Lincoln purses his lips. “So, if you had something to wear, you’d be interested in a little stroll?”

“I would.” Not sure where he’s going with this.

Lincoln leans forward, pulling his velvet tunic over his head. “This should work fine.” He only wears silver chain mail over black leather pants.

“What?” I poke at the long over-shirt with my finger. “You want me to wear that?”

“Why not? You’ll be covered.” He winks. “Mostly.” Extending one hand, he offers me the garment.

I eye it carefully. It could actually fit me pretty well. I screw my mouth onto one side of my face. “Where would I change?”

“How about behind the hedges?” He tosses me the tunic, then turns his back to me. “I promise not to peek.”

I jog beyond the wall of green and swap out my gown for Lincoln’s tunic. I spin about, eyeing the fit. It looks good, but I’m showing a lot of bare leg.

I bite my lower lip. “I’m feeling a bit exposed, Lincoln.” I kick off my heels. The ground chills my bare feet.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

I tiptoe past the line of hedges. There I see Lincoln standing in his black leather pants and…Nothing else. They hang low on his hips, showing off the vee of muscle below his stomach. Whoa. Desire zings through my system.

Lincoln eyes me from head to toe, his gaze lingering on my legs. “Now we’re both a bit exposed.”

I gesture to him in a ‘hey you’re not wearing a shirt’ kind of way. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” It’s not like half the thrax aren’t partying nearby.

“Why not? I won’t return to the ball.” True, and I’m probably about to ruin his tunic to boot.

Grinning, Lincoln kicks the pile of chain mail with his bare foot. “Plus, this stuff weighs a ton.” He links his arms across his chest. “And I was promised some trouble, remember?”

That settles it.

I bow slightly. “Alright, you got me. Where to?”

“I have a specific spot in mind.” He laces his fingers with mine. A thrill of connection zings in my palm. “Let’s go.” His mismatched eyes twinkle in the moonlight. My tummy goes all tingly again.

At this point, I’d follow him pretty much anywhere. As we walk along, my heart thumps a mile a minute, my breathing turns low and shallow, and my lust demon definitely wants to come out and play. Lincoln steps into the hedgerow maze, picking his way with uncanny accuracy. We soon reach the fountain at the labyrinth’s center. It’s turned off now, so it looks like one large, still pool of water.

My brows arch in confusion. Out of all the places in the Ryder grounds, why would Lincoln take me here?