Saige returned to Wolvercraft Manor with the thought of ghosts jumbled through her mind. Jasper had left to rehearse with the band for the evening’s entertainment. She scanned the wedding programme in her hand: The Roaring Twenties Under the Stars. She snorted.
Zoe’s outdone herself.
She trailed up the stairs and wandered down the various halls that led to her bedroom. Perhaps she’d fire up her laptop and see if she could uncover any information about Theodosia Sinclair. Anything to keep her mind occupied. Otherwise, she’d fret about every bump and groan she heard in the house.
It’s just the wood constricting. Old houses do that. But just in case, I’ll grab my laptop and head downstairs.
She’d seen people sitting in the drawing room drinking tea. There was safety in numbers.
The floorboard behind her creaked. Saige stilled. It had sounded like the deceptively sly tap of a foot.
A tingly feeling crept up her neck, a sixth sense that urged her to turn around. Saige slowly moved to face the hallway behind her. It was empty.
“There you are.”
She jumped at the voice, her stomach feeling as though it had somersaulted up to her ribs.
Zoe stood behind her, one hand on her hip, the other hand holding a smartphone that had more bling than the crown jewels.
Saige inhaled a steadying breath. Apparently, Zoe’s experience with the catwalk had also given her the silent ninja skills to sneak up on others.
Zoe slung her long black hair over her shoulder. Her silver bracelets jingled. “You’re late. Where have you been?”
Saige stared. She sensed sweat on her hairline. Cold sweat. “Sorry?”
Zoe’s red-painted lips pinched at the corners. “I texted you an hour ago. The dress fitting?”
Her mind whirled. Had she missed something?
Of course you’ve missed something. Zoe doesn’t even like looking at you, let alone talking to you.
Zoe shot her eyes skyward. She looped her arm with Saige’s and propelled her down the hallway. “My bridesmaid Luisa is ill with a cold and is lying in bed upstairs. I do not need her ruining my wedding and making all my other bridesmaids sick.”
Saige scrambled to check her phone. She had it on silent. There was one text message.
2PM. MY SITTING ROOM. I NEED YOU FOR A DRESS FITTING. DON’T BE LATE!!!
Saige shifted her eyes between their linked arms. She felt like a prisoner being escorted to the gallows. “You need me to sit in for Luisa?”
Zoe’s smile was perfectly straight, teeth a flawless white, but her eyes were wolfish. “No. You’re now permanent bridesmaid number five.”
Before Saige could protest, Zoe pulled back the doors to her private sitting room, which linked with her enormous bed chamber. The bridesmaids were assembled around a dressmaker, who was busy altering each woman’s dress and making adjustments to the way the fabric fell around their already picture-perfect bodies. Several stylists sauntered around them, making notes on their clipboards.
Zoe’s voice rang smoothly through the room. “Relax, ladies. Here’s Luisa’s replacement.”
Saige didn’t appreciate the way everyone’s eyes fell on her in… she decided to go with surprise.
She unlinked her arm from Zoe’s, which she now suspected wasn’t an act of endearment but a crafty measure to ensure she couldn’t escape. “Can I talk to you privately about this?”
Zoe focused on her phone. “Sure, hon.” She shimmied closer, wrapped her arm around Saige, and raised the device above them. “Smile.”
Before she was ready, Saige was snapped up in what she hoped wasn’t a terrible photo. Zoe examined the image on her phone. “It’ll pass.”
Saige was convinced that meant “I look great compared to you.”
Zoe raised her eyes to the bridesmaids. “What’s a good hashtag for a new bridesmaid?”
Various responses were thrown around the room. Saige sat on a chaise lounge, resigned to the fact that she was now a bridesmaid. Her father would be ecstatic. She could imagine his beaming face.
He was probably the one who put Zoe up to it.
The dressmaker, a French woman Saige assumed was a world-renowned fashion designer, handed her Luisa’s red-rose sheath gown to change into.
Saige slipped behind a floral-patterned dressing screen. She narrowed her eyes at the dress. A weight of uncertainty pressed down on her. Saige was slim, but she struggled to stuff her midsection and bum into the gown. She seriously fretted she’d rip a seam.
“This isn’t going to work,” she called through the screen. “It’s too small. What a pity, Zo. I can’t be your bridesmaid.”
Who needs seven bridesmaids, anyway? She’ll have to do with six.
Zoe’s voice echoed back with excessive authority. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re about the same size as Luisa. That’s the only reason you got this gig. Fayette, can you attend to her please?”
The dressmaker, unabashed at Saige’s half nudity, strode around the divider to assist. In her slim-fitted black dress and fluffy collar, Fayette reminded Saige of an overly pampered poodle. Her broken English came out with an annoyed huff. “You are all sweaty. The dress sticks. You look like red… ah, what are the words?” She rattled off in French. “Ah, bottom look like big, ripe apple. Only lumpy… and saggy.”
Saige blew hair off her face to prevent saying something cynical.
And your face looks like an excellent fist target.
Fayette got to work fixing the back of the dress, pinning extra material around Saige’s hips. “We must hide big bottom.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Finally, the dressmaker was able to zip her into the gown. There was a split that ran up the leg, dangerously close to revealing more than it should. Saige would have to be careful when the wind blew.
She stepped out from behind the divider and caught a glance of herself in the full-length mirror.
I actually don’t look half bad.
Who am I kidding? It’s the best I’ve looked in years. With some striking make-up, I might actually be able to pull this off.
She beamed at the other bridesmaids, who assessed her with silent once-overs.
Zoe examined the dress, her perfectly manicured eyebrows curved in a frown. “The hair is wrong.”
Saige touched the ends of her hair, which swept past her shoulder in its messy ponytail. “It’ll be nice on the day, I promise.”
“No. It’s the colour. It just doesn’t go with the dress.”
“I’m not dying my hair, Zoe.”
She scrunched her hands into fists and stamped her high heel into the floor. “God, it’s so unfair. Luisa had the perfect skin tone and hair colour. She would have completed my wedding photos perfectly. Damn you, Luisa. Getting sick so close to my wedding. I mean, how selfish could she be?”
Her bridesmaids bustled around her, offering her words of sympathy.
Saige stood there, wishing Fayette would come back and get her out of the damn dress.
* * *
It turned out the fitting, gathering, girlie get-together—whatever it was—was far from over. Zoe insisted her bridesmaids remain to see her bridal gown. The women appropriately oohed and aahed, clapping their hands in false delight when Zoe stepped out from the dressing screen, her eyes damp with unabashed tears. Saige couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The gown was fairy-tale pretty, tight in the bodice but flowing down to the floor in an overly expanded train.
Zoe must think she’s royalty. How is she supposed to fit through a door in that thing?
Fayette had really outdone herself. The dress was an artwork of intricate glamour and style, and yet, despite the gown’s fluttery chiffon, silk tulle, and beaded lace, Saige got the impression of a marshmallow plopped onto a meringue.
Zoe gave a little squeal of joy as she twirled around. “I’m going for dreamy but feminine. What do you think, girls?”
There were bouts of “You look gorgeous,” “It’s beautiful,” “Xav’s not going to know what hit him.”
Thankfully, Saige was spared answering when her phone buzzed in her pocket. The screen flashed with a short message from Harriette. The pair had exchanged numbers in the library, but Saige honestly hadn’t expected to hear from her so quickly.
I’ve found something. Talk tonight?
Saige quickly typed back, Yes, her insides shrinking into the size of a walnut. If what Harriette suspected was true, Zoe and Xav’s wedding was… dangerous. Zoe could be in harm’s way.
I have to talk to Zoe.
Saige waited around until the dressmaker and other bridesmaids had left. Zoe now wore a tight pair of jeans and an orange blouse that only she could pull off with her tanned skin and raven-black hair. She had her arms crossed, scrutinising her wedding gown, which had been returned to the mannequin.
Saige meandered closer. An astounded breath escaped her clenched teeth. Now that she was around the partition, she could see what her future sister-in-law evaluated so critically. “You have three dresses?”
Zoe tilted her head to the side to study the array from a different angle. “Yes. My wedding gown for the ceremony, my reception gown, and my after-party dress.” She pointed at each one with decisive confidence.
Saige’s jaw went slack. Each dress looked skimpier than the last. The after-party dress was practically white lace over a see-through mesh that would barely scrape beneath the buttocks.
Zoe tossed her hair over her shoulder with a trivialising shake of her head. “You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”
Yes.
Saige slid her hands into her pockets. “No. Of course not. You only get married once, right?”
Though Saige expected Xav would be the first in a long line of men that waited for Zoe down the aisle.
If the curse doesn’t claim her first.
A silence hung around them.
Zoe’s nose wrinkled. “Do you want something?”
Saige realised she was holding her breath. “I just wanted to know if you’re… okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I just….” Saige scrambled for the right words. “I just mean this house is… different. I hope it hasn’t frightened you.”
God, I am making such a mess of this.
Zoe’s eyes went from narrow to slitty. “What are you getting at? Are you having another episode? Xav told me what happened on the yacht. You shouldn’t stop taking your medication, Saige. This is my wedding. I don’t need you screwing it up.”
Screw it up?
Saige’s blood boiled like an acidic hot spring.
Fine. I’ll just let this curse eat you alive.
But she’d never forgive herself if something happened to Zoe. Stuck up and egotistical as she was, Xav loved her, and Saige didn’t want to see her brother suffer. She had to approach this from a different angle.
She remembered her mother’s words of caution. “Don’t let the wedding go ahead.”
Could Saige somehow prevent the wedding from happening? Or could she plant doubt in Zoe’s head, make her rethink marrying Xav?
No. That will hurt Xav too.
A light-bulb moment struck her mind.
I don’t have to stop the wedding. I just have to postpone it.
The women who had died at Wolvercraft Manor had done so because they were on the island. Saige’s mother and father had wed in a castle in Scotland and had spent many happy years together. It wasn’t until they returned to Wolvercraft Manor that her mother had supposedly gone crazy and committed suicide. The curse had waited for her, biding its time. Which meant it only affected the women who married into the Wolvercraft family when they arrived on the island. The house welcomed them, luring them in with its romantic, fairy-tale charm, and yet something deep and sinister watched from behind its windows.
Saige nodded vigorously. “Do you really want to get married here? I mean, this place isn’t you. Wouldn’t you prefer a tropical island? A beach where the sun shines? Not Ashvall? Rain and mist are a real risk to the wedding.”
Zoe shot her eyes to the ceiling with impatience. Something that resembled a twisted smile crept over her face. “I cannot believe you are doing this. Are you actually trying to sabotage my wedding?”
Saige tasted panic in her mouth. “No, of course not.”
Just trying to postpone it.
“Because it sounds like you are.” Zoe adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “I know you don’t like me, but I’m marrying your brother and becoming part of this family, so you need to get over it.”
Saige managed to hold her voice level—just. “Listen. It’s not that… it’s just….”
“What? For crying out loud, what is it, you crazy psycho?”
Saige stumbled back. Never, in her entire life, had someone spoken to her like that. The media had been cruel, but at least they’d been sophisticated with their insults. But this? “Crazy psycho.” That was schoolgirl mean. Saige felt tears threaten to spill in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away. “I’m worried about you. This house… it’s not a normal house. Can’t you feel it?”
Saige realised as soon as the words were out that it had been the wrong thing to say. Zoe looked at her like she’d sprouted three additional arms and a reptilian head. She lifted a hand to wedge distance between them. “Stay away from me. You’re having another one of your… moments. You can stay for the wedding because that’s what Xav wants, but after that you get the hell away from both of us. Forget about being a bridesmaid. I’ll content myself with only having six.”
She turned and dramatically flounced out the door.
Saige watched her shadow disappear. It was the most embarrassed she had ever felt in her life.
Maybe I should let the curse get her.
Saige shook her head, knowing she’d never let that happen.