Never wore it. This dress was the only black clothing she owned. She'd bought it at the urging of one of her teammates a couple of years before under the theory that every woman needed a black dress. Unfortunately, she'd never gotten around to actually trying it on. It didn't quite fit. The cut was supposed to be simple. It looked like she was wearing a bag.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she jumped in surprise at Marc leaning in the doorway between the living room and bedroom. This was becoming an unwelcome habit of his. He really needed to make more noise when he moved. She was about to protest when she noticed his remote mask was back in place.
Lessa cocked her head. "Everything all right?"
"You ready?"
She tugged at the three-quarter length sleeves, but gave up in disgust. Who was she trying to impress anyway? "Ready as I'll ever be."
Picking her purse up off the bed, she followed him out. Her stomach fluttered and her nerves jumped at the thought of where she was going. In the short time she'd known Marc, she'd counted on him to keep her feelings at a manageable level, but he was now distracted by whatever was upsetting him and wasn't inclined to share the information with her.
The house was quiet as they walked through the front door.
"Everyone's left?" Lessa asked.
He opened the back door of a large black sedan and leaned against the open door. "About an hour ago."
She stopped halfway across the leather seat in surprise. He bumped her as he climbed in, and she scooted the last foot over. "That long? I didn't realize."
He was silent a moment. His gaze fixed on the window before he finally turned to her. "They needed to make sure everything was ready. Ever been to a Catholic funeral?"
She shook her head. His terseness was making her nerves worse and she had to blink to push unexpected tears back.
"We're going to a Requiem Mass at the family's church. No one gets up and talks except for the priest. After the Mass, we'll go to the cemetery. There'll be several important people there paying their respects. Some of them will come to the house afterward. I," he hesitated, "I want to keep you under the radar as much as possible."
She raised her eyebrows at the intrigue, almost relieved to have something else to occupy her thoughts. "How do you propose to do that?"
"Just try not to attract any attention."
She laughed. In this dress she highly doubted anyone would notice her. "Then I don't think you need to worry."
Marc looked as if he was going to disagree, then shook his head. "Just do what I say."
"When haven't I?"
He slouched in his seat so he could look at her fully. "You had several family conversations without my permission."
"Permission? I wasn't aware of any rules regarding speaking with my family."
"You're right." He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and a small smile teased his lips.
The car pulled into the parking lot next to an impressive Catholic church. The driver stopped at a side door.
"It's time," Marc said. "It'll be starting in the next couple of minutes."
"Are we late?"
He shook his head to reassure her. It worked. He always managed to loosen the knot in her stomach. She glanced around to distract herself as he guided her up the short stairs. The parking lot was full, and she could hear the murmur of voices from inside the sanctuary.
They joined the last of the stragglers squeezing into the room. She didn't know if she was glad or disappointed she couldn't see the front because of all the heads in front of her. He pulled her back even farther, and they sat in the last row next to a large pot overflowing with flowers.
"Are we hidden enough?" She tried not to laugh. This wasn't the time to laugh, but his insistence on trying to keep her hidden was either hysterical or scary. She preferred hysterical.
He looked around them with narrowed eyes. "Probably not."
She glanced at the flowers cascading over her skirt and smiled. The priest's voice boomed out and the Mass began. Since she'd
Stepping out of the bathroom, she jumped in surprise at Marc leaning in the doorway between the living room and bedroom. This was becoming an unwelcome habit of his. He really needed to make more noise when he moved. She was about to protest when she noticed his remote mask was back in place.
Lessa cocked her head. "Everything all right?"
"You ready?"
She tugged at the three-quarter length sleeves, but gave up in disgust. Who was she trying to impress anyway? "Ready as I'll ever be."
Picking her purse up off the bed, she followed him out. Her stomach fluttered and her nerves jumped at the thought of where she was going. In the short time she'd known Marc, she'd counted on him to keep her feelings at a manageable level, but he was now distracted by whatever was upsetting him and wasn't inclined to share the information with her.
The house was quiet as they walked through the front door.
"Everyone's left?" Lessa asked.
He opened the back door of a large black sedan and leaned against the open door. "About an hour ago."
She stopped halfway across the leather seat in surprise. He bumped her as he climbed in, and she scooted the last foot over. "That long? I didn't realize."
He was silent a moment. His gaze fixed on the window before he finally turned to her. "They needed to make sure everything was ready. Ever been to a Catholic funeral?"
She shook her head. His terseness was making her nerves worse and she had to blink to push unexpected tears back.
"We're going to a Requiem Mass at the family's church. No one gets up and talks except for the priest. After the Mass, we'll go to the cemetery. There'll be several important people there paying their respects. Some of them will come to the house afterward. I," he hesitated, "I want to keep you under the radar as much as possible."
She raised her eyebrows at the intrigue, almost relieved to have something else to occupy her thoughts. "How do you propose to do that?"
"Just try not to attract any attention."
She laughed. In this dress she highly doubted anyone would notice her. "Then I don't think you need to worry."
Marc looked as if he was going to disagree, then shook his head. "Just do what I say."
"When haven't I?"
He slouched in his seat so he could look at her fully. "You had several family conversations without my permission."
"Permission? I wasn't aware of any rules regarding speaking with my family."
"You're right." He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and a small smile teased his lips.
The car pulled into the parking lot next to an impressive Catholic church. The driver stopped at a side door.
"It's time," Marc said. "It'll be starting in the next couple of minutes."
"Are we late?"
He shook his head to reassure her. It worked. He always managed to loosen the knot in her stomach. She glanced around to distract herself as he guided her up the short stairs. The parking lot was full, and she could hear the murmur of voices from inside the sanctuary.
They joined the last of the stragglers squeezing into the room. She didn't know if she was glad or disappointed she couldn't see the front because of all the heads in front of her. He pulled her back even farther, and they sat in the last row next to a large pot overflowing with flowers.
"Are we hidden enough?" She tried not to laugh. This wasn't the time to laugh, but his insistence on trying to keep her hidden was either hysterical or scary. She preferred hysterical.
He looked around them with narrowed eyes. "Probably not."
She glanced at the flowers cascading over her skirt and smiled. The priest's voice boomed out and the Mass began. Since she'd
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