Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(64)

“Indisposed,” Susan Chamberlain said with a mocking laugh. “Are you referring to my brother’s habit of swilling rotgut from sunup to sundown? Quite the family figurehead, isn’t he?”

All conversation stopped. Inwardly startled by Susan’s flash of hostility toward her brother, Aline tried to ease the tension in the room. “It seems to me, Mrs. Chamberlain,” she said, “that your family has prospered under Mr. Shaw’s leadership.”

“That has nothing to do with him,” Susan said scornfully, resisting her husband’s attempts to shush her. “No, I will have my say! Why must I pay homage to Gideon merely because he had the fool’s luck to be next in line when poor Frederick died?” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “The reason the Shaws have prospered, Lady Aline, is because my brother decided to place his family’s welfare at the mercy of an uneducated immigrant who happened to make a few lucky choices.” She began to laugh. “A drunkard and a docker—what a distinguished pair. And my future lies completely in their hands. So very amusing, don’t you think?”

No one else seemed to share her amusement. A long moment of silence ensued. McKenna’s expression was implacable. He seemed completely unaffected, as if he had long ago been inured to poisonous words. Aline wondered how many insults and affronts he had endured over the years, merely because he had committed the unpardonable sin of laboring for his keep.

Standing, McKenna bowed to the company at large, his gaze catching briefly with Aline’s. “Excuse me,” he murmured. “My appetite fails me this evening.”

Everyone wished him a pleasant evening, except for Susan Chamberlain, who proceeded to bury her resentment in another glass of wine.

Aline knew that she should have stayed to ease the atmosphere with light conversation. But as she stared at McKenna’s empty chair, the urge to follow him became unbearable. Stay where you are, and do what you should, she disciplined herself, but with every second that passed, the sense of exigency became sharper, until her heart pounded and sweat trickled beneath her dress. Aline found herself rising from the table, obliging the gentlemen to stand. “I beg your pardon…” she murmured, trying to come up with some reason for her sudden departure. “I…” However, she couldn’t seem to think of anything. “Do excuse me,” she said lamely, and left the room. Ignoring the whispers that followed her departure, she hurried after McKenna. When she reached the top of the staircase, she found him waiting for her. He must have heard her footsteps behind him.

Waves of cold and heat winnowed through her as they faced each other. McKenna’s eyes were bright in his dark face, his piercing gaze invoking the memory of the two of them clutching greedily at each other in the forest…her body impaled and writhing on his.

Discomfited, Aline closed her eyes, while pinpoints of heat seemed to cover her face. When she finally managed to look at him once more, his eyes still held a disquieting gleam.

“Are all the Shaws like that?” Aline asked, referring to Susan Chamberlain.

“No, she’s the nice one,” McKenna said dryly, startling a laugh from her.

Twisting her fingers into a little knot, she asked, “May I speak with you for a minute? I have something rather important to tell you.”

He stared at her alertly. “Where shall we go?”

“The family receiving room,” Aline suggested. It was the most appropriate second-floor room to hold such a conversation.

“We’ll run the risk of being interrupted if we talk in there,” McKenna said.

“We’ll close the door.”

“No.” He took her hand, pulling her along with him. Bemused by his authoritative manner, Aline went without resistance. Her heart kicked in an unruly pattern as she realized where he was taking her. “We can’t go to my room,” she said warily, glancing up and down the long hallway. “Is that where you…no, really, we can’t…”

Ignoring her protests, McKenna went to the door of the room she had slept in all her life, and pushed his way in. A brief contemplation of his large, broad-shouldered form convinced Aline that it was useless to argue. She could hardly throw him out, after all. With a sigh that conveyed exasperation, she entered the room and closed the door.

A lamp reposed on a table near the entrance. Aline paused to light it deftly, the flame casting long shadows across the bedchamber and dressing room beyond. Picking up the lamp by its painted porcelain handle, she followed McKenna into the cabinet—the private space he had never dared to trespass in their childhood.

A daybed—the only piece of furniture in the room—was littered with embroidered cushions. Nearby, a strand of pearls hung from a gold hook, beside a collection of tiny beaded reticules and purses. Out of the corner of her eye, Aline saw McKenna reach out to touch one of the delicate reticules, which looked absurdly small beside his hand.

She went to the cabinet’s ancient widow. The age-rippled glass panels made the view of the outside grounds pleasantly blurred, as if one were looking through water. The other three sides of the cabinet were lined with squares of silvered glass, creating a myriad of reflections that multiplied one another. As McKenna stood behind her, Aline saw his face, and her own, reproduced infinitely in the glow of lamplight.

Exploring, McKenna went to the window and picked up an object from the painted sill. It was a child’s toy, a little metal horse with the figure of a man riding it. Aline saw at once that he recognized the object…it had been his favorite toy, so well loved that most of the brightly colored paint had worn off. Mercifully McKenna set it down without making a comment.