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Chapter Three: The Touches of Sweet Harmony

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ear: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
- William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice

“I look ridiculous,” Hannah muttered to herself. She gnawed on her lip absently as she regarded herself in the bathroom mirror. Truth be told, she didn’t actually look too bad – she was wearing a strapless turquoise dress with a rose pattern on the bust and an A-line skirt that fell to just below her knees. Her hair was arranged in an elegant chignon, and her make-up (applied by her overeager mother) made her look pretty and almost ethereal. The problem was, however, that she didn’t look like her. The person looking back at her in the mirror was a stranger.

All the same, she couldn’t quite stop herself from smiling slightly. She was usually a jeans and T-shirt sort of girl, but a tiny part of her couldn’t help revelling in the excuse to wear a dress…although she would rather suffer and slow and painful death than actually admit it to anyone.

It was the night of the dinner dance, the ball that marked the end of Hannah’s time at school. She and Summer were at her house getting ready, while Andrew, Adam and Matthew were at Adam’s house doing the same; although Hannah suspected their version of getting ready involved bitching about being dragged to a dance more than it did anything else. Neither she nor Summer were girly girls, however, so even their preparations involved a certain amount of grouching.

“What are you talking about?” Summer came up behind her suddenly, peering into the mirror herself as she put on her dangly gold earrings. “You look great. But stop biting your lip, you’ll rub all your lipstick off and your mum will have a cow. Now, an important question: How do I look?”

Hannah smiled impishly. “A little like an Amazon, but in a good way.”

It was an apt description. Summer’s dress had a low, square neckline, a flared skirt, and was made from an animal-print material that gave her beauty a slightly wild, dangerous edge to it. She looked like the lovechild of a leopard and a ballerina. She gave Hannah a feral grin as she slipped a black bow into her dark hair. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

“Girls? Are you almost ready?” Hannah’s mother, Ellen, called up the stairs, causing them to both turn in the direction of her voice. “The boys will be here any minute, and I want to get some photos of you before they arrive!”

Rolling their eyes good-naturedly, they trudged downstairs and into the back garden, which was beginning to look a little parched from the heat wave, but was still beautiful. Both Hannah’s parents enjoyed gardening immensely, and their love of this activity was reflected in the brightly-coloured flowers and leafy borders abundant in the garden. It was only a week since midsummer and the sun was shining, giving the perfect amount of light for the photos.

Ellen had Hannah and Summer stand in front of a vivid purple rhododendron, and they attempted some natural-looking poses without grimacing too much while she took photograph after photograph of them. Hannah soon learned she was not destined to be a model – even if she had been tall and striking enough – because her mother’s directions to turn a little more to the right, tilt her chin up, put her shoulders back, and so on, made her want to scream. She loved cameras, but only when she was behind the lens, not in front of it.

It was to her immense relief that they heard the doorbell ring inside the house, and her father went to admit the boys. They traipsed into the back garden calling hellos. Matthew Armstrong, Summer’s boyfriend, was dressed in a black dinner jacket with a shawl collar, his shaggy brown hair slicked back in an only partially successful attempt to tame it. He had become a werewolf by being bitten, as Hannah and her brother had – the only made werewolves in the pack – and he had spent six years as a lone wolf; as a result, he exuded a slightly feral aura that frightened many humans without them being able to put their finger on why. Andrew’s tuxedo was white, a sharp contrast to his short dark hair, while Adam’s was black with a notch lapel and two buttons. He appeared to have made no effort with his hair whatsoever, and as a result he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed (and there was every chance he had). Hannah didn’t miss the disapproving glance her mother gave him.

“Russell, dear, run upstairs and get my comb, will you?” she requested, and her husband submitted meekly, probably relieved to have a moment’s respite from all the teenagers. Ellen returned her attention to being the photographer, determining to take one of Summer and Matthew. “Summer, if you move a couple of inches to your left… No, that’s too far… That’s perfect. Smile, Matthew, this is a dance you’re going to, not a funeral. Lovely!” She took a few photos before turning her attention to Andrew and Summer, and then Hannah and Andrew; Adam was apparently obsolete.

“Andrew, why don’t you put your arm around Hannah’s waist?” she suggested, as subtle as an earthquake in her attempt to nudge Hannah’s romantic attentions back to where she thought they belonged.

“Motherrrr,” Hannah whined, mortified. She wished her mother wouldn’t make it quite so obvious that she preferred the idea of her daughter with Andrew to Adam.

Andrew slung his arm around her shoulders instead in an unmistakeably friendly gesture, the compromise saving her from a full-blown argument with her parent. His warm breath tickled her ear as he leaned towards her and whispered, “Grin and bear it, Hannah. Just think of it this way: the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can escape.”

She grinned at him. “I like the way you think.”

A moment later, they were both blinded by a camera flash.

“Mum, we weren’t ready!” Hannah complained in the exact same tone she had used with her before. “Take another one.”

“Sorry, dear, I couldn’t resist. Smile, you two!”

They made expressions that were in the shady territory between a smile and a grimace, and Ellen took several more photographs, beaming the entire time. Adam stood to one side, his hands pushed deep in the pockets of his trousers, the expression on his face making it clear he wasn’t sure whether he should be amused or annoyed at the scene before him. He turned his head at the sound of Russell’s footsteps on the tiled kitchen floor, and he appeared from inside the house a moment later with a comb in his hand.

“Thank you,” his wife said gratefully when he handed it to her. She glanced around the garden and beckoned Adam over. “Adam, come here, please.” He shuffled over with an obvious show of reluctance, his hands still shoved in his pockets, and stood before Hannah’s mother. He was so tall that he literally towered over her, but she didn’t seem cowed. “Bend over, please – that’s perfect.” She began to comb his hair into some sort of order, while the others watched on in a sort of horrified fascination. Adam looked as though he would gladly allow the ground to open up and swallow him.

“There,” said Ellen with a satisfied smile. She took a step backwards to survey her handiwork, her hazel eyes – very much like her daughter’s – assessing the figure Adam made; she decided it would have to do. “You look much more presentable now. Now, if you stand there… Hannah, dear, if you move a fraction to the right…” Adam wrapped his arm around Hannah’s waist possessively, pulling her up against his side. “Fantastic. Say cheese!”

Adam’s muttered words in her ear – “Sorry, but your mum deserves this” – were all the warning Hannah got before she suddenly found herself swept into Adam’s arms as he planted a kiss on her lips. It wasn’t just any kiss, either: it was a sensual, weak-at-the-knees kiss that used a liberal amount of tongue. In front of her parents. The flash of the camera came a moment later, followed by Hannah’s mother’s exclamation of dismay as she realised her photograph had been ruined.

Adam broke the kiss a moment later, a broad grin on his lips. Hannah smacked him over the head, but without any real force behind it, and hissed, “Tosser!” at him. He only laughed, completely unrepentant.

Hannah’s mother opened her mouth to say something, but her husband, eager to avoid a scene, interrupted with a hasty, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

The rest of the photo shoot – such as it was – went without further disruptions. After several group photos the five young werewolves were ready (and eager) to leave, and they hurried through the house to their transportation. Hannah and Summer oohed and aahed appreciatively over the black limousine, and they piled into it. It was spacious enough that they all fitted inside with ease, even Adam, who dwarfed most cars.

Hannah settled herself on one of the cool leather seats, only to be pulled onto Adam’s lap a moment later. His thighs were warm and hard beneath her. She twisted her head to frown at him and say, “There’s more than enough room for me to sit myself,” but there was a teasing twinkle in her eyes, and she settled back against him more comfortably.

Adam grinned. “I know, but it’s more fun this way.” He nipped her earlobe playfully before leaning forwards to whisper, his voice too low for the others to hear, “Although if you keep squirming like that, things are going to get a lot more fun very quickly, if you catch my drift.”

She stilled immediately, which made him give one of his rich, throaty chuckles.

They were some of the first to arrive at the local golf and country club, where the dinner dance was being held, which meant they were able to watch as everyone else arrived in their various vehicles. It seemed to Hannah that the later arriving the students were, the more ostentatious their form of transportation – a limo seemed almost sober in comparison to the group of boys who had persuaded one of their fathers to drive them to the dance in a fire engine, and one girl whose parents clearly had more money than sense arrived by helicopter. Promptly at eight o’clock the dinner began, and everyone went inside to find their tables. Hannah and her friends had a table for eight, the final three members consisting of Kayleigh Armitage and two of her friends.

Kayleigh was a bottle-blonde with a voracious appetite for the male sex and a very high opinion of herself. She and Hannah had got off on the wrong foot when Hannah initially moved to Fairfield and waged war over Andrew, but somehow they had ended up becoming friends, if not good ones. They greeted each other warmly before Kayleigh gave Hannah and Summer an appraising look. “Monsoon and TopShop, very nice,” she said, referring to their dresses. She was herself wearing a fuchsia-coloured strapless dress that emphasised her long legs, small waist and ample cleavage.

Hannah grinned. “Thanks. You too.”

“Oh, it’s just a little something from Miss Selfridge,” she replied with false modesty. Her blue eyes focused on something behind Hannah, who didn’t need to turn around to know what – or, more accurately, who – had caught Kayleigh’s attention. “Hi, Andrew,” she purred.

“Er…hi,” he said awkwardly. He had always been both baffled and startled by the amount of attention Kayleigh paid him.

“Why the hell is she on our table?” Adam hissed in Hannah’s ear as they all took their seats. He had only met Kayleigh once or twice in the past, but he didn’t like her very much.

“Because we needed three more people to make up the eight, and I told Kayleigh she could sit next to Andrew if she helped us,” Hannah replied easily.

Andrew, overhearing, mouthed “Traitor” at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him in response, undaunted.

The dinner portion of the evening turned out to be more enjoyable than Hannah had anticipated. The food was excellent, the company superb – despite the fact Kayleigh’s friends didn’t appear to have a brain cell to rub between them – and the music playing softly in the background soothing. Adam did try to steal some of her food, which was only to be expected, but after she jabbed him with her fork a couple of times, he gave up. Eventually everyone vacated the dining room and made their way to the ballroom. The school had hired a DJ who was busy spinning the latest tunes, most of which weren’t to Hannah’s taste, but she found herself being dragged onto the dance floor anyway.

The song currently playing was “Remedy” by Little Boots, but Adam spun her around like they were taking ballroom dancing lessons (and failing the class miserably). Hannah laughed and spun away from him before being reeled back again, narrowly avoiding smacking painfully into his chest. A few other students stared at them like they were crazy, but Adam didn’t care what anyone thought of him, and Hannah was laughing too hard to even notice. Nearby, Summer and Matthew were dancing much more soberly, while Kayleigh had cornered Andrew and was practically rubbing herself against him like a cat while he tried to politely extricate himself from her grasp.

The song changed to Kate Havnevik’s “Timeless”, a slow number, and Hannah and Adam stopped their ballroom dancing parody. As one, the students went into what Hannah thought of as Slow Dancing Mode, and she and Adam were no different. Instead of protesting about the evils of mushy songs, as he was prone to do, he placed his hands, large and warm, on her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Unfortunately, they soon discovered that the height difference between them made slow dancing difficult.

“Let’s try it a different way,” Adam murmured with a smile, and without warning lifted her feet off the ground and onto his own.

“I’m too heavy! Not to mention I’ll scuff your shoes,” she argued with a frown, but he waved her protestations aside.

“Sod my shoes, and you’re as light as a feather. See? This is much easier now. ‘Smile, Hannah, this is a dance you’re at, not a funeral,’” he added when her frown failed to lighten, mimicking her mother’s stern tones. She giggled, and buried her head in his shoulder to muffle the sound. She found she liked this position, and rested her cheek against his chest, breathing in the fresh smell of his soap and the musky scent of wolf and man. He moved in slow circles in time to the music.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her curiously, when both of them failed to speak for a while.

She raised her head and smiled reminiscently. “I was just remembering how my dad and I used to do this when I was little. I would stand on his feet, and he’d waltz me around the sitting room to Grandpa’s old records from the forties. Isn’t it strange how fast we grow up? I can’t even pinpoint when I stopped being my dad’s little girl.”

“You’ll always be his little girl,” Adam disagreed. “And thank God you have grown up, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He brushed his lips across hers slowly, sensually.

She gave a hum of pleasure and whispered, “Do that again.”

Just then, the music stopped suddenly, ruining the moment. There were loud protestations, and everyone turned towards the DJ to see what the problem was. Hannah resisted the urge to rub her eyes as though they were deceiving her when she saw Matthew had joined the DJ in his booth and was holding a microphone. His expression was curious mixture of determination and anxiety that Hannah had never seen on him before. She wouldn’t have thought Matthew even knew was “nervous” meant.

“What the hell is he doing?” Summer hissed, joining them. “He told me he was going to the loo!”

“Excuse me.” Matthew cleared his throat and addressed the room, his already loud voice sounding like a clap of thunder through the microphone. “Hi. I’m Matthew – I used to go to this school a couple of years ago. I’m here with Summer.” He pointed at her, and suddenly a hundred pairs of eyes turned to stare at her with undisguised curiosity. “So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now, and I’ve been trying to think of the best way to do it. But it occurred to me a couple of days ago that I should bite the bullet and just do it, because, really, this part is only the beginning.”

Adam looked like the other shoe had just dropped, and he muttered, “Oh, Christ.”

“What? What do you know?” Summer and Hannah swivelled to regard him, but he just shook his head and replied ambiguously, “I think you’re about to find out.”

“Anyway,” Matthew continued, shifting from foot to foot. “Anyone who knows me will know I’m not one for pretty speeches, and I don’t have a romantic bone in my body. But here goes. Summer,” he said, turning his attention to her only, “I love you. I was fairly fucked up when I first arrived in Fairfield, but then I met you, and I just knew you were the one for me. You healed the me. You’re more than just my mate, you’re my best friend, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

The entire room had gone quiet when Matthew began speaking, so Summer was clearly audible when she exclaimed, “Bloody fuck.” There was a long, tense silence before she realised an actual answer was required, and then she shouted, “Yes! Of course yes, you muppet.”

Matthew’s face split into a huge grin. He returned the microphone to the DJ, leaped down from the booth, and strode across the room towards Summer, the crowd parting before him like Moses with the Red Sea. Summer literally jumped into his arms, her arms going around his neck and her legs around his waist, and planted a kiss on his mouth, heedless of their audience and the fact her dress had ridden up her thighs.

“I don’t have a ring,” said Matthew apologetically, lifting his lips from hers. “I thought you’d want to choose it yourself.”

Summer laughed. “God, yes. Don’t take it personally, but I wouldn’t trust you to choose something I really like.” She allowed him to lower her back to the ground, and she promptly threw herself at Andrew, who was looking slightly stunned. “Little brother,” she said, because technically she was three minutes older than him, “can you believe it? I’m engaged!”

“Congratulations!” he laughed.

“Hannah, Adam! I’m engaged!” she said next. Hannah had never seen Summer smile so much before. She usually looked perpetually bored, and the difference a smile made was startling – it elevated her from merely pretty to absolutely beautiful.

“I’m so happy for you,” said Hannah honestly, hugging her friend.

“You’ll be a bridesmaid, won’t you?” Summer demanded.

“Do I have any choice?” she retorted, laughing.

Summer grinned. “Absolutely not.”

Other people began coming up to Summer and Matthew to congratulate them – some had been in the same classes as Summer, while others were people she knew only by sight, but it seemed an engagement was universally good news. Even Adam looked thrilled. Hannah was happy too, but there was a little, niggling part of her that thought they were mad for getting engaged so young. But, as she reminded herself sternly, her opinion didn’t matter – this was Matthew and Summer’s choice, not hers.

Nevertheless, she found herself escaping outside a short while later to get away from the stifling room – which, among other things, was beginning to smell strongly and unpleasantly of sweat – and the general air of festivity. She pushed through the fire exit doors to find herself on a large balcony with a set of stairs leading down to the ground. She wandered over to the railing and rested her elbows on it, staring at the view. Fairfield was in a valley, but the country club was on a slope, and the surrounding scenery afforded a spectacular view of tree-covered fells and one of the smaller lakes, with the nearly full moon keeping watch over it all. It was absolutely beautiful, and she felt reluctant to tear her gaze from it.

Andrew joined her a little while later. He didn’t speak immediately, perhaps sensing the solitary sort of mood she was in, and simply stood beside her with his hands on the railing, his gaze as riveted as hers on the view. The only sounds to be heard were the hoot of an owl in the nearby trees and the throb of music inside the country club.

Eventually he commented, his tone light, “I was afraid if I spent five more minutes in there with Kayleigh, she was going to club me over the head and drag me back to her cave.”

This made Hannah laugh. “I’d pay good money to see her try.”

There was another silence, this one more fraught with tension than the last. Hannah knew what Andrew wanted to say, and he knew she knew, but neither of them could quite bring themselves to mention it immediately.

Andrew finally caved. “You think they’re making a mistake, don’t you?” There was no need to ask who he meant.

“I can’t help it,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “I know they’re mates and have been together forever, and that marriage is probably the next logical step, but it just seems like a huge step to me. Summer’s only eighteen, after all – she hasn’t even really lived yet, and she already wants to get tied down?” Warming to her subject, she continued recklessly, “Not to mention – and I realise this is probably going to make me sound like a huge snob – there’s a part of me that thinks getting married so young is… Well, it’s…”

“Tacky?” Andrew supplied noncommittally. “Common?”

“Something like that.” She added darkly, “I blame my mother.”

Andrew chuckled.

Hannah gave him a sideways glance. “She’s your sister – what do you think?”

“Well, I can understand your reasons for thinking the way you do,” he said slowly, really mulling the question over. “Eighteen is pretty young to get engaged or married. But you haven’t been raised as part of the pack like Summer and I have – you haven’t grown up in the same environment. The truth is, we tend to marry young here, have children young.” He shrugged. “It’s just the way it is with werewolves. Family is important to us, and we don’t see the point of putting it off.” He paused, considered a moment, and finished, “For my part, if getting married now is something Summer and Matthew really want to do, then who am I to stand in their way?”

She applauded softly. “Well spoken.”

He grinned. “Well, I do try.”

A moment later the fire exit door banged loudly behind them, and Adam stepped outside. He had the jacket of his tuxedo slung over one shoulder and he had loosened his bowtie, causing it to hang at a bizarre angle. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled back to just below his elbows, showing off toned and tanned forearms. He broke out in a smile when he spotted Hannah and Andrew, and strode over to them. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you both. Isn’t it great news about Matthew and Summer? I’m going to be the best man.” He clapped Andrew on the back in a blokey way. “Sorry, mate.”

Andrew rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Somehow, I think I’ll survive. Besides, something tells me you’ll be much better at planning the stag night than I would be.”

Adam’s grin broadened. “Bloody hell, you’re right. I hadn’t even thought about the stag night. This is going to be even more fun than I thought.” Something seemed to occur to him, and he frowned. “Where the fuck am I going to find strippers in the middle of the Lake District?”

“Don’t tell me.” Hannah clapped her hands over her ears dramatically, although in all honestly talk of strippers didn’t bother her too much – boys will be boys, and all that. “I don’t want to know.”

Laughing, Adam hauled her up against his side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Oh, come on. Maybe you can rustle up a couple of male strippers for the hen do – I’m sure Summer would love that.”

“That’s just…gross,” said Andrew, looking slightly queasy. “You’re talking about my sister.”

“Sorry.”

The three of them lapsed into silence, but it was companionable and not at all awkward. Hannah leaned back against the hard muscle of Adam’s chest, and he put his arms around her, resting his large hands on her hips. She immediately decided that this was far more fun than faux-dancing in a sweltering room. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt quite so at peace.

At least until two gunshots in quick succession pierced the stillness.