“What’s up?” Dair asked, and my gaze raced to him, seeing him turn his head to look where I’d been looking.
I caught his jaw and made him face me.
“Nothing,” I said fake cheerily.
The fake didn’t fool him. I knew this when his brows shot down.
Lord, I needed to distract him so I could rush over there and be sure there wasn’t a scene.
Kenna was a nice lady. Pretty (both Dair and Davina got their hair from her, Dair got his eyes from her). Quiet. Not reserved, simply quiet. Stout, in that Scottish get-on-with-it-way.
She’d always been kind to me, even when I wasn’t easy to be kind to.
I couldn’t imagine she’d instigate a scene, though it was clear she didn’t intend to ignore this obvious peccadillo.
Mum, however, would totally cause a scene.
In fact, I didn’t know what she was thinking, guiding Balfour back there. Or what Bally was thinking, for God’s sake.
Except Mum could turn the attention on her and ruin Alex’s day, one she didn’t approve of and was not allowed to meddle in (overly much, outside the guest list).
And that would be something Helena Coddington-Sharp would do.
It also seemed like something she was actually doing.
Damn it, I was going to fucking strangle her.
I refocused on Dair and spoke quickly. “Can you get me a piece of cake? I haven’t had any yet,” that last part was a lie.
“In the middle of a dance?” he asked suspiciously.
Still suspicious, he turned his head again.
I repeated my move of grabbing his jaw, but he fought it this time, and I saw it when he saw it.
Shit!
We were mostly just swaying, but he stopped us doing that when he looked down at me, and his expression wasn’t sexy or sultry or flirty.
He was ticked.
“Ye ken?” he asked, his voice a lash.
He knew too?
“You know?” I asked back.
He stepped out of my arms. “What were ye gonna do? Cover for her?”
“No,” I snapped, not believing he’d think I’d do that. Especially after what he knew Chad did to me. “I was trying to distract you with getting me cake so I could go behind the groom’s lounge, talk your parents into doing whatever they’re going to do elsewhere, and finding somewhere quiet to commit matricide so Alex won’t know I murdered our mother at her wedding. I’ll talk to the police about not sharing my crime until she returns from her honeymoon. And I’m happy I wore dark green so the blood stains won’t be too obvious on my mugshot.”
He glowered at me.
I didn’t have time for him to be ticked.
Something had to be done before someone started yelling.
He didn’t get over being ticked, or glowering, but he stopped doing that last aimed at me and started prowling across the dance floor.
