“Rhys,” said Errol mildly as he drank his swill. “Stop.”
“Well, I’m not wrong!” Rhys exclaimed, turning his eyes frantically on Errol. “Just because you’re the most boring man alive it doesn’t make the rest of the universe any less haunted.”
“So it turns out his limit is eleven shots,” Malcolm observed, taking his own drink back and then dropping his chin into the curl of his hand, propped up on the table by the elbow. “Who knew?”
“I’ll have twelve more and still dance you under the table, banker boy,” Rhys shot back. “Don’t forget it was me who protected you from that banshee when we were boys.”
Mal paled immediately, straightening in his chair. “Shut up, Rhys.”
“Do banshees come this far south?” Elias asked, desperate for a breath of levity.
“We weren’t here,” Rhys replied solemnly. “We were in Edinburgh.”
“Enough!” said Mal, somehow fading from ashen to plum in the space of a few seconds. “There was no banshee.”
“There wasn’t,” agreed Errol. “It was a boggart.”
“Where’s my wine?!” Mal exclaimed, launching himself up from the table and stalking off, leaving both of the other men chortling to themselves while Elias watched in helpless discomfort.
Rhys slid the velvet bag from its discarded place on the table to his little glass palace and carefully put the rings back inside. “Here,” he said to Elias. “Take these back before my baser impulses get the better of me.”
“And I find them in the wedding cake tomorrow?” Elias guessed, feeling oddly pleased with the grin it got from the other man.
“No,” said Rhys. “The food returns are only for Mal. I’d have to come up with something new for you. If you recall, I used to steal your desserts, and those all got eaten. They were true thefts.”
“No true thefts tonight, if you please,” Errol requested.
“Only abductions?” Elias retorted, raising his brows.
It got a slow grin out of Errol too. “Only abductions,” he agreed. “Welcome to the family, at long last.”
“Thank you for having me,” Elias answered, clicking his glass against the other man’s, “despite my tardy arrival.”
Part V
Names
Chapter Nineteen
“Well, that’s badluck,” Libba said, frowning out the church window as dark clouds gathered in the sky for the third day in a row. “It had better not rain tomorrow too.”
“It won’t,” said Hattie from the vanity table, her hair half styled. “And it isn’t bad luck.”
“It isn’t?” Monica asked curiously from her position by the dress, which she was still fussing with at this late hour. “Rain on a wedding morning?”
“Rhys would know,” Ruby said, dropping the newest ringlet with a flap of her hand, as though her fingers had been singed against its perfect coil and then immediately moving onto the next strand. “But it’s all nonsense, anyhow.”
“It isn’t nonsense,” Hattie said placidly. “It just isn’t bad luck. Elias has always moved in tandem with the rain. I expected to wed beneath it.”
“Oh,” said Libba, blinking rapidly. “All right, then.”
A roll of thunder sounded immediately in the wake of her words, making Hattie smile at herself in the mirror.
“A flame in the storm,” Ruby mused, glancing at the dress. “You just need a bit of salt in your pocket and you’ll match the scent I made.”
“I haven’t given it to him yet,” said Hattie. “The charm, the number eight, the way you tied it to the top, makes it fall sideways. It looks like a symbol rather than a number.”
“Yes,” said Ruby wryly. “How unfortunate.”
