(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(37)

“Will the young lady be staying here, sir?” poor Nichols asks softly.

“Oh, you’ve arrived!” someone says from the top of the stairs.

My head snaps back from the driver to a blonde woman more intimidating than I have ever seen. “Staying here? Of course you both will be. Right, darling, please come in.” She’s also English, so I don’t know if she’s his mother or another form of modern-day slavery.

“She’ll be staying here,” Dash says calmly to the serf and then turns his head to the woman in front of us. “Mother!”

His mother is British? Does that make him British?

I feel like that’s something people in a relationship would have talked about by now. How could he not tell me he’s British? My brain whispers that it might be one of those I don’t share so he doesn’t share things. Not to mention, I don’t really ask. I wish I had now.

I wish she just carried a knife or a gun so I could treat her appropriately, like a threat. But she doesn’t. She has a slightly sharp canine like Dash and is so beautiful I don’t know whether to kiss her or ask for the person who does her makeup for my next spy assignment when I leave the mind running behind.

She grabs my shoulders, squeezing slightly, and pretends to kiss my cheek. I gulp, actually out loud, and freeze as she brushes our cheeks, acting like she’s kissing, but instead saying the word kiss as she does it. She’s so tall I feel like a dwarf next to her and Dash both.

It’s confusing and overwhelming, but she isn’t alone.

There’s a man who looks like he might be an actor. He’s tanned and golden like Dash, tall and broad like Dash, but he’s wearing a double-breasted suit. He smiles, and a dimple puckers in his right cheek. His eyes are dazzling blue, and his teeth are so white I press my lips together, looking like I have to pee instead of smiling. My coffee-stained teeth will make him wince; I feel like we both know that at this point. He grabs his son and shakes his hand, awkward also.

The mother has the very same green eyes as Dash—ones that reveal too much. Her disapproval or surprise in me is obvious. I didn’t expect his parents to be as old as I suspect they are. But even with her age, she is handsome. Pretty but older in a way that you would use the word handsome. And agile. She moves with such grace and manners, making everything I do feel robotic.

My phone vibrates, causing me to glance down at it. It’s another text from Angie. You are a superspy! It makes me smile, a real smile, and is followed by a nervous laugh. That lifts the lips of his parents when they look at me.

“You are so much more—well, more than we expected.” His mother gushes and looks at Dash. “You never told us she was Asian.” She leans in, speaking louder. “Is English your first language?” Her eyes narrow. “Oh, how charming. Your eyes are different colors. Is that a contact? Like a fad you young people are doing?”

I give him a look. He knows what it means but laughs it off a little nervously. “Jane’s family is Irish and Scottish. Not Asian, Mother. And her eyes are naturally that way.”

“Right, of course they are. It’s a birth defect. My cousin had it. Died early.” Dash’s father gives me an appraising stare. “You do look quite Asian for an Irish girl.” His father is English as well and possibly a bigger asshole than his mom. So that makes me excited. Not only do they hate the Irish, they loathe the Scottish, and they think I’m Asian. Adding to all of that the fact I have a birth defect, which may or may not kill me early on. I just smile, forcing silence.

Dash grips my arm. His eyes are worried, intensely worried. Nichols strolls past us with my bags. I quickly skirt the parents as they turn their focus to their son and start the millions of questions. I walk with Nichols. “Sir, I need my bags.”

He turns, shaking his head so subtly I nearly miss it.

I nod, reaching for them. His eyes dart to the family, but I insist and snatch my bag. “I have a reservation.” He winces as I say it.

“Jane, dearest, you must stay here.” She tries to force the issue.

I suspect Dash’s mother is a special woman, and I will end up feeling a special fondness for her, but to avoid that specialness getting out of hand or becoming something negative, I turn and shake my head. “I am so sorry, but I was raised Catholic by some very stringent nuns, and they would never have heard of me staying in a gentleman’s home when we are unwed.” I feel like an idiot, but I don’t want to talk like the heathen I am while trying to convince them I have some fucking boundaries . . .

His mother’s jaw drops. “Catholic?” I can nearly hear her dying inside. It’s point one for Jane, and I am not giving it up. Not even when his green eyes turn to me, flashing disappointment. I could stab him in the eye for the lies he’s told to get me here.