Incognito

9

Zac had never stolen anything in his life. He had never needed to. As he slipped out of the plantation house, he found himself especially grateful that the farmer had big feet and nice boots. With the nicest clothing the farmer owned upon his back, Zac felt more like the nobleman he was. Sneaking around in the night did have its downsides though. It was almost impossible to find anything in the kitchen. He winced when he foot clipped a pot with a loud clang. Moments later Zac heard the patter of bare feet. Glancing around wildly, he spied no hiding places big enough and cursed his tall form. Light danced on the wall and when he turned, Zac spotted a frail girl in a thin nightgown. A tiny smile played on her lips.

"Godfrey?" She whispered with a laugh. "What are you doing here?"

With a sigh, Zac realized she couldn't see him well enough to know who he was. Clearing his throat, he murmured, "I was hungry."

"So you came here?" She stepped toward him and began collecting bread, fruit, cheese, a little meat. "I don't think so."

Zac turned on his acting skills and stepped behind her, nuzzling into her brown hair. "Perhaps I came for you."

She melted a little before shoving the food in his arms. "You better get out of here," her voice had a teasing manner.

He leaned down and stole a kiss from the young maiden. Racing away through the night she heard a shriek. Within seconds of him leaving the house lights flickered on softly and rapidly and shouts proceeded to follow, flooding into the night. Sprinting, Zac cursed his emotional hormones overtaking him.

Once he made it to the road and into the woods he stopped to breath. Painting he was startled by how serene the night was. He began his journey at a brisk walk but over the course of an hour had come to snail's crawl. Finding no good place to set up camp he stumbled on till he could no longer keep his head up and collapsed, unconscious, on the path.

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The past: Zacary Holden

Zacary didn't understand. The minute they arrived eligible, beautiful bachelorettes had flocked to Brooks, batting lashes, showing cleavage and begging him to sign their dance cards. Even though Zacary was dying for the attention and green with envy Brooks distractedly brushed off the maidens. Zacary danced around the girls, volunteering to dance, flirting and flattering, practically doing everything but swoon and yet they ignored him, brushed him off or, worse still, insulted his ego.

Finally, sixteen year old Zacary crossed his arms and stood back, surveying his brother that combed the room. Tonight was the debut ball for the youngest Roslin daughter. Although she was only fourteen, the rich merchant planned on shipping both of his girls off for six months to Reretha, for culture and training, therefore the ball was moved back a year.Rumor had it that the Roslin girls were beauties and their father had a large dowries once he found the right man. In the meantime, parties and balls were the only way for the duke's sons to meet girls. And party, as Zac intended.

"He has met her before."

Zacary jumped because of the words, not that they were startling but that they were from a girl he hadn't seen. As she raised her cup to her lips, she refused to make eye contact with him, instead preferring to faze around the room. A servant with a platter of beverages passed and Zacary quickly snatched a glass of brandy to his lips. Replacing the empty glass he turned to the girl.

"Who has Brooks met?" The alcohol was already working the magic that he had found years ago and his worries were soon forgotten.

The girl sent a slight inclement to a lady at the top of the staircase, elegantly dripping into the room. Trumpets sounded and a man hollered, "Presenting Miss Elizabeth Khalessi Roslin." Miss Elizabeth was gorgeous in her white, snug, lace-embellished gown and glowing smile. Her declaration was so much that when Zacary broke his daze and glimpsed beside himself, the friendly girl was gone. 

The only memories Zacary had to enable in rediscovering his new companion was her long, wavy, autumn-woods colored hair and her billowing dress, so dark a green or blue that it shimmered almost black.

Two more drinks and fifty more beautiful ladies later, Zacary stumbled upon her on the wall looking out a window at the landscaping. Quickly he snaked an arm daringly around her waist and stole her glass, dumping the wine down his throat before setting it aside and bending to her ear. "Come and dance," he beckoned wrapping a curl of her hair in his finger. "I want to get to know you better."

"I don't dance," she states, trying to ignore him. "Unlike my father would believe."

He nuzzled closer scheming how to distract her. "A beautiful woman like you?" Though he was drunk, Zacary did know that this lady was no-by far- the most beautiful girl in the room, at least not in the traditional sense.  Matter of fact, she was very bland compared to the other garishly clad party-goers. Zacary was desperate and drunk and filled with desire for the only girl who dared pay him any attention. And she was realizing that the silent route was safer.

Zacary's nibble of a kiss behind her ear was the last step. "Don't you dare! Get away from me, brute!" She elbowed him in the stomach and stalked off toward an exit leaving Zacary with his long-time echo. Get away.

He stumbled yet again upon the mystery girl when some of his drinks had worn off and his manners had returned. Curious as he was and so full of remorse for the incident his brother had warned him against, he sat at the table in which she relaxed.

"You." She frowned while he situated himself. 

"Not your favorite person, am I?"Her scowl confirmed that. "I apologize for my earlier disrespect. I, I am not myself today."

"Or too much like yourself," she muttered.

He disregarded the comment. "Tell me, how did Miss Elizabeth and Brooks meet?"

Precious moments lapsed as Zacary prayed she did not hold grudges long. Finally she relented. "Eliza was out shopping on market day and Mr. Holden happened to be out adventuring dressed as a poor servant. Eliza felt compassion and "stole" him a loaf of bread. Though she promised to give even her whole purse to the shopkeeper, he threatened to cut off her hand. Br-hmm-Mr. Holden assisted in her, shall we say, rescue and they spent the whole day traversing with one another. He knew her identity and she know not his until he slipped up and pointed to the castle as home. Eliza was so furious and hurt that she hasn't spoken to him since." She smiles past Zacary. "I believe he is smitten."

Zacary turned discreetly in his chair and saw that the girl watched Brooks with fascination as he did his best to catch Elizabeth's attention. "Brooks in love?"

"You speak so formally of him. Are you in relation?"

Zacary nodded. Brooks had finally managed to catch the belle of the ball's hand and was blushing profusely as he babbled. Elizabeth pursed her lip as his plea continued, enough that Brooks was on his knees. "I'm his brother." Elizabeth giggled and playfully beckoned for him to rise as the dinner bell rang. He kissed her hand and motioned to the long buffet.

When Zacary turned back, the lady was blushing.

"I apologize for being so forward about your brother, Mr. Holden."

With a smile he stood and took her hand. "Zacary to you. Would you dine with me?"

She raised her eyebrows and he assured her he would drink no more than wine.

In the moment she stood he realized he didn't know something. "May I ask what your name is?" He pulled her hand to his lips as she grimaced and opened her mouth to say-

"Young man, I will have no one take advantage of my daughter!"

Zacary immediately knew he had made a spectical when he dropped the Roslin girl's hand.