Page 14 of Raven in Midwinter

After Cass took my butter, garlic, and herb mashed potatoes from me, using the ancient potholders I’d brought with me, James grabbed our coats, hung them, then walked us into the living room. There were six people there, and everyone said Lorne’s name at the same time and then laughed. He smiled, but I noted it didn’t reach his gorgeous midnight eyes. Over the winter, his beard had grown out, and that, as well as his mustache, were both thick. With that, and the flannel he had on, he did, in fact, resemble a lumberjack, as James’s friend Willa suggested.

There were three couples—Brett and the aforementioned Willa, who couldn’t keep her hands off my husband, Stafford and Brooke, and Hamilton and Thessaly. It was odd, but after being there a short time, I had the most ridiculous desire to ask James if Amanda could come over and join us. I felt…out of place. James fit, Cass fit, and even Lorne, whom everyone hugged or kissed. Even if he wasn’t friends with these people, he was familiar with them. I had none of that. If my best friend were there, she would have held her own. She was as wealthy and worldly as they all were, but I was different, small town, small life, and that was all I would ever have or ever be and⁠—

I gasped suddenly, and the room went silent.

“Xan?” Lorne asked, walking over with a glass of water for me and an old-fashioned for him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I rushed out. “I just need a quick minute.”

I walked slowly out of the living room. Once I was around the corner, I darted down the hall and out the back door to the porch. The wind was whipping around, kicking up snow, dusting the air, making the trees moan. Spreading my arms wide, I stood and let the icy gust blow all the self-doubt, insecurity, loathing, and pain off me. It was alarming how fast the feelings had nearly eaten my heart.

After a moment, when I shivered hard, I hugged myself, and then was suddenly engulfed by strong arms and clutched tight.

“You’re gonna freeze out here,” Lorne murmured, kissing the side of my neck. “What are you doing?”

“Something happened, and I’m not sure what.”

“What do you mean?” He let me go, took my hand, and led me back into the house.

Once he closed the door behind me, I smiled up at him. “You came to find me.”

He squinted. “Of course.”

“I’m still not used to having a husband.”

His chuckle warmed me more than being inside. “Well, I’m the guy holding your hand, in case you forget.”

“Yes.”

“But you said something happened. What was it?”

“I need to figure that out. Let’s go back to the others.”

Once there, everyone was happy we returned, and Thessaly came to take my arm. “Xander, come tell us all about you. I’m dying to hear how you managed to snag our dear Lorne when I saw so many other beautiful men and women try.”

Translation: what was so great about me?

Instantly, I could feel the fear and defensiveness prickling over my skin, but this time, I brushed it off, as I did her hand, and took a seat across from her with the coffee table between us. Everyone was watching, probably because I’d just, somewhat rudely, extricated myself from the woman’s grip. They were probably waiting to see what Thessaly would do. All except Lorne, whose expression showed me that he was confused.

Turning from him to the beautiful blonde woman, I studied her and saw how tired she looked, the bags under her eyes, how her smile was hiding how drawn her face was, and how frail she seemed even as she glared at me.

“Why did you do that?” Her voice sounded nearly shrill.

Studying her, I came to a quick conclusion. And while there were several possibilities of what could be attacking me, it was always best to start with the most obvious and work one’s way up.

“Thessaly,” I said gently, leaning forward, “any new vintage acquisitions on this trip?”

“Pardon?”

“I know you all go antiquing,” I said, making conversation. “Did you find any treasure?”

“Oh my goodness, yes,” she replied excitedly, forgetting she was angry, her eyes lighting up for a moment, her hand going to the emerald teardrop dangle earring in her right lobe. “Ham got these gorgeous baubles for me in Quebec. They’re old, the stones are from Russia, the setting was created in France, and they were originally bought at auction. Aren’t they divine?”

“They are,” I agreed. “Have you been wearing them since you got them?”

“Absolutely. I couldn’t bear to take them off,” she gushed.

I held my hand out. “May I see them?”