Lucien(17)

“Do I need to,” she asked.



Luc lifted his drink to his lip, desperately trying to hide the proud grin threatening to break free.



His grandfather’s lips thinned and he scowled at Elise. “I don’t like bastards.”



Luc nearly choked on a guffaw.



The amusement in Elise’s face vanished and she held his grandfather’s gaze. “Neither do I.”



Luc choked, coughed, sputtered, and was awarded with a horrified glare from his mother. He answered it with a nonchalant shrug which said, ‘What can I do?’. Hell, even if he could do something, he wasn’t about to spoil Elise’s fun. When the bloodshed began, he’d step in and save her. But until then… he’d sit back and enjoy the show.



Elise smiled at Luc. It wasn’t a normal smile for her. It reminded him of a cat. One that was about to pounce on an unsuspecting, thoroughly out maneuvered and subsequently doomed, mouse. Then she said, “Although, you have to respect a bastard. Having to endure the good ol’ boy prejudice against bastardy. It must be difficult to attain true friendship.” Her attention rotated to the head of the table. “Wouldn’t you agree?” A breath of a pause and she added a pointed, “Lucas.”



Lucas lifted a bushy white brow in a manner which—were Elise a normal female—would have sent her screaming for the door. “Bastards don’t have true friends.”



Elise’s expression relaxed but remained at the head of the table. “Ah, except for other bastards.”



Luc wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it. His grandfather blinked once, then twice and then… the old man smiled. A genuine smile. Damn. He didn’t know his grandfather could do that.



Lucas shook his head, his smile widening into grin that gave way to booming laughter. “You’ll do all right, young lady. You’ll do all right.”



His sisters, all but Lucinda, sighed with relief. Her attention remained on her soup.



Elise bit her lip, smothering a smile, and winked at Luc.



Luc winked back as his mother took this lull in the interrogation as her cue to steer the conversation back to planning the social event of the season. Luc barely listened, but devoured his meal and nodded when asked a question. Round one with old Lucas was a success. It appeared that Luc had chosen more than well. His soon-to-be wife could hold her own with his grandfather. Damn, but he wanted to grab her and kiss her.



“Lucien,” his mother called. “You have an appointment tomorrow to be fitted for the tux. So do you, Father.”



His grandfather griped under his breath. “Damn monkey suits. Why don’t you two just elope. Fly to Vegas or—”



“They will not!” his mother exclaimed, then proceeded to explain in full, animated detail why under no circumstances would Luc and Elise be allowed to elope.



Luc tuned her out and was grateful when his twin sister, Eleanor, nudged him under the table. He glanced at her.



“You did good, runt,” she whispered.



Luc smirked and nudged her back. “Thanks, stick girl. I don’t know how I could have born not having your approval.”



Eleanor picked up her wine glass and kicked him under the table. “Cindi even likes her.”



Luc glanced down the table to Lucinda who caught his eye and winked. He chuckled. “She hasn’t said a word all night. What’s up with that?”



Eleanor leaned in closer to confide. “Lucy made Cindi promise not to pick a fight with Gramps tonight. Apparently Mom was freaking out. She was worried Elise wouldn’t be able to hold her own if the old man went off on a rampage.”



“Elise did better than I could have imagined,” he murmured.



Eleanor’s bright green eyes gleamed and her black hair shined in the dim light. “She’ll keep you in line.”



“As if she doesn’t already.”



Eleanor drew back in surprise. “What was that, runt? You’re inviting me to visit once you’re all moved in down to Texas? Oh, why I would love to visit.”



Luc flicked a pea from his plate at Eleanor’s bodice which was cut entirely too low. “Yes,” he hissed when the pea disappeared down the front of her gown.



Eleanor glared at him. “I’ll get you for that.”



“Hmm, I bet you will.”



Eleanor shook the front of her dress. “Immature, little brat. I can’t believe you’ll be thirty in a few days. You act like an eight year old.”



“Only when you’re around,” Luc replied with a cheeky smirk. “What do you want for our birthday?”