Again the Magic (9 page)

She fought to conceal her upheaval with a calm, offhand smile. “It wasn’t my fate, I suppose. And you? Did you ever—”

“No.”

The news should not have brought the pressure of a rapid heartbeat to the base of her throat. But it did.

“And Livia?” McKenna asked softly. “What became of her?”

“Unmarried as well. She resides here with Marcus and me, and she… well, you will probably see very little of her.”

“Why?”

Aline searched for words that would explain her sister’s situation in a way that would not cause him to judge her harshly. “Livia does not often go out into society, nor does she choose to mix with the guests here. There was a scandal two years ago. Livia was betrothed to Lord Amberley, a young man with whom she was very much in love. Before they could be married, he was killed in a hunting accident.” She paused to brush away a beetle that had landed on her skirt.

McKenna’s expression was impassive. “What is the scandal in that?”

“Not long after that, Livia had a miscarriage, and so everyone knew that she and Amberley had…” She paused helplessly. “Livia made the mistake of confiding her sorrows to one of her friends, who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. Although Marcus and I tried to stem the gossip, soon the entire county was buzzing, and it spread to London.” She shot him a defiant glance. “In my opinion, Livia did nothing wrong. She and Amberley were in love, and they were going to be married. But of course there are those who try to make her a pariah, and Livia refuses to come out of mourning. My mother is mortified by the situation, and has spent most of her time abroad ever since. And I am glad my father is no longer living, as he would undoubtedly have condemned Livia for her actions.”

“But your brother doesn’t?”

“No, Marcus is nothing like our father. He is every bit as honorable, but he is also very compassionate, and rather freethinking, too.”

“A freethinking Marsden,” McKenna mused, seeming to find it a contradictory phrase.

The glint of humor in his eyes somehow soothed her, eased her, and she was finally able to take a full breath. “You will agree, after you come to know Marcus better.”

It was clear that the gulf between them was now even wider than it had been in childhood. Their worlds were, as always, so vastly different that there was no possibility of intimacy between them. Now they could interact as polite strangers, with no danger of heartbreak. The old McKenna no longer existed, just as the girl Aline had once been was also gone. She looked at the moss-carpeted earth, the torpid flow of the river, the diluted blue of the sky, before she was finally able to meet his gaze. And she was desperately grateful for the feeling of unreality that allowed her to face him without falling apart.

“I had better return to the house,” she said, levering herself from the rock. “I have many responsibilities…”

McKenna stood immediately, the silhouette of his body dark and graceful against the flow of the river behind him.

Aline forced herself to break the excruciating silence. “You must tell me about how you have come to work for a man like Mr. Shaw.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I am eager to hear it. What happened to the boy who didn’t even care if he made it to first footman?”

“He got hungry.”

Aline stared at him with a mixture of dread and fascination, sensing the complexity beneath the simple statement. She wanted to know every detail, to understand what had happened to McKenna, and to discover the facets of the man he had become.

McKenna seemed unable to take his gaze from hers. For some reason a band of color appeared high on his cheeks, as if he had spent too long in the sun. He came toward her with undue caution, as if her nearness presented some threat to him. As he stopped just a foot away from her, the paralyzing heat flooded her again. She inhaled quickly, the air feeling rich and heavy in her lungs.

“Will you take my arm?” he asked.

It was a commonplace courtesy that any gentleman would have offered… but Aline hesitated before touching him. Her fingers fluttered over his sleeve like the wings of a silver moth. “Thank you.” She bit her lip and took hold of his arm, her hand conforming to the outline of heavy muscle beneath the soft layers of broadcloth and linen. The reality of touching him, after years of hopeless longing, made her sway slightly, and her grip tightened as she sought to steady herself. The rhythm of McKenna’s breathing was abruptly fractured, as if something had caught him by the throat. However, he quickly recovered his self-possession as he escorted her up the gentle incline toward the house. Sensing the enormous power of his body, Aline wondered what he had done to acquire such physical strength.

“I worked as a boatman, ferrying passengers between Staten Island and the city,” McKenna said, seeming to read her thoughts. “Twenty-five cents round-trip. That’s how I met Shaw.”

“He was one of your passengers?” Aline asked. At his nod, she sent him a quizzical glance. “How did a chance meeting turn into a business association?”

His expression became guarded. “One thing led to another.”

She managed to smile at his evasiveness. “I see I’ll have to use all my arts to bring out your talkative side.”

“I don’t have a talkative side.”

“It is a guest’s responsibility to be entertaining,” she informed him.

“Oh, I’ll entertain you,” he murmured. “I just won’t talk while I’m doing it.”

As he must have intended, the remark dismantled her composure. Blushing, Aline gave a rueful laugh. “You haven’t lost your knack for making wicked remarks, I see. Remember that you’re in the company of a sheltered English lady.”

He did not look at her as he replied. “Yes, I remember.”

They approached the bachelor’s quarters, a small residence set apart from the main house and reserved for the use of guests who wished for more privacy than the manor afforded. Marcus had told Aline that Mr. Shaw had specifically requested that he alone be given the bachelor’s house, even though it could have accommodated three additional guests. Although there was no sign of Mr. Shaw yet, Aline saw a pair of servants entering the place with trunks and baggage.

McKenna stopped, his vivid eyes catching the sunlight as he glanced at the little house. “Shall we part company here? I will come to the manor soon — but first I want to have a look around.”

“Yes, of course.” Aline supposed that it must be overwhelming for him to return to Stony Cross, with memories lurking in every corner and path. “McKenna,” she said unsteadily, “was it coincidence that Mr. Shaw decided to accept my brother’s invitation for a visit? Or did you deliberately arrange things so that you could come back?”

McKenna turned to face her, his shoulders looming over hers. “What reason would I have to come back?”

Aline met his unfathomable gaze. There was nothing in his appearance or manner to suggest anger, but she sensed the tension coiled like a watch spring inside him.

And then she understood what he was concealing so carefully… what no one could have seen unless she had once loved him. Hatred. He had come back for revenge — and he would not leave until he had punished her a thousand ways for what she had done to him.

Oh, McKenna,
she thought dazedly, feeling a curious sympathy for him even as her instincts screamed at her to flee from the imminent danger.
Does it still hurt that much?

She glanced away, her brows drawing together as she reflected on how little it would take for him to annihilate her. Bringing herself to look up into his dark face, she spoke with great care. “How much you’ve accomplished, McKenna. You seem to have gotten everything you’ve ever wanted. More, even.” Turning, she left him with measured strides, calling upon all her self-restraint to keep from running.

“Not everything,” McKenna said beneath his breath, his gaze tracking her carefully until she disappeared.

McKenna wandered into the bachelor’s house, disregarding the servants as they laid out Shaw’s belongings. The furniture was heavy and authentically Jacobean, the shapes ponderous and stately. Lavish rosewood paneling covered the walls, and the windows were hung with fringed velvet that obliterated all traces of light. That was good. Much of the time, sunlight was anathema to Gideon Shaw.

McKenna knew exactly why Gideon needed the privacy of the bachelor’s house. Ever a gentleman, Gideon scrupulously avoided making scenes or appearing out of control. McKenna had actually never even seen him drunk. Gideon would just quietly lock himself into a room with a bottle or two, and reappear two or three days later, pale and unsteady, but sharp-witted and perfectly groomed. Nothing in particular seemed to spur such episodes — it was simply the pattern of his life. His siblings had confided that the ritualistic drinking had begun not long before he and McKenna had met, when the oldest son, Frederick Shaw III, had died of a weak heart.

McKenna watched as Gideon’s valet set out a japanned box of cigars on a blockfront desk with a multitude of drawers and pigeonholes. Although McKenna seldom smoked, and never at this time of day, he reached for the box. He extracted a cigar, its leaves oily and richly pungent. Immediately the well-trained valet produced a tiny pair of wickedly sharp scissors, and McKenna received them with a nod of thanks. He snipped off the end of the cigar, waited as the valet lit the end, then drew on it rhythmically until it produced a heavy draught of soothing smoke. Dispassionately he saw the trembling of his own fingers.

The shock of seeing Aline again was even greater than he had anticipated.

Detecting the evidence of his shattered nerves, the valet shot him an assessing glance. “Shall I fetch something else for you, sir?”

McKenna shook his head. “If Shaw comes, tell him I’m at the balcony in back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Like the main house, the bachelor’s lodgings were set near a bluff overlooking the river. The land was heavily wooded with pine, the sounds of flowing water underlying the trill of nesting willow warblers. Shedding his coat, McKenna sat in one of the chairs on the covered balcony and smoked clumsily until he had regained a semblance of his self-control. He barely noticed when the valet brought out a crystal dish for the clumps of ash from his cigar. His mind was completely occupied with the image of Aline by the river, the rich mass of her pinned-up hair, the exquisite lines of her body and throat.

Time had only made Aline’s beauty more eloquent. Her body was ripe and fully developed, the form of a woman in her prime. With maturity, her face had become more delicately sculpted, the nose thinner, the lips faded from deep rose to the pale shade of pink that tinted the inside of a seashell. And there was that damned, never-forgotten beauty mark, the festive dark fleck that lured his attention to the tender corner of her mouth. The sight of Aline had caused a remnant of humanity to stir inside McKenna, reminding him that he had once had the ability to experience joy — an ability that had vanished a long time ago. It had taken years to alter the obstinate course of his fate, and he had sacrificed most of his soul to do it.

Stubbing out his half-finished cigar, McKenna leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs. As he stared at a nearby hawthorn in full bloom, he wondered why Aline had remained unmarried. Perhaps like her father, she was essentially cold-natured, the passions of her youth having eventually been replaced by self-interest. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was going to seduce Aline. His only regret was that old Lord Westcliff would not be around to find out that McKenna had finally taken his pleasure between his daughter’s lily-white thighs.

Abruptly McKenna’s attention was captured by the creak of the flooring and the liquid rattle of ice shards in a glass. Settling back in his chair, he glanced up as Gideon Shaw crossed the threshold of the covered balcony.

Turning to face McKenna, Gideon half sat on the railing and hung his free arm loosely around a support column. McKenna met his gaze steadily. Theirs was a complex friendship, supposed by outsiders to be founded purely on a shared desire for financial gain. Though that was an undeniable facet of their relationship, it was by no means the sole reason for it. As with most solid friendships, they each possessed characteristics that the other lacked. McKenna was of common origins, and rampantly ambitious, whereas Gideon was cultivated and subtle and complacent. McKenna had long ago acknowledged that he could not afford scruples. Gideon was a man of impeccable honor. McKenna had grimly enmeshed himself in the daily battles of life, while Gideon chose to remain detached.

The shadow of a smile crossed Gideon’s mouth. “I encountered Lady Aline as she returned to the house. A beautiful woman, just as you described. Is she married?”

“No.” McKenna stared moodily through the veil of smoke in the air.

“That makes things easier for you, then.”

McKenna’s broad shoulders twitched in the barest of shrugs. “It wouldn’t matter one way or the other.”

“You meant you wouldn’t let a minor thing like a husband get in the way of what you wanted?” Gideon’s smile broadened into an admiring grin. “Damn, you’re a ruthless bastard, McKenna.”

“That’s why you need me as a partner.”

“True. But the realization that there is such a poverty of morals between us… It makes me want a drink.”

“What doesn’t?” McKenna asked in a friendly gibe, taking the glass from him. Raising it to his lips, he drained it in a few efficient gulps, welcoming the velvety burn of iced bourbon.

Gideon’s keen gaze didn’t miss the residual unsteadiness of McKenna’s hand, causing the ice to rattle in the glass. “Don’t you think you’re taking your revenge a bit too far? I have no doubt you’ll succeed with Lady Aline. But I don’t think it will bring you any peace.”

“It’s not revenge,” McKenna muttered, setting aside the glass. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “It’s an exorcism. And I don’t expect to find any peace afterward. I just want…”

He trailed into silence. As always, he was in the grip of a hunger that had begun twelve years ago, when he had been cast into a life he had never envisioned for himself. In America, an opportunist’s paradise, he had become successful beyond his wildest dreams. But it still wasn’t enough. Nothing could satisfy the beast inside him.