She knew he’d just given her a command, not a request, but suddenly she didn’t want to be alone in the dark anymore. Wallowing would solve nothing. Plus, his easy charm made him hard to resist. He was like one of those drinks with the umbrellas—all that sugar disguising the true power swirling in the depths. Not until halfway through the beverage would you realize it was too late, that you’d already been knocked off balance.
She smirked as he led her back up the path. “I figured the owner of this kind of place would have a harem of beautiful slaves to hand-feed him dinner.”
“Only on Sundays. Can’t let myself get too spoiled, ya know?”
A snort escaped. “Right. Wouldn’t want that.”
They took a turn off the main walkway toward the east side of the property, the full moon lighting their surroundings with a silvery glow. Beyond the cabins and expansive vineyards, there was nothing but open land and the low swell of hills along the horizon. Breathtaking and so different from the flat Dallas landscape.
“How far from the city are we?” she asked.
“About an hour west of Fort Worth.”
“Huh. Didn’t feel like that long on the way out.”
“That’s ’cause Robbie drives a limo like Satan’s on his tail,” he said, gently taking her elbow and guiding her to another turn.
The music that’d been drifting on the breeze grew louder and a few hundred yards in front of them the sky filled with an orange glow. “Looks like the party started without us.”
“Ah, don’t worry. The night is young.”
Her heartbeat increased tempo every step they got closer to the revelry—both in anticipation of seeing her sister and in nervousness about her hair-trigger panic attacks. And God help her when Reid got free and made it down here. She was going to have a seriously irate lawyer on her hands. Hopefully, she could talk to Kels before she had to deal with that.
The Bacchanal was set up in a large corner of an open pasture. The few trees that dotted the area had been strung with white twinkle lights, and large tiki torches had been placed strategically around the perimeter of the party to provide additional illumination. Some people were already dancing to the rhythmic beat of the music and some were sitting at the small tables that had been placed at the far end of the space, but most were around the long buffet tables that ran along the fence flanking the right side of the field.
A girl with fiery red hair long enough to cover her bared breasts greeted them with a smile. “Welcome, Master and Lady.”
“Thank you, Holly,” Grant said, giving the woman a soft, but chaste kiss on the mouth. “Don’t you look tempting, tonight.”
Holly dipped her head in thanks, then turned to Brynn to place a head wreath made of grapevines on her head. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Come on,” Grant said, putting his palm against the small of her back and leading her to the food area. “If you plan to enjoy the festivities, you need to make sure you’re properly fueled and hydrated.”
“Sounds like a sporting event.”
He glanced down at her, his eyes glinting. “Oh, darling, this is way more vigorous than any sport.”
She forced a smile, but her heart had taken up residence in her throat.
When they reached the food line, Grant handed her a plate and let her go in front of him. Lavish displays of fruit, cheese, and roasted meats filled the tables along with bowls of a creamy orange punch and huge decanters of some aubergine-colored liquid. Half-dressed male and female attendants stood on the other side of the table filling glasses for guests. She pointed at the drinks and looked back at Grant. “What are these?”
“Ambrosia and fresh grape juice.”
An Adonis-like man clad in only a swath of material low-slung around his hips ladled some of the ambrosia into a cup for her. She thanked him, then smiled at Grant. “Bacchus may strike y’all down for having his festival with no wine.”
He chuckled. “Rules are rules, but we are honoring the harvest. I even have vats of grapes wheeled out later so people can experience crushing them. Wine will be made on these grounds—we just won’t be the ones drinking it.”
As attendants randomly piled food on her plate, she kept her eyes on everyone around her, scanning faces like she was looking through a line-up book at a police station. Every young blond woman caught her attention. She was seeing Kelsey everywhere and nowhere.
When they reached the end of the buffet, Grant guided her to one of the tables at the edge of the party and excused himself to go make his rounds. She was relieved to be rid of him and put all her focus on watching every partygoer who arrived. She saw a few familiar faces—two politicians, one of the more popular Dallas Cowboy football players, the weather girl from one of the local TV networks. But no Kelsey. And thankfully, no Reid or Jace.
As the minutes passed, the number of attendees grew incrementally and soon workers were folding up the tables to make space for all the dancing. She gave up her perch and was quickly sucked into the crowd. Bodies pressed around her and the air grew thicker—the shift in mood palpable. Fun-loving to down and dirty before she had the chance to catch her breath.
The music increased in volume, and the beat slowed to a more sensual rhythm—one that required writhing instead of bouncing. Men and women brushed along all sides of her body, the crowd dancing as one. She squared her shoulders, determined to keep at the edges of the group so she had an escape route, but the effort was useless. Like a buoy in a churning ocean, her position was controlled by the tide around her instead of her own volition. Soon, she was so deep in the swarm that she’d lost a sense of where she was in the field.
Then, clothes began to come off.
All around her, people were shedding their colored togas and moving from dancing to kissing, touching. The man in front of her poured a cup of the dark grape juice over his lover’s breasts and lapped it up as it dripped down her nude body. Brynn’s blood began to rush in her ears—the collective body heat and the press of the crowd testing her hold on her panic switch.