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“You were right,” I told them, lifting a scone in toast. “I’m a monster through and through. Nothing else needs to be said.” As I bit into the delicious delicacy, I looked past them. My attention landed on Callen, as if drawn by an invisible force. Punch! I nearly choked on the food. Look at him.
He appeared absolutely, utterly ravaged. As if he’d fallen into an abyss of longing, and there was no escape. My heart raced. Never had I beheld such ragged emotion.
His features blanked in an instant, leaving me floundering. At least I swallowed my bite.
Callen lifted his chin, as if nothing untoward had happened, and crossed the room, stalking closer. I braced for impact.
“Ladies,” he announced as he slipped his arm around my waist “Mind if I steal my bride?”
Gah! His heat! His scent! They enveloped me, and tipsy as I was, I had no defense. I trembled a little as I lowered what remained of the scone. “Callen. Hello. So good to see you again.” Would he scold me for ditching him?
My companions gaped, the color in their cheeks draining. With a bow of their heads, they muttered the family creed. “Uisge ciùin.”
“If you’ll excuse us.” He drew me away, saying, “Am I misremembering, or did you tell me you’d cause me no more trouble?”
I batted my lashes at him, doing my best to appear light and breezy. “Did you get that promise in writing?” At his newest glare, I shrugged and hurried to finish the scone. “What kind of trouble did I cause, anyway? I was just standing there eating.”While you watched with longing.Seriously, why would Isobel leave a man who looked at her like that? A look I’d never received, unfortunately.
Movement drew my gazeto his hand. He fiddled with his signet ring again. Huh. A way to read him when he appeared unreadable? But what thoughts or emotions drove him to perform the habitual action?
“Are youteasingme?” he asked, sounding just a tad incredulous.
“Maybe.” I hiked my shoulders, shrugging. “In my defense, I only veered to grab a snack, but you vanished without a trace. By the way, those little bites of deliciousness are my new favorite thing.”
He glowered and ceased toying with the ring. “This same food was served after our engagement party, in honor of my mother, and you claimed not even dogs would choose to eat it.”
Had Isobel really? A monster indeed. “My apologies. I was wrong.” I jumped to another subject. Because what else could I say after such a well-deserved rebuke? “Remind me what calm watersmeans to the clan.”
“Many things.” He pushed the words through gritted teeth.
“Literally many things, or are you saying there are multiple meanings?”
He worked his jaw and remained quiet.
Fine. Rather than continue to reveal my ignorance, I switched subjects again. “You obviously dislike me.” To put it mildly. “Why did you marry Isa—me? Definitely me, and not some strange woman from another country.” A nervous laugh parted my lips.
“Let’s not play this silly game. You know why I did it.” With his free hand, he plucked up another champagne flute and drained the contents. “Just as I know why you agreed.”
I waited, hopeful, eager. “Well? Please tell the rest of the class. Give me a chance to confirm or deny. Because you couldbe wrong.”
He led me forward in silence instead, weaving through groups. Anyone who glimpsed his thunderous expression opted not to speak. And, hmm. His scent intensified. So did his heat. Both tightened around me, making my belly flutter. A sensation I enjoyed a bit too much.
Okay, that was enough champagne for me. “Just so you know, I won’t sleep with you,” I told him in a firm, no nonsense tone. Best we be clear about that from the start. I refused to be the other woman, even in the body of the right one. Why be the villain in someone else’s story when I could be the plucky heroine of my own?
“Sleep with you?” Callen almost missed his next step, but quickly recovered. Staring straight ahead, he told me, “Lass, I donna recall offerin’.”
Chapter
Four
Warrior Weddings: How to Stay United When There’s Mutual Mayhem
FromA Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss
Author Unknown
Bright morning sunlight filled the bedroom, illuminating dancing dust motes. Though my head throbbed from imbibing too much champagne last night, I moved from one piece of furniture to the next, on the hunt for Isobel’s phone. For hours, I’d searched drawers, cushions, nooks, and crannies, trying not to imagine where my luggage and purse had ended up. And failing.
Either Isobel had taken over my life, soon to begin teaching my class, or she’d run away for good, and my mother believed I was missing.
