“You’ve moved on? I had no reason to believe you wouldn’t, but…” A consummate actress, Moira perched on the chair’s edge and buried her distraught face in her hands.“Oh, Cian.”
Not for one second did Piper think this farce was real. If Moira had truly loved Cian, she’d have been shocked, hurt, angry, and possibly run for the door. But she hadn’t. And Piper hadn’t failed to see Moira’s crafty gleam, right before the hysterics started.
“Piper…”
Her face went numb, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away from Moira, who peered through parted fingers at them. The woman was shrewd enough to recognize the dismissal in Cian’s tone.
He blocked Piper’s view and set his hands atop her shoulders before pulling them back as if burned. He balled his fists and held them rigid by his sides as if he didn’t want to betray Moira by touching Piper again.
Her eyes locked with his and she could see the uncomfortable apology he wanted to say but couldn’t seem to voice.
“Don’t do this,” Piper whispered. “Don’t welcome her back in.”
“She was my fiancée.”
“Precisely. Shewasyour fiancée.”
“Is,” he corrected. “Sheismy fiancée. I…” Cian shrugged in a helpless manner.
He’d chosen.
No more words were needed.
Piper held up a hand to forestall anything else he might say. “I got it.”
Four long strides took her out the door and into the hallway. She hadn’t realized Cian was on her heels until Moira said, “Oh, let her go, darling. We both know she’s nobody.”
Unable to hear anything else through the ringing in her ears, Piper rushed up the stairs to her room.
Cian’s stomachrebelled as he stared at the empty doorway with the disturbing feeling he’d just royally screwed the pooch. Piper couldn’t get away fast enough, and he couldn’t blame her. What the devil made him say Moira was his fiancée? The treacherous hellcat had been gone from his life for over two years, and didn’t deserve his loyalty. But they hadn’t formally broken up. He’d fully intended to rectify the situation back then, but he’d gotten the not-so tragic news of her death. And until she’d strolled into his home today, he’d believed he’d never have the chance to find closure.
Sure, and it wasn’t gladness in his heart when he’d first seen her tonight. If he’d felt even a smidgeon of happiness, he’d have hied it straight to the doctor to have his head examined without delay.
“Cian? Darling?”
Furious with himself, with her, and with Ryker for not uncovering her whereabouts before now, he whirled on her. He could feel the heat of his rage climbing his neck, and that seething fury was bubbling up inside his mouth, ready to spew ugliness like a volcano. Like lava flowing unimpeded toward the sea, the harsh words were gaining momentum and ready to decimate everything in their path—namely the triumphant bitch before him.
Had she really thought she could walk in here and flutter her lashes with a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth smile? Did she think to have him eating out of her hand?
Apparently, she did.
“I’m not your darlin’, Moira. You lost any claim you had when you betrayed me and humiliated me in front of the Witches’ Council.” He strode back across the room. “You faked your death to boot. Who does that?” With his hands on his hips and a black scowl on his face, he said, “I’ll tell you. A right horrible minger who doesn’t care for another person but her fucking self.”
“What is this about, Cian? That little slapper who ran away? She’s not woman enough for you.”
He reeled back as if she’d struck him, shocked she’d had the bollocks to insult Piper, yet again. “Piper is worth a thousand of you, Moira. Make that one hundred thousand. And I’ll not have you insult her in my house. It’ll take me a week of Sundays to fix the mischief you’ve whipped up this night.”
“Mischief,” Moira murmured. “Yes, I suppose you’d see it that way, wouldn’t you?”
She rose to her feet and sashayed to him. Each movement a rolling step designed to add sway to her ample hips. If Cian didn’t despise her to the lengths he did, he might appreciate the effort she was putting forth to seduce him. As it was, she made his skin crawl.
She touched his arm, and he felt a sharp stab.
“What the bloody hell was that?” He jerked his arm away, but not before her ring pierced his skin a second time.
Moira touched her hand to her mouth as if she were surprised, then made a production of appearing contrite. “There’s a burr on the bottom side of this ring. I’m terribly sorry. Until it tears my clothing or scratches me, I forget it’s there.” She gave him an innocent smile, but he recognized her game. “I’ll drop it by the jeweler this week. I’d hate for anyone else to get hurt.”
“Yeah, you do that. Better yet, why don’t you go right now? You’re not welcome here anymore, Moira. If I see you again, you’ll wish I hadn’t.”