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crystalline frost, glistening
like a bouquet of diamonds.
    Diamonds.
    The thought drew Anastasia's attention back to the
ring on her left hand. The ring that had been offered to her with
all the care of a plow horse in a China shop. A sentiment that
hardly matched the beauty of the heirloom. A deep blue sapphire
laid in a wreath of brilliant diamonds, all set in a filigreed gold
band, cast to look like autumn leaves.
    "It is a lovely token, señorita ." Her
companion's voice shattered her silent reflection, reminding her
that she was not alone.
    "Thank you, Mr. Tenorio." A wistful sigh escaped her
throat as she cast another lingering glance at the jewel on her
hand.
    "Pardon me, señorita , but you do not seem as
happy as I imagine a newly betrothed lady to be." He stopped
abruptly in the garden path and faced Anastasia, capturing her hand
in his. Very forward. Even for a Spaniard.
    "Do I not? How very odd." She gently slipped her hand
from his grasp. No matter how horrible Baldwyn had behaved, Mr.
Tenorio should not be allowed such liberties. Not with a lady
betrothed to another. "I am deliriously happy."
    "My apology, then, for the mistaken observation. You
sighed so sadly just now, I thought perhaps it was a match that did
not please you."
    His dark gaze bore into her, as though he could read
her deepest thoughts — the bitter disappointment must have been
written across her face. For the first time, Anastasia realized she
was alone with him. Outside. In the dark. On the night of her
engagement.
    An icy chill shot through her and she shivered
against it. How had she allowed it to happen? Inwardly, she cursed
her own stupidity.
    Even as she questioned it, she knew. Baldwyn's
rejection, her shattered romantic dream, a handsome stranger coming
to her rescue. A glance at her companion told her he had read all
those things in her before he ever stepped in to dance with her.
She was naught but prey to a discerning rake.
    Mr. Tenorio took a step closer. "Are you cold, amor? " The predatory glint in his eyes warned her of his
intent to remedy the situation.
    "No. Thank you, sir, for your concern. I am quite
comfortable." Fear cracked her voice, and she struggled to project
a confidence that was rapidly dissolving in the danger that
threatened her. A step backward put the needed space between them,
but he immediately closed the gap.
    " Señorita …" He spoke in a low whisper. His
Spanish charm dripped from every syllable of the word. "Surely you
tremble with cold."
    Anastasia retreated once more. He followed, matching
her step for step. Ever so slowly backing her into a darkened
gazebo. Her heart raced.
    "Don't be afraid, amor. I wish only to warm
you and protect you from the winter chill." He reached for her arm,
but with a clever turn, she spun free of his grasp.
    "Perhaps we should return indoors. I would certainly
enjoy some hot wassail. Wouldn't you?" Her voice cracked again, as
steadily she drew away from her assailant.
    "You are quick, sweet dove, but there is no need to
take flight." His smooth movement toward her and the alluring
warmth of his voice lulled her. Another step. She must get
away.
    With a solid thunk she found herself backed up
against a wooden balustrade, unable to retreat further. Her breath
caught in her throat with an audible gasp.
    A grin crept wide across the man's face as he closed
the narrow space between them and wrapped his fingers tightly
around each of her arms. Now there was no escape. She would be
ruined. And any chance she had for happiness with Baldwyn would
dissipate like smoke curling from the chimney.
    "Please, Mr. Tenorio. I wish to return to the dance."
Her voice was hardly a whisper. If she could only find it again,
she might scream.
    "In time," he murmured as he pulled her against
him.
    "If you do not release me, sir, I shall scream," she
insisted, though so softly, he no doubt took it as an
invitation.
    He laughed, drawing closer to her. "Come now, amor , do not be coy. I can see you