Rare and Precious Things: The Blackstone Affair

19th October

Scotland

BRYNNE and I were dressed for a wedding, but we weren’t the bride and groom. That honour went to Neil and Elaina today. That is if Neil didn’t drop dead from anxiety before he could say the vows to his bride.

“You’re going to wear a hole in this ancient stone floor if you don’t stop pacing like a lunatic. Are you going to sit in the corner and start cradling back and forth, too?” I couldn’t help myself, the opportunity to wind him up was just too sweet to pass over.

Neil shot me a death glare and kept right on with the back-and-forth. “Easy for you to say that to me, now that you’re already married. I remember how mental you were in that room before you said your vows to Brynne. You would’ve smoked your Blacks three at a time if we hadn’t hidden your stash away where you couldn’t find them.”

I shook my head. So that’s where my smokes went. Fuckers. “Listen mate, all will be well in a very short time. You’re starting to worry me.”

Neil stopped with the pacing. “I feel ill,” he squawked. “I need water.”

“I think you need a fucking bottle of Scotch, but really, it’s going to be fine.”

He nodded weakly and gulped in huge breaths of air. “What time is it?”

“About two minutes later than the last time you asked.” I took pity on the poor sod. He was a miserable wreck. So I walked over to him and slapped him hard on the back, under the guise of brotherly love, and told him a little lie. “I saw Elaina in her dress all ready for you when I snuck a peek at my girl in that side room where they’re all waiting.” I hadn’t really seen Elaina, but he didn’t need to know that. I’d seen Brynne in her pale blue dress though. Delicious. I’d needed to make sure she was feeling okay because she’d woken up with a headache in the morning.

Neil started rapidly firing questions, too desperate to wait for any answers—which would all be made up, but my blending of the truth was beside the point, I needed to get him to the altar standing and conscious, as opposed to flat on his back. “You saw her? How was she? Did she seem nervous? Did she look worried about anyth—”

I lied well, which wasn’t hard at all. Elaina would be lovely as she always was. “She looked gorgeous and like she couldn’t wait to get shackled to you, you big great ape. Do I need to tranquillize you or something?”

My comment did the trick because he came to life and spat back immediately, “I’ll remember this, when Brynne is ready to deliver your baby, and you’re a quivering mass of jelly on the floor. Don’t worry, I’ll return the favour with the offer of tranquillizers.”

Well, fuck. He has a point. I refused to think about the birth at that moment. If I started down that track, I’d be on the floor along with Neil. I’m sure my mouth looked a lot like Simba’s when he wants a krill; hanging open for a moment before I could get a grip and close it. Neil smirked at me and shook his head. I checked my watch and decided to give him the brutal truth. He was my best mate, and deserved to know what was coming. He’d survive it just like the rest of us. “Okay, I’ll be honest. The ceremony is a fucking stress ball of bullshit, and I can’t help you even a little bit. The good news? In about five more hours, you can start on the wedding night and that part is completely golden.” I trolled my hand like an airplane on a smooth ride.

Neil looked at me as if I were the biggest idiot ever to draw breath. I shrugged at him and we both busted into laughter at how fucking ridiculous this was, easing away all the tension. He looked better and that was the main purpose for my confession. Neil would be fine. I knew nobody stronger than him, or more loyal. The two reasons he was my partner and confidant. He was getting his girl after years and years of waiting for her, and I was happy to see it happen. Honored to be standing up for my friend on his wedding day.

A knock sounded at the door, and Elaina’s mum peeked in. “Is it all right for me to come in?”

“I’ll leave you to it then, brother.” I excused myself, leaving Neil and his future mother-in-law in peace. Neil had hit the lottery with her. Caroline Morrison was a sweet lady and a loving mum. The polar opposite of my mother-in-law, I thought with a grimace. It must be nice.

I stepped outside and checked my Rolex again. If I made it quick, I had just enough time to get in a smoke before curtain call.

The stunning landscape in all its harsh ruggedness framed the house perfectly. Neil’s place up here in Scotland was quite the countryman’s establishment. I stood under a flowering tree and lit up a clove. My resolve to work on getting into some kind of treatment for my issues had helped with the anxiety of flashback dreams thanks to Brynne, and only her. As far as doing a thing to help me cut back on the coffin-nails? Not so much. One step at a time I told myself as I sucked it down.

I stubbed out my ciggie and looked for someplace to get rid of the butt. I didn’t want to put it in my pocket, which seemed a bit crude considering the occasion, but I might have to.

“Ethan?”

I turned around to find someone I never thought I’d ever see again. My heart dropped like a stone, and then bounced along the pavers, propelled by a momentum that seemed to have no fucking end. My past come for its due notice, I suppose.

“Sarah…” My voice cracked out her name as I took her in, right before me after so long. She was just as beautiful as ever; didn’t look like she’d aged a bit. The smile she gave me did things to my heart I didn’t want to face up to again. Don’t fucking smile at me, Sarah. I don’t deserve it.

When her arms came out to embrace me, I closed my eyes, terrified of what I’d feel—and also, the irony of fate, that only now, put her back into my path again.

“ARE you all right?” Brynne asked softly, her eyes looking up at me with concern.

Not really. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged and moved her fork around her dinner plate, doing a good job of not eating. “You seemed preoccupied during the ceremony, and now even,” she said glumly.

Pull it together. “No, baby.” I put my hand around her neck and pulled her under my chin for a kiss to the top of her head. “Still have the headache?”

She nodded against my jaw. I rubbed the back of the top of her neck, massaging deeply on the pressure points.

“Mmmmm, that really helps,” she moaned, straightening her neck into my hand so I could work out the kinks.

“Good. I want you taking it easy at the—”

“Ethan, you haven’t introduced me to your new bride,” Sarah interrupted us from behind, her pleasant expression merely a mask for propriety’s sake.

Fuck.

AAAAAND it begins.

So, Sarah was going for martyrdom today. Just throwing herself down on the track before a speeding train. I tried to wrap my head around her motives, but it wasn’t working. She wished to meet Brynne…my wife? She wanted to know all about our posh wedding and honeymoon? She enjoyed hearing about the baby, and found it amusing we weren’t going to know in advance if we were getting a boy or a girl? She needed to congratulate me on my good fortune with Blackstone Security?

Why? How could she bear to do any of it? I surely couldn’t. I needed to get the fuck out.

But there was no place to hide here, except for the bottom of a pint. Or four. Best thing I could figure to do given the situation.

A former soldier’s wedding with my pregnant bride beside me…

Getting pissed might possibly dull the edge enough I could pull off the nice-and-happy required for a marriage celebration. Or maybe not.

Rather a blessing that Brynne wasn’t feeling much in the party mood actually. This way she might not notice just how fucked in the head her husband was.

I thought I’d handled Sarah’s surprise visit fairly well, given I had absolutely no time to process, before I was expected to go stand up for my friend in front of a crowd of people. And with Brynne right there, glowing with new life and enjoying the moment. No fuckin’ fair.

Don’t say that. None of this is fair. Not for Sarah. And certainly not for Mike.

I’d been too distracted during the ceremony to pay much attention to what Brynne might be noticing. My girl could read me so well. She did not need this worry added to her plate, in addition to feeling ill already. I couldn’t allow it.

I’d thought I might somehow make it through the evening, until Sarah caught me as I was getting fresh, iced water for Brynne. She came to tell me she had to leave…with tears in her eyes. She said she hoped she could have stayed for Neil’s sake, but once she arrived and saw us both, it was just too hard. Too much. Too painful. So she must go.

And I started drinking.

“HOW’S your headache?” Gaby asked.

“Unfortunately for my head, still with me,” I answered wryly. “One of the not-so-nice parts of pregnancy, and the fact I can’t take anything for it, sucks big time.” I lifted the iced water and pressed the side of the glass to my forehead.

“Well, you look beautiful if that helps,” she said, picking at the skirt of her chiffon bridesmaid dress, “and you’ve got a pretty new dress to add to your collection of pretty dresses.” She shrugged. “I’m getting quite an assortment.” Elaina had asked both of us to be in her wedding, which landed Gaby her second stint as a bridesmaid in just seven short weeks. First my wedding, and now Elaina’s—she must be drowning in a sea of lovey-dovey, praying for a rescue.

“You wish you could be anywhere else but here, huh?”

“Of course not. I want to be here, Bree.” She gave me the look that told me so much more than the words she’d just uttered. I knew my friend, and thus was privy to information that confirmed why this would be hard for her.

“You’re a beautiful liar, darling.” I patted her hand affectionately. “But I know Elaina appreciates you being here for her.”

“No, I’m not,” she said stubbornly, taking a sip of something alcoholic that looked wonderful, and I wouldn’t be having. “I don’t want to be anywhere else than right here for Elaina on her wedding day.”

I laughed at my best friend who never seemed to acknowledge her own beauty. Gabrielle Hargreave was one absolutely gorgeous woman, with her mahogany hair and green eyes, and a body that didn’t quit, but she didn’t see it. Men panted after her all the time. And there were men here right at that very moment looking at her. Ethan’s cousin, Ivan, was one of them.

“So what’s the deal with you and Ivan?” I swung a look over to the bar where Ethan and Ivan were chatting over beers. Lots of beers. My husband might just be getting drunk at this wedding reception. We’d both been asked to be in this wedding, just as Neil and Elaina had been in ours. I guess he was letting off some steam, and he was entitled to that. During the actual ceremony he’d seemed a little tense to me. I wondered why. It was a happy time. His best friend had just married the girl he’d loved for years. Ethan’s behavior didn’t make sense, even for him.

“What do you mean?” Gaby’s eyes were now trained onto where Ethan and Ivan were ensconced. I didn’t miss how Ivan found her the instant she looked over to the bar, either. “We met at your wedding obviously as maid of honor, and best man. We—we have been forced into each other’s company.”

“Forced, huh? Ivan is so sweet…and hot. Why wouldn’t you want to be around him?” I smelled a rat with her lame explanation. And I was also fishing with my best friend. I hadn’t forgotten what Ethan had told me about the night at the Mallerton Gala when the alarm went off and everyone had to flee the building in a hurry. Ethan had seen them all mussed up like maybe they had been together. Ethan also seemed to know the type of woman his cousin would go for, and he’d told me more than once Gaby had all the right qualities.

“Well, I—I think he is—he’s very…um…Ivan is an interesting man.” She twisted her cocktail napkin into the shape of a toothpick. “He told me about all of the Mallertons at his estate in Ireland. He wants me to go back there and work on cataloging the entire collection.”

Ahhh, there it was. The nervous napkin destruction, the stammering, the blush in her cheeks, all suggesting Ethan’s prediction was dead-on target. “Back there?” I asked.

“Hmmm?” Her innocent look didn’t fool me.

“You said, ‘back there’ as if you’ve been to his Irish estate already.” I tilted my head at her. “Gaby, have you been to see Ivan’s paintings and not told your best friend about it?”

“Um…yeah, I was sent over there by Paul Langley to check out what was there.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stay, though. The timing was—bad for me.” She took another sip of her drink and looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Well maybe you will find a better time to go back then. I bet the paintings are magnificent if they’re anything like my Lady Percival.” I decided to let my probing go—for now. I could tell she was done with confession, and I didn’t want to hurt her by bringing up bad memories of things she didn’t need reminding.

“Yeah. I hope so.” She looked up and asked honestly, “How are you dealing with your political celebrity?”

Nice topic change, Gab. My turn to embrace avoidance now. “I try not to pay attention to it,” I lied. “We both had to put on a show, and we did. Now, I just want to move on and let my past stay there, you know?”

“I do know, my friend.” She squeezed my hand affectionately before heading off to find Benny, who was doing the wedding photographs.

“MAY I join you?” a silky voice asked at my ear.

Dillon Carrington was indeed here, just as he’d promised when we met him in Italy. He was one of Neil’s groomsmen and had all the ladies swooning. I imagined it was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to already, being a celebrated racing champion and all. The dark good looks didn’t hurt his chances, either. The man was quite simply gorgeous. But he knew it. “Sure, if hanging out with a pregnant chick cranky from a lack of wine is your thing.” I winked at him.

He laughed and pulled up a chair. “Well, you’re a stunner, pregnant or not, even if the lack of wine has made you a bit barmy. How can I help?”

I shook my head and smiled. “I’m fine, just sitting back and people-watching. It’s my favorite.”

“Really? I know people like to look at you in photographs.”

Was he flirting with me? And if so—why on earth was he paying attention to me when he could have his pick of any single women in the room. “You’ve seen my photographs, Dillon?”

He pursed his lips as if he were trying to hold back a grin. “Yes, Brynne, I have.” He bowed his head in deference. “I wholeheartedly approve.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Ethan doesn’t.”

He nodded with a tilted head as if considering. “I think I can see why he would feel that way. Ethan has territorial tendencies. He has to, in his profession, plus he’s just snatched you off the market, so I can only imagine.”

“Yeah, I know.” I drew in a deep breath and thought about it from Ethan’s perspective. What if he were the model and women saw him naked in photographs? I wouldn’t like it. Honestly, I would hate it. I decided a swift subject change was needed to lift the mood. “Where’s your pretty girlfriend, Dillon? Why aren’t you out there dancing with her right now?”

“Oh, Gwen? She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just my date for this weekend.” He flashed me a devilish grin that told me more than I wanted to know about Dillon Carrington’s sexual skill with women. He spelled TROUBLE in straight shouty caps, and Ethan was right on target about Dillon only having dates. “And I’m not dancing with her right now because your husband is.”

DILLON laughed at my reaction. Ethan was indeed, with Dillon’s “date,” the leggy Gwen, who looked like she was really into dancing with my husband. He just looked drunk. Oh, I don’t like you at all, Gwen.

“I was going to ask you to dance with me, but when I came over, you seemed like maybe you weren’t up for a spin, and I couldn’t face the possible rejection.” His amber eyes twinkled naughtily.

My decision made, I snuck a sideways glance at Ethan, and stood up to smooth my dress. “Dillon, I’d love to dance with you.”

Dillon’s skills were such that he made me look good out there. And it was fun. When he spun me, my skirt flared out in a gauzy wave and I loved it. I felt pretty and desirable for the first time today instead of the awkward preggo bridesmaid who watched everyone else having fun while I sat around on my widening ass.

When the song changed to Bloodstream by Stateless, I thanked Dillon for keeping me company, and looked around for Ethan. It was one of my favorite songs and reminded me so much of how Ethan was with me. I think I might have inhaled you—I can feel you behind my eyes—You’ve gotten into my bloodstream—I can feel you flowing in me. Slow dancing to that particular song with anyone other than my man, was out of the question. I didn’t even see him dancing with Gwen anymore. Where in the hell had he gone? My husband should be dancing with me at this wedding. Not some random woman who was thin and beautiful… My body is changing very fast.

Quite frankly, I was irritated. He’d basically abandoned me to drink at the bar with the guys, and then went off to dance with another woman. I didn’t like feeling this way, and for the first time since I’d known Ethan, I could actually imagine he was avoiding me. But why? This morning he’d been fine, and later before the ceremony he’d come to check on me, worried about my headache. My caring, attentive man, as he always was with me. But then, after the ceremony moved onto the reception, he seemed distant, and went off with Ivan and Elaina’s brother, Ian, for some bromance time I suppose. Was it possible all the wedding hearts and love blossoms were getting to him?

Well, he was the one who’d insisted on marrying, I reminded myself. I never demanded a ring. All Ethan—all the way, with the—let’s-get-married-right-now—ridiculousness. If he was having second thoughts about his new ball-n-chain, then he was just a little goddamn late on figuring it out.

Ethan’s game at the moment? Full-blown assholery to the millionth power. And a bitter disappointment for his pregnant and crabby wife.

I kissed the bride and groom, made an excuse to Gaby and Ben about my headache, and figured I’d see the rest of the crowd tomorrow at the brunch. Right now, I was ready for my head to meet my pillow. Growing a tiny human made me require a ton more sleep than usual. As I steered for the staircase, I treated myself to a mini-tantrum—inside my head, of course—at how un-romantic this evening had been for me. Talk about a buzz-kill.

My decision in favor of sleep, over searching out wherever Ethan had gotten lost was really very easy for me. Because it’d felt like I’d been on my own all night, anyway. When I got up to our room, I changed into a warm cozy nightgown and settled into the lonely bed, feeling bereft, wondering when he would stumble up to join me. But I did know he would make it eventually.

That was the thing with us. I trusted Ethan even though he was being an ass. He knew the lay of the land with me. Honesty and trust were required, or there was nothing holding us together.

Good sex wasn’t love.

For me, honest devotion and loyalty was love.

If Ethan ever cheated on me I would walk out his door and never look back. I knew it. He knew it.