Page 22

Chapter 1

Evan Hollister wasn’t meant to be here.

Or so everyone in this chapel must have been thinking. What sort of daftie would attend his ex-boyfriend’s wedding after such a toxic breakup? At least he was sitting alone in the back row, so the other guests would have to stop staring at him once the ceremony started.

Despite the awkwardness, Evan didn’t regret being here. This was one of seventeen same-sex weddings taking place in Scotland just after midnight on the thirty-first of December, marking the official advent of marriage equality. It was an honor to have been invited to such an historic occasion.

Besides, it wasn’t every day he got to eat, drink, and dance in a 589-year-old castle.

The Auld Keep’s Great Hall was still laden with red ribbons and white faerie lights for Christmas, though in a few minutes it would be Hogmanay, the true center of the Scottish holiday season. The string trio in the corner was playing a cheery version of Pachelbel’s Canon. Through the nearest narrow window cut into the ancient stone wall, Evan saw the first sweep of snowflakes. Fergus and John had a perfect night for a perfect wedding.

Evan would do everything in his power to keep it safe.

Officially he was off duty, but psychologically…not so much. As an MI5 counterterrorism officer, he could never truly relax—especially not now, when his current operation was investigating threats to same-sex weddings. He’d seen no intelligence indicating tonight’s nuptials were in danger, but it never hurt to stay vigilant.

Bang on the stroke of midnight, the music changed. The celebrant, a forty-ish woman wearing a white robe draped with a rainbow stole, approached the altar from a chamber to the left, followed by John’s maid of honor and best man. To the celebrant’s right, a curtain opened on a small side-altar space. Out stepped Fergus’s brother and best mate.

Evan was flooded with memories of drinking and laughing in the company of these two lads. This side of the chapel was filled with Fergus’s family and close friends, plus teammates from their LGBTQ football club, the Woodstoun Warriors. Many had once loved Evan; now they either hated him with the venom of a thousand vipers or tolerated him because he scored goals.

After a dramatic pause, the music swelled. Evan rose to his feet with the rest of the guests, his stomach rippling with dread. He checked the chapel’s rear door, glad it was situated at his seven o’clock rather than directly behind him.

At the front of the chapel, the happy couple appeared. Fergus approached from the left, a tall, lean ginger in a mostly green kilt, the same age as Evan at twenty-five; and John from the right, a short, burly man of only twenty-two, with dark hair and a red tartan kilt. Opposites in none of the ways that mattered, they met before the altar, ready to join their lives forever.

From the corner of his eye, Evan saw someone enter through the rear chapel door. He jerked his head round to see Fergus’s cousin Maggie, a harried-looking blonde of about thirty. She slunk into the back of the room, cringing at her own tardiness. When she spied Evan, her face brightened, then scrunched up in confusion.

Evan stepped behind his chair so she could move in beside him. With a grateful grimace, she scooted past him into the back row, then leaned in to speak as the music crescendoed.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Maggie said. “Didn’t realize you and Fergus were still friends.”

We’re not. Evan didn’t deserve that friendship. He probably hadn’t even deserved to return to the Warriors, the team he’d once captained, back before…

Before Evan’s job had yanked away the connection between him and Fergus, tearing out their hearts in the process.

The guests sat, and the ceremony began. Rather than listen to the vows of the man he’d once hoped to marry, Evan mentally reviewed the castle’s layout. The fact he could spend a wedding calculating which exit to herd people through in the event of a terrorist attack probably meant he would’ve made a terrible husband.

There was another movement at the rear door. Evan turned to see a slim man in his early twenties, wearing a smart black suit which matched his glasses and hair. The latter was carefully sculpted into a swooping quiff above his forehead. A few strands at his temple had fallen loose, either by design or through the travails of a hard night’s work.

Evan’s “reconnaissance” told him this was Ben Reid, the wedding planner. Fergus had sung his praises at football training sessions, telling the team how Ben had rescued them after their previous planner had overbooked herself and canceled less than three weeks ago.

Ben crept forward over the plush crimson carpet to slide onto the chair opposite Evan on the other side of the aisle. Evan followed his gaze back to Fergus and John, who were now exchanging rings.

“Fergus,” the celebrant said, “please place this ring on John’s finger and repeat after me: ‘I take you for now and for always, for always is always now.’”

Maggie gave a soft snort, then whispered, “What’s that even mean?”

Evan shrugged, then glanced over at Ben to find him mesmerized, his eyes glazed over with bliss. What relief it must be to set aside all his wedding-planning worries and simply enjoy the moment.

Then Ben blinked and furrowed his brow, as though realizing or remembering something. He turned his head to look straight at Evan.

Evan froze. It wasn’t like him—or any spy—to get caught out staring. Usually he was much more subtle.

Ben released a giddy, “Isn’t this brilliant?” grin, the sort one would share with a close mate. Evan couldn’t help smiling back.

Ben blinked rapidly, his eyes nearly crossing. He looked away, shifting in his seat and tugging at his shirt collar. Then he glanced back at Evan and grazed his teeth over his bottom lip.

Evan’s mouth watered. He swallowed hard and looked at the grooms. You can’t flirt with the wedding planner of the man whose heart you crushed—especially not during the ceremony. He was pretty sure that was a rule.

Just then, Maggie leaned into his personal space, trying to see around the tall man sitting in front of her as the grooms had their first kiss. Then she squeezed Evan’s knee—in apology or sympathy, he wasn’t sure.

A glance at Ben showed the wedding planner with his arms crossed and his shoulder angled away. He was no doubt assuming Evan was with Maggie, that he’d been barking up the wrong tree.

Evan couldn’t imagine being anyone’s right tree. Who would want the secrecy and lies of this life? His dad, a fellow spook, had urged Evan to find a nice man within the Service, someone who could hear the words I can’t tell you without taking it personally. Someone Evan could be “real” with, whatever that meant.

Ben stood and slipped out of the chapel as quietly as he’d slipped in. The Great Hall now seemed strangely bare and cold. Evan wished its enormous hearth was full of flames instead of flowers.

The ceremony ended, none too soon. Evan stood for the recessional, avoiding Fergus’s eyes so he wouldn’t see Fergus avoiding his eyes.

A soft hand touched his back as the two families filed out. “It was good of you to come,” Maggie said. Then she looked round. “You didn’t bring anyone special?”

“No.” Evan scoured his memory. “What about your partner…Gavin, was it?”

“Och, we broke up ages ago. I can’t believe you remember that prat’s name.” She looked him up and down. “You’re still gay?”

“Utterly.”

Maggie frowned. “Save a dance for me anyway. We can be sad singletons together.” She scurried off to talk to the rest of Fergus’s family.

Evan made his way alone down the spiral stone staircase to the banquet hall, which looked like the set of a medieval film. A pair of iron chandeliers loomed over each end of the hall, filled with electric candles that sent a thousand shimmers over the pale stone walls. The hearth here contained a real fire, contained by a spiky iron grate.

The dour vibe was softened by the towering Christmas tree at one end and the ten-foot-tall wreath hanging on the wall at the other, both accented with white faerie lights and red silk ribbons. The room smelled of pine with a hint of cinnamon.

Though he knew he should mingle, Evan needed to survey the room first for potential threats. With all fifty guests plus staff members and caterers packed onto the small dance floor or around the U-shaped dining table, it was hard to keep track of everyone.

After fetching a drink, he stood near the tree, his back to the wall, surveilling the crowd whilst pretending to be absorbed in his phone.

He saw Ben’s approach as soon as it began, halfway across the room, which gave Evan several seconds to calm his racing heart and prepare a look of pleasant surprise.

“Hiya.” Ben leaned into his field of view. “Am I interrupting?”

Evan opted for honesty. “As a matter of fact, I’m busy fake-reading my phone to avoid looking a complete saddo.”

“Oh, well, it’s totally working.”

“Because I’ve spent weeks practicing my pasted-on smile.” He demonstrated, curving his lips up while keeping his eyes empty.

Ben laughed, his chin tilting up at a charming angle as the faerie lights glinted off his glasses. Then he extended his hand. “I’m Ben Reid, the wedding planner.”

I know. Evan introduced himself and added, “I heard you were rather a miracle worker with this wedding. You pulled all this together last minute, aye?”

“I’d loads of help. Fergus and John’s friends are amazing.” Ben winced and pressed his lips together. “I mean, your friends. All of your—plural you—your friends. Sorry.”

“It won’t kill me to hear the grooms’ names, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Evan realized what was happening. “Did you come over here because I looked pathetic? I don’t need your pity.”

“Good, because you’ve not got it. I don’t pity you—I’m in awe of you.” Ben gave Evan’s elbow a fleeting touch. “You must have known you’d be miserable, yet you came anyway. To me that’s incredibly courageous.”

“Oh.” Evan rubbed at the ache behind his breastbone, thinking of his MI5 Commendation for Bravery, the one he’d held but a few minutes at the awarding ceremony before it had been whisked away to be kept in eternal secrecy.

“I had to come. I wanted to come.” Evan struggled to express his sorrow without sounding like he was searching for sympathy. “I still regret what happened between me and Fergus, but seeing him and John so happy together…it feels as though things worked out the way they were meant.”

Ben’s ink-dark eyes were soft and kind. “So this gave you closure.”

“You could say that.”

“Interesting. Usually people find closure at funerals , not weddings.”

“True.” Perhaps this wedding was a funeral of sorts. Perhaps that was why Evan was here—to face the fact his old life was well and truly dead. “How much do you know about me?”

“Literally only what your teammate Robert told me a minute ago: that you’re Fergus’s ex and no one thought you’d show up—I mean, not that you were invited because they thought you’d say no. I’m sure they wanted you here.” Ben winced again. “I’ve already said too much. Curse this babbling mouth of mine.”

At the sound of the word mouth , Evan focused on Ben’s lips. They were as full and red as the Christmas ribbons on the tree beside them. Evan wanted to do something, anything to that mouth besides curse it.

He offered another smile. “What else would you like to know?”

* * *

Everything , Ben thought. I want to know everything.

This Norse-god gorgeous blond was well out of his league, but that had never stopped Ben before. Thus far their flirtation seemed on track, and Ben’s habit of speaking before thinking seemed to charm Evan rather than turn him off.

Normally Ben didn’t try to hook up while he was working, but that moment of connection upstairs, when Evan had flashed him that crooked smile—the same one he’d released just now—made for an irresistible exception.

Now the trick was to hold Evan’s attention. Small talk wouldn’t do, and obviously the usual How do you know the couple? wedding chatter was right out.

“Tell me your favorite moment from Christmas last week.”

Evan’s eyes lit up, and his smile accentuated the dimple in his chin. “Don’t laugh, but my favorite Christmas moment every year is that last trip oot to the byre to see to the kye.”

Ben felt his own gaze go blank as he mentally rewound the final few words. Evan’s Orkney accent was deliciously distinctive, with its lilting cadence and heavily rolled R s.

“I grew up on a farm, see,” Evan added.

Ben gasped. “Oh, the kye , as in cows. Why’s that your favorite?”

“My family’s big and loud, and there’s neighbors coming in and oot the hoose all day Christmas Eve. So those few minutes in the barn at the end of the day, the way the kye are all just standing aboot swishing their tails, or lying in the straw with their legs tucked under, so peaceful and quiet-like…” He passed a self-conscious hand through his golden hair. “I’m not religious, but it almost feels holy.”

The bustle of the banquet hall seemed to hush as Evan’s afternoon sky–blue eyes went soft with tenderness. Ben could almost smell the fresh hay and feel the warmth radiating off the sleepy beasts.

“That sounds lovely,” he said, needing to clear his throat.

“It is.” Evan seemed lost in memory. “This year, being home for Christmas meant more than usual.”

Ben felt an unwelcome tug of emotion. He wanted to feel Evan against him—not feel anything for him. He changed the subject slightly. “So you’re an animal lover?”

Even blinked, then nodded. “Beasties aren’t fooled by facades. You’ve no choice but to be real with them.” He chuckled, as if at a private joke between him and himself. “So what was your favorite Christmas moment?”

“You’ll think me shallow as a puddle, but my favorite moment was when I got my new phone.”

Evan laughed, deep and throaty. “Sounds special.”

“It was.” Ben covered his face with both hands in embarrassment. “My phone is like my baby—only most people don’t get a new baby every two years.”

“Or if they do, they don’t trade in the old one.”

“Right? Aren’t I awful?”

Evan moved closer and bent his head to speak low near Ben’s ear. “I think you’re probably not awful.”

Ben suppressed a shiver at the feel of Evan’s warm breath. He angled his head to lock their gazes. “We’ll see about that.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Reid?”

Ben turned to see Clive, Dunleven Castle’s part-time footman. “Yes? Is everything all right?” This better be important.

“It’s nearly time for the toast and I can’t find the champagne glasses. They were brought in, apparently?” Clive added with a noticeable cringe.

“Yes, just a moment.” Ben turned back to Evan. “I need to sort this or we’ll all be drinking champagne out of coffee mugs.”

“Away and do your job. I’m not going anywhere.” Evan gestured to the door. “Likely none of us are, if this snow doesn’t stop.”

Ben groaned. It was a long drive from the castle to the nearest road that might be gritted and plowed. As he followed Clive across the banquet hall, Ben opened his to-do list on his phone, tapped the microphone icon, then said, “Ask Lord Andrew about accommodating four dozen unexpected guests in his castle.”

He found Fergus’s young teammate Duncan Harris, whose parents owned a posh home-decor shop, from which they’d donated loads of last-minute items. “Where did you leave the champagne flutes?”

“They’re with all the other glassware. ’Mon, I’ll show you.” They entered the kitchen, where Duncan went to an open box and pulled out a tall, narrow, stemless glass which flared at the top. It could have been a kid’s toy called My First Pint .

“Ah.” The footman arched a disapproving eyebrow. “I thought they were bud vases.”

“They’re a modern design,” Duncan said. “Fergus’s choice.”

Clive sniffed. “They’ll need washed and dried.”

“I can do that,” Ben said, desperate to stay on schedule.

“You wash, I’ll dry.” Duncan lifted the heavy box with ease and headed for the sink.

As the two of them worked on the glasses, Duncan said, “I noticed you chatting to Evan Hollister.”

Ben’s face warmed at the sound of the name. “He seemed lonely. But also lovely, and not just on the outside.”

“Erm, yeah. He’s…” Duncan examined the glass as he dried it. “Do you know why he and Fergus broke up?“

“I try not to delve into my clients’ romantic history.” This wasn’t strictly true, as he was a glutton for secrets.

“Normally I mind my own business,” Duncan said, “but if you fancy Evan, it’s better you hear the story from me rather than from someone who hates him.”

Ben’s stomach felt suddenly sour. “Go on.”

“So, last April, the Warriors were about to play the quarterfinal in the Scottish Amateur Cup tournament. We were just starting warmups when we got a delivery. Evan had sent his captain’s armband to Fergus with a note saying he’d run off to Belgium with his new lover and he was never coming back.”

Ben stared at Duncan, trying to process the sheer dickheadedness of Evan’s departure. “If that’s the version of the story from someone who doesn’t hate him…”

“I’m a wee bit biased. Evan brought me into the team and believed in me when I was struggling at the beginning.” Duncan checked over his shoulder, then leaned closer. “I don’t know what happened in Belgium, but when Evan came back in July, he’d changed.”

“In a bad way?”

“In a deep way.” Duncan shook his head. “I’m just a second-year psychology student. I know enough to know that I know nothing.” He stopped drying the glass. “Except that Evan deserves a second chance. And if his Belgian-lover story is just that—a story—then the rest of us deserve the truth. It’s the only way we can move forward as a team again.”

“Are you saying you’d like me to play detective?”

Duncan chuckled. “I’m saying I’d like you—I’d like someone —to steal Evan’s Grumpy McGrumpy Pants and never give them back.”

Ben laughed to cover his uneasiness. If Evan wasn’t a callous bastard, he sounded like a man with wounds a one-night stand couldn’t heal. It had been years since Ben had dared to try anything more, so he definitely wasn’t up to Duncan’s challenge.

Evan might be worth it , said that voice inside him, the one which all too often spoke inconvenient truths.