Darknight(79)

They moved off, but not before he shot a truly venomous glance in Maya’s direction. She appeared singularly unimpressed.

“We’ll look around, too,” Tobias said, and took my aunt’s hand in his. They headed toward the nearest painting, and after a brief hesitation, Henry and Margot followed them.

“Thanks, Maya,” Connor said.

“It is nothing. I wasn’t sure what would happen, with McAllisters and Wilcoxes in such close proximity, so I thought it best to make the trip up.” Her dark eyes glinted as she smiled up at Connor; she was tiny, so her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. Not that it mattered. What Maya de la Paz lacked in height, she more than made up in cojones. “Besides, I wanted to see Connor’s work. I wondered if he was ever going to put that degree of his to use.”

His expression turned sheepish, but I overlooked that, wondering at the familiar way she addressed him, and how she knew he’d been an art major. It wasn’t the sort of thing I had expected her to know.

Those questions must have been clear on my face, because Maya let out a chuckle and said, “And now you want to know how I could know Connor at all, when his clan and mine are not exactly what one would call close.”

“Hardly,” he said with a grimace and a quick glance toward his brother, now safely on the other side of the exhibit space.

“It’s simple enough, though, isn’t it?” she went on. “Connor wished to get his degree at ASU, which has a very good art program, but since ASU is in my clan’s territory, he had to come to me to get permission when it was time for him to transfer from Northern Pines in his junior year. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure at first, but it was clear to me soon enough that he is nothing like his brother. So I gave him the dispensation, and he lived down in the Phoenix area quietly enough for four years, which is more than I can say for some of the younger generation in my clan.”

At that remark, Connor looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor. I rescued him by saying, “That was very generous of you, Maya — and I’m very glad you could make it here tonight.”

“I was curious,” she admitted. “But your work is wonderful, Connor, so I’m glad you’ve decided to get it out there so others can see it.”

“Thank you,” he said. His wasn’t the sort of complexion given to easy blushes, but I could see a brief stain of color along his cheekbones before it faded. “It was mostly Angela’s doing, but — ”

“She might have convinced you, but it was your hand that held the brush.” Her gaze was warm, as if holding both of us within it. “I will admit that when your aunt first contacted me, Angela, I was sure that Damon’s actions were going to bring us all to the sort of clan warfare that hasn’t been seen for more than a hundred years. But when I learned you were with Connor, I told Rachel that all would be well, that he was not typical of his clan.”

So that was why I’d heard nothing else after Maya had supposedly told Damon that “it wasn’t over.” Well, actually, it was — once she got the true lay of the land and realized I was not with the primus, but his brother, a man she obviously liked and possibly had some affection for. “I appreciate that — we both do.”

“Yes,” Connor added at once, although I could tell he was squirming a little inwardly at the “not typical of his clan” remark.

“Well,” she said, “I wish to look more closely at these paintings of yours, Connor, so I will leave you now. I think we will not have any more disruptions this evening.”

No, I sort of doubted that. Even Damon wasn’t the type to make a scene, not here anyway, so I thought the rest of the evening should go more or less smoothly.

Which it did, with various Wilcoxes coming up to congratulate him on the show, and even Aunt Rachel and Tobias approaching us once we were safely alone and praising his work. And, in an exchange that made me want to laugh, Lucas sidled up to me, nodded toward Margot, and asked who that “exquisite creature” was. Somehow managing to keep a straight face, I told him she was one of the McAllister clan elders and probably wouldn’t be all that receptive to any advances from a Wilcox.

“But is she single?” he persisted.

Somehow I managed to talk him down, and he went off to get another glass of champagne. Connor and I did get a chuckle out of the whole thing, because I couldn’t imagine anyone less likely to have romantic success with Margot Emory than Lucas Wilcox.

By the end of the night, more than half the pieces on display had discreet little “sold” labels attached to their description cards. I didn’t even want to calculate how much Connor had just made in one evening, but I knew it had to be a lot.