The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 30

That evening, Isabelle made it her sole mission to corner and interrogate Sam Winters, but it was as if he was purposefully avoiding her. He arrived later than the rest of the courtiers, a brilliant red Winters tartan sash cutting across his formal jacket. Despite his distinctive attire, however, every time Isabelle set off to speak to him, he somehow disappeared among the ball guests.

She finally caught him when he was leading Cora Neasmith towards the gardens, the blonde beauty clearly not impressed by the broad swath of tartan across his chest.

"I need a word," Isabelle said, her frustration at having wasted too much time chasing Sam overruling her manners.

"We were just about to take some air," Cora snapped, but Isabelle ignored her.

"Sam, please. It's important," she pleaded. The tall redhead's jaw worked as he frowned, looking over Isabelle's shoulder.

"Cora is important as well," he said, bowing to her before turning away, "I'm sorry..."

Cora shot Isabelle an arch look, clearly relishing that Sam had chosen her over Isabelle. But Isabelle needed answers, something that no amount of Cora's petty jealousy and anger would prevent.

"Sam, I really must-" Isabelle started, hurrying after them, only for her progress to be halted by another hand.

"Just the woman I was hoping to find," Prince Graham said, giving her arm a little tug so that she staggered backwards into his arms. Isabelle's cheeks flamed scarlet as she remembered the last time he'd used that very same technique to pull her towards him, regaining her balance and attempting to pull away. But the prince had other plans.

While Sam and Cora escaped to the garden, the prince led her to the dance floor, keeping her firmly in a dancers' hold as they stepped out and joined the waltz.

"I need to speak with Sam Winters and I'd very much enjoy it if you didn't interrupt," Isabelle grumbled. Graham fixed a practiced look of innocence on his face.

"Am I to believe that you aren't enjoying your dance with me?" he asked.

"No, I most certainly am not," Isabelle huffed. "Now if you'll excuse me."

She tried to break free as they neared the edge of the floor, but rather than hold her in place, the prince allowed her to leave the floor, only to fall in step beside her.

"Ah, now I understand," he said, leaning down to whisper as she made her way back towards the gardens. "You'd rather I spent my time with you doing other things besides dancing."

When Isabelle whirled around to slap him, he deftly caught her hand and brought it to his lips, his green eyes dancing as they watched for her reaction. But it was Isabelle who got the satisfaction of seeing his brows crash together as the light caught the diamond sitting on her fourth finger.

"Are you quite finished?" she asked, unable to fight the grin from curving the corners of her mouth. He stared at her, for once completely incapable of determining why she'd returned her ring to its place around her finger. Was she taunting him, since he'd promised to pursue her until she removed it? Or was she really still holding true to Leopold and her farce of a betrothal?

Well, there was one way to find out.

"Since you've shackled yourself once more, I believe you know the answer to that question," Graham said, his voice barely more than a growl as he tucked her hand gently into the crook of his arm. Two could play at her game. Or, more accurately, his game that she had now learned to play. Isabelle chuckled, but remained wordless as Graham held the door to the chilly autumn garden.

Lanterns hung from the trees, glittering off the wet leaves that covered the lawns. Torches and fire pits flickered through the ballroom gardens, illuminating the couples that had gathered around them for warmth, their merry chatter and giddy laughter echoing through the gardens.