The Princess (Harper's Island Book 2) Page 2

  “You don’t want her?” He licked his lips and squinted at me.

  This was my chance to save her. One lie could take her off the board. “Of course not.” I shook my head vehemently. “Why would I want someone like her?”

  The frown on his face morphed. His cheeks turned pink and he seemed positively delighted. I froze. A chill ran down my spine as I swiveled and moved to make my way into the club. As I glanced up, I realized Grace stood two steps above me. At the sight of her, my tension melted away. I wanted nothing more to pick her up in my arms and run away with her, but instead of receiving me a with a playful smile or even a witty remark, her cheeks were pink and her nostrils were flaring. “Princess?” My brow arched. I hoped teasing her would lighten the mood. In her hands, she held two flutes of champagne. I started to reach for one, but she drew back.

  “I brought this to you. Open bar.” She blinked back tears and I tilted my head in confusion. “Thought you might be thirsty. Heat,” she mumbled.

  “Are you okay?” My brow furrowed as I held out my open arms.

  Grace shook her head and took a step back. “Don’t.” She blew out a breath and I watched her heel catch on the hem of her gown.

  “Careful.” I caught her elbow and tried to help her find her footing.

  She shook her head and yanked out of my grasp. Somehow she managed to stumble up the next few steps to the landing. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

  “Grace, let me help you?” Trent glided up the stairs toward her.

  I watched as she looked back and forth between us. At the moment, it seemed she didn’t trust either of us. She shook her head and bolted in the opposite direction. When Grace had disappeared inside the building, Trent laughed. “What?” I scowled.

  He shook his head and grinned. “I hope you meant it when you said you didn’t want her?”

  I stiffened. “Oh, and why is that?” I tried to paste a bored look on my face.

  “Because she heard every word. And now she hates you.” Then Trent positively danced up the rest of the steps and entered the building behind the one woman who’d ever been able to get under my skin, while I was left along feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.

  Historically speaking, this was about right. For a moment, I stood frozen, staring down at my shoes while I contemplated my next move. I wanted to go rescue Grace. If I could simply explain things weren’t as she’d heard. Only…for now, they had to be. Through the years, I’d discovered how poisonous Trent could be, the damage he could do, the havoc he could wreak. I refused to put Grace in harm’s way.

  Instead, I walked it off. I wandered through the gardens at a brisk pace. It felt more like doing laps in a tux and dress shoes. My socks were soaked, blisters were forming, the heat had dried my mouth to the extent I couldn’t have spoken had my life depended on it. Still, by the time I made my way to join the reception, I felt no better.

  Brett saw me first. “Take a seat,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I see you’ve been misinformed. Again.” I sighed as I pulled out my chair and took my place to his right.

  “Depends on who you ask,” he grumbled. Brett seemed intent on cutting his prime rib, but finally, he gave up, set his silverware down on the rim of his plate and glared at me. “It’s my wedding day.”

  I took a sip of my water before responding. I swallowed hard. “I know,” I replied blandly. “I was there.”

  “Stop. Just stop.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what happened to you, to us.” Brett shifted in his chair and inched closer to me, while I shrank in mine.

  I knew. The camp changed everything. I draped the napkin across my lap. “The prime rib seems to be cooked to perfection.”

  “Trying to deflect? Really?” He rubbed his forehead.

  “Seems to work for politicians.” I offered a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

  “Just…leave Grace alone. In this past week, you’ve hurt her enough for a lifetime. So…stay away.” Brett seemed satisfied with his edict.

  Picking up my fork and knife I began to saw through the meat on my plate. “I could do that, dear brother, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint Miss Milly.” I eyed him pointedly. “We wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize Grace’s ability to save the camp now, would we?” I watched as he struggled to process my words.

  “If you hurt her…” His voice trailed off. Brett was the king of empty threats. He had nothing to hold over me. I was older, stronger, tougher, and head of the company.

  “You’ll what? Seriously. What exactly will you do?” I stabbed a piece of the beef with my fork, dipped it in horseradish sauce and stuffed it in my mouth. Then I chewed lazily while I waited.

  Brett shook his head. “I don’t know, Blake. But I swear if you ruin my wedding, we’re through.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Here we go again with the idle threats.”

  “No, I mean it this time. You hurt Grace, it hurts all of us. We’re friends. You…you’re just an asshole. How’d you even get this cold?”

  A memory flashed and the pain of it had me looking away. I shivered, but tried to play it off as a shrug. “Don’t know. Just lucky I guess.”

  “Right. Like you were born this way.” He eyed me even as he leaned away. “Only that couldn’t be the case. Mother is loving and caring. Father was too. Oh, but you…you’re cold as ice.”

  I took another bite of my meal, but I couldn’t taste it. His words had wounded me. His distrust hurt. Watching Trent a few tables away trying to catch Grace’s attention made my chest ache. We were hours from cake and my toast. Would this night never end?

  3

  An hour later and I’d downed roughly three rocks glasses of scotch. The great thing about scotch is when you’re in a terrible place, it goes with everything. For example, there was no clash with my baked potato, my asparagus, or the rest of my prime rib. I’d had my first scotch in lieu of the salad course I’d missed and the bread I couldn’t bring myself to eat. Now the music had begun and the DJ was calling the wedding party out onto the floor to start the party. Some party.

  Grace stood off to the side of the dance floor. She stared at me a moment and even in my seriously buzzed state, I could read the reluctance in her face. I swallowed the rest of my fourth glass and second double. I no longer felt it burning on the way down, although I did note how hard it hit my stomach. Still, that little bit of liquid courage helped.

  Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I strode over to her a second after Trent reached her side. “Step off,” I growled without even looking at him. Grace held my attention, as much as I could focus.

  “Excuse me?” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

  I whirled around and stumbled slightly, but I soon found my footing and confronted him, since this was obviously what he wanted. “Was I too polite for you? Hmmm?” I leaned down slightly so we were nose-to-nose, since I was a good three inches taller.

  “Good Lord.” He held a hand in front of his face. “It’s like sniffing a still. How much have you had to drink?”

  “About enough to speak my mind.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “Want to know what I’m thinking?”

  “Not especially.” He shrugged and wore a smug look I wanted to punch off his face.

  Apparently, I’m a mean drunk, or Trent brings out the worst in me because I’ve never hit a man in rage my whole life. Now, in self-defense was a different story. Father insisted we train in martial arts to protect ourselves. Being wealthy made us targets, he claimed. Trust me, he would know. “Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway.” I licked my lips. “Fuck off.” His eyes widened. “That’s right. Fuck. Off. Trent.” I gestured toward the door. “You’re not in the wedding, so I don’t know why you’re trying to hedge in on this dance. Hell, I don’t even know why you were invited.”

  “I’m on the board.” He rolled his eyes and exchanged a look with Grace.

  This merely served to further infuriate me. I had a really tiny trigger at the moment.
“So get out of here and let me dance with my best girl.” I smiled at Grace. I think it was a smile. My face was beginning to feel numb and my mind grew foggy as the alcohol I’d consumed at such a rapid pace finally caught up to me.

  “Best girl?” Grace crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me with peaked brows. “Now I’m your best girl. An hour ago you wanted nothing to do with me. So how does that work exactly?”

  “Simple.” I wobbled some on my feet as I held out a hand to the hauntingly beautiful woman before me. “I’m the best man, so you’re the best girl.” I chuckled at my cleverness. Grace didn’t.

  “Right. Pass.” She looked away.

  She might not want anything to do with me at the moment, but at least she didn’t want anything to do with Trent either. This was of some comfort to me. “Come on, Gracie,” I whispered in her ear. “Don’t ruin the wedding. Dance with me.”

  “Oh, so now if I refuse to let you drunkenly paw me on the dance floor in front of all of Harper’s Island, I’m ruining the wedding?” She glared at me, which only made me want to kiss her more. I really did like her all feisty.

  “Yes?” I tilted my head and she huffed in response. “I mean, no.” I shook my head and held onto a nearby chair so I didn’t lose my tenuous balance. Gravity was no longer my friend. “Don’t make me beg, Princess.” I buried my face in her neck and planted a few lingering kisses in a trail up to her ear. Then I began to nibble on her lobe as she’d done with mine outside earlier.

  Grace whimpered. “Please don’t do this here.” She gently pushed me back with a palm to my chest.

  I perked up. There seemed to be a distinction. She didn’t tell me not to do it. She simply didn’t want me to do it here. “Where do you want to go?” I straightened and glanced about. “Upstairs? I bet we could get a room upstairs.” Suddenly nothing else mattered, nothing but the possibility of being with Grace again. I’d forgotten immediately about all my duties as best man. I could care less for about the toast, the cake, and especially catching the garter. Everything was all about her, being with her, having another chance with her, holding her near. I needed it more than air, or alcohol, or money. “Let’s go.” I shivered in excitement.

  After a glance at Brooke and Brett, she frowned. “I guess you’re right. We should dance.”

  “Yes,” I agreed lazily.

  Grace took my hand and dragged me out onto the floor and positioned us in a back corner in between the speaker and the newlyweds. She wrapped her arms around my neck and we began to sway to the music. I’m a great dancer, normally. Years of lessons, followed by countless social occasions to put them into practice and I was a younger, wealthier version of Fred Astaire. Tonight, Grace grunted under the weight of me.

  “Can’t you stand at all?” She sighed.

  “Of course.” I grunted as I struggled to right myself. I’d grown tired and lazy. “You’re just so tiny that I have to lean down to dance.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course that’s it. Oh, but wait, could it possibly have anything to do with the fifth of scotch you’ve consumed.”

  I jerked my head back. “It couldn’t possibly be that much.” Then I began to mentally tally before I chuckled. “Okay, it’s close.” I grinned down at her, feeling all warm and mushy. “Good thing I can hold my liquor, huh?”

  “Right.” Grace nodded. “Only somehow I suspect I’m going to be the one holding your hair back later.” She sighed heavily.

  “I don’t have long…” I thought for a moment and laughed loudly. “You think I’ll be puking later.” I shook my head. “Nah. I never do that. I’ve never been hung over.” I was ready to lay out all my best attributes when she interrupted.

  “Yes, but have you ever had this much to drink?” She eyed me curiously.

  My brow furrowed as I considered her question. “I went to college. I was a legacy in the family fraternity. I must have.”

  “Somehow, I can’t picture any of that.” She rested her head against my chest and I held her a little closer. After a few seconds of silence passed between us, I heard her murmur, “Why do we fight so? Why can’t we get along?” Then she buried her face more deeply into my jacket. “Why can’t you just love me, dammit?”

  I had the feeling I wasn’t supposed to have heard any of that. Still, her words made me think. “I don’t believe in love,” I admitted. “I’ve never seen it. How could I hope to experience it? Oh, but believe me, you’re the closest I’ve come.” I laid my chin on the top of her head and inhaled deeply.

  The music ended and I glanced down at the woman in my arms, hoping I could convince her to endure another dance with me. I wanted her close and she wasn’t giving me many opportunities. Before I could ask, the DJ made an announcement. “All the single ladies, gather around. Time for the bride to throw the bouquet.”

  Grace tugged my hand as I stood frozen in place, staring longingly at her. “Come on. Off the floor, lover boy.” When I didn’t move, she began pulling me. “Seriously, you may be single, but you’re no lady.”

  Women of all ages were vying for position around Brooke. I wanted no part of this ritual so I allowed Grace to move me. “Hey, shouldn’t you be over there?” I pointed to the throng of desperate women.

  “Yeah…no. I don’t see me married. I’m too committed to Camp Hope. What man could ever compete with that?” She held her hands out as she shrugged and the bouquet sailed out of nowhere, bounced off my chest, and landed in her open palms. “Well, fuck.” She closed her eyes a moment and blew out a breath before she turned her attention to Brooke, who was doing her best to look innocent.

  “I think she did that on purpose.” I nodded with a grim look on my face. “Good news. You’re next. Isn’t that what it means?” I meant it as a joke, but for some reason, the thought of Grace being with another man about knocked the wind out of me. “I need air,” I gasped.

  “Okay. Patio. Let’s go.” She shoved me in the back as she directed me out the door with one hand, the bouquet clasped in the other.

  “You’re so sweet,” I murmured as I inhaled deeply. I turned to her and smiled. “It’s so nice of you to come out here and be with me when you could be in there.”

  Grace stared into the reception hall from the back patio. “Oh, I want no part of that. They’ll be throwing the garter soon.” She shivered.

  My hands fisted at my sides as I realized what this meant. “So some guy is going to catch the garter and then slide it onto your thigh.” I’d have to stand there and watch all the while plotting the poor guy’s demise, especially if he slid too far toward the juncture of her thighs. I closed my eyes as I remembered what the experience had been like for me the other night.

  Her shoulders sagged. “Yup.”

  I pushed up my sleeves. “The hell he is.” Then I stormed towards the door, flung it open, and stomped inside, determined. I glanced about, trying to get the lay of the room. I was ready to shove through all these assholes to get the garter. On the edge of the dance floor, I felt a tug on my arm. I looked behind me to find Grace standing there panting.

  “You do realize if you catch it, this will only strengthen Miss Milly’s belief we should marry. Then the whole island will be talking.” Her hands were clasped in front of her while she pleaded her case. “You don’t want to marry me, Blake. You don’t want to marry anyone.” She shrugged.

  “It’s just a silly superstition. It’s not like it’s a binding contract.” I watched as my brother reached under Brooke’s gown and started to lazily pull the garter down her thigh. All the while they gazed at each other with such love, such passion, my heart began to thump erratically. Conflicting thoughts raced through my mind. Why couldn’t I have that? Oh, but why would I want to?

  A waiter began to pass by with a tray of champagne flutes. Apparently, it was nearly time to toast. In one fluid motion, I grabbed one without jostling the rest of the glasses, and brought it to my lips where I started to gulp down the bubbly liquid while Grace made a face. “I wouldn’t
mix, if I were you. Come on. All frat boys know this.”

  “Garter.” I pointed toward where Brett had been moments before. Only now he had disappeared. Maybe I’d missed the toss. I scanned the floor. There he stood in the far corner, garter stretched back on two fingers as he prepared to slingshot it into the air. While Brooke had sought out Grace for the bouquet, my brother had obviously selected another target. I followed his line of sight. Trent. Fucking Trent. No damn way was he getting his hands anywhere near Grace. Suddenly, it was as if the rest of the room melted away, or I was wearing blinders. I honed in on the man I loathed for reasons I couldn’t share with anyone. I yanked my jacket off and passed it to Grace. “Hold this.” Before she had a chance to respond, I’d rushed across the room. As the lacy elastic fabric above outstretched hands, I plowed through the throng of men. After all, I’d also been a receiver for all of my high school and college careers. My hand shot out and a second later, my fingers wrapped around the object I sought. I grinned and started to lift my trophy, but Trent had caught hold of part of it too.

  “Let go,” I grunted as my smile faded.

  “You first,” he spat, his eyes flashing.

  Without hesitation, I yanked hard in an effort to remove it from his grasp. When he refused to budge, I elbowed him in the gut and we were soon scrapping on the floor. Trent may have been temporarily surprised and slightly winded, but he recovered quickly and followed through with a sucker punch that connected with my cheek bone.

  “You went for the face, asshole?” I hissed and rolled him onto his back where I showed him my ground and pound. After a few hits, he’d released the garter, more interested in catching the blood gushing from his nose.

  Standing, I turned and held up my trophy. “Look!” I grinned at Grace, even as my cheek burned and swelled. “I got it.”

  Her hands covered her mouth in a look of sheer horror. She turned away and I realized she was checking out the newlyweds’ reaction. I did the same. Brooke’s eyes and mouth were wide with shock. My brother, however, was fuming, his face red with rage. “Go!” He roared as he pointed toward the door.