Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(40)

Marcus stood back and glared at her. “How does that pertain to what we were discussing?”

“It illustrates the point that even you, one of the finest and most honorable men I’ve ever known, place great importance on physical attractiveness. And if I ever see you consort with a woman who is less than stunningly perfect, then perhaps I’ll listen to your lectures on how appearance doesn’t matter.”

“Aline—”

“Have a good shoot,” she said. “And heed my warning—don’t cross me in this, Marcus.”

Heaving a sigh, her brother went to find his valet, who was laden with rifles and leather bags.

More of the shooting party came to Aline’s table to exchange pleasantries, and she smiled and chatted pleasantly, always aware of McKenna’s dark figure in the background. Only when the guests began to descend en masse down the terrace steps, led by Marcus, did McKenna come to her.

“Good morning,” Aline said, while her heartbeat rapidly outpaced her ability to think. She offered him her hand, and her breath caught at the gentle clasp of his fingers. Somehow she managed to find a calm social voice. “Did you rest well last night?”

“No.” His eyes glinted as he retained her hand a moment longer than was acceptable.

“I do hope that your room is not uncomfortable,” Aline managed to say, tugging free of him.

“What would you do if I said it was?”

“Offer you another room, of course.”

“Don’t bother—unless it’s yours.”

His boldness nearly startled a laugh from her—she couldn’t remember when, if ever, a man had spoken to her with such a stunning lack of respect. And it reminded her so much of the comfortable ease they had once shared that she actually found herself relaxing in his presence. “That obliging a hostess, I’m not,” she informed him.

McKenna leaned over the table, resting his hands lightly on the glossy surface. His dark head hovered over hers, his stance reminding her of a cat poised to strike its prey. A flicker of predatory interest lightened the turquoise depths of his eyes. “What’s the verdict, my lady?”

She pretended not to understand. “Verdict?”

“Am I to leave the estate, or shall I stay?”

Idly Aline drew an invisible circle on the table with a well-manicured fingertip, while her heart thumped in her chest. “Stay, if you wish.”

His voice was very soft. “And you understand what will happen if I do?”

Aline had never thought that McKenna could be so arrogant—or that she would enjoy it so much. A sense of challenge, male against female, rippled between them. When she replied, her voice matched his for softness. “I don’t wish to disappoint you, McKenna, but I have complete faith in my ability to resist your advances.”

He seemed mesmerized by whatever he saw in her face. “Do you?”

“Yes. Yours wasn’t the first proposition I’ve ever received. And at the risk of sounding rather conceited, it probably won’t be the last.” Aline finally let herself smile at him as she wanted to, full and provocative and gently mocking. “Therefore, you may stay and do your worst. I fully expect to enjoy your efforts. And you should know that I do appreciate a certain amount of finesse.”

His gaze fell to her smiling lips. Although he showed no reaction to her impudence, Aline sensed how greatly she had astonished him. She felt a bit like a damned soul who had gone right up to Lucifer and chucked him playfully beneath the chin.

“Finesse,” he repeated, looking back into her eyes.

“Well, yes. Serenades, and flowers, and poetry.”

“What kind of poetry?”

“The kind that you write yourself, of course.”

His sudden lazy smile caused soft prickles of pleasure to course through her. “Does Sandridge write poetry for you?”

“I daresay he would.” Adam was clever with words—no doubt he would perform such a task with great style and wit.

“But you haven’t asked him to,” McKenna murmured.

She shook her head slowly.

“I’ve never given much thought to finesse,” he told her.

Aline arched her brows. “Even when it comes to seduction?”

“The women I take to bed don’t usually require seduction.”

She rested her chin on her hand, staring at him intently. “They’re simply yours for the taking, you mean?”

“That’s right.” He gave her an inscrutable glance. “And most of them are ladies of the upper class.” With a perfunctory bow, he turned and left with the shooting party.

Aline worked to keep her breath even, and sat until her pulse had steadied.

It was now clear to both of them that the game had two fully committed players…agame with no rules and no clear outcome, and potentially heavy losses on both sides. And as much as Aline feared for herself, she feared even more for McKenna, whose knowledge of the past was riddled with significant and hazardous gaps. She must let him go on thinking the worst of her…to take what he wanted of her, and to eventually leave Stony Cross with his sense of vengeance appeased.

Now that she had seen the shooting party off, she had time to relax with a cup of tea in the breakfast room. Preoccupied with thoughts of McKenna, she nearly bumped into someone who was leaving the manor at the same time.