A/N: This chapter took extremely long to write. I guess I was facing a mini writer's block of sorts. The added pressure of exams made Edward run away at vampire speed. My poor helpless imagination was left high and dry.

Anyhow, I yanked him back and managed to bring him to you again. Phew!

Thanks for the glorious reviews! Some of you have been reviewing very religiously, and I feel so honoured because of that. Keep them coming!

FAQs Answered-

-Some of you asked me if the Cullens would be involved.

The Cullens WILL make an appearance later. For more, watch this space!

-Some asked about Edward's diet changes.

Yes, he changed his diet to animal blood. How his eyes changed colour so quickly? He isn't a newborn, therefore, it takes only weeks for his eye colour to change from red to orange.

Now enjoy the chapter! :D

Edward was running through the forest, feeling the exhilarating high of the speed. It was one of those nights—time to hunt. Besides, the sprint across the forest helped rein his anger in.

He was infuriated with careless human behaviour. Law enforcement was unable to solve the death of Henry Crawford, whose body Edward had left to rot away in the forest. He was hoping that the Webbers wouldn't go to the Ball after that, the death of a relative being reason enough.

For the time being, Edward tried to drop that thought, but the undercurrent of its annoyance still remained.

In addition to that, he was feeling unusually restless tonight. It had been weeks since he changed his diet, and now, he was starting to feel a deep need for human blood. It wasn't a craving—even if it was, he'd never admit it—but rather a sense of discontentment. Animal blood wasn't able to sustain him for more than two weeks, where human blood was much more durable. He felt irritated at the need to hunt more often than usual.

All because of THAT woman. She has made me literally insane. He tried to be bitter about it, but the very thought of Isabella disarmed him completely.

He stopped abruptly, suddenly feeling a loss of direction.

Bella…

His hands moved on their own, coursing through his hair in a desperate attempt to bring his composure back.

I WILL have her, one way or the other. She will have to pay the price for being so deliciously irresistible—for walking right into my life that night…He smiled darkly at the thought.

Edward sat on his haunches, tracing his fingers on the wet earth, appreciating its warm, brown colour. It reminded him of her—her eyes.

My Bella…

Twisting his hands into the soil, he grabbed a handful of it, remembering her chocolate coloured eyes. They seemed to invite him in, lock him in their warmth. He wanted to see them everyday and every night.

Edward stood up, trying to shake off her drug-like effect. I'm on a hunt. I should be focused on feeding. This is no time to think about my other hungers.

He sniffed the air to get a better feel for his surroundings. He could identify various scents in the air. One of them was more appealing than the rest—mountain lion. He followed the scent for about a mile and then spotted the animal behind thick underbrush. Crouching in an attacking position, he prepared for his stealthy attack. Just when he was about to pounce, another scent hit him, a human scent. His senses got clouded, and his inherent vampire instinct took over. The mountain lion was instantly forgotten.

Edward leapt from his position, following the human scent he had just caught. It took him out of the forest and into the fringes of the human population. There, he found a hutment on the edge of the woods, and the human scent was concentrated all around it.

He peered inside through a darkened window. A young woman was sleeping in that room. He could sense others as well, but they were sleeping in other rooms. The smell that had brought him here didn't belong to her, but he opened her window nonetheless. He was ready to attack the first human he encountered.

She was sleeping. Her dreams were as dull to him as any other human's. He was least interested in her mind. All he wanted in this moment was her blood. Without wasting any time, he lowered himself on to her bed and pinned her sleeping form beneath him.

She stirred, feeling his weight, and opened her eyes slightly. It was dark, and she was unable to make out anything, except for the fact that something hard and cold was pinning her to her bed.

"What—" He cut her off with his hand, closing it around her lips so that she wouldn't make any suspicious noises. He was finally getting to drink human blood, and he didn't want to ruin the experience by alerting others.

"Don't worry, it will soon be over," he cooed in her ear. Her eyes widened upon hearing his voice. She didn't know what to make of it, and struggling seemed like the only plausible option for her.

Her resistance irritated him, but it did nothing to deter him. He dove straight for her jugular, tracing it with his lips to get a taste of her skin. The action took him straight back to Isabella, the first night he saw her.

Bella…

The name resonated in his mind again. Like a whiplash, it brought him back from his bloodthirsty haze. He looked at the terrified girl's face.

Human blood… Red eyes…

Edward knew that if he drank human blood now, then he wouldn't be able to be around Isabella in public. He didn't want to let go of this chance.

Making up his mind, he lowered his head into her neck again, and whispered in her ear, "Shh… it's just a dream. Close your eyes, and it will be over."

The girl froze in place, her thoughts frantic. At once, she closed her eyes, praying to God for it to be over. She felt the dead weight lift off her body immediately. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but darkness. A gust of cold wind whipped inside the room, alerting her to the open window. She got off her bed and quickly closed it shut.

The incident only increased her belief in God. The only impression Edward had left on her was of a ghost. She thought that her prayers had scared him off.

Suits me fine, Edward thought wryly, as he glided into the forest again. His throat was burning with thirst, but he resisted hunting humans. He knew that this was the only chance he'd get with Isabella. And he wanted to take it, since Isabella was the only person who wouldn't disturb him with her mental monologue. He couldn't read her mind, and that was almost like a blessing.

Oh, the pleasure it would bring. He groaned at the thought, willing himself to forget about her blood. She can satisfy my carnal hungers…

Determined to work his way around his thirst, Edward followed the scent of the mountain lion again. The animal wasn't very far off. He found it again, much too easily.

Leaping into the air, he landed straight on its back, crushing the animal beneath him. Snapping its neck, he dug his teeth into its throat. The resultant flow of blood into his mouth brought a rush of relief to his thirst. It wasn't as good as human blood, but it was enough to keep him sated.

He was ready to compromise his thirst for now.

"Issy, you don't fool me one bit. I know that you are not sick. You're just doing it to avoid the Ball. Why, Issy? When I told you that I wouldn't let anyone bother you!" Angela threw her hands in the air, feeling frustrated with her friend's pigheadedness.

Isabella held her blanket over her head and refused to let go of it. She had decided to feign illness, just so that she could miss the Grand Ball. "But, Angela, I don't feel well. You can ask my uncle about it. I really don't feel up to it," she groaned as Angela pulled at her blanket. "Do you want me to vomit on people?"

She was in no mood to socialize. The shock of Henry's death was still very fresh in her memory. The guilt of hiding this fact was eating at her. She couldn't bring herself to tell the Webbers.

"No, Issy, even your uncle knows that you're just scared of the ball. I take full responsibility for everything, Issy. If anything goes badly, then you can blame me. But please, don't be so infantile about it." Angela finally pulled the blanket from Isabella's clutches.

"Oh right, I can very well blame you! But, Angela, it will be me, and not you, who'll get humiliated in front of a crowd!"

"I won't let that happen, Issy. Just trust me? Now please, go and take a nice warm bath. It will soothe you and calm your nerves. I'll get your dress ready, and well, it will give me some time to set my hair." Angela grabbed Isabella's hands and pulled her out of the bed.

Isabella hung her head in defeat. She knew that the torture was unavoidable. Therefore, she bolstered herself up and marched toward the bathroom.

Angela smiled and shook her head at her friend's antics. Issy is so stubborn sometimes… But I'm sure she'll like it. She just needs to open up a bit.

After Isabella came out of her bath—a one-hour long, reluctant bath—she was horrified to see Angela on her bed, with an assortment of accessories sitting beside her. "What is all this?"

Angela just grinned evilly and gestured for her to go to her closet.

"Angela, this dress… is not mine. From where…?" Isabella looked at the dress in plain shock. It was an expensive piece.

"The ones you had were a bit…," Angela searched for the right word, "plain. Grandmother evening gowns. Issy, this is a ball, not just a simple social gathering. You ought to have a proper evening gown for it."

"But Angela, how? When?"

"You don't need to bother yourself about it." Angela waved her hand in dismissal.

"I'm not wearing this, Angela. This isn't right. You cannot buy such expensive things for me!" Isabella was thoroughly embarrassed.

The class difference between them was suddenly very obvious.

Angela could see it written all over her face. "Issy, I hope you're not thinking on those lines. Please? This isn't about money or extravagance. You're my friend, that's why…" her voice cracked as she trailed off.

"Angela." A heavy sigh escaped Isabella's lips. "I just meant that—well, you didn't have to do this for me." She wanted to say something to contradict her true emotions but couldn't. "All right, I was thinking on those lines."

Angela nodded sullenly. "I know. Why do you have to be so difficult, Isabella? I only bought it because I love you."

Isabella stood frozen at the closet door. The loving gesture from her friend was somewhat alien to her. Never before had any friend done such a thing for her. She didn't know how to respond.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Now go and wear it." Angela understood her hesitation.

A moment of silence passed.

"Angela… thank you for being such a caring friend." Isabella smiled sheepishly and hugged her, then disappeared behind the closet doors.

Angela just laughed at her awkwardness. Such is my friend.

Inside the closet, Isabella looked appraisingly at her dress. The sapphire blue evening gown had a big bustle, flowing straight out of the back waist. There wasn't much of a train to it; she breathed a sigh of relief for that. Having a train posed several drawbacks for her since she was somewhat clumsy. It was sleeveless and had a low neck, merging with her shoulders. A pair of soft, pearly-white leather gloves accompanied the dress.

She fitted the corset along her waist and adjusted her neckline, feeling a little self-conscious.

"What's taking you so long, Issy?" Angela tapped on the closet door impatiently.

Isabella opened the door and timidly walked out toward the dressing table. "Angela, the neckline; it's too low."

"No, it isn't. It's just that you haven't dressed up like that before. And why is your corset so loose?!" Angela stepped forward and tightened the strings of Isabella's corset.

Isabella yelped, feeling constricted. "Angela! I can't breathe! You will kill me!"

"No, I won't. Get used to it, Issy," Angela scolded her.

"Ugh—All right. So, now what?" Isabella asked in choking voice.

Angela made her sit in front of the dressing table and applied light powder and rouge on her face.

"Angela, I'm pale as it is. Don't--ahhchhoo!" Isabella sneezed reflexively as the powder tickled her nose.

"Isabella, what a strange creature you are. You don't wear low neck dresses, you sneeze on applying the powder… you amaze me." Angela laughed heartily.

"I told you!" Isabella rubbed the tip of her nose, feeling her cheeks heating up.

In the next hour, she sat obediently in front of her dressing table, letting Angela comb her hair. Angela set her hair in a cluster of ringlets, letting her bangs fall delicately onto the sides of her face.

"Right. I think you look extremely presentable," Angela announced in a haughty, mocking tone.

Isabella giggled in response. It was the first time in two days that she really felt happy and carefree.

"No giggling, young woman! You ought to behave like a propah lady now." Angela tucked Isabella's arm in hers and walked out the door. "Now, we have a ball to attend! Hurry up, princess!"

The Grand Ball was everything that Isabella had thought. Most certainly, a scary place for her.

"Why is everyone staring? Is there something wrong with me?" She nudged Angela, trying to get her attention. Angela, instead, was looking quite intently at something in the distance.

"Angela! Respond to me at least."

"Hmm?" Angela sounded distracted. For once, Isabella forgot about her awkwardness and followed her friend's gaze. It was stuck on a young man with dark hair about their age.

Angela blinked, her gaze still fixed on the man. "I'm sorry, Issy. What were you saying?" she asked distractedly.

Isabella shook her head, feeling amused. "Nothing really, I just wanted to go and sit somewhere. Standing here is attracting unwanted attention."

"Oh." Angela grabbed her hand and sauntered away to the far side of the hall. She got Isabella seated in a corner as per her preference.

"Look, Issy, I need to go and find someone I think I know from somewhere. So, can you stay here for a while?" she asked anxiously, looking imploringly into Isabella's eyes.

She laughed. "Angela, I'm not a child or an imbecile. Go ahead and talk to him. I'll be perfectly fine."

Angela blushed, realizing that Isabella had caught her staring. "Yes, thank you, Issy. I won't take long." With that, she marched away, determined to find the man again. His face seemed familiar to her, but she wasn't able to fully identify him. She wanted to get a closer look, and she didn't have to go very far.

"Hello, my name is Angela Webber," she introduced herself shyly, feeling out of place. But something inside her spurred her on, like a magnetic force, drawing her towards him. "I'm sorry for being so—"

"Angela!" he gasped, shock evident on his face. "My god, have you grown up or…?"

Angela stared at him in surprise. Then, like a sudden revelation, it dawned on her. "Ben! I knew it! That's why you looked so familiar!"

Her mother came up behind her and cleared her throat, a signal for Angela to stop talking loudly. "Angela, I think you are forgetting something."

"I'm sorry, Mother. But look who's here." Angela pointed at him. "Ben! You remember him?"

Her mother nodded and smiled, "Yes of course, Mr. and Mrs. Cheney's son. You two used to be good friends."

Ben nodded in response, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it. "How have you been, Mrs. Webber? It's been a long time." He sighed, his gaze resting upon Angela. How long indeed. She is… so grown up and… beautiful! I wonder if she will be the same way with me. Well, she did sound enthusiastic. I can only wish…

"Ben, come with me. I'll introduce you to my very good friend, Isabella." She reached for his arm but stopped mid-way. Mrs. Webber glared at her, reminding her of the proper lady-like behaviour.

Ben noticed it, and thus, he offered her his arm. "Sure."

As they walked towards Isabella, Ben turned to Angela and asked, "Very good friend? I thought I used to be that. Was it so easy to replace me?"

"No, it's not like that. After we moved from Boise, I didn't have a friend for so many years. Forks is a claustrophobic place, Ben. One cannot find friends here so easily. She just came here a few months ago. She is really sweet and kind hearted. But, well, she is not your replacement."

"So, you still consider me as your good friend?"

"Ben! You're not just a good friend, you're," she paused, feeling her face heat up, "…the best. How many times do you want me to say that?"

"Perhaps one thousand or more," he teased her.

"Mr. Cheney, that's not nice at all." She giggled.

Isabella noticed the glow that had spread over her friend's face. They look complete like that, complementing each other. They'd make a handsome couple.

She sighed, feeling a strange ache in her heart. It wasn't the first time that she had contemplated love. She had read about it, and thought about it many times, only to feel somewhat empty in the end. She often wondered if it was even real. Then again, her parents had been ample proof of that. And now, it was Angela. She knew that her friend was just about to fall into the depths of this strange emotion.

"Isabella, first, my apologies for leaving you like that. Second, this is Ben Cheney, my good ol' childhood friend." She gestured towards Ben. "And Ben, this is Isabella Swan."

"Hello, Miss Swan, it's a pleasure to meet you." Ben repeated the same kissing gesture on her hand.

"Same here, Mr. Cheney." She nodded, smiling broadly at him.

The three of them conversed for the next few minutes and then had their dinner together. Ben's friend, Michael Newton, joined them soon. After their introduction, he took her hand in his, and dropped a lingering kiss on it. "You have a very pretty name, Miss Swan."

"Thank you." She pulled her hand back, glad that she was wearing gloves tonight. Every time a man kissed her hand, she was reminded of Henry Crawford.

All four of them sat down together in a corner of the hall, laughing and chatting about the usual things of life. Michael told the girls about his father's gold mine and that he actually didn't want to join his business. Ben scoffed at him, explaining to the girls that Michael was only telling this to get their accolades.

Everything about the ball suddenly looked easy to Isabella... until it was time for the dancing to start.

Isabella stiffened as she heard the music and saw the couples taking the floor.

"Shall we, Miss Webber?" Ben grinned at Angela as he offered his hand to her.

"Oh, why didn't you ask Miss Swan?" Angela nudged Isabella, who was looking like a fish out of water.

"Well, she looks stricken. I wouldn't hazard a risk." Ben tried to make Isabella feel better. He could see that she didn't want to be on the floor.

"Yes, you two go ahead. I'll be fine sitting here." Isabella motioned towards the dancing couples.

She watched Ben and Angela, their hands entwined together, as they walked over to the dancing arena.

Isabella glanced to her side, and her gaze locked with the bright blue eyes of Michael. He pointed at Ben and Angela, who waved back at him. Confused, Isabella stared at him, wide eyed.

I hope he doesn't ask, she thought anxiously. Otherwise, Angela shall be dead.

After a few moments of silent innuendos—like nodding toward the dancing couples, or waving at Ben and Angela—Michael couldn't contain himself any longer. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

Isabella sighed. The dreadful part of the ball was here. "Actually, Mr. Newton, I'd prefer not to. It doesn't have anything to do with your offer, just a personal choice."

He looked at her with a befuddled expression. Rejection came as a shock to him. "Not even a single dance?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm really sorry, but please…"

Isabella averted her eyes from his, feeling a rush of guilt. Such awkward situations were the reason behind her attempts to avoid this Ball.

He nodded, feeling dejected for a moment. "That's fine."

"Why don't you go over there and find someone else to dance with? I mean, I'm sure you'll find a nice partner. Please don't let me ruin the experience," she tried to deflect him.

"I'll see what I can do about that." He smiled at her. "Will you be fine?"

She nodded in reply, giving him the approval to leave. He kissed her hand once again and headed over to the more crowded part of the hall.

Isabella let out a relieved sigh.

"Afraid of dancing, are you?"

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard a very familiar male voice beside her. Goosebumps rose on her back, and she turned to face Edward Masen.

"I thought you didn't socialize!" she blurted out and immediately regretted it. Now, he won't be happy hearing that.

She waited for an acidic response, but it never came. Instead, he grinned at her, looking quite pleased. "Evening, Miss Swan. Good to know that you keep tabs on my personal life." His grin widened.

Isabella wanted to hide behind the sofa. Her face was turning red like a tomato.

"Is it just me, or do you blush all too easily?" he asked in a teasing tone.

She looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I don't know…"

He took the moment to swallow the venom that had gathered in his mouth.

"You still didn't answer me, though. Are you afraid of dancing?"

"Would you refrain from asking me if I said yes?" She didn't raise her eyes.

He decided to tease her a bit more. "What made you think that I'd want to ask?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it's a ball, and people are dancing?" she pointed towards the dancing arena.

"Perhaps. No."

"Pardon?"

"I just answered your question, Isabella." He moved closer to her and took her hand in his. "I would still ask you."

She looked up and met his gaze. "Why don't you find someone else?"

"I don't mix well with others. Besides, it's you that I want." His eyes smouldered as he said that.

She had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping open. For a few seconds, she forgot what her argument was. His eyes were a powerful disarming weapon.

She tore her eyes away from his in order to regain her composure. "I can't dance. Please, Mr. Masen," she attempted again in a feeble voice.

"Well, I can always make you. It's not that mountainous a task, Isabella. It's all in the leading," he spoke in his best persuasive tone.

Her hand was still in his grasp. He pulled at it slightly to make her stand up. She resisted a little, even glared at him.

The angry kitten is glaring at me. This just gets more and more entertaining, he thought amusedly.

"Just once, let go, Isabella. I promise, I won't let you fall, or slip, or even appear clumsy." He stood up and pulled her up with him.

"I'm warning you. Be prepared for a few injuries on your toes." She glowered at him.

He merely smirked, oozing with confidence. "I'm sure the experience is worth it."

Edward led her to the dance floor and turned her around to face him. His left hand gently gripped hers, while the right one wrapped around her waist. Once again, his intoxicating smell surrounded her, nearly making her incoherent with its vanilla and honey sweetness.

"So, tell me," he said, moving a bit closer, "how many casualties have happened because of you?"

"No, it's very embarrassing." She tried to look over his shoulder, but his height caused him to tower over her, restricting her view.

Slowly, they started moving to the soft music. Isabella was tense. She didn't know what made her more nervous; her inability to dance, or Edward's proximity.

Edward was pleased with himself. He knew that she had refused Michael, but she didn't refuse him. It was like a small victory.

He dipped his head to her side and murmured, "See? You are dancing flawlessly. I believe your fears were misplaced."

She shivered slightly, feeling his cool breath on her neck and shoulder. The heat of her blush was a stark contrast to it; it almost made her jump.

"I-I don't think so… I think it's because of you." She mentally cursed herself for sounding incoherent.

"Whatever you say, Isabella." He wanted to keep himself there only, near her neck, but he knew that it would look too intimate, hence, he withdrew.

They danced away in silence, moving in rhythm. He looked into her eyes with the same burning expression, inevitably making her lose her touch with reality.

"Mr. Masen?" she managed to utter after a while. The silence and his constant staring were getting to her.

He nodded, prompting her to continue.

"I-I haven't heard from Henry Crawford again…" she left the sentence hanging, unable to continue. She didn't know why she touched that topic again, but it just came forth somehow. You are utterly stupid, Isabella.

He stiffened at the mention of Henry's name, and his eyes grew visibly dark.

"I-I mean, I'm glad that he never came back." She tried to ease the tension. Good, not only did you make yourself look stupid, you ruined his mood as well.

His expression softened. "Tell me, Isabella. What's bothering you? I know that you can't talk about it with another person."

She stared at him for a moment, debating on whether to tell him or not.

"Mr. Masen… I don't know what to think. The law enforcement, well, they found a dead body—and recovered a diamond necklace. It's the same necklace that he had offered me." She paused, gauging his reaction. He seemed unfazed, so she continued, "What else does it mean? I think …he's dead."

"And you can't tell anyone about it," he completed her sentence, his face grim.

She nodded, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to break loose.

"It's apparent that the Webbers don't know about it." He had wanted the Webbers to mourn Henry's death. That was one way to stop Isabella from attending the Grand Ball. Attending the Ball hadn't been on his agenda. He had only come here because of her, to keep an eye on her and to keep the rest of the male population away from her; even though he knew that it was a puerile thing to do.

"I'm sure the law enforcement must have shown his belongings to them," he continued, observing her reaction, "Well, at least, they did show a few things to me."

Isabella's head jerked up in shock as she processed his last sentence. "They came to you as well? You saw that necklace?"

"Yes, it was their duty to do so. I obviously didn't recognize the necklace, since I wasn't paying attention to it at that time. Therefore, I wasn't aware that it was him. Now that you've told me, I have put two and two together."

Edward almost laughed in her face. The amusement he was getting from this situation was beyond satisfying. Isabella was helpless, and he comfortably fit into the role of a saviour.

"The Webbers don't even know… and I feel guilty, traitorous for keeping it from them." She looked around for any signs of Angela and Ben. They weren't anywhere near.

"That is understandable. You can't tell, because it would complicate the matter." He sighed. So virtuous, my little kitten…

"I don't know what to do, Mr. Masen," she whispered.

Satisfy me. It's as simple as that. Edward had to suppress a chuckle at the thought.

He smiled at her and tried to look compassionate. "Leave it to fate. Everything balances itself out eventually. Don't take it on yourself. You were the victim, Isabella, not the perpetrator."

She nodded, feeling a bit relieved at his words. "Thank you, Mr. Masen. You've been very kind to me. How can I ever repay you?"

At this, his smile turned into a smirk, accompanied by a wicked gleam in his eyes. "There is a way to repay me, Isabella."

She looked into his eyes, confused again. "There is? Do tell me. I'd be more than happy to do something for you." In the back of her mind, Isabella could hear a small voice telling her that it wasn't such a good idea.

"I'll pay you and your uncle a visit, probably the day after tomorrow. I'll be asking a question, which you will have to answer. Just say 'yes,' as your answer."

Isabella stared at him, wondering what that meant. "Can I know the question beforehand?"

"No," he answered rather bluntly, "it will lose its importance." And give you more time to think. Not a very good prospect for me.

"But—"

"Isabella, I thought you wanted to repay me. It is the only thing I'm asking of you, just a small three-letter word as your answer," he wheedled.

She looked down, considering his plea. The only thing that irked her was the question. It bothered her not to know anything about it. He has a strange expression on his face, like he'd be asking for his pound of flesh. I don't know if I should agree to it, she deliberated inside her head. For there are times when he acts like an angel, and times when he acts like a devil incarnate. Now would be the latter.

He laughed lightly, maneuvering her around the dance floor. "You look worried."

"I—well…" She wanted to say no, but she didn't know if that would be wise. He was one person who knew about Henry and her, and she wondered if he might use it against her some day if she didn't agree. Even though he'd been of much help to her, her intuition told her that Edward Masen wasn't one to be trusted so immediately.

"Well?" he prodded, knowing full well that her subconscious mind was giving her warnings.

It would have been so pleasurable to hear her thoughts, he mused, staring intently at her angelic face. But I can't complain. The absence of her thoughts is going to be fabulous in some situations.

In an abrupt move, she stopped moving along with him. He had to stop as well, or else she would have dragged like a ragdoll.

His eyes questioned her, to which she responded, "I need to sit down. Please? I think I've filled my quota of dancing for tonight."

He nodded and led her back to her little corner of the hall.

Michael was already sitting there, looking accusingly at Isabella. "Didn't you say you don't like to dance?" he asked as she sat down, Edward close to her side.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Newton, but Mr. Masen here insisted." She sighed, feeling inept at answering his question. "All I can say is that he's very persuasive."

She went on to introduce them to each other.

They both exchanged pleasantries, but Edward's face courted a look of animosity, aimed singularly at Michael. Isabella noted it but didn't know why Edward was acting in such a way. His mood changes so frequently. It's hard to tell why. Maybe he isn't happy about the fact that I didn't answer him. Whatever it is, I hope his dark mood changes soon.

Edward kept glaring at Michael, without giving any regard to either Isabella or anyone else who happened to notice his possessive stance over her.

Michael shifted uncomfortably, feeling the hostility from Edward.

Ben and Angela came forth after the dance ended. Angela smiled at Isabella and then turned to Edward. "Mr. Masen! What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

He stood up and kissed her hand, exchanging greetings with her and Ben. Isabella watched his actions with curiosity, thinking, He never kisses my hand when he greets me…

Mrs. Webber came up to the girls to inform them that they would be leaving soon. "Isabella, Angela, dear, it's time."

Isabella stood up and looked at Edward. She was anxious that she still hadn't answered him.

He smiled at her in return. "I'll be seeing you and Charles on Sunday."

Sunday morning, Isabella was shuffling around in the kitchen, her nerves on edge. She still hadn't told Charles, and it made her even more jittery.

Charles noticed her restlessness and approached her. "Issy, is something bothering you?"

She looked at him, her expression sombre. "I-I," she hesitated, knowing full well that he wouldn't react nicely. Taking a deep breath, she decided to blurt it out finally.

"Mr. Masen will be here soon. He wants to talk to you about something."

"Wha—why are you telling me about it?" Charles looked instantly worried. The mention of Edward's name was never a good thing, especially in his household, by his own niece. Isabella knew that well.

"He told me to inform you."

"When and how did you meet him?" Charles asked in a very angry tone. "I thought I told you to stay away from him."

"Uncle, please understand. How could I have shunned him at the Ball? He wanted to speak with me." Isabella tried to keep her voice even, but the rising panic within her was making it difficult. She knew that Edward would be arriving any moment.

"The Ball? He went to the Ball?!" Charles looked incredulously at her.

"He just told me that he'd come to see you today. I don't know anything else." She looked away, fearing that he'd catch her lie. It's better not to tell him about the conversation I had with Mr. Masen. How will I ever be able to explain it all?

"What does he want to talk about?" Charles muttered to himself. He was not happy with current the developments. "I can only hope that it's not about my work or the repayment of loans. I know that I'm due, but I won't be able to repay it so quickly."

Charles slumped in his chair, dread apparent on his face.

"Let's pray that he won't ask for the money, Uncle. Anything else…" She tried to comfort him, to no avail.

"I can't even leave this job, Issy. He made me sign a written undertaking, expressing that I can't resign until I repay all my loans."

Isabella was about to say something, but her words never made it out of her mouth. The very distinct noise of a carriage stopping outside made her jolt.

"He's here," she managed to croak.

"You stay here in the kitchen; I'll go talk to him." Charles patted the top of her head and hurried out.

Charles opened the door and welcomed Edward inside, who could sense his nerves right away.

"Please, have a seat. Isabella told me you wanted to speak with me. What brought you here, Sir? Is everything fine?" Charles tried to act normal, but his thoughts weren't hidden from Edward.

"Yes, everything's fine, Charles. Since you mentioned her, where is Isabella? Visiting?" he asked casually, knowing clearly where she was.

"She's working in the kitchen." Charles answered with finality. And she won't come out. She doesn't need to see or hear any of this, he thought protectively. Edward made an effort not to laugh at this thought.

"Oh, but I thought she'd be sitting here as well while we have our little chat." Edward's eyes twinkled with wicked joy. By the flip in her heartbeat, he was able to gauge that Isabella could very well hear him.

"No, I'm afraid, she's busy." Charles couldn't understand the reason behind his insistence on her presence.

Edward nodded, his face expressionless. He didn't want to give away his utter amusement at this conversation. "Fine, then let's get straight to business." He sauntered off casually to the middle of the drawing-room. "I have an offer for you, and of course, your niece." Saunter

"Offer?" Charles couldn't hide his surprise.

"Yes, Charles," Edward continued, staring into empty space. "I'm ready to relinquish all of the money that you have borrowed from me… on one condition."

Charles stared at him in disbelief. "What condition?"

Isabella trained her ears towards the drawing-room, momentarily forgetting about wiping the delicate plate in her hand. She was eager to hear the rest of Edward's offer.

Edward turned to face Charles, his face holding an almost satanic-looking smile. "That you agree to give your niece's hand in marriage… to me. I'll be asking her to marry me."

A loud crash was heard from the kitchen.

Edward's smile widened upon hearing it. He knew that there could only be one answer to the question he'd be asking her... yes.

That's all folks!

I hope you enjoyed it. Wickedward to the fore!