Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(31)

“Apparently so,” McKenna said, not missing the air of intimacy between the two. Jealousy spread through him in a poisonous tide.

Westcliff continued casually. “They have been friends for at leave five years. My sister has an unusual affinity with Sandridge—which pleases me a great deal, as I desire her happiness above all else.” He bowed to them both. “At your service, gentlemen.”

Gideon smiled as he watched the earl leave. “A proficient strategist is our Westcliff,” he murmured. “He seems to be warning you away from Lady Aline, McKenna.”

McKenna gave him a damning glance, though he had long been accustomed to Gideon’s perverse delight in jabbing at his self-possession. “Westcliff can go to hell,” he growled. “Along with Sandridge.”

“You’re not afraid of competition, then?” Gideon murmured.

McKenna arched one brow and spoke scornfully. “After five years of knowing Lady Aline, Sandridge hasn’t yet laid claim to her. That’s not what I would call competition, in any sense of the word.”

“Hasn’t publicly laid claim to her,” Gideon corrected.

McKenna shook his head with a faint smile. “To my knowledge, Shaw, that’s the only way that counts.”

Eight

There had been few people in Aline’s life that she had trusted enough to love. However, loving Adam, Lord Sandridge had been one of the easiest things she had ever done. Theirs was a friendship in its purest form, uncompromised by any nuance of sexuality. Many rumors of an affair had circulated during the past five years, which served both their purposes. Aline liked the fact that fewer men dared to approach her because of her supposed romantic involvement with Adam. And Adam, for his part, was grateful that the gossip about them prevented other, more destructive rumors that might have arisen otherwise.

Aline had never pried into the subject of Adam’s sexual preferences, as they had nothing to do with her. But she knew what very few people suspected—that his attraction was limited exclusively toward other men. Which would make some like-minded fellow very fortunate indeed. Adam’s charm, his intelligence, and his finely honed wit would have made him desirable no matter what his physical appearance. But as it happened, he was also resplendently handsome, with thick hair the color of white gold, dark-lashed gray eyes, and a lean, well-exercised body.

When Aline was with Adam, she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. He made her laugh, he made her think, and he understood what she was going to say before she even said it. Adam could lift her from her occasional depressions of the spirit as no one else could, and she had, on occasion, done the same for him. “Sometimes you make me wish that I were a man,” she told him once, laughing. His answering smile was a dazzle of white in his lightly tanned face.

“No, you’re too perfect as a woman.”

“Far from perfect,” she had murmured, conscious of the thick mass of scar tissue that covered her legs.

Being Adam, he had not resorted to platitudes or lies, but had only taken her hand in his and held it for a long time. She had already told him about her accident, and the damage it had done to her legs, not long after they had met. Odd, really, as she had kept it a secret from friends she had known for years…but there was no hiding anything from Adam. She had also told Adam every detail of her forbidden love for McKenna, and how she had sent him away. Adam had received her confidences with quiet understanding and just the right amount of sympathy.

Wearing a stiff social smile, Aline took his hands in a viselike grip, and spoke beneath her breath. “I need you, Adam.”

He looked into her face with light, intent eyes. “What is it?”

“McKenna,” she managed to say. “He’s come back.”

Adam shook his head incredulously. “To Stony Cross?” At her jerking nod, he shaped his lips in a soundless whistle. “Good God.”

Aline smiled tremulously. “He’s staying at the manor—he came with the Americans.”

“Poor sweet,” he said ruefully. “Your bad luck is holding true, it seems. Come with me to the garden, and we’ll talk.”

She longed to comply, but she held back uncertainly. “I must stay and receive the guests.”

“This is more important,” Adam informed her, pulling her hand to the crook of his arm. “Just a few minutes—I’ll have you back before you are missed. Come.”

They walked to the stone-flagged balcony overlooking the back terraces, where a row of French doors were open to admit any stray breeze from outdoors. Aline spoke rapidly, telling Adam everything while he listened in thoughtful silence. Pausing at the open doors, Adam glanced back at the milling throng. “Tell me which one he is,” he murmured.

Aline barely needed to glance inside the ballroom, so attuned was she to McKenna’s presence. “He’s over there, near the gilded frieze. My brother is speaking to him.”

After a discreet glance, Adam returned his gaze to hers and spoke dryly. “Quite nice, if one likes the dark, brooding sort.”

As distraught she was, Aline couldn’t suppress a wry laugh. “Is there anyone who doesn’t like that sort?”

“I, for one. You’re welcome to your Sturm und Drang, darling—I’ll take someone who’s a bit easier to manage.”

“What is Sturm und Drang?”