Sofie watches with wide-eyes as Emelia is hauled away by François.

"Uh..." she says, concern nagging at her. "Is she going to be okay?"

Jacques' eyes follow her line of sight.

"I don't see why not." He shrugs his large shoulders. "It's only a dance - and one with a royal, no less. An honour."

She purses her lips, highly doubting that Emelia will see it that way considering how much Sofie knows she despises him.

Admittedly, Sofie isn't keen on François either but hate isn't an emotion which comes easily to her. In fact, Sofie can't recall a time in her life where she has ever felt such a negative emotion towards someone else. Perhaps that is a flaw of hers, though, as she knows that Emelia's abhorrence is entirely justifiable.

"Wipe that worried look off your face, girl." Malcolm's voice pulls her from her litany of insecure thoughts. She glances up at him. "You will attract the wrong kind of attention otherwise."

"I'm not worried," she lies. There is no use though. Just like in the library, Malcolm sees through her like clear cut glass. He offers her a knowing smile.

She turns her attention back to the direction Emelia and François went, both of them no longer visible.

Not paying attention to the casual conversation Jacques and Malcolm are sharing, Sofie's eyes glide over the crowd, admiring the dozens of elegantly dressed couples, before moving on to the outdoor orchestra which expertly plays Strauss.

The music is magnificent and very much like what Sofie would dance to in ballet class. She's struck again by a sudden pang of homesickness.

Someone clears their throat.

"Jaques, how about you go entertain the Governor's daughter. She has been openly admiring you since you arrived tonight."

"She has?" There is poorly hidden surprise in Jacques' voice.

"Oh, yes," Malcolm confirms with a cheerful chuckle. "Perhaps she would fancy a dance. You should ask."

This recaptures Sofie's attention and, alarmed, she swivels her head around to stare at both men.

Jacques appears to be tempted by this idea but he hesitates, throwing Sofie a glance.

"I am supposed to stay with her," he mutters.

"Oh, go on," Malcolm encourages, slapping down a heavily scarred hand on top of Jacques' left shoulder. "You're entitled to have fun. Go. The girl will be fine with me."

Despite the assurance, Jacques still seems unsure and Sofie... doesn't know how she feels.

She knows what she should feel at the thought of being left alone with Malcolm; horror. What she feels instead is trepid curiosity.

Trepidation because he is a stranger - an extremely creepy one no less - and curiosity because he seems to have knowledge of things beyond the ordinary understanding of others, much like she does.

She looks at Jacques.

"It's okay," she tells him. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

She does her best to sound confident and must succeed because his resolve softens.

"Alright then," he relents. "Just don't wander off."

"I won't," she promises.

Jacques walks away, heading in the direction of the dance floor, and leaves them alone.

Sofie waits for a few beats before turning to face Malcolm, his eyes already trained on her like a hawk's.

"So?" she says promptingly and his lips twitch ever so slightly as if he is trying not to smile.

"So..?" he repeats, waiting for her to elaborate. Not appreciating his charade of ignorance, Sofie huffs and crosses her glove-clad arms.

"What is it you want to talk about which you can't in front of Jacques?" she asks, never looking away from his intense gaze despite it making her incredibly uncomfortable. Now Malcolm does smile.

"So inquisitive," he says, licking his thin dry lips. "What makes you assume I have something to share with you?"

Sofie frowns at him, thoroughly confused. None of this is making any sense. Why else would he want to be alone with her?

"You don't?" she asks, unconvinced.

Malcolm exhales slowly, his nostrils flaring. With pursed lips, he appears thoughtful for a minute, his intense gaze leaving her in exchange for their surroundings.

His eyes slowly and scrutinously sweep across the crowd before an excited smile transforms his features as if he has found what he is looking for.

Turning back to Sofie, he says, "You know, I am feeling rather peckish. Go fetch me something from the buffet table under the gazebo."

Sofie stares at him, glowering.

"Why can't you go get something yourself?" she asks, not appreciating how he has avoided her first question by changing the subject and is now telling her to get him food. He didn't even say please.

Malcolm's dark eyes narrow at her, causing a sudden unexpected chill to run down Sofie's spine at his expression, and she hurries away to do what she's been told to.

She keeps her eyes down as she makes her way through the crowd, not out of fear but simply because she doesn't want to trip over her beautiful dress and embarrass herself.

When she eventually reaches the gazebo, Sofie is relieved to see that she is the only one here.

However, she also realises that Malcolm failed to tell her what he wanted and as her eyes scan the available options, she comes to the conclusion that choosing is going to be tricky.

The buffet table is at least twenty feet long and ten feet wide, and dishes of all colours and kinds cover every inch of it above the green and silver cloth.

On the table's left side are slabs of sizzling sirloin steak, racks of lamb ribs, foie gras in some sort of sauce, small sausages on brochettes, and an entire suckling pig with an apple in its mouth.

Gross.

On the table's right side is an array of desert foods; éclairs with all different kinds of fillings, towering croquembouches, an assortment of beautifully decorated cakes and pastries, and a four-tier chocolate fountain.

Sofie's eyes land on a large, pale cheesecake decorated with macerated strawberries a moment later and her decision is made.

If Malcolm doesn't like cheesecake, Sofie thinks, then that just means an extra piece for me.

The cake has already been neatly sliced, so there is no need for a knife. A stack of small plates sit off to the side.

Sofie takes one, along with the shiny serving spatula provided nearby, and carefully reaches over the table's contents to take the closest piece.

However, someone else beats her to it.

A pale, deft hand attached to a long arm enters her field of vision and she gasps, yanking her hand back.

When she looks up, who she sees standing there on the opposite side of the table almost makes her heart splutter to a stop.

___.___

Dun dun duuun! XD I enjoyed writing another of Sofie's and Malcolm's interactions. The guy is pretty creepy. Do you think he could be up to something? Thank you for reading