“How can you be so sure?”
He contemplated for a minute before answering, “William’s always been a serious, determined, pensive kind of person . . . not charming, witty and verbose like myself.” He smiled ruefully as I narrowed my eyes at him. “He’s accentuated these characteristics of himself even more since entering John’s Alliance. He hasn’t earned the reputation for being one of the best professors here without exhibiting extreme dedication and a cold sort of personality.”
The momentary seriousness in his face washed away and amusement returned. “There’s no way the Council would ever punish a woman with a Union to William.”
His explanation didn’t appease me, so my arms remained crossed with doubt.
“Come on, Bryn.” He nudged me gently with his hand. “I told you I’d always tell you the truth, no matter what. Right?”
He waited for my response, so I nodded my head begrudgingly.
“Well, that’s the truth. William is not going to be Betrothed to anyone tonight, and you know even if he was, it would mean nothing to him. You’re all he’s ever wanted . . . and the reason he’s been so wound up about tonight is because he’s worried about you.”
“Me? What’s he so worried about me for?” I understood why William worried about me around John and the Council, or when I was alone—but why so especially tonight . . . on the eve of my escape from this place?
“Awww, you know how he is,” he said, lightheartedly. “Personally, I think he’s a little nervous about seeing you all dolled up tonight after that last attention-grabbing number you wore.” His eyes filled with teasing accusation. “And you know how jealous he can be. What’s he going to do if another guy asks you to dance?”
“Rip his arms off,” I muttered back, my anger and anxiety receding.
He laughed again. “You’re probably not too far off the mark there, and then all of us would have no choice but to run for our very Immortal lives.” He wrapped one arm around my shoulder in comfort, but it felt awkward—it wasn’t the arm that belonged there.
“Come on, let’s head back.” He dropped his arm and stared at his shoes pointedly again. “And could we reign in the horsepower on our return trip to salvage what’s left of my lovely Italian leather?”
“I was just getting warmed up,” I whined. “Do we have to go back so soon?”
“We do,” he said with finality. “You’ve got to go get pretty for William and I’ve got to get pretty for all the ladies.”
I laughed, and its release calmed me. “Pretty, indeed,” I teased him. “You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever met.”
He popped his shirt collar up and slid an expensive looking pair of aviators into place. “Try not to be jealous.”
We both laughed, and I nudged him. “I’ll do my best.”
We started back to the Manor at a much more relaxed pace than I’d left it. I leaned over and picked a purple wildflower, and accompanied it with a yellow one a few feet in front of it.
Patrick was content to let me tarry on at this pace, stopping every so often to add another piece to my bouquet. “Joseph will meet you at dawn tomorrow morning at William’s houseboat on the lake . . . he said you would know how to find it.” There was a tinge of a question in his statement.
“What?” I exclaimed, the flowers falling from my hand. “Did you say William’s houseboat? He told me it was John’s.”
Patrick’s face flashed with remorse. “He’s going to kill me—” he groaned.
“You’re Immortal, he can’t kill you,” I shot back. “Answers, Patrick . . . now.” I tapped my foot, and while I’d thought it such an unusual response of impatience when I’d seen it performed by someone else, I could understand the relief people found in it.
“Come on, Bryn . . . he’ll go after my car. He’ll kill him and that’s as close to my death as—”
“Patrick—now,” I interrupted, hardly able to wait until I got my chance to speak with the genuinely frightened man in front of me’s older brother. The tiny, black bikini, the robe that appeared out of nowhere . . . he was in trouble.
“Yeah, that monster boat is his,” he answered, hanging his head in shame as if he’d just given away his best friend . . . which I suppose he probably thought he had.
I don’t know what caused me to soften, but it happened without having to make an effort. The flame of my anger was no match for the extinguishing might of my love for him. I wasn’t going to let some miscommunication of boat ownership get me in a tizzy when much more important matters lay ahead of us over the next twenty-four hours.
“What are you going to do to him?” Patrick asked me through squinted eyes.
I exhaled, feeling like a hopeless pushover. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? After that big explosion . . . you’re going to let him off that easy?”
I smiled, as a few forms of mild torture coming to mind I’m sure I could impart upon him. “I suppose I could think of something.”
“Good, do. Don’t go soft on him.”
“Are you going to tell me about you guy’s plan for my escape from this place anytime soon . . . or are you planning on selling your brother out again?” I eyed him from the side.
His dimples set. “Given your preference for early morning runs,” he said, nudging my shoulder with his, “that will be our cover. If anyone sees you tomorrow morning, you should look like you’re going on a run. That means you can’t bring anything with you— no luggage, bags, or anything else that would arouse suspicion you were going for more than just a jog. Do you understand?” His voice was serious, and I saw in Patrick during these more grave moments a lot more of William than I realized was there.
“I understand.”
“After tonight, you won’t see William or me again before you leave. You will have to say your goodbyes tonight . . . without really saying your goodbyes.” He glanced at me to see if I’d understood him, and I had. I’d have to say goodbye without the farewell embrace or the words I wanted to speak.
“I’ll be prepared,” I answered solemnly.
“Joseph will take you back to Pacific City tomorrow and you will stay there with the rest of the family until William meets up with you in a month.” The reminder of being separated from him that long made me grimace. “After that, William will take you to back to Montana. He will petition our Council to have you accepted into our Alliance and then he’ll—” He stopped himself suddenly, and a sheepish look covered his face.
“And then what?”
“Nothing . . . and then nothing,” he answered quickly, but looked ready for the oncoming assault.
“I don’t think so, Patrick. Wasn’t it you who just told me you’d always tell me the truth, no matter what?” Irritated as I was with him right now, I also was delighted he’d just re-quoted his promise to me moments ago.
He threw his head back, recognizing the conundrum he was in. “This isn’t mine to tell. You’d want to hear it from him anyways,” he answered simply. I’d expected a verbal volley in return, but from his tone, I knew the topic was closed, and I would not be able to negotiate or force any further information from him.
“Fine,” I relented, ceasing my side-ways glare at him.
As we approached the front gates of the Manor, we were barraged with the sights and sounds of bustling figures flitting around the outside; arranging lanterns, flowers and other décor for tonight’s festivities.
“He’s quite lucky, you know? Having found you after several lifetimes of searching and waiting. It makes me jealous knowing the love he has for you, and the love I can see you have for him,” his whisper waivered in places. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find someone as special to me as you are to him.” He managed a weak smile, and leaned in to kiss the side of my cheek. “Goodbye, Bryn.”
He spun around and loped off towards the large outbuilding to the east, leaving me standing there with more needless confusion. This thing with Patrick saying something frustratingly evasive, and running off before I could ask for further clarification, was starting to become a pattern. I was pretty sure this had been his good-bye, and realizing I didn’t know when I would see or speak to this Hayward brother again, caused a lump to form in my throat. I watched him disappear into the endless rows of the vineyard before I walked through the front gate.
None of the bustling bodies acknowledged me as I walked up the drive and through the tall double doors that were surrounded by crystal pillars and lanterns filled with unlit candles. There were floral garlands scalloped over anything that would stand still, and such an excess of ice from the intricate sculptures adorning the lobby, I seriously wondered if the citizens of Wisconsin saw this much ice in winter.
I sighed. Always ice . . . endless ice in this chilling place that could easily freeze one’s heart if it wasn’t already enflamed with an eternal fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE BETROTHAL BALL
The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed uneventfully. I stayed hidden in my room, knowing William would have wanted it; to keep me safely out of sight of the increasing numbers inhabiting the Manor.
It was a welcome release when Annabelle knocked on my door later that afternoon. She entered with an elaborate garment bag in hand—the kind that was so fancy you couldn’t possibly imagine what it held zipped within it.
“Hey, Bryn.”
“Hi, Annabelle. How did you know I was in desperate need of company?” I welcomed back. As different as Annabelle and I were, and how I was quite aware she lusted after the man who possessed my soul, I’d grown fond of this young girl who’d shown an exceptional level of kindness to me.
She beamed at me as she hung the garment bag over the door to my closet. “John asked if I’d help you out tonight . . . we can get all fancied-up together. How’s that sound?”
There were certainly enough gowns in my closet, and I wasn’t planning on doing anything special with my hair, but I desperately wanted the distraction of some company to pass the remaining couple hours before I could see my tuxedo-clad William.
“That would be great, I’d love some help,” I said.
Her smile exploded like a stick of dyn**ite. She turned her eyes to the hanging garment bag and motioned me towards her. “John got you something to wear tonight.” Her eyes glimmered in excitement. “I peeked . . . it’s amazing.”
I strolled over to her with weighted feet, unsure if I wanted to wear anything John intended for me to wear tonight. However, I’d played my part well at Townsend Manor—like the most devote actress—and I wasn’t going to let my act falter now. I would grin and bear whatever formal contraption John had selected for me. It would be left behind tomorrow, anyways.
Annabelle reached for the zipper and pulled it down. I could make out the azure-blue color of the material within before she pulled the gown out. She was right—it was incredible, like something pulled off a Milan runway. Intricate lace overlay luxuriant silk in an off the shoulder, form-fitting design that belled out just below the knees, where a short train fanned out.