His eyes searched hers, as if he could see beneath the sheen of calm exterior she portrayed around her family. They didn’t need to know the turmoil she experienced. No one did.
“Donae tell me that you’re no’. I see the way you look over your shoulder. The way you’re always scanning the room. What has you so bothered that you cannae relax? Whatever your issues, I can help you fight your demons.”
Becca shrugged off his hold. “I’m not wife material. You should have made a play for Harper. You’re out of sisters to ask.”
“Is that what this is about?” he asked, stepping toward her. “You think I want your sisters?”
“You asked them, didn’t you?”
“One, Becca. I asked one, and I only offered Cara because she needed someone. I knew she was too stubborn to agree. I have no’ asked anyone else.”
She patted his chest. “Maybe you should have.”
She slipped around him and headed for the stairs. She had bridesmaid’s duties to fulfill before she could leave. The sooner she left, the quicker the rest of them would be out of danger. If the killer had even the inkling that she’d been watching, it was only a matter of time before he took out the one unseen witness that could point the finger at him. A shiver skirted down her spine as goose bumps rose on her arms. Night was closing in, and with it, the demons that Ian had noticed.
Becca adjusted the flower wreath on her head. Her sisters all thought of her as a flower child and tree hugger. They didn’t know her at all.
She pasted a smile on her face and headed to her mom. Aunt Betty stepped into her path, stopping her. Her auburn hair sparkled under the dance floor lights. Aunt Betty’s gaze went to the balcony where Becca had left Ian before resting back on Becca’s face.
“You’re going to marry him, and he’s going to save you.”
“Did you see that in one of your visions?”
“Yes. You need him, Becca, as much as he needs you. It would be easier if you believed me and didn’t fight it, like all of your sisters have.”
“Well, when you put it that way, maybe I can still catch the minister.” Becca didn’t even muster a smile for the fake enthusiasm. Marrying the Highlander ranked up there with joining the killer on a spree. Okay, she may be exaggerating, a little. Ian was good looking, if not a little blunt. His accent was sexy…now if she could just get past all of the horror stories Quinn had told her about Ian screwing maids in the closets. Yeah….no. Probably not even then. He’d be a barbarian in her way of life. They’d clash like two hounds fighting over the last T-bone steak.
“You should. You’ll save yourself a lot of headache.”
“Have you been drinking the ‘special’ punch tonight?”
“No, dear,” she said, lacing her arm around Becca’s. “You know I don’t drink. It clouds my judgment and my visions. When the last of you girls is married, I’ll make up for lost time.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be waiting a long time.” Becca patted Aunt Betty’s hand as they approached Harper.
“Not as long as you think,” Betty said in a singsong voice as she walked away.
The woman was as crazy as the time Becca kissed a frog wanting a prince. All she’d gotten was a wart. How was she to explain the reason she needed to leave? The fact that night closing in was worse than any premonition or ghost. There was no logical explanation, not that they wouldn’t believe her. Hell, she’d had a hard time believing it herself until one of the killings had made the six o’clock news. This killer was no longer a menacing figment of her imagination. He was as real as the trail of bodies he was leaving behind.
“There you are,” her mother said as she approached. “It’s time to toss the bouquet.”
“Oh, yay.” Her words were about as enthusiastic as a patient going in for a root canal. Becca smiled, ignoring her churning gut. Her plan was to stay out of range. Never raise her hand. She wouldn’t fight. She wouldn’t even use her elbows. No way was she walking out with a curse like that, no matter how beautiful the flowers in the bouquet. Not her.
Becca frownedwhile staring down at the roses and baby breath bouquet in her hand. How she’d come to have them was beyond words. They’d bounced off a woman’s head and had been fought over by two other women until they flew into the air again and landed directly at Becca’s feet. She’d kicked it like a field goal kicker on an NFL team going for the extra point and, in the process, ripped the seam of her dress.
Her shoe had flung off her foot and hit a guest in the head, knocking him unconscious. A collective gasp happened the same moment the color drained from her mother’s face. The DJ killed the music. Ian’s laugh was the only sound in the room as the flowers got lodged in the expensive crystal chandelier.
Five seconds later they fell smack-dab on Becca’s head like a bird aiming for a just-washed car windshield. Her sisters had broken out into laughter. Becca’s face heated when she met Ian’s gaze as he swung the garter on his finger. How had she let this happen?
“I can’t be this unlucky.”
“Seems that you are,” Grace said, sitting in an empty chair by Becca. She set a serving tray in front of them, loaded with ten shot glasses.
“Where’d you get the alcohol? The bartender is on break.”
“I know a guy who knows how to play bartender.” Grace grinned as she passed out the shots, placing just as many in front of Becca’s chair as her own.
“I’m pretty sure the meaning of open bar isn’t for just anyone to start mixing concoctions.”
