Authors: Monica McCarty
Taming the Rake (42 page)
She touched his arm and gave him a tender smile. There was no need to feign this time. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she ran her tongue along her upper lip, thinking about how she would thank him later for all he had done tonight. She’d come to enjoy kissing Edmund. Though it didn’t create the heart-pounding frantic craving from her youth, Edmund’s kiss was like him: warm and secure.
Not dangerous and destructive.
“Your mother’s right,” she said, disengaging her hand from his arm. When Edmund looked like he might argue she continued, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“But I do worry,” he said in a tone that was far too serious than was warranted by the situation. There was a tense moment where it seemed like he might refuse, before he sighed. “I’ll go for now, but I’ll be back if you need me.” He paused meaningfully. “For anything.”
Genie watched him make his way through the crowd. Even his carriage seemed odd. Though graceful, there was a predatory slant to his movements tonight. It was almost as if he were stalking something… or someone.
Whatever was bothering him—and she was sure something was—it was getting worse as the evening drew on. Perhaps Edmund was more jealous than she’d realized?
She was prevented from thinking about the matter any further as the dancing began and she was led into the ballroom by the first in a steady stream of partners.
Dismounting, the man carelessly tossed the reins of his horse to the waiting footman and hurried up the walkway, barely noticing the outrageous extravagances of tonight’s fete.
He was late. Very late. Prinny would be furious, though he’d been fortunate to make it at all. A last-minute trip to Surrey to attend to an emergency for a friend had taken him from town yesterday. He’d only arrived home an hour ago, leaving him barely time to change before rushing to Carlton House to put in the obligatory appearance.
He felt around for his watch fob but realized that in his haste he’d forgotten it. Instinctively his fingers dug around in the small pocket on his waistcoat that lay right below his heart. Relieved, he exhaled. It was there. The slide of cool silk slipping between his fingertips was strangely comforting. A corner of the blue ribbon, frayed and worn with time, peeked out from the opening of the pocket for a moment before he quickly stabbed it back down out of sight.
Such sentimentality was not like him. But like some wretched talisman, he carried the damned thing with him everywhere.
It was all he had left of a past that he could not forget.
For it seemed nothing would ever bring her back.
Much later, breathless and flushed from the heat of the ballroom, Genie decided to take a turn on the promenades. Catching sight of Edmund outside in the courtyard, she started across the room.
She stepped outside Carlton House and paused for a moment, shocked by the drop in temperature. It had taken until well past midnight, but the sweltering heat had finally dissipated. She closed her eyes, allowing the cool breeze to wash over her.
A startled gasp drew her attention to the man coming up the walk. He stood perhaps ten feet in front of her, dressed in a black cape and tall beaver hat. She tilted her head to one side in question. There was something familiar…
Their eyes met and her heart stopped.
Time stopped.
The music and dancing, the din of conversation around them slipped away. Unbidden, the memories rushed back in a chaotic montage: the first time she’d seen him, the first time he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor.
The first time they’d made love.
Heat stained her cheeks as if he could know her thoughts. The memories were so strong, so clear, as if five years of recrimination and tribulation had never happened.
But it had.
Other memories, much darker memories, blotted out the fond ones, breaking the spell. Her gaze shifted.
He, however, continued to stare at her in shocked silence.
She’d known it was bound to happen, seeing him again. And she’d realized that there was a good chance it would be tonight. Perhaps a small part of her had hoped it would be so, when she undoubtedly looked her best. She wanted him to see what he had forsaken. She wanted him to know regret. As she did.
Genie studied him. He’d changed so much she was surprised that she recognized him. There was nothing left of the lean young man she remembered. His shoulders were unfashionably broad and muscular; his legs thick and powerful. Unusually tall, perhaps standing four inches above six feet, his frame with the added bulk seemed infinitely larger. He looked more like a blacksmith or common laborer than a vaunted peer of the realm. Even his elegant court attire did nothing to civilize his appearance.
Undeniably he was still incredibly handsome, but he’d changed more than just from the passage of time. There was a hard edge to his face that had not been there before. As if chiseled from stone, his once softly sculpted features had sharpened from those of a boy to a man. The wide, arrogant mouth she recognized, but now it sat atop a cynical jaw that was both square and uncompromising. Where before there had been only dimples, now she noticed tiny cruel lines around his mouth. His hair was darker—no longer blond but golden brown—and longer, but still thick and straight with a slight wave that framed his face. His striking blue eyes shone as hard as glass, no longer sparkling like the sun upon the sea.
Though changed, it was still the face that had launched hundreds of hours of tears and regret. Yes, she thought with relief, she could finally feel regret behind all the bitterness and recriminations. Behind the cold dull edge of hatred. Regret for the suffering, regret for the anger. But most of all, regret for the loss of love.
When she looked at him and saw how changed he was, she felt something that she had not anticipated: a poignant longing for the innocence of youth.
An innocence that he had taken from her.
She was connected to this man by a past that should no longer matter. But it did. Perhaps it always would. He’d taken something from her that could never be returned. He’d forced her to open her eyes to the real world, where people are imperfect, where people break your heart and your trust.
He’d once meant so much to her. Yet, oddly, Genie felt detached. She was not that same young ignorant country girl. He did not have the power to affect her any longer. That part of her life was gone forever. Seeing him again had finally solidified it.
She might grieve for the innocence of youth, but she would never forget what had come after her cruel disillusionment. She would never forget what this man did to her.
Lord Fitzwilliam Hastings.
The man who’d nearly destroyed her.
She’d given him her soul and he’d sent her into hell. Alone.
The echo of her childhood ringing in her ears, Genie remembered. How he’d failed her. For refusing to do the unthinkable…
…End excerpt from THE UNTHINKABLE by Monica McCarty © 2015 Buccaneer Press LLC
The following titles are also available in electronic format.
Kobo
:
The Highland Guard Series (in order)
THE HIGHLAND GUARD FIRST 8-BOOK BUNDLE
The Campbell Trilogy (in order)
CAMPBELL TRILOGY 3-BOOK BUNDLE
The MacLeod Trilogy (in order)
Monica McCarty is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of fifteen (and a half!) Scottish Historical romances, including her current Highland Guard series (THE CHIEF, THE HAWK, THE RANGER, THE VIPER, THE SAINT, THE RECRUIT, THE HUNTER, THE KNIGHT (novella), THE RAIDER and THE ARROW), and two Regency Romances (THE UNTHINKABLE and TAMING THE RAKE). Her books have won and been nominated for numerous awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA & Golden Heart, RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice, the Bookseller’s Best, and Amazon’s Best Books of the Year. Known for her “torrid chemistry” and “lush and steamy romance” as well as her “believable historical situations” (Publishers Weekly), her books have been translated and published throughout the world. Monica’s interest in the Scottish clan system began in the most unlikely of places: a comparative legal history course at Stanford Law School. After a short, but enjoyable, stint practicing law, she realized that mixing a legal career with her husband’s transitory career as a professional baseball player was not exactly a match made in heaven. So she “traded” in her legal briefs for Historical Romances with sexy alpha heroes. When not trekking across the moors and rocky seascapes of Scotland and England, Monica can be found in Northern California with her husband and two children.
