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Hell, even with Philip’s past, he’s better for her than me.

I spin away and head to the bar.

You’re dark and twisted. She’s light and kind. You don’t belong together.

Maybe she and Philip...

My fists ball at my sides.

Over my dead body.

CHAPTER TWO

DANCING WITH PHILIP is a blur. I almost feel sorry for him. If not for his questionable past, I likely would do.

But I can’t stay on task, I can’t focus on him when my mind and eyes constantly wander to Jackson, standing on the sidelines. His presence, dark, brooding, calls to me even though I should know better.

A cheer ripples through the guests and wakes my mind from the stupor that is all Jackson.

Philip and I stop dancing, as do many others, all craning their necks to see what the commotion is, and then I spy the cause. My lips lift, my heart too. There’s Ash and Coco making for the exit as the guests around them cheer and toast. A blushing bride swept up in the arms of her husband, their eyes for one another alone, their grins so full of love, of passion.

Philip gently nudges me. ‘No need to guess where they’re heading, hey?’

I shake my head as I watch them and give a cheer of my own, but I feel it catch, feel a hollowness in my chest, the same empty weight that gripped me during the ceremony. My happiness for them is dampened by a sudden pang of...envy? A wistful longing for something I hadn’t known was missing.

Yet the only man I can imagine wanting it with is the one man who’s put himself so out of reach...until now, until the glimpse of what I saw in his face as I walked down the aisle this morning.

And, as I did then, I force my smile to widen, my thoughts to quit and I throw my focus into the moment. The celebration. Having fun. It’s what I’m good at—fun. I’m the life and soul. I don’t let things cut too deep. Jackson included.

The band starts up again, a quick number I’m more than happy to get lost in. I throw my focus back into Philip, pull him along with me. Dance. Have fun. Dance. It’s a mantra in my head, but the more I try and force it, the less it works. The less I’m able to push Jackson out.

His eyes are on me, on us, I know it without looking. I dance faster, I laugh as Philip does the same, I feed off his obvious enjoyment, the mantra building to a crescendo in my head as I twirl—and then I feel it. Nothing.

He’s gone.

I come to a halt, my eyes landing on a couple who have taken his place.

I turn on the spot, scanning the crowd, trying not to look bothered, but my stilted movements tell Philip exactly what’s amiss. He tries to gather me up in the dance, gain my attention but I shake my head. I can’t see Jackson anywhere.

For a brief second I wonder if he’s left the castle altogether, such is the sense of loss, and then I realise how foolish that is. We’re miles from the nearest village; we might as well be in the middle of nowhere when it comes to sourcing alternative rooms for the night. The small number of holiday cottages and B&Bs in the area are already full to the brim with wedding guests. There is nowhere else for him to go.

No, Jackson, just like me and the rest of the bridal party, have been given rooms in the newly renovated east wing of the castle and, if I remember rightly, he’s only two doors down from me.

Two doors...hardly a walk at all.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Philip asks, vying for my attention.

I give him a weak smile, part gratitude, part apology. ‘I’m good, thanks though.’

‘You’re good, but you have somewhere else you’d rather be.’ He gives me a grin to soften his words and rakes a hand through his blow-dried hair that’s just too perfect for me to find attractive. I prefer it darker, longer, untamed... ‘Prefer a bit of rough, hey?’

I laugh. I can’t believe he’s vocalised my exact thoughts and I’m too stunned to try for a lie. ‘You could say that.’

‘And I’d say I couldn’t blame you. Ash and Coco certainly like the guy.’ He scans the crowd now too, looking for the topic of our conversation. ‘I struggle to see the appeal myself. He looks like he could kill by look alone.’

I laugh even harder. ‘True.’

He gives a mock shudder. ‘Putting that quality aside though, he quite obviously has a thing for you, so I guess the feeling is mutual.’

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