“I didn’t realize dragons could dance.”
He pulled me into his arms and began to lead. Leaning close to my ear, he whispered, “Oh yes. People assume we’re cumbersome, but it isn’t true. It’s a little known fact—dancing with a dragon is like dancing with firelight.” And then he spun me around. My heart leapt and I laughed out loud, my hair flying out behind me. He spun me back the other way as he grinned, and as silly as it might have sounded, I felt as if I was glowing. And I knew for sure I loved him. I was in love with my husband. Which might be tragic, but God, I hoped it wasn’t.
We slowed then; I was lost in the music and the sway of his body against mine. I wanted to ask him so many things, needed to hear him say the words I thought I saw reflected in his eyes, but I needed to be alone with him. I needed the moment to be just about us. I was still nervous and grappling with how quickly things had changed—I’d been prepared to say goodbye to him tonight, and now…and now there was a whisper of hope, even if I was almost afraid to dream.
The song ended and I stepped away slowly, unable to take my eyes off my husband as he gazed down at me as well, something in his expression I’d never seen before. He reached up, as if to touch my cheek, when we suddenly heard applause. I looked around and saw that we were the only ones on the dance floor and that the guests were clapping as if we’d just performed for them. I laughed, warmth rising in my cheeks as I gave a small curtsy and Grayson bowed, looking just a bit embarrassed too.
A woman approached us, walking with the slightest of limps, a kind smile on her face. “That was lovely,” she said, reaching out her hand. I took it in my own. “I’m Virgil’s mother, Trudy Potter.”
“Oh!” I said. “So nice to meet you. Virgil’s become part of the family here. We all love him.”
She let out a breath, looking teary as she shook Grayson’s hand. “I won’t keep you, but I”—she breathed in sharply as if trying not to cry—“just wanted to thank you, Mr. Hawthorn.” Her words ended on a whisper.
“You’re welcome,” Grayson said softly.
She nodded at him and turned, disappearing into the crowd.
“I only gave the man a job,” he murmured as though her appreciation had been excessive. But I could tell that to Trudy Potter, the word only didn’t begin to encompass it. What Grayson had given her son was a chance.
Suddenly, off to my right, I heard the soft clap of a singular person approaching us and turned, my smile fading as my heart stuttered. Grayson grasped my hand.
“Hello, Kira,” my father said.
I eyed him warily, looking around quickly to make sure no one nearby could hear us. He was standing in shadow and apparently no one had recognized him as of yet. Not that it would be peculiar, I supposed, for my father to be at a party I was hosting, but I certainly didn’t want him to stay. “What in the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I planned to visit you at your new home. Forgive the intrusion. I had no idea I’d be interrupting a party, but I didn’t like the way we ended things in San Francisco. I wanted to learn a little more about the man you married.” He suddenly looked to Grayson. “It seems you’re more than Kira led me to believe,” he said. “Of course any father would be worried about his daughter under these circumstances.”
“Can we discuss this somewhere more private?” Grayson asked, stepping forward, his jaw hard, words clipped. “This is hardly the place.” He nodded to the people all around sipping champagne, laughing, and beginning to fill the dance floor behind us.
My father narrowed his eyes but nodded once, and Grayson, not letting go of my hand, led the way to his office. When he’d closed the door behind us, his tone was arctic as he said, “Let me give you some advice—things won’t turn out well if you ever just drop by our home again.”
My father turned to him, his eyes equally as cold. “You’ll understand, of course, if I choose not to take any advice from a murderer.” He spoke through his teeth, his lips barely moving.
Grayson eyed him, no emotion whatsoever in his expression.
“What do you want?” I asked dejectedly. This night had been so full of magic before he’d shown up.
He looked back and forth between the two of us, eyeing our costumes, but obviously choosing not to comment. “You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, Kira. But clearly I don’t want my daughter married to a murderer and an ex-con.”
“Don’t,” I responded. “You don’t know anything about who he is.” Nausea pressed against my stomach, and I brought my hand there as if to hold it back.
“Kira,” Grayson said. “You don’t need to fight my battles. Let me speak to your father alone, please.” His voice was clipped, but he gave me a small, reassuring nod.
“Grayson, you don’t know what he’s—”
“I think that’s a good idea,” my father said. The smile he shot in my direction looked as flimsy as his campaign promises.
Grayson made eye contact with me. “I can handle myself, little witch.” His voice became tender. “Go back to the party, please.”
I let out a frustrated breath, glaring at my father for a moment before meeting Grayson’s eyes again. “Fine.” I acquiesced, not knowing what else to do. I walked out of the room, grasping my hands in fists to keep the shaking to a minimum.
* * *
The moon cast a golden glow from above and feathery fingers of mist encircled my feet from below. I sat on the bench next to the hedge maze, the one I’d sat on with Shane, what seemed so long ago but in reality had only been a week. I removed my gloves and then the pins holding on my hat and sat them both on the bench next to me, using my fingers to lift my hair off my scalp.
The dread I’d felt in Grayson’s office had settled into a lonely lump of cold fear. I could barely attempt to categorize all the worries that swirled in my gut at the thought of my father and Grayson conversing alone. Why was my father here, and what could he possibly want? What did he know? It hadn’t sounded like he remembered Grayson…even though he’d obviously looked him up. What would he attempt to control now? Once I had hoped so hard to be loved by him. Now, now I just wanted to be free of him.
When I heard footsteps approaching, I stood, turning in time to see Grayson appear around the curve in the path. He’d removed his mask. I let out a breath, feeling a flare of panic.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Your father offered me a whole hell of a lot of money to walk away from you permanently, even more than what your grandmother left in trust.”
The lump previously in my throat dropped to my stomach. I exhaled a sharp breath and turned away, wrapping my arms around myself. Well, the good news was he evidently believed our marriage was real. “Is he gone?”
“Yes.”
“You should take it,” I said, the words emerging on a rush of breath. “The more money…the more you can do with the vineyard. We’re divorcing anyway. He doesn’t have to know it was already planned.” I tried to sound sincere. I only hoped the scratchiness of my voice didn’t entirely betray me.