The Marriage Contract (PUBLISHED!)

Chapter Eight

            The champagne glass in Richard's hand clinked against a silver spoon, as I tilted my head, staring at him. He was a seat apart from me, sitting next to James, who eyed him curiously, as though worried about his motive. Richard's eyes remained on mine, and I kept his stare, until he winked.

My cheeks burned, as I dropped my gaze to the half-eaten plate of steak resting before me. Placing my hands in my lap, I began to cross and uncross my fingers against the cotton of my grey dress. My heart drummed a slow beat, as I shook my head, confused by my reaction to his quick, one second wink.

What the heck was wrong with me?

James must have noticed my apprehension, for his hand grasped my fidgeting palm, his flesh- warm over mine. I glanced at him, but he showed no reaction, and continued to shoot his brother a suspicious glare.

My eyes went to Richard once more, and this time, I didn't look away. His brows rose, and I swallowed a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"To the newlyweds," Richard said, raising his glass. "I always knew you had a thing for red heads, but didn't think you'd end up marrying one."

"Good one," said Bethany, smirking.

"Now, Richard, that's no way to talk," said Edmund.

"Your father's right," said Rosaline. "If you've come here to argue, then you can leave—"

"It's alright, Rosaline," James snapped, squeezing his hand tighter over mine. "I don't need you defending me—"

Rosaline frowned. "Darling, I'm on your side. I'm helping you—"

James's grip had tightened over my hand, and it felt almost impossible to free myself from his hold. Taking a deep breath, I pulled as hard as I could, groaning loudly in the process.

Success!

Oh, crap.

Like a slingshot, my palm smacked outwards, landing against Grandmother Gweneth's cheek. She dropped to the ground, and I stood, shocked. My eyes bulged, as I ran towards her, placing my arms around her. Bethany and James ran to her as well, hovering over her like an ominous cloud.

"Oh my God, I'm so incredibly sorry!" My voice shook, as I tried to steady my hands, carrying her up, and placing her back on her chair. "His hand...it was...no, I mean...nothing! I'm so sorry! Are you alright, Gweneth? No, that's a stupid question. I'm so sorry! Can I get something for you? Do you need some ice—"

The side of her lip had turned lavender, as she placed a hand against it, glaring at me. Grandfather George stood, his grey hair shining against the chandelier lights, as he made his way towards me, his palm gripping over a black cane.

"You need to leave!" Bethany shouted.

"Oh, goodness," Edmund whispered. "I'll go call an ambulance—"

"Don't you dare!" Gweneth yelled. "You know I hate those places. I'm perfectly fine, Edmund. I'm healthier than you. Now listen to your mother, and sit back down! Stop over reacting."

Edmund opened his mouth, but then closed it, as though deciding it best not to say anything. He sat in his seat, across from me, sending me a cold stare. I looked away.

Bethany stood behind Gweneth, placing her manicured hands on her step grandmother's shoulder, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Can we call the police or something?" she snapped, her chest heaving. "This was clearly an assault. She just punched Granny!"