Chapter 37
Duke
It takes all my effort not to crush Grace’s hand as we follow the trail of fairy lights to the party. I don’t ever want to let her go, but as we approach the marquee, she tries to pull from my grasp. I glare down at our hands.
“What are you doing?”
“People still think you’re getting married tomorrow. We can’t go in there together.”
“Oh, that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” I reply. “You’re mine. I’m yours. And the sooner the rest of the world knows it, the sooner we can start on that lifetime I promised you. Together.”
It was one of the many promises I’d made Grace as I stripped her of her blood-soaked clothes. I took inventory of every cut and every bruise as I bathed her. My entire being quaked when I saw the bruise in the center of her chest where she’d been hit by the same bullet that passed through Ed. I almost lost her twice tonight.
When I’d raced back into the house to find her covered in blood and gore, I’d been more afraid of the lifeless look in her eyes than I was the gun she pointed.
Ed was lying on the floor, to all the world dead, and for a heart-stopping moment I thought I was about to lose them both. I knew grief all too well and I wouldn’t survive it again. I didn’t want to survive it. But then I registered Hunter Griffin with his arms around my woman and my alpha-hole jealousy kicked in. If Grace was going to die, she was going to damn well die in my arms.
“You’re crushing my fingers,” Grace says, glowering at me. The side of her face is puffy, but her makeup hides the worst of it.
I lift her hand and kiss her fingers. She looks stunning in the blue silk dress we raided from Meri’s closet. My sister’s taller and the dress trails the ground, but the wide belt lifts the hem enough to stop Grace tripping. It’s a small hazard compared to what we’ve just endured. Grace is safe, I have to keep repeating to myself.
“You don’t leave my side,” I command as we step into the marquee.
Surreal. That’s the only word to describe the sight of a tent full of people determined to have a good time. Music is blaring, drinks are flowing and tablecloths are speckled pink with the remnants of Katarina’s exploding cake. Faces are flushed and hands are in the air as people dance without a care in the world.
“How the hell did no one notice people shooting at each other?” asks Grace. “Or the helicopter. Or the armored cars?”
I shrug. “Welcome to polite society where we only see what we’re comfortable seeing. We don’t associate with crime lords or Bratva princesses. We simply mingle with businessmen and heiresses who can be forgiven for being a little highly strung.”
Grace shakes her head, staring out across the dance floor. “I don’t think I quite believe what I’m seeing.”
The crowd has parted to make room for six men in a formation of two rows. The three Moncriefs match the stature of the three Griffins they face. It’s a sight to behold and brings the rest of the dance floor to a standstill.
My brothers and our friends clap hands and stamp feet in time to the Scottish music. Their footfalls are heavy enough to make the temporary floor shake, and the shaking only grows as everyone around them joins in with the stomping.
There’s a loud crash behind us and I spin, my heart hammering, but it’s just a melting ice sculpture. An arm has fallen off the Russian bear and I can’t help wishing the same fate befalls Vasili. I wanted Katarina to get her happy ending too, and can only hope that whoever her uncle has lined up as her next husband might love her the way she deserves to be loved, someone who might help her heal. The chances are slim, but tenuous hope is still hope.
For now, I do some healing of my own as I watch Rory, Calder and Fitz guide Hunter, Mace and Reid through an approximation of a ceilidh dance. They link arms with their partner opposite, spin them round, clap some more, and spin some more before each pair takes it in turns to skip down the admittedly short guard of honor made of the two remaining pairs. Hulking men skipping. Quite a sight and one that has the crowd going wild.
Others start to join the dance and the guard of honor grows longer and longer. There are more people dancing than were on the invitation list, their numbers swelled by the men and women we’d drafted in as extra security. They’re still in their black and white waiting staffuniforms, but they deserve to enjoy themselves as much as the people they were ready to protect.
“Poor Ed,” says Grace. “He’s going to be so mad he missed this.”
Ed had minor surgery here at the house so we could avoid awkward questions in a hospital. He’s recuperating in his bedroom and one of the Griffins’ men is monitoring him. Levi isn’t a medic, but he was involved in Ed’s secret training and apparently feels obligated to watch over him.
There’s a lot of activity at the mansion to remove all evidence of the battle. Some of the artwork can never be replaced, but I’ve been assured that all the blood, bodies and even the bullet holes will have been erased by morning.
It’s going to take longer for the memories to fade, but the party’s a good start. Fitz’s yells are the loudest as he and Mace spin each other around. Only Fitz could get the surliest Griffin to laugh.
“Just because Ed’s missing it, doesn’t mean we have to,” I say, tipping my head towards the throng.
“But I don’t know that dance. I’ll mess it up.”
I tilt Grace’s chin and line up her mouth with mine. “I’ll talk you through it every step of the way,” I promise. “Trust me, Angel.”
Grace is already blushing when I kiss her. She’s still worried about us being seen together, and there are a few curious looks in our direction, but I intend to clear up any confusion very soon.
“Come on,” I say, pulling her onto the dance floor.
