Forged by Fate

and Eve tried to hide a smile.

The wedding would certainly be interesting, with the house full of Lions.

A few too many glasses of wine later—a pre-emptive attempt to keep her father from getting his hands on them—Eve blinked blearily at the large man who didn’t appear to be mingling. The same man she’d glimpsed before the rehearsal, and she still hadn’t made up her mind if she was imagining things.

He wasn’t family, of that she was certain. None of her progeny had that odd shade of red-gold hair. Or that kind of height and breadth of shoulder. And yet, Garrit and Rene had been speaking with him earnestly at the beginning of the dinner, their lightly built height dwarfed by the man. He looked too familiar though, and even drunk it was making her uneasy. God, but she hoped it was just the drink making him look familiar at all. She really didn’t want to lose her mind again, not with Adam haunting her footsteps.

“You don’t think Jean is too old for me, do you? Really, it’s only four years. Garrit’s almost two years older than you, isn’t he?” Mia was saying. “Dad can’t really object. I’m old enough to make these decisions on my own by now. And he’s so delicious. Those dark eyes—I could swoon.”

Eve shook her head once. The room spun slightly, but it distracted her from the man who looked much too much like a long dead husband. She would not allow herself to think of Thorgrim on the night before her wedding.

“Mia, he’s practically undressing you with his eyes. If that’s the kind of relationship you want, I don’t see a problem. But don’t fall in love with him. It’s not what he’s interested in.”

“You really think so?” Mia almost squeaked in her delight, and Eve winced. “Wonderful! If Mum asks, tell her I just went out for a walk or something. I’ll be back before too long.” And then she was gone, walking straight to Jean and standing on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. He at least had the grace to be surprised before he offered one of the most charming DeLeon smiles Eve had ever seen in her long association with the family.

Eve shook her head again and looked back to the large man, now in deep discussion with Garrit’s aunt, Brienne. If her family was talking to him, he couldn’t be a figment of her imagination, could he? Or a construct of her subconscious mind? If he was, wouldn’t he have been talking to her instead? Thorgrim had never been shy about talking to her, when she had imagined him. Maybe if she went to sleep he wouldn’t be there in the morning, and she could stop thinking about it. Or perhaps when she was sober she’d realize there was no real resemblance at all. It wasn’t like she wasn’t capable of that sort of trick.

Garrit chuckled softly in her ear, startling her. He kissed her cheek. “Ma cherie, I believe your sister has bitten off more than she can chew.”

“She’s resilient. And she could do much worse than Jean. At least he’ll be respectful for the duration.” She leaned back in her seat and smiled at him. “I had too much wine.”

“Your father did as well, in spite of our best efforts.” Garrit nodded to where he was passed out on a table. “How many glasses did you take out of his hand and down yourself?”

“Too many. I’m going to have a miserable headache in the morning.”

He smiled. “Plenty of water and an aspirin before you go to bed tonight will have you fixed up. Raw eggs and Tabasco, if necessary.”

“At least it’s nearly over.”

“Mmm.” He helped her to her feet, guiding her toward the exit. “Let me get you into bed before you imitate your father.”

“If I weren’t exhausted, I’d be offended by that remark.” But then she stopped, her gaze still on Brienne and the man. Those blue eyes were straight out of her memory. And his face. She knew his face. It definitely wasn’t just the wine. “Who is he, anyway?”

“Who?”

She pointed.

The large man looked up at her. His eyes flashed white and she stumbled in shock.

Garrit caught her, picking her up off her feet and continuing on. “Just an old friend of Papa’s. You might say that he’s acting as our security for the event tomorrow.”

“Security, huh? He looks the part.” She must’ve imagined his eyes. She was certainly drunk enough to be seeing things, and there was no reason at all that she would have brought him here. Not now. She wasn’t insane anymore, and even Thorgrim’s ghost had refused to come to her in France after she had escaped the mental ward and left America in her last life.

Ghost. She closed her eyes and tightened her arms around Garrit’s neck. Delusion, more like, if she was honest with herself. Hearing voices, seeing people who didn’t exist, those were symptoms of schizophrenia at best. If Garrit saw him, and Rene knew him, she had to believe it wasn’t just her mind this time. Except that other people had seen him last time, too. One minute she’d been unconscious in her cot, and the next she’d been in France. She couldn’t have done that alone.

“The best offense is good intimidation at the outset,” Garrit agreed. “Shall I carry you all the way up to the bedroom? Call it a rehearsal for tomorrow.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

He chuckled again. She liked the sound. It was the most relaxed he’d been in months. Weddings did that to people, though. There was something to be said for eloping. Perhaps in her next life she would insist upon it.

She rested her head against his shoulder and he pulled her closer against his chest. “Merci,” she murmured.

“Pourquoi?”

“Letting me be me. For giving me this life, as Eve.”

He almost overbalanced them as he climbed until he braced against the wall. “I didn’t give you the life, Abby. It was yours for the taking. Always. You don’t have to marry me or any of us to have it. We’re your family.”

She smiled. “You know I can’t resist the DeLeon charm.”

He laughed and took the last steps from the stairs across the hall to the door. “Do you suppose you could get the knob? I can’t quite manage that without dropping you.”

She obliged him and he crossed to the large four poster bed, tossing her onto it. “Oof!”

“Don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll be nice,” he said, grinning as he began to loosen his tie.

“Sometimes niceness is overrated in these circumstances.” She climbed to her knees and pulled him close enough to help. Her fingers fumbled with it, but the knot came free and she started on the buttons of his shirt. If she could just put it all out of her mind, let Garrit distract her and forget until morning. Forget that she might be insane again. Forget what it had been like, with Thorgrim. What she would never have again, even with her family.

Garrit pulled the fabric from his collar and kissed her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you suppose you could lock the door, and then help me out of this dress?”

“I would love to.” And then he leered at her. It was a far cry from the too-charming smile of his cousin, but she liked it all the more for its artlessness.

He kissed her again and they both forgot about the door.

“Water for my beautiful bride.” Garrit opened his palm, sitting stark naked on the edge of the bed, and revealed two chalky white tablets of aspirin. “We’re breaking the rules, you know, it’s after midnight now.”

Eve propped herself up on an elbow and took the pills first, then the water. “Don’t be silly. It’s only bad luck if you see me in my dress.”

His gaze traveled over her body, as bare as his was amidst the tousled sheets, and he smiled. “No danger then.”

“Non.” She swallowed the pills and drank the rest of the water. She was feeling much more sober now that she had sweated off most of the alcohol, and her mind kept returning to the man at the rehearsal dinner with the blue eyes that had flashed white. There was no help for it. “Tell me something?”

“Oui?” Garrit was trailing his fingers along the line of her ribcage, and instead of looking up, bent his head so that his lips could follow.