Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(22)

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.