Mary remained behind. Her look was thoughtful and measuring. Mal remembered that she was the timid one of the bunch and was surprised that she didn’t flee at the first opportunity.
Instead, they sat for a long moment in silence, regarding each other.
“Are you the one who set up the anonymous trust for the victims of Beehag’s zoo?” she finally asked.
“Yes,” Mal said simply.
“You did that for Benedict Beehag, as his lawyer, because of the horrible things that his uncle had done?”
“No,” Mal said shortly. He had tried to convince Benedict to set something up, but the heir to the Beehag fortune had proved to be as self-centered and shallow as Mal had come to expect of billionaires; even the promise of a tax shelter had not strong-armed generosity from him.
“You made secrecy about the payment a condition of the allotment,” Mary observed. “Neal almost didn’t take it.”
“I’m glad he did,” Mal said.
“I’m trying to decide if I should thank you,” Mary said honestly. “On the one hand, that money made it much easier for him to change careers and get his life back. On the other... it feels like dirty money.”
Mal was having to reconsider Mary; though she was quiet and unsure compared to the forward, forthright Alice, the deer shifter was no coward. He sighed. “Because I’ve been trying to get Scarlet to sell out her lease?”
“She loves the resort. This is her home. Why would you try to take that from her? I take a dim view of anyone who can’t take no for an answer.”
Mal wasn’t used to justifying himself to anyone, let alone wanting to. He made the best choices with the information he had, and he almost always had more information than anyone. He never felt the need to waste time seeking approval for the choices he made, and his ego didn’t need stroking.
But he found himself wanting to explain himself to Mary... to the entire staff of Shifting Sands and all the people who cared for Scarlet.
“I’m willing to admit I made a mistake with Scarlet,” he said honestly. “I made assumptions I should not have.” He did not add that it was a very reasonable expectation that Scarlet could have rebuilt elsewhere. It had never even occurred to him that she would be literally incapable of leaving the island.
He wondered what other assumptions would prove false.
“I have the lamb for the lawyer,” Breck said, clearing his throat. He looked askance at the chairs Alice and Amber had vacated; their meals were balanced on his tray. “And halibut for the deer Mary?” He paused a moment before putting Mary’s down, giving her a chance to declare her intention to switch seats.
But Mary only smiled. “Thank you, Breck.”
The waiter spread a napkin into her lap as Mal laid out his own.
The food—hot and fresh this time—was everything that he had hoped for, with balanced spice and perfectly cooked vegetables.
They ate quietly for a while after Breck refilled their water and left, with minimal conversation about the food. Then Mary abruptly asked, “Is it true you’re Scarlet’s mate?”
Mal wasn’t the slightest bit surprised that she had already heard; Alice was Graham’s mate, and Alice was Mary’s closest friend. Honestly, Mal would not have been surprised if the entire resort knew.
“I am,” he said simply.
“And you’re a warlock like Corbin?”
Any warm, companionable feelings that had started to bloom in Mal’s chest turned to ash. “I am nothing like Corbin,” he said fiercely.
Mary gave his forearm tattoos a long measured look.
For a second time, Mal desperately wanted to explain, to make her hear his side of the story. “I’m not like Corbin,” he reasserted. “I’m...” He paused.
“A good guy?” Mary guessed.
Mal met her gaze appraisingly. “I was going to say that I was trying to save the world, not rule it.”
“Noble goal,” Mary said, mopping up a last of her sauce with a piece of bread. “But goals don’t define som
eone, their actions do.”