‘As long as you wear underwear, you’ll be fine.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘It lasts for a split second. Nothing more.’
Mallory made a mental note to make as few sudden movements as possible. ‘Okay, I’ll be careful.’
Gia smiled happily then her face fell abruptly. ‘Oh no.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh no.’
‘What?’ Mallory asked. ‘What is it?’
‘Your arms! Those bruises!’
Mallory frowned and glanced at her upper arms: there were blue and purple marks encircling them where Old Man Stone-arm had grabbed her. ‘They look worse than they are,’ she said weakly.
‘They look like somebody has held you down. Those are clearly handprints.’ Gia put her hands on her hips and a surprisingly protective glint came into her eyes. ‘Who did this to you? Are you alright?’
‘I’m fine, I promise. It was a one-off thing with an old guy who I doubt I’ll ever see again. I dealt with it. He didn’t hurt me.’
‘That’s not what those bruises are saying.’ Gia reached for another box. ‘It’s lucky I came prepared with some concealment spells so I can cover them up temporarily.’ She wagged a finger. ‘But you need to take care of yourself, Mallory.’
‘I will.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I do.’
‘Hmmm.’ Gia looked only half-convinced but at least she changed the subject. ‘I assume you’ve not given much thought to hair and make-up?’ Mallory looked at her blankly. ‘Any thought at all?’
Mallory pulled a face.
Gia gave a mock sigh. ‘Sit yourself down. When I’m done with you, you’ll be fit to party the entire night away with any werewolf who crosses your path. Bring on the glamour!’
It took moretime than Mallory had anticipated for Gia to tame her hair into submission and endow her with a full face of dramatic make-up; in fact, it wasn’t long after the witch had finished and left when there was a sharp knock on the door.
All of a sudden it wasn’t only her dress that was an expanse of fluttering butterflies; now her stomach was full of them as well. She admonished herself. This was business and Alexander was a client. After tonight she’d never have to see him again because, if she did her job properly, he’d be far too busy wooing his futurelife partner to bother her again. She heaved in a breath and opened the door.
Alexander was standing on her narrow landing holding a corsage. Mallory stared at him: she’d been expecting him to wear a suit as he usually did, but he’d chosen a more traditional approach and was wearing a kilt, of all things. Her gaze travelled from his smart jacket, crisp shirt, to his belted waist, the blue-and-grey tartan complete with sporran, and then to his calf-high socks and the small skean dhu dagger that was nestling inside the right one.
She couldn’t help herself. ‘Wow.’
Alexander didn’t say anything as he gazed at her, his expression inscrutable.
Mallory swallowed awkwardly. ‘A kilt is a great choice. There’s a romance about a kilt that any woman will approve of – it’s rugged and masculine but it also suggests tradition and strength.’ She was aware that she was babbling but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘And, of course, it helps that you have great legs.’
Alexander remained mute.
She raised her head and met his eyes. ‘Uh, is everything alright?’
He cleared his throat and finally spoke. ‘Mallory.’ His voice sounded unusually hoarse. ‘You’re breathtaking.’
She’d hoped he’d appreciate her efforts but she hadn’t expected that reaction. Her toes curled in her totteringly high shoes. ‘Um, thank you.’
His smile was so tight and controlled that she wondered for a moment if she’d somehow offended him. ‘This evening is about you, not me,’ she said. ‘If the dress is too showy?—’
A growl rumbled in his chest. ‘It’s perfect.’
She gazed at him then shrugged. ‘Okay.’ She gestured to the stairs. ‘Shall we?’
He leaned towards her and seemed to inhale deeply. ‘Yes,’ he said eventually. ‘Let’s.’
Preoccupied by other matters,Mallory hadn’t given much thought as to how they would travel to the Wolf Ball, which was being held in the heartbreakingly beautiful Grand Hotel eight miles outside Coldstream.
