"There's more than one pack of Sinclairs isn't there?" she bit back. "You must have bred like damned rabbits in the early years."
Her words sent alarms off somewhere in the back of his mind. He stared at her for a moment, then asked, "I gather from that statement that you spent some time over at the Bitterroot reservation?"
The smile that touched her lips sent a chill down his spine. "No. But I wish I had been. I would have enjoyed watching your lot burn."
He sensed no lie, and yet he suspected she was doing just that. "If you feel that strongly, why invite a Sinclair into your house?"
She snorted again. "Because this is my daughter's house, and she seems to have a passion for your lot."
And yet, she'd wished them dead not all that long ago. Or was that merely an aftereffect of exchanging heated words with René? He was definitely going to have to speak to his brother when he got back to the mansion, if only to uncover what sort of game Betise was playing. Especially given the fantasy she had of being a long time lover of his.
Outside the house, a door slammed shut, then a shadow whisked past the windows. Two seconds later the back door opened, and Betise appeared. Her smile became a look of surprise and quick excitement when her gaze met his.
"Duncan," she said, voice warm. "What a nice — "
"I'm here to ask a question," he said quickly. "Nothing more."
Annoyance and perhaps a flash of anger flitted through her grey-green eyes. She stripped off her coat and gloves and tossed them on the back of the chair. "Let me guess. You discovered my lie. Surprise, surprise."
"Then why bother lying in the first place?"
She shrugged and sat down. "You seemed so damn enamored with the virginal Neva, and I guess it just pissed me off."
Her tone had much the same effect on him as nails down a blackboard. He shoved his hands in his pockets, half wishing he'd never come here. "What does it matter to you if I'm enamored with her? You and I shared one dance, nothing more."
Something flashed in her eyes. Something more than anger. Something almost crazy. She yanked off her boots and tossed them into the corner. "I knew you'd race back and question her. Wish I could have seen her expression."
He wished he hadn't. Wished he'd resisted the urge to voice his doubts. Wished he'd simply trusted her. "I thought you and Neva were friends."
She glanced at her mother, and the two shared a strange sort of smile. "Acquaintances more than friends," Betise said. "We chat at the diner and the hair salon, but it's nothing deeper."
And of that, he was extremely glad. He'd hate to think that Neva hung around with someone as unsavory as Betise. "So what did you hope to gain by lying?"
She raised an eyebrow, amusement touching her thin lips. "What do you think?"
"If I had any idea, I wouldn't be asking."
She stared at him for a moment, eyes so bright they were almost otherworldly. "You really don't, do you?"
He glanced at Iyona, saw the same, almost maniacal look in her eyes, and frowned. Something was going on here, something he didn't understand.
"Told you," Iyona said, voice shrill. "They're all no good."
"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Betise's voice was flat, dead, and something in his gut clenched. The house might be cold, but these two could have frozen hell itself.
"Look," he said, meeting Betise's gaze. "You and I shared one dance, nothing more. I have no idea what game you're playing, but if you don't stop your lies, I'll have you banned from the dance."
Iyona snorted. "That's a typical Sinclair response." Her voice was so full of venom he could almost smell it.
He glanced at her. With her thin arms crossed, angular h*ps resting against the bench and eyes narrowed, she really did remind him of a snake. Neeson might not have any idea who was behind the animosity being directed at his pack, but he certainly did. And he had a suspicion he'd better find out why.
He pulled his gaze away from her, concentrating on Betise. "I'm warning you now, stay away from my brothers."
"Who made you pack leader?" she spat. "You can hardly control your own damn actions, let alone your brothers.'"
Which might have been true enough in times past, he supposed, but not nowadays. Control was the one thing he never lost — except, perhaps, when it came to Neva.
The itchy feeling that something was wrong with her not only remained but was growing stronger. He had to go. Had to.