned, she momentarily stood on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder and was shocked to see Bran talking quite animatedly to another woman. Another turn in the waltz and she momentarily lost sight of him. A break in the crowd showed the nomad chief again. He was talking to Annabelle! Out of all the women there, Annabelle was the last woman Grace would have picked to interact with Bran. If Annabelle got it into her head that she fancied the man, she wouldn’t be happy until she had him wrapped around her finger. That dirty puzzle. Annabelle would talk to him. Grace would have to strangle her later. How dare she talk to her Bran?
    Perhaps Mr. Jameson realized what she was doing, but whatever the reason he firmly led them to a different section of the dance floor, quite effectively blocking her view of the handsome nomad. “Quite the cold winter we’re having, wouldn’t you say?” He began to engage her in pointless, boring conversation that Grace was obligated to answer. The first dance finished, and the second began. It felt endless.
    Grace ground her teeth in frustration. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned her evening going at all.

 
    11
    Bran
     
    B ran stared after Grace’s retreating form. Did she not care for him? He had been so sure she did. But if that were really the case, why did she dance with another man? His hands curled into fists at his sides. A young woman walking past him tripped and stumbled. Bran instinctively caught her, helping her regain her footing.
    She looked up, pushing her golden mask up onto her forehead to get a better look at him. She smiled demurely through long, dark lashes. Her hair was black as crow feathers, and glistened in the light. “Thank you, sir.” She stepped closer, her gaze traveling over his body in a way that wasn’t demure at all. “I really must watch my step.”
    “No problem.” Bran’s eyes lifted over her head, scanning for Grace. There, in the center of the ballroom. She looked stiff and thoroughly uncomfortable. Good.
    “And to whom do I owe my thanks?”
    Bran blinked, looking down again at the young woman. He’d forgotten about her. “Bran—er, I mean, Sirius. Sirius Archer.”
    “Oh?” Her enormous eyes were the color of midnight. “And where do you hail from, Mr. Archer?”
    “Lord Archer,” he corrected with a grin. “From Sen Altare.”
    “A Lord?” Bran didn’t think the young woman could get any closer, but she did; they were almost touching. “How exciting. Grace didn’t tell me about you.”
    I can see why. Bran wasn’t interested in anyone besides Grace, but he’d have to be a blind fool to not be aware that the young lady was pleasant to look at. “Are you a friend of Miss Grace, then?” he asked. He flicked his gaze to where Grace and the cursed Mr. Jameson had been dancing, and was disappointed when he couldn’t see them in the crowd.
    The young woman grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling him toward double doors that led to an outdoor balcony. “It’s rather warm in here, wouldn’t you say? Come, let’s go outside for a bit. The winter air will do you some good.”
    Bran frowned. She was being awfully bold for a woman who hardly knew him. Why so interested? “I’m