I nod grimly.
“They’re going to clear us out at this rate.” She pulls down two more bottles of wine.
“Nah. The groom forewarned us it might get like this, so we stocked up.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen people drink this much.”
“At least they won’t last much longer,” I say, taking them from her gratefully. “Half are twatted and the other half have already been carted off to bed. I’ll serve them this, and then I’mcutting them off.” I pause on my way through the door, suddenly realising how quiet it is. “Where is everyone?”
Milly raises one shoulder. “Ruth went to get some more candles. I don’t know about the others. I’ve not seen any of them in a while.”
“Fucking typical.”
If I know my brothers, they’re hunkered down somewhere with a bottle of beer, hoping I won’t notice and shoo them back to work. I’m surprised by Stuart and Jonathan, though. They have as much invested in this as I do.
“Look, kitchen’s tidy now, and that lot won’t exactly be waking up early. We can leave clean down until the morning, if you want to clock off. Tell Ruth too?”
“Aye, aye, cap’n.”
Outside is bedlam. Four of the guests have formed an impromptu choir and are serenading the bride, who looks as though she wishes she could boil them in acid. Rowan’s mum and aunt have, I assume, gone to bed. And Rowan—
I sweep the courtyard again.
Rowan is nowhere to be seen.
I try to ignore the disappointment that tugs at my gut. I enjoyed watching her ogle me every time I appeared, feeling her eyes linger as I passed by. She’s probably gone to bed too, I reason. It’s after midnight, and it has been a long day.
Fuck, I hope this dinner winds up soon.
I deposit the bottles on the table. That’s it. They are officially cut off. If they need more alcohol, they can find it themselves.
By the time I return to the kitchen, it’s deserted, an oasis of quiet. I tidy a few more things away, rinsing out one of the larger pans and setting it to soak, then grab a beer and pad down the corridor.
An hour watching something mindless in the Den, and I’ll be ready for bed.
But when I reach the door, warm light is spilling across the threshold, and I can hear voices – laughter – inside.
Stuart and Jonathan are curled up on one sofa, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes, while Mason and Ross are sprawled on the other, and Ewan is perched in a chair, wielding a controller like his life depends on it. His opponent sits on our second sofa, frowning fiercely at the TV.
“Come on, come on, you fucking fucker!” Rowan half rises out of her seat, wedged between Mason and Ross. Her hair is tumbling out of its updo, spilling down her shoulder. She’s changed out of her dress, into an over-sized T-shirt and loose jogging bottoms
I freeze. My over-sized T-shirt. My loose jogging bottoms.
Fuck. Seeing her in my clothes, in my house, flicks something inside me. I want her. I need her like I have never need anyone before. I long to peel that T-shirt off her writhing body inch by inch while she screams my name.
Mine.
“YES!” She throws the controller to the ground, jumping up and down. “Take that, sheep-boy.”
“No names! You promised!”
“Well, I take it back!”
Rowan jumps a few more times, landing heavily as she catches my eye.
She freezes, her cheeks turning red.
“I see how it is,” I say. “Hiding from all the real work, are we?”
