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Demi handed me a gray bespoke clutch. “Good luck,” she whispered.
“Thank you.”
Keir took my arm, tucking it into his, and we started down the hall. “You look bonnie.”
It might have been the first nice thing he said to me, and the same tightening in my sex that I felt when he kissed me took root. “Thank you. You look very handsome.” His dark gray eyes softened. No longer harsh and stern.
“Perhaps we can go into tonight with a truce,” he suggested. “Work together to help each other.”
“Work together?” I was confused by my conflicting emotions. Just because my body reacted to him with unbridled enthusiasm didn’t mean he was a good guy. I reminded myself that he was just using me. “While you hold me against my will.”
The lines around his eyes hardened. “No, work together so we both get what we want tonight.”
“And what is it you want?” I asked. “Besides a fiancée.”
“Trust me, I don’t want a fiancée. I’m getting forced to have one. What I want is much bigger.”
“And that is?”
He stopped and pulled me into an alcove at the top of the stairs. “A seat at the table.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means if you fuck this up for me, there will be hell to pay.”
Alarm raced down my spine and settled into a pit in my stomach. I knew he would show me no mercy.
He put his hand on the small of my back, and we continued down the staircase, stopping just before we reached the bottom. The guests were already assembled in the Great Hall with cocktails in hand, and a hush fell over the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who do not know me, my name is Keir Wilson, and I want to welcome you to Dorcha Isle. May you treat it as your home for the next few days. This beautiful woman standing next to me is my fiancée Evie Young.” Niles handed him a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal and a saber. He took the items and ran the blade of the sword down the bottle’s seam in an elaborate fashion, slicing off the cork in one fluid stroke. Niles took the bottle and poured it into two crystal flutes, handing us each a glass. “I would like to make a toast,” Keir continued, holding up his glass. “To the Circle of Kings. May this be a prosperous weekend. A regibus intus potential jacet.”
“A regibus intus potential jacet,” the men repeated, drinking.
I took a sip of the champagne. It was cool and crisp and tickled as it went down my throat.
“Come,” Keir said to me. I took his hand as he led me into the room. Whispers circulated amongst the crowd, along with a few side-ways glances.
“Sir Leonard,” he said, stopping in front of an elderly gentleman. “May I introduce my fiancée Evie.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he said, kissing the top of my hand. “Though you said fiancée, not wife.”
I resisted the urge to wipe my hand on the side of my dress.
“The wedding is in four months,” Keir answered.
“Why the delay?” Sir Leonard looked over at me.
“It was the only time our families were available,” I said, hoping my answer was sufficient. I wasn’t used to lying and glanced at Keir, but he remained unruffled.
“Interesting, since this bastard has no family.” The older man ran his hand over his tightly trimmed goatee. “Wilson, a moment alone, please.”
“I’ll be right back,” Keir said to me.
I walked over to the couch and sat down. A handsome man with sandy brown hair and clear blue eyes approached me. “Can I get you a fresh drink?” he asked.
“Thank you.” He took the empty glass from my hand, depositing it on a nearby server’s tray and picking up two freshly poured champagnes.
“May I sit?” he said, motioning to the place next to me.
