Izzy opened her eyes and realized the closet was no longer closed. Someone had rescued her! She squinted against the pale light coming from the room. A man dressed in dark, old-fashioned clothes stood staring at her. Was he one of the tour guides? No, she'd have remembered seeing him. Dark, wavy hair nearly reached his collar. Huge brown eyes glared beneath lowered brows. Why did he look mad? It wasn't her fault those witches had locked her in there.
She sat up and stuck out her hand. "I'm so glad you found me! Help me up, will you?"
The man took a step back but said nothing.
Izzy raised her eyebrows. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"
"What are you doing here? And why would my animal abscond with my tongue?"
Oops, seemed she'd interrupted an estate guide in the middle of his duties. But wow, his accent was convincing. "I, uh…"
He tilted his head. "Who are you? And why are you addressing me so plainly, without regard to my station?"
"Your—"
"It's customary to address a duke as "your grace"."
Izzy gritted her teeth. What was going on? The other guides were kind, even joking around with the guests. What gave this creep the right to treat her like dirt on his — she flicked her gaze down — boot.
The man narrowed his eyes to two small slits. "I'll have you banished at once."
"Banished? Now hold on a minute."
"Miss, I don't know how you came to be here on my estate, but I assure you, it won't be tolerated."
Izzy scooted closer to the man, grabbing the open door for support. If the rude guide wasn't going to help her, she'd do it herself. She pulled up to a standing position and reached around to dust off the seat of her pants.
When she glanced back up, she noticed his eyes open wide. Then he angled his head away. She stared at him. Did he avoid looking at her because she touched her backside? "Listen, duke, or whoever you are, my name's Izzy. All I know is some evil women on my tour locked me in this closet and left me to rot."
He swung back around and stared as if peering through her. "There isn't anything evil on this estate." He checked behind him and then back to her. "And there is no one here, save you and I. Maybe you're the evil one."
Izzy placed her hands on her hips. "I'd appreciate you not calling me evil. I haven't done anything wrong. The only reason I came on this stupid tour of this stupid estate was for an adventure." Peering behind the man, she lowered her eyebrows. Why was the furniture different? Hadn't the upholstery been a dark green? Now it was red. Besides that, she'd thought the closet opened right next to the fireplace, not closer toward the middle of the room. Surely she was seeing things. Maybe she'd hit her head on the floor during her panic attack.
The man crossed his arms, and the muscles bulged beneath his dark coat. Broad shoulders filled out his clothing quite nicely. Too bad he was a jerk. Otherwise, he'd be a good fit for the fling she'd hoped for while she was here.
He stepped closer, blocking her from possible escape. "I don't know what you're referring to as an adventure. You must realize there will be consequences for your trespassing and insolence. I don't tolerate it from servants, and I will not tolerate it from you. Whoever you may be. As a duke, I demand respect." He flicked his gaze up and down her body. "And why is it a woman would be dressed so strangely?" He frowned. "Not dressed as a woman, yet not quite as a man? Don't you desire to find a husband to care for you? You won't catch a man that way, I assure you."
"Well! Of all the…" Izzy tried to push past him. She planted her hands on his solid chest, fingers connecting with silky fabric. The man was built! But built or not, he was rude, and she needed to get away from him and this place. What had she been thinking, coming to a foreign land alone?
The man grasped both of her wrists in one of his large hands and tugged her toward him. The strap of her denim purse, which had until now managed to stay affixed to her shoulder, slipped down to her elbow. Izzy fumed. "Hey, you can't—"
He tugged harder. Izzy pulled one of her wrists free. Her purse fell to the floor, its contents tumbling out. She glanced down. Perfect. Now all her stuff was strewn about. She couldn't run away yet, because she needed everything in that bag to get out of this crazy estate and wicked country. ID, passport, wallet, and phone were just out of her reach.
Still holding one of her wrists in his massive hand, the man bent down to examine the items. He wrapped his free hand around her phone and gasped when the screen lit up. As he widened his eyes, he dropped the phone and jumped up, jerking her forward. "How have you managed this? Are you a witch?"