Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(91)

McKenna gave her a long, hard stare. He gave no indication of what he was feeling, or even if he was considering her plea. Wondering if he was going to refuse her, Aline cast about recklessly for the right words, the key to unlock his frozen self-control…and then she noticed the vein throbbing violently at his temple. Hope unfurled inside her. He wasn’t indifferent to her, no matter that he tried to pretend otherwise.

Perhaps the only salve to McKenna’s battered pride was the sacrifice of her own. Reluctantly letting her guard down, she spoke more humbly than she ever had in her life. “Please. If you still feel anything at all for me, don’t go back on that ship. I swear that I will never ask anything else of you. Please let me tell you the truth, McKenna.”

As another untenable silence spun out, McKenna’s jaw tightened until a muscle in his cheek twitched. “Damn you,” he said softly.

Aline realized with dizzying relief that he was not going to refuse her. “Shall we go to Marsden Terrace?” she dared to whisper.

“No—I’ll be damned if I’ll have your brother hovering over us. He can go to Marsden Terrace, while you and I talk in Shaw’s rooms at the Rutledge.”

Aline was afraid to say another word, on the chance that she might cause him to change his mind. She nodded and settled back in the carriage, while her heart slammed repeatedly against her ribs.

McKenna gave instructions to the driver and then climbed into the vehicle. He was immediately followed by Marcus, who did not seem terribly pleased by the plan, as he wanted the situation to remain under his immediate control. Nevertheless, he offered no protest, only sat beside Aline and folded his arms across his chest.

The silence was thick and heavy as the vehicle rolled away from the docks. Aline was wretchedly uncomfortable, her legs stiff and itching, her emotions in turmoil, her head aching. It didn’t help that McKenna looked about as warm and understanding as a block of granite. Aline wasn’t even certain about what she would say to him, how she could tell him the truth without engendering his pity or disgust.

As if sensing her worry, Marcus reached down and took her fingers in his, giving them a small, encouraging squeeze. Looking up, Aline saw that McKenna had noticed the subtle gesture. His suspicious gaze flickered from Marcus’s face to hers. “You may as well start explaining now,” he said.

Aline gave him an apologetic glance. “I would rather wait, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine,” McKenna said derisively. “It’s not as if I don’t have the time.”

Marcus stiffened at the other man’s tone. “Look here, McKenna—”

“It’s all right,” Aline interrupted, digging her elbow into her brother’s side. “You’ve helped quite enough, Marcus. I can manage on my own now.”

Her brother frowned. “Be that as it may, I don’t approve of you going to a hotel with no family member or servant to accompany you. There will be gossip, and you don’t—”

“Gossip is the least of my worries,” Aline interrupted, increasing the pressure of her elbow against his ribs, until Marcus grunted and fell silent.

After what seemed to be hours, they reached the Rutledge Hotel. The carriage stopped in the small street behind one of the four private accommodations. Aline was in an agony of anticipation as McKenna descended from the carriage and helped her down. Turning, she glanced back at Marcus. Seeing the raw helplessness in her eyes, Marcus gave her a reassuring nod, just before he spoke to McKenna in a hard voice.

“Wait. I want a word with you.”

Arching one black brow, McKenna stepped aside with him. He met the earl’s gaze with a look of icy inquiry. “What now?”

Marcus turned his back on Aline, and spoke too quietly for her to overhear. “I hope to hell that I haven’t underestimated you, McKenna. Whatever comes of your conversation with my sister, I want to assure you of one thing—if you harm her in any way, you’ll pay with your life. And I mean that literally.”

Aggravated beyond bearing, McKenna shook his head and muttered some choice words beneath his breath. He strode to Aline and guided her forcibly to the back entrance, where the footman had already rapped at the door. Gideon Shaw’s valet appeared at the doorway with an expression of open astonishment. “Mr. McKenna,” he exclaimed, “I would have thought your ship had sailed by now—”

“It has,” McKenna said curtly.

The valet blinked and strove to regain composure. “If you are searching for Mr. Shaw, sir, he is at the company offices—”

“I want the use of his rooms for a few minutes,” McKenna said. “See that we’re not disturbed.”

With an admirable display of tact, the valet did not even glance in Aline’s direction. “Yes, sir.”

Brusquely McKenna ushered Aline into the residence, which was handsomely furnished in dark woods, the walls covered in rich plum-colored em-bossed paper. They went to the sitting room, with the bedroom visible just beyond. Heavy velvet drapes had been pulled back to reveal curtains of tea-dyed lace that softened the sunlight as it streamed into the room.

Aline could not control her nervousness. It erupted in a violent trembling that made her teeth click. Clenching her jaw, she went to sit in a large leather chair. After a long pause, McKenna did the same, settling back in a nearby chair and regarding her coldly. An antique French carriage clock ticked busily on the mantel, underscoring the tension that fractured the air.