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But he didn’t try too hard. Myles reminded himself that it was his job to watch her, to ensure she was safe. It was what Rafe had brought him in to do. He firmly quashed any other thoughts in his head.
Abruptly Rae stiffened, her expression becoming that little bit frozen, her movements less fluid. He followed her line of sight, ready to move, although he knew from the silence in his earpiece that she was in no physical danger.
It wasn’t hard to spot what had unsettled her.
Her sisters were making their way towards Rae, along with the matriarch of the Rawlstone Rabble, their tight expressions and false smiles evident even from this distance. From the way they were bearing down on her, they weren’t intending to merely compliment her on a successful charity gala. Or at least, any compliments would most certainly be like roses. Beautiful on the surface but with well-placed barbs designed to draw blood if one was foolish enough to forget to look out for them.
He started forward, only to stop himself. Rae’s family was her problem. He was here to protect her from any maniac stalker, he wasn’t here to protect her from her tiger shark relatives. If her sisters ganged up to feast on the weaker one, then surely that was for Rae to deal with herself. Wasn’t he forgetting that at one time they’d all been as bad as each other?
Yet since when had he thought her the vulnerable one? Only a week ago he’d thought of her as a highly skilled predator herself.
What was the matter with him?
And then she looked up, her gaze snagging his, the frantic glimmer in her eyes tugging at him even across the vast ballroom. He knew it wasn’t his situation to resolve—he should stand his ground, continue observing the guests. But suddenly he was moving again, parting the b
uzzing throngs with the same ease with which he had parted villagers in the crowded towns when on patrol. Gaps opened up for him and closed behind him without him having to say a word, without him even having to look twice, so that before he had time to talk himself out of it he was there.
Standing next to her. Pretending his body hadn’t just gone up in flames the second her arm had slipped around his in a grip that was too tight to even attempt to conceal her anxiety; the second she’d edged closer to him as though she thought he was some kind of protector.
‘Who would have thought that you would object so vociferously to a bodyguard when your life might be in danger from a stranger,’ he murmured darkly, ‘yet leap at the chance to have one when you’re in the sights of mere family.’
‘Given that you’ve done little to hide your opinion that my side of the Rawlstone family is trashy, I can’t imagine you’re really all that surprised.’
Her response might have been pitched only for his ears, but its unexpected feistiness rippled through him. Something he might have mistaken for pride, if he hadn’t known better, swirled around the two of them.
‘Clearly I was mistaken in thinking your look from across this immense room was a plea for help. You can obviously look after yourself.’
Her grip tightened on him.
‘Of course I can, I’ve been doing it long enough. But, since you’re here, you might as well stay.’
A week ago he might not have recognised the faintest of tremors in her tone. What did it say that he recognised it, now? That it made him nudge that little bit further forward with his body, as though to shield her that fraction better?
And then her family were there, and her grip on him loosened only long enough to accept their greeting.
‘I hope you’re working the room properly, pug.’ The fake air kisses set his teeth on edge almost as much as the deliberate slur. ‘This is quite an event we’re championing here tonight.’
Pug. How had he forgotten the cruel nickname her sisters had given her? Because she’d followed him around that Christmas holiday just like their neighbour’s ugly old pug.
‘I expect it to be a massive success if I’m putting my name to it,’ another sniffed.
As if it were their victory rather than Rae’s, Myles thought. As if they’d done more than simply show up having been made-up and coiffured to within an inch of their inconsequential lives.
‘It’s already a success,’ Rae tried to assert.
‘Front-page-news success?’ Her mother arched one condescending eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so. You need to do better, Raevenne.’
‘I am—’
‘Six-figure sums, child,’ the older woman snapped.
‘That only happens when someone gets the ball rolling. Like the Jenning family. And, after all, Mariella Jenning is one of your best friends, Mother.’
‘I lunch with that woman.’ The feigned shudder was purely for dramatic effect. ‘You can’t possibly ask me to stoop so low as to ask her for money.’
‘For charity,’ Rae cried before appearing to catch herself as her sisters laughed scornfully.
‘Don’t be absurd, pug.’
