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“Not technically.”
“Close enough,” Granda snapped. “Get the girl some coffee, Marcus. Don’t you have any manners? And get one yourself.”
Marcus jumped to attention, heading to the carafe and filling two delicate cups, when I was desperate for an Americano Grande. I took a sip of the weak stuff, wanting to moan in desperation. “Are you going to have any?” I said, draining the coffee.
“Naaah, I can’t stand that caffeine-free crap,” he said carelessly.
I almost choked. “Then why are you giving it to me?” I demanded. “I need caffeine, lots of it.”
“Ian says you should keep away from caffeine until you’ve had a full evaluation—it’s bad for concussions.”
At that moment, I would have done anything I could to give the interfering Ian his own head injury, but I merely gritted a smile. I could make my own coffee, or even chew on beans if I must. I needed my caffeine.
I did my best not to appear caffeine-deprived, taking the seat beside Granda. “How are you feeling today?”
He reached out his hand for me and I took it. It was a frail hand, liver-spotted, when they used to seem huge and strong to me. “The better for seeing you,” he said, and there was real love in his eyes, love that I hadn’t seen in so long. Love that wasn’t meant for me. And then he turned and glanced at Marcus, no longer looking quite so sentimental. “I’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you for some time, but with both of you gallivanting all over Europe and never coming home, I’ve had to wait, almost too long.”
“We’re here now,” Marcus said soothingly. I said nothing. I had a bad feeling about this, and I didn’t want to encourage him.
Marcus, however, seemed more than happy to listen, moving to Granda’s other side and dwarfing the pale thin hand with his own huge one. “We’re listening,” he continued in a voice that was positively unctuous, “and we’ll do whatever you want us to do.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Some of the tension left Granda’s frail body, and he squeezed my hand. “You two belong together, you always have. I could leave this life peacefully if I knew you two had gotten over your petty squabbles.”
Carefully, I withdrew my hand from his. “I have no argument with Marcus,” I said. “Any trouble we had is long in the past and forgotten.”
“Good.” Augustin Whitehead settled back against the snowy white pillows, a look of peace on his lined face. “We can have the ceremony as soon as I can arrange it.”
“What ceremony?” I demanded, suddenly chilled.
“Your wedding. You know that was always meant to be, you and Marcus, Kitty and Ian.”
“Kitty...” I choked, more horrified at that than my sudden assumed nuptials. “Ian hates Kitty and she hates him.” Was this a trap? “Besides, they haven’t even seen each other in the last twelve years.”
“That’s neither here nor there. Kitty left, and she couldn’t even return when I’m on my deathbed, and there’s no excuse of a crazy mother to stop her from coming. And Ian’s been working like a dog—he’ll be more than adequately recompensed, no matter what an ungrateful young woman has to do with it. It’s you two I’m worried about, and the solution is obvious.”
“I’m not getting married,” I said firmly.
Granda’s patrician face looked thunderous. “Then you can leave and never come back.”
I released his hand and pushed back from the bed, outraged before I remembered that this was Granda, full of bluster and threats that never came through. Except in my case.
I managed a brittle smile. “You don’t want me to go, old man, and I’m not leaving you. You can’t bully me into doing what you want, so why bother?”
Granda gave a rusty chuckle. “You always did stand up to me, Bella. It would make things so much easier if you simply married Marcus. You could always divorce him after I’m dead.”
“You’re too wicked to die,” I said, and for once, I was enjoying my Bella masquerade. As a teenager, I’d never dared contradict Granda the way Bella did, and it gave me a blissful sense of freedom.
Marcus had come around my side of the bed, taking my hand in his much larger one. I tried to pull it away, but he squeezed it painfully, in warning. “I’ll talk with her, Granda. I’ll woo her properly, so she can’t resist me.”
“You do that, Marcus.” He sank back against the pillows, clearly exhausted, but he managed to peer at me suspiciously. “Unless you’d rather have Ian?”
I laughed, trying to cover my start of surprise. “I’d rather marry a rattlesnake.”
“And I don’t think you’d get Ian to agree with you on that one, Granda,” Marcus said jovially. “We’ll let you get some rest.”
Granda waved a weak hand of dismissal, and a moment later we were out in the hall, the door closed firmly behind us.
“We need to talk,” Marcus began, still holding my hand in his tight grip.
