Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(89)

Aline frowned, wondering if she was being criticized.

“It must be extraordinarily difficult,” Marcus continued, “for a woman as beautiful as you to feel that there is a part of you that is shameful and must be concealed. You’ve never made peace with it, have you?”

Leaning her head against the side of the settee, Aline shook her head. “I hate these scars. I’ll never stop wishing that I didn’t have them. And there’s nothing I can do to change them.”

“Just as McKenna can never change his origins.”

“If you’re trying to draw a parallel, Marcus, it won’t do any good. McKenna’s origins have never mattered to me. There is nothing that would make me stop loving him or wanting him—” She stopped abruptly as she understood the point he had been leading to.

“Don’t you think he would feel the same way about your legs?”

“I don’t know.”

“For God’s sake, go tell him the truth. This isn’t the time for you to let your pride get the better of you.”

His words kindled sudden outrage. “This has nothing to do with pride!”

“Oh?” Marcus gave her a sardonic look. “You can’t bear to let McKenna know that you’re less than perfect. What is that if not pride?”

“It’s not that simple,” she protested.

His mouth twisted impatiently. “Perhaps the problem isn’t simple—but the solution is. Start behaving like the mature woman you are, and acknowledge the fact that you have flaws. And give the poor devil a chance to prove that he can love you regardless.”

“You insufferable know-all,” she choked, yearning to slap him.

Marcus smiled grimly. “Go to him, Aline. Or I promise you that I’ll go tell him myself.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I’ve already had a carriage readied,” he informed her. “I’m leaving for London in five minutes, with or without you.”

“For God’s sake,” she exploded, “don’t you ever get tired of telling everyone else what to do?”

“Actually, no.”

Aline was torn between laughter and exasperation at his reply. “Until today you’ve done your best to discourage my relationship with McKenna. Why have you changed your mind now?”

“Because you’re thirty-one and unmarried, and I’ve realized that this may be my only opportunity to be rid of you.” Marcus grinned and ducked to avoid the halfhearted swipe of her fist, then reached out to fold her tightly in his arms. “And because I want you to be happy,” he murmured against her hair.

Pressing her face against his shoulder, Aline felt tears well in her eyes.

“I feared that McKenna was going to hurt you,” Marcus continued. “I believe that was his intent in the beginning. But he couldn’t carry out his plans, after all was said and done. Even thinking that you had betrayed him, he couldn’t help but love you. When he left today, he looked somehow…diminished. And I finally realized that he had always been in far more danger from you than you ever were from him. I actually pitied the bastard, because every man has a mortal terror of being hurt that way.” Marcus fumbled for a handkerchief. “Here, take this before you ruin my coat.”

Blowing her nose gustily, Aline pulled away from him. She felt horribly vulnerable, as if he were prodding her to jump off a cliff. “Remember when you once told me that you didn’t like to take risks? Well, I don’t either.”

“As I recall, I said unnecessary risks,” he replied gently. “But this seems to be a necessary one, doesn’t it?”

Aline stared at him without blinking. Try as she might, she was unable to disavow the overwhelming need that would rule the rest of her life, no matter what she chose to do now. Nothing would end when McKenna left England. She would find no more peace in the future than she had during the past twelve years. The realization made her feel sick, scared, and yet oddly elated. A necessary risk…

“I’ll go to London,” she said, her voice shaking only a little. “I’ll only need a few minutes to change into my traveling clothes.”

“No time for that.”

“But I’m not dressed to go out in public—”

“As it is, we may not reach the steamer before it departs.”

Galvanized by the words, Aline jammed her feet into her discarded slippers. “Marcus, you have to get me there in time!”

Despite Marcus’s advice that she should try to sleep during the journey to London, Aline was awake for most of the night. Her insides seemed to knot and twist as she stared through the darkened interior of the carriage, wondering if she was going to reach McKenna before his ship, the Britannia, left for America. From time to time the silence was broken by the rasp of her brother’s snore as he dozed on the opposite seat.

Sometime before dawn, exhaustion overcame her. She fell asleep sitting up, with her cheek crushed against the velvet curtain that draped the interior wall. Floating in a dreamless void, she awakened with difficulty as she felt Marcus’s hand on her shoulder.

“What…?” she mumbled, blinking and groaning as he shook her lightly.

“Open your eyes. We’re at the docks.”

Aline sat up clumsily as Marcus rapped on the carriage door. The footman, Peter, who looked somewhat the worse for wear himself, opened the portal from outside. Immediately a curious mixture of odors filled the carriage. It was a malty, fishy smell, heavily tainted with coal and tobacco. The screeching of seagulls mingled with human voices…there were cries of “Rowse-in, and bend the cable,” and “Break bulk,” and other equally incomprehensible phrases. Marcus swung out of the carriage, and Aline pushed back a straggling lock of hair as she leaned forward to watch him.