Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
ROMAN
By the time evening arrives, Maggie and I are both chomping at the bit.
What’s an acceptable time to duck out of your pretend girlfriend’s father’s wedding?
Probably not eight o’clock.
Candlelight pools on crisp tablecloths, dancing over the elaborate floral centrepieces. Half of the many tables have been pushed to the edge of the room to open up a space to dance, and I watch as kilted men spin women under their arms in a wild array of movement.
The room smells incredible despite the rather sweaty dance floor full of ceilidhing guests. Probably from the eye-watering amount of flowers that decorate the room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many slain plants in one place.
The Hamilton wealth and success are on full display.
Guests drift through the available rooms in pretty silk dresses and tailored evening wear, clinking glasses and sharing conversation. Beauty fills every inch of the place, from decor and fashion to perfectly styled people and the warm backdrop of the Hamilton home.
You’d never guess it was all built with a river of blood flowing below the surface.
Maggie sits beside me, fidgeting with barely concealed need. I run my fingers down her spine until I feel her shiver.
Keeping her right where I want her.
I hadn’t expected her to get on her knees earlier, and I certainly hadn’t expected to let myself go quite so far with her. She’d dragged out a feral side I liked to keep hidden, and instead of running, she’d goaded me further.
Just another way that my kidnapper has blown my mind.
Is there no end to her surprises?
Despite our growing closeness, a dark cloud has shadowed us all day.
Eddie.
Flashing his pearly white grin at me whenever I look his way. Chumming up with Evan and making it evident how comfortable he is in Maggie’s world.
When the fiddles calm, a crooner takes to the makeshift stage and calls Evan and Priscilla up to the floor.
Priscilla looks at Evan like he’s a god. They seem happy. I still cringe at the death do us part section of the ceremony. Not quite so difficult to circumvent in these circles.
Evan’s posture has stiffened as the day wore on, but his hand on Priscilla’s waist is steady and protective. She rests her head briefly against his shoulder as they sway to the music.
The bridesmaids are called to the floor to dance with the ushers.
I stay in my seat and watch Maggie. She dances with her brother near the edge of the floor, and I stifle a laugh.
Dancing may not be her forte when it’s not slow.
Not that Maggie seems to mind. She throws shapes like no one is watching, much to Fraser’s embarrassment.
From what I’ve seen, there’s a joy to be found in winding up your siblings.
I can’t drag my eyes away from her.
Her dress gleams in the stage light, framing her full figure and making her look like an angel. An angel just begging to be desecrated.
So far, I’d avoided going all the way with Maggie, trying to tell myself that it would be best not to go there with her. To protect us both.
Or because it’s a final wall still between you.
She may have been dreading coming home, but she seems to be having fun. Eliza joins her siblings, and before long, the group merges with Priscilla and Evan, all five of them dancing together.
Maggie’s new step-brother, James, doesn’t join them. He stands off to the side, sipping champagne and flirting with a pretty member of the staff. Eliza’s gaze snags on him, and she purses her lips.
Weird.
Maggie’s curves capture my attention again. Hips that sway and deliciously thick thighs that her dress clings to. A softness to her middle that looks like the perfect place to rest my head after losing myself between her thighs.
Pink flushes her cheeks while a handful of curls has broken free from where we’d attempted to pin them in place after our morning trip to Gag-town.
I can’t be mad at her. Even though she tied me to a bloody car door after treating me like a bag of potatoes. And instead of searching for exits, I’m trying to dodge her murderous ex while drooling over her perfect arse.
I’ve lost my mind.
Maggie finally breaks away from her brother, and her face lights up when she holds a hand out to me, beckoning me to follow her onto the dance floor.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I move.
‘Dance with me,’ she demands. As if I’d be able to say no to her.
‘Bossy.’
‘Just for one song.’
Her fingers thread into mine as she pulls me into the growing crowd of people. Taking her by the waist, I pull her flush against me.
The room fades away as she loops her arms around my neck. She fits in my arms like she was made just for me. It makes me ache.
We sway together to the singer’s dulcet tones, slow and easy at first, her body moving with mine.
By the second song, her breath hitches, her lips grazing my throat.
‘You’re hard,’ she murmurs.
‘Am I?’
‘Unless you’ve suddenly discovered a liking for pistols, I’d say so.’
I smirk despite myself. ‘It’s a side effect of being anywhere near you.’
She looks utterly delighted with that revelation.
‘Is it bedtime yet?’
‘So desperate to get me to your room?’ I tease.
‘You have no idea. I was worried I’d leave a puddle on the chair during the speeches.’
‘I’d have cleaned it up for you,’ I whisper into her ear.
‘With your tongue, I hope?’ Her dirty words don’t help the half-baked baguette in my underpants. They knock me to full burn.
The song is romantic and smouldering. We dance together, her doing everything she can to keep me tenting my trousers, while I try my best to deflate it before anyone notices.
The way she laughs when I fail sends electricity rolling through me.
Her lips are soft when I capture them, tasting faintly of champagne.
The way she whimpers into my mouth has me dizzy.
The song ends, and we break apart, clapping along with the applause for the singer.
‘You ready for bed?’ she asks, voice low and teasing.
My pulse skips half a dozen beats. ‘I’m sure I could be persuaded.’
She traces her fingers along my collar. ‘I need to wee and then grab a bottle of fizz. Meet me at the staircase closest to my room?’
The crowd swallows her up, and half a dozen people stop her to chat on the way to the bathroom. No one bothers with me; I’m still a virtual stranger to them all.
I make my way toward the rear staircase, far less showy than the main one that Eddie pushed me down.
The noise of the party dulls to a distant murmur as I loosen my tie and open my top button, taking a much-needed breather.
As far as weddings went, I’d been to much worse.
The Hamiltons certainly know how to party.
I wait.
And wait.
A thought hits me like a ten-ton truck. I’m no longer counting down to escape.
I’m willingly waiting for Maggie.
I shift my weight, glance back toward the ballroom, wishing I had a phone to check.
Maggie’s taking her sweet time.
Unless something’s happened to her…
A noise behind me has me spinning, my arms up to protect myself.
There’s a flutter of dark wings as Coffin flies past my head. I laugh, glad no one is there to see me near shit my pants at the family pet.
He drops something black at my feet.
I crouch to investigate, only to find a fat beetle, its legs in the air.
Poor thing must have had a terrible day. Using the toe of my shoe, I right the insect and watch as it scuttles off.
Coffin watches me with a tilt of his glossy head. He ruffles his feathers before tilting his good eye to watch the beetle depart. I hope I haven’t offended him by not eating it.
Are crows like cats?
Probably not.
But maybe?
‘Why, thank you,’ I say. ‘A kind gift indeed.’
Coffin makes a pleased sound and hops a few inches closer to me along the bannister. When I reach out, he doesn’t move away.
The feathers are warm and sleek. Please don’t eat my fingers.
‘You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?’ I say as I stroke his chest. I’ve never been taught how to pet a bird, and I hope that it’s okay.
Coffin’s feathers puff, and he flies up to the level above me, spreading his wings wide.
He gives a panicked squawk.
Was he mad at me? I stare at Coffin, but his eye isn’t fixed on me; it’s watching a space behind me.
I turn as something whistles toward my head.
Instinct saves me. I duck hard, heart slamming as a baseball bat cuts through the space where my skull was a second ago. It smashes into the bannister with a crack that makes me wince.
Eddie stumbles into view, his eyes wild and mouth twisted into a mask of malice.
‘You think you’re clever,’ he snarls, swinging again. ‘You think you can just walk in here with your fucking lies and fool everyone?’
I barely manage to dodge the swing, the bat glancing off my side. The brutal clip knocks the air from my lungs. Pain explodes, but nothing cracks.
I stagger back, vision blurring.
‘You don’t belong here,’ Eddie spits, advancing with the bat raised. He’s practically foaming at the mouth. ‘You don’t belong with her. You’re nothing.’
I grab the bat on the next swing, thankful the hit doesn’t have much force as the wood bites into my palms. Eddie laughs as he tries to yank the bat free of my grip. The smell of whisky rolls off him.
‘Maggie’s mine,’ he says, leaning in close enough that I can see how red his eyes are. ‘This whole place is mine. She just hasn’t accepted it yet.’
He drives us back toward the stairs. Until my heel catches on the lowest one, sending me sprawling backwards.
He raises the bat, and it’s like time slows enough to let me see what I’ll look like dead on that stairwell, my brains splattered over the carpet runner.
Gran never knowing where I’ve gone, or why I’ve abandoned her. Just like her son did.
No.
Finding some energy, I surge forward, slamming my shoulder into his chest. We go down together, crashing onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. The bat skitters away with a hollow clatter.
Eddie’s on me and far heavier than he looks. His forearm crushes into my throat as I try to unseat him. Stars burst behind my eyes. He cuts off my airway.
I don’t want to die.
‘You think she chose you?’ he snarls, spit hitting my face. ‘She doesn’t get to choose. She does as she’s fucking told.’
I buck while clawing at his arm. If he feels any pain, he’s long past the point of reacting to it.
‘I’ll carve you up piece by piece,’ he hisses. ‘I’ll enjoy it, and then I’ll fuck Maggie in your blood. Let her mourn you while I breed the next line of Hamilton spawn into her.’
My vision starts to dim, and I fully panic.
I drive my knee up hard, catching him in the bollocks. His grip loosens just enough for me to shove him off. Heaving in a stuttering breath, I try to get to my feet, but Eddie’s on me before I can take half a step.
He lands a punch that clips my jaw, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
‘Look at you,’ Eddie slurs, swinging again. ‘Bleeding already. She doesn’t like wimps.’
I grab his wrist mid-punch and wrench sideways until something pops. He howls, fury twisting his face into something inhuman.
‘You think you’re better than me?’ he roars. ‘You’re just another body to us.’
He pulls a knife from his pocket, serrated and made to kill.
Above us, Coffin caws, shrill and frantic.
‘She’ll forget you. They always do. This family goes through stooges like you every fucking day.’
Rage floods me.
Eddie’s eyes blaze, blood smeared across his mouth like war paint.
‘I’m going to kill you.’