“Cameron,” she said, “I’ll be fine on my own if you need to go to bed.”
Cameron finished coughing. “I’m fine.”
“God, so is he.”
She was staring at Fred, who stood near the alcohol buffet, face impassive.
Cameron frowned. “Better from a distance, perhaps.”
Isabella rubbed his arm. “You still sound scratchy. I’ll find you a fresh drink.” With a perfume-laced kiss on the cheek, she took his old bourbon and left.
Five minutes later, it was clear Isabella had abandoned him to dance.
Cowering here in the corner was pathetic. He should leave. He wanted to curl up in bed and reread The Charioteer. Henry’s emails. Every word he read gave him a pulse-stuttering hope that they were growing closer.
He weaved through chatting guests to Georgie, who grinned up at him with glazed eyes. She raised her glass to him and sipped. “Having fun?”
“I will be soon,” he said, but she didn’t hear him. Someone had turned up the music to deafening. “Oh, I love this song.”
She gazed at the dance floor longingly. Cameron caught the sag in her shoulders, and his belly ached. “I love this song too. Shall we?”
“Will you?”
Cameron took hold of the chair arms and swung her around with him toward the dancers. She laughed, and they sang the lyrics aloud between bursts of her giggles. They twisted and spun and he ended the song with a kiss to her hand.
“Again?” Cameron asked, rejuvenated from the beat, the motion, the joy on Georgie’s face.
She glanced over his shoulder and back to him. “Maybe later?”
His senses prickled; the air to his right stirred and he inhaled the scent of beloved inked paper.
Henry wore jeans and a casual long-sleeved T-shirt with a print of a rose made from book pages. Dark rings loomed under his eyes, but his smile made them glitter.
Cameron wanted to fling his arms around him, kiss him, welcome him home, but he repressed the instinct. To the rest of the world, they were only friends.
Henry read his longing. He pulled Cameron into a strong embrace. “We can hug.”
Cameron didn’t want it to end; it was Henry who eventually pulled back. “Met my brother yet?”
“Not the greatest first impression.”
Fred was sipping from a tumbler and watching the dancers with moody interest.
“Sorry,” Henry said.
“No, I should be. I stepped forward with the wrong foot.”
“Any foot would have been the wrong one for him.”
Fred crossed through the dancers and stopped before them. He flickered one distasteful look Cameron’s way and focused on Henry. “Can I talk to you a moment?”
“Good to see you again, too.”
Fred gestured for privacy, so Cameron stood there alone, unable to make out their words.
Henry returned, standing close. “Don’t know why he couldn’t talk to me in front of you.”
“Fairly sure he doesn’t like me.”
“No loss for you there. He wanted to know if Isabella was here with you.”
“With me?”
“He saw you together.”
“For less than thirty seconds!” He was still annoyed at her disappearing act. So much for wanting to spend time with him and get to know her possible brother-in-law better.
“I told him that she has a boyfriend.”
Cameron turned toward Isabella’s breathy laugh. Isabella was a wild cat dancing beside a crowd of snobby looking graduates, untamed, rolling about in a patch of sunlight after a big hunt.
Fred sidled up to her and said something that made her shake her head coyly. She moved away from him with a kick of her hips and he laughed and followed.
A new song started, and he braced her waist and pulled her into a twirl. She toppled against his chest.
Cameron ground his teeth. “He’s dancing with her the minute after you tell him she’s taken?”
“I wish I could say I’m surprised. This is classic Fred.” Henry glanced at him. “I did warn you he might reflect badly on me.”
Frustration ebbed, and Cameron bumped their shoulders together. “People are a sum of their own actions, not the actions of their family.”
Henry sighed. “I’m exhausted.”
“Shall we head to bed?”
“You sound perky.”
“I need to reread the last chapter. Go back to chapter two.” He murmured, “I haven’t seen you for half a week.”
“I should probably hang out here a little longer first.”
“You’re being hailed.” Cameron pointed to a group under a nest of fairy lights.
“James made it.” Henry sounded happy, and Cameron gave him a little push toward his friends. “Will you come too?”
“I’ll bring us drinks.”
Isabella pounced on him as he poured wine, and a splotch jerked over the burgundy linen tablecloth.
“Oops,” she said, and laughed. “Just as well it’s red, eh?”
Cameron cleaned the mess and eyed Isabella coolly. “Having a good time?”
“I’m sorry, Cam. I went for your drink and banged into an old friend from school. We started reminiscing, and our favorite song came on like serendipity, and we got carried away.”
“And Fred?”
“Won’t take no for an answer?”
Cameron softened. He shouldn’t always think the worst of people. Everyone had reasons for making their decisions. “He’s an interesting guy.”