Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(23)

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.