Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(63)

“Damn you,” he said again.”Forget about it for now,” Carr said in a low voice. “I’m going to Goodman’s Tavern. I’ll be there for a while tonight, so if you’d care to join me later, I’ll buy you a few drinks by way of apology. I shouldn’t have approached you with this at such a time and in such a manner.”

Alec did not reply, keeping his face averted as Carr walked away. Setting his port on a table, he scowled at the embroidered tablecloth as a brief flashback raced through his mind: Holt walking into Alec’s terrace rooms unannounced, good-natured as he had always been when half-drunk.

“It is I, most responsible and hardworking cousin,” Holt had announced, setting a gin bottle down in the center of Alec’s paperwork. After staring at the ring of alcohol blurring into the ink, Alec had met Holt’s twinkling eyes with a feigned scowl.

“If you’ve come for money, I don’t have any.”

“The devil you don’t… but no, I haven’t come for money,” Holt had informed him loftily, shaking an unsteady finger in the manner of the stern tutor who had schooled both of them in mathematics. “I’ve come to rescue you from your labors before your mind wears out from all those parchment scratchings. I’m going to find you a woman.” Picking up the gin bottle, Holt had taken a swallow of the clear distillation before adding, “You need a woman. One like my Leila. Come to think of it, maybe Leila has some friends who—”

“Damned if I need your help in finding a woman,” Alec had said, grinning suddenly and setting down his pen. He had reached for the gin bottle and taken a swig himself. “I’ll find my own woman tonight—one that will make Leila look like the display on a fishmonger’s cart.”

“Oh-ho!” Holt had chortled, making his way to the door and holding it open deferentially. “Just for Leila’s honor, I’m going to call you out… when I’msober.” He had smiled crookedly, appraising his own condition. “Which puts you out of danger for a good while____”

Alec sighed, bringing his thoughts back to the present as the orchestra began to play a polonaise. He realized that he was desperate for another drink. Or a woman. Or anything to take his mind off the memories. Guilt twined around him, squeezing until he was numb from the pressure of it. You can’t bring him back, Alec told himself, and he was nearly overwhelmed by an abrupt pang of loneliness. He was alive, Holt was dead, and there was nothing to do but go on with his life. But knowing that didn’t ease his pain.

Suddenly he thought of Mira, and he was unable to rid his mind of her… her brown eyes filled with a teasing light… her cool fingers stroking and kneading his shoulders, sliding over his skin with a sweet, arousing touch. Her mouth moving under his, their lips clinging, parting, and reuniting. The addictive feel of her body, the passion that only she had been able to rouse so high and satisfy so deeply. He needed to wrap his arms around her small form and bury his face in her hair. Mira could help him forget his pain. But Mira was not his. She had left him, and he had convinced himself at the time that it was better to let her go. He had not wanted to need her so badly… he still did not want to.

Perhaps, Alec reflected moodily, he should join Carr at the tavern. At the moment, a series of drinks seemed worth the effort of tolerating Carr’s company. Squaring his shoulders and raking a hand through his raven hair, he began to make his way through the conglomerations of people along the edges of the ballroom.

Then he caught sight of something that set off an inner shock of recognition. A woman, turned away from him, her dark locks neatly confined by a jeweled hairnet that glittered and shone under the blazing lights of the chandelier. She stood alone, apparently waitingfor someone to bring her a glass of wine or punch. Stopping in his tracks, Alec stared at her with a mixture of surprise and instant, raging hunger. Although he could not see her face, he knew that it had to be Mira. She was the only one who had ever adorned her hair in such a way. She was thinner than he remembered, her figure less voluptuous. He felt such an incredible rush of desire for her that it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except that she was here and that he was going to hold her, talk to her, touch her again. Perhaps he would pull her out to a concealed place in the gardens nearby and hold her tightly, crush her lips under his… Not even bothering to wonder why she was there or whom she had come to the ball with, he reached her in a few long strides.

“Excuse me…”he said, and as the woman turned around, Alec’s impatience dwindled instantly into disillusionment. She was not Mira. Her face was thinner, her features were more sharply drawn, her eyebrows were more arched. Even through his disappointment Alec realized that she was an attractive woman, with soft blue eyes and an inviting smile… but she did not have Mira’s distinctive beauty. Her eyes did not shine with Mira’s lively intelligence, her mouth did not curve with Mira’s provocative smile. She was an imperfect copy of the woman he wanted. “Please forgive my impetuousness,” he said, the blaze in his eyes fading rapidly. ‘I’m afraid that I’ve mistaken you for someone else.”

“How dreadful,” the woman said in a lightly accented voice as she smiled at him, obviously believing that he had wanted to meet her but had not been able to find someone to make the proper introductions. “We women do not like to be mistaken for each other… it wounds our vanity.”