To Shackle a Shrew (Southern Sanctuary Book 7)

by Jane Cousins

  “I need another drink.” Devon handed her glass off to her hair, which snaked out to place the glass down on a table a few feet away.

  “No.” Liam stepped forward, his large warm hand cupping her elbow. “We’re going to dance.” Using his superior strength he pulled her along gently, headed for the dance floor located next to the gazebo.

  “No…. I….” Devon’s voice suddenly dried up as she found herself wedged up against Liam on the rather crowded dance floor.

  “You going to make a scene, Devon? Or are you going to put those arms of yours around me?”

  Devon huffed out a put upon sigh before reaching up to place her hands on his shoulders. Gasping softly in surprise as he pulled her even closer, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

  “The age gap really has you spooked, huh? Just think of it like this, in goldfish years I’m one hundred and eight.”

  Devon didn’t want to let on that it was his close proximity that had her flummoxed, not his age. How long had it been since a man had held her, just held her in his arms like this? Too long. Her sex life back in Sydney was sporadic. She had a tendency to take charge. Choosing her partners, making them an offer they couldn’t refuse and then indulging in a quick round or two between the sheets. The sweat barely dry on her skin before she was pulling on her clothes, making her excuses and sashaying out the door.

  No commitment, no conversation and no dancing.

  This close she could smell the aftershave clinging to his freshly shaven jaw. It was amazing, Nell’s magical blue ointment had completely healed his burns. “You’re not scared of me even a little bit, are you?”

  Liam shrugged. “I’m known for being a bit of a daredevil.”

  “Or perhaps just not very smart.” Devon shot back, surprised to find her nipples had hardened at his closeness and that her hair was happily, almost hypnotically, swaying slightly from side to side in time with the soft blues number being played. Traitor, well her hair might have fallen under the spell of this charming rogue but she was made of sterner stuff.

  “Sad, the Princess sends the verbal daggers flying but they fail to find their target.” He pulled her closer still for a brief moment, out of the way of a couple encroaching too close.

  Devon’s right eyebrow arched upwards for a moment. “What if I mentioned the ‘M’ word – would that find the bullseye?”

  “Now why would you spoil our mutual attraction by bringing up marriage?” Liam leaned down so his hot breath played over the sensitive skin of Devon’s throat. “Unless I have you running scared. Perhaps you’re the one afraid of me, Princess.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Devon tried to push him away but his arms were like steel and the dance floor too crowded. “And I am not physically attracted to you.”

  “Who said anything about physical? I was talking about our mutual mental attraction to one another.” That dimple flashed in his cheek, mocking her. “The give, the take, the sparring, the verbal thrusts.”

  Devon felt heat rise in her cheeks, something about the way he said that last word. “You’re an idiot.”

  “But an idiot you are physically attracted to, right?” Liam couldn’t help but prod.

  Devon’s dark green-flecked eyes shot up to meet his. “Yeah, right.” Damn, her words were supposed to come out hard and cynical, not breathless. Offensive, remember. “You know, I’ve suddenly just realised I know nothing about you, except for what you filled out on your questionnaire.” She felt his entire body twitch for a moment, though that lazy confident expression on his face never wavered, interesting. “Let me see, when it came to where you live you didn’t exactly state hobo, but it was implied, would you care to elaborate?”

  Liam moved them slightly to the left. “What can I say, I’m a free spirit.”

  “Oh, come on. Everyone has ties to somewhere. Are you trying to tell me you don’t even have a postal address where your unemployment cheques are being sent?”

  “Wow, you don’t think very highly of me at all, do you?”

  “You’re the one who filled out the questionnaire.”

  “I thought it was a joke at the time, plus, in my feeble defence, I was really, really drunk.”

  “Shocker.” The corners of Devon’s lips twitched up.

  “And for the sake of clarity, I am not collecting government benefits, I do work for a living.”

  Devon’s right eyebrow shot upwards again for a split second expressing her disbelief. “Do tell?” It was a little hard to judge in this light but she could have sworn high colour flooded Liam’s cheeks for a moment. “You said you did the occasional photographic work, is it dirty?”

  Liam choked out a bark of laughter. “Ah, so I mentioned I’m into photography.”

  “You wrote that you dabbled in it, whatever that means.”

  “Dirty?” Liam mused over the word, then grinned. “Yeah, I suppose you could definitely say it gets dirty.”

  Devon rolled her eyes. Yami help her, he was some sort of girlie photographer, just as she had originally feared. “Men…” she gave him the haughtiest glare she had in her repertoire.

  “Women…” Liam scoffed back. “… so judgmental. If I told you I was an award winning photographer, would you believe me?”

  “Award winning? Let me guess, you sent some half naked photos of an airhead girlfriend into Playboy Magazine and they published them?”

  Liam grinned, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with humour. “I cannot tell a lie, Princess. I have been published in Playboy Magazine.” He met Devon’s heated glare and his grin actually widened. “More than once, I might add.”

  “Grrr….” It took everything Devon had not to rake that smug grin off Liam’s face. The anger shooting through her was on behalf of all woman kind she tried to tell herself, not because there was a tiny, really tiny, miniscule part of her that was disappointed because she now had incontrovertible proof that Liam Chambers was just another scheming, lazy, sleazy Merrow. “I’m bored with dancing. I need a drink.” She dropped her arms from around his neck and stopped moving.

  Liam only chuffed a laugh in response before leading the way off the dance floor. He only had himself to blame he decided. Devon’s ramrod back and her sudden determination to ignore his presence were clear indicators that he had pissed the Princess off big time.

  Funny, even though he might have been smiling, Liam was feeling a little pissed off himself. Though why he was surprised that Devon would immediately assume the worst possible scenario regarding his career he wasn’t sure. He could have tried harder he supposed, to convince her. Detail all of his work, his awards. Poseidon, if he mentioned a couple of his high profile magazine covers she’d probably recognise his work. Photographing extreme sports was a pretty specialised field, and he’d earnt a reputation as being just as much of a daredevil and just as mad as many of his subjects. And it was dirty work, though perhaps he shouldn’t have teased her about that element.

  But why should he have to defend himself? And if he had, she’d probably only continue to believe him to be a liar. Yeah, that’s why he hadn’t bothered, not because his feelings were hurt. Not because they’d spent time together, talked, laughed… connected.

  Well, he’d only have to try harder… wait, what?

  Merrow were competitive by nature but generally only where money was concerned. Why did he care what the Makura Princess thought of him? So what if she believed he was some sort of sleazy soft porn photographer. He was only here to protect her, except, nothing had happened on the assassination threat front, had it? The only one who’d gotten hurt so far, had been him. And his accident could have easily been engineered by one of his half-brothers. They had a long history of animosity, practical jokes and elaborate paybacks. Had he been played? He bit back a laugh, well, if that was the case, then he was done.

  He halted beside Devon at the bar, she shot him a haughty green-flecked death glare before pointedly turning her back on him to request a fresh glass of champagne from the bart
ender. Suddenly his cock was hard, his gut churning… challenge accepted. Just like that, with one haughty look from Devon he was back in the game. He might be departing tomorrow, but tonight, he’d play.

  As Devon took her drink and turned, Liam deliberately moved closer, crowding her, effectively trapping her as he reached over to pluck a freshly poured beer off the bar behind her.

  “What are you-” Devon attempted to dig her elbow into his rock hard stomach, but there was no give and the man refused to step away.

  He leaned down, whispering in to her ear. “Now, now Princess. You’re not going to cause a scene are you?” He settled his hip against her taut belly, effectively trapping her.

  “Why you-” Devon was cut off as Liam’s head snapped up, a welcoming smile suddenly gracing his handsome face.

  “Why, if it isn’t Doctor Blue eyes.”

  “Nell, please.” Nell Montgomery, her honey blonde hair falling in gentle waves down around her shoulders looked elegant in a blue silk shift dress and silver wedge sandals. Her wide blue eyes shifting between Liam and Devon, a small knowing smile gracing her lovely features.

  A shadow passed over Liam, and there was a rumbling sound. What the hell? Was a large cloud blocking the moon? Liam looked behind Nell and up… and up. By the Trident, the man following Nell was big and wide, really, really wide.

  If Liam could only pick three adjectives to describe the man then besides tall and wide, he’d have to go with grim. The man looked like he represented the reaper’s guild. Dressed all in black, with stoic set features, shaved black hair and bottomless black eyes. It would not have surprised Liam one little bit if the man introduced himself as ‘Death’. Nell did know this guy was following her right?

  There was more rumbling and then death spoke. “Doctor Blue eyes?”

  Liam’s life blipped through his mind, the highs, the lows. So this was how his life would end, not by throwing himself out of a plane or falling on a glacier, no, it would end because of a quip.

  Nell reached back and patted death on the chest affectionately. “Behave. Liam, this is my husband, Drum.”

  Drum’s black eyes didn’t blink as he studied Liam closely, clearly cataloguing the quickest way to wipe him off the face of the earth. “Merrow.” The giant acknowledged, through gritted teeth before switching his focus left. “Devon.”

  “Hulk.” Devon acknowledged in return, doing her damndest to ignore Liam who continued to stand way too close, his body heat intermingling with her own.

  Liam couldn’t help but admire his Princess, the girl had moxie to poke at death.

  “How are you two enjoying the party?” Nell enquired, her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Hasn’t Gigi done a wonderful job with the decorations?”

  Liam cast his gaze dutifully around the square, the fairy lights twinkling merrily decorating the gazebo and the hovering globes overhead, providing soft light as well as heat. The place was packed, people chatting, mingling and dancing, waiters ducking and weaving through the crowed taking empty glasses and serving fresh drinks.

  Liam was about to comment on how splendid the square looked when something very disturbing caught his eye. When he’d first seen it he’d dismissed the tattoo on Drum’s neck as just being very life like but now as his gaze locked with that of the snake, its black eyes appeared to glitter. Liam would have sworn to Poseidon himself that the tattoo had moved position slightly, that its gaze was fixed firmly on him. No, it couldn’t be, it had to be a trick of the light, yet… that didn’t stop sweat from breaking out on his forehead.

  He was saved by Devon, of all people, a lock of her hair snapping out to flick at Drum’s nose. “Quit it.” She growled before turning her attention to Nell. “Yes. The place looks great, and it’s a perfect night for it, though I’m glad someone thought to provide heaters.” She acknowledged the floating balls of magic. “But what’s up with the purple one in the middle, does it have special significance?”

  Nell looked back over her shoulder for a moment. “That one is an early warning system.”

  “A warning system?” Devon echoed.

  “If Canary changes colour, the light above him will change colour accordingly.”

  Devon frowned. “There’s a canary?” Nell was making no sense. Going up on tip-toe she peered around Drum. With the added height she could now clearly see the small bobbing purple light, hovering over a medium size pedestal on which sat a rabbit, unmistakeably bright purple in colour. “That’s a bunny rabbit.”

  Liam, wedged up next to her, likewise frowned in that direction.

  “Yes.” Nell nodded. “And his name is Canary.”

  “Are you following any of this?” Devon asked Liam.

  “Not a word.” He shrugged.

  Devon studied the rabbit. Besides being purple there didn’t seem to be anything else remarkable about the animal. It appeared to be docile and perfectly happy as every now and then a waiter would walk past and slip the animal a chocolate to nibble on, weird. “I didn’t realise rabbits were such chocolate lovers, is that healthy?”

  Nell laughed softly. “The rabbit’s not real.”

  “Looks pretty real to me.” Liam observed. “Though I don’t believe I’ve ever come across one quite so purple, that can’t be natural.”

  “Trust me, that’s no rabbit, it would be more accurate to think of Canary as a magical construct designed to detect poisons or anomalies.” Nell shared.

  “The food equivalent of a canary down a coal mine.” Liam laughed, finally getting the in joke.

  “Sweet Yami, I’ve eaten things Gigi has made.” Devon had paled a little.

  “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Gigi always tests anything she makes on Canary first before offering it for general consumption. If he changes to a dark colour or drops dead, she throws the food away or calls in a disposal team.”

  “And if he changes to a lighter colour?” Liam was seriously curious.

  “Then we need to watch for side effects if it’s a new colour.”

  “New colour?” Drum enquired, his voice rumbling low.

  Nell took a sip of her champagne. “Don’t look so worried, if Canary turns a light colour then the effects are usually negligible; happiness, spontaneous dancing, hugging total strangers, nothing to worry about. Though I warn you now, if Canary turns bright red and starts humping your foot, drop everything and seek medical advice. Poor thing literally humped its brains out that day, who knows what Gigi was thinking when she made that dip. Oh, and at the Christmas party the poor thing actually exploded after tasting Gigi’s punch, we had to call the hazmat teams to clean up after that one.”

  “And the rabbit?” Liam inexplicably felt sorry for the little purple fellow.

  “Like I said, it’s not real. Within the hour Canary can be found back in his hutch, waiting for the next tasting test. The kids love him when they come into Gigi’s shop to buy lollies.”

  “That’s kind of worrisome.” Drum commented.

  Devon nodded in agreement, it didn’t sound particularly safe for anyone concerned, let alone the magical rabbit.

  “Oh, it’s fine.” Nell waved away their concerns. “Gigi’s gotten a lot better control of her magic these days, Canary hardly ever drops dead anymore.”

  “I don’t find that at all comforting.” Liam supplied, grateful he was a savoury, not a sweet person and hadn’t felt at all tempted to try any of the chocolates being offered around by the wait staff.

  “Surprisingly, I agree with the Merrow.” Drum rumbled as he drained the last of his beer.

  “But you loved that box of dark chocolate covered orange peels I gave you a few weeks ago.” Nell looked up at Drum.

  “Gigi made those?”

  “Yes, and see, you’re perfectly fine.”

  “For the moment.” Devon couldn’t help but comment. “There are hundreds of slow acting poisons out there. Both you and the rabbit could be living on borrowed time, Hulk.”

  Nell laughed before placing a consoling hand on her
husband’s rock solid chest. “If it would make you feel better I can double check your vitals when we get home.”

  Drum stared down at his wife, heat suddenly blazing in those black eyes of his. “We should go do that now.”

  Nell blushed. “Hold that thought.” Turning back to Devon and Liam.

  Devon’s killing nails were itching to come out. “Not to harp. But shouldn’t Gigi have better control than still occasionally killing Canary? She’s a grown woman and she owns a confectionary store for Yami’s sake.”

  Nell smiled serenely. “What can I say? She’s family, none of us are perfect and 99% of her chocolates and lollies are to die for.”

  “The chocolate covered orange peels were really good.” Drum commented in that low gravelly voice of his.

  Liam wasn’t sure how to feel about the hulk sized man looming over them. His expression so rarely changed and there was a constant aura of potential violence clinging to him. As if any moment he might whip out a huge muscular arm and gut you, using nothing more than the nail of his little finger. On the other hand, when the man looked at his wife, his black eyes fairly blazed with heat and admiration. Though it was a little perturbing to note the snake tattoo held the same expression, as it shifted around on the man’s thick neck, keeping Nell fixed firmly in its sights. Yeah, that wasn’t creepy at all.

  “You need another beer?” The big man asked, eyes flicking to Liam’s empty glass.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, let me just get out of your way then.” Devon ducked, elbowing Liam once more in the gut as she made her escape, grabbing Nell by the arm and pulling the other woman a few feet away from the bar. Phew, fresh air, though strangely the side of her body Liam had been wedged up against suddenly felt too cold.

  Nell’s blue eyes studied Devon. Taking in the way her brown eyes were sparkling with green flashes. “So, you and the Merrow, huh?”

  “What’s that crack supposed to mean? There’s nothing going on between me and the Merrow. I owed him a date since he was unconscious for our last one and cried foul. Nothing else is going on.”