Chapter 3 #2
The weight of responsibility pressed on her shoulders, mingling with a deep, abiding love that made every decision feel so significant.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she reminded herself that, like her daughter, she too was allowed moments of vulnerability.
Maybe tomorrow would bring a solution, or at least a little peace.
Changing into a pair of comfortable sweats, she brushed her hair and twisted it into a neat bun before going into the small kitchen to grab a bottle of wine from the cooler.
Pouring a glass, she took it with her out on the balcony.
The air was cool against her skin, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden below.
She wrapped her arms around herself, taking a slow sip and letting the quiet seep in.
For a moment, she allowed her mind to drift, watching the soft silver light play across the dewy grass, letting herself simply be.
No decisions, no worries, just the soothing embrace of the night.
For the first time in years, she allowed the memories to come floating back.
Taking a sip, she eased her parched throat. Looking back, she wondered if she ever stood a chance. From the moment he decided she would be his next target, she had been doomed to fall like a ripe peach into his arms.
Humiliation and anger washed over her as she recalled how skillfully he had maneuvered her out of the crowded ballroom of the hotel and into the isolation of the garden. She had protested, but that had been token. She had never been proof against such stunningly potent seduction.
And yes, he had seduced her. With his looks, eyes and the way he touched her.
Over the years she had reflected on that night, wondering what she could have done differently. But then she would take one look at the daughter they had made and could not regret a moment of that night. Zoe was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she had him to thank for it.
With that thought settling her, she relaxed and allowed the beauty of the night to wash over her.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle hum of the nighttime city drift up from the street below.
A sense of bittersweet nostalgia crept over her, mingling with hope for what might still lie ahead.
The complexity of her past no longer felt quite so daunting in the quiet sanctuary she'd carved out for herself tonight.
*****
This was the part of her career that she hated. The endless rounds of functions that beckoned the beginning of the festive season. She would have much preferred lying in bed with her daughter and reading one of their favorite classics.
But duty called. And it wasn't so bad. Her entire family was present and the best thing about it, Jillian was back from her stint with Doctors Without Borders. She had been away for the past six months and was sorely missed.
Now, plucking a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, she watched from across the room as Jillian and Andre sparred with each other. Shaking her head, she turned towards the woman who was trying to get her attention and spoke with her for a few minutes before wandering away.
The annual Authors' Guild included bestselling authors, editors, booksellers, publishers, actors and a scattering of movie producers.
It was a combination of getting to know the other people who make up the industry as well as raising money for libraries all around the world.
The focus was also on how to get children interested in reading.
She caught snippets of conversations about book launches, mentoring new voices, and the ever-evolving challenges facing the industry.
The room buzzed with creative energy and a shared passion for storytelling, making her feel at once invigorated and slightly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of talent assembled in one place.
Still, being surrounded by like-minded souls reminded her why she'd chosen this path in the first place, despite its many demands.
She supposed as patron of the function, the Tyrells had to be there. As they had been present for the last few years she had attended. She never expected to see him. Her first glimpse had her jolting and to her shame, ducking behind a sturdy white column, her hands shaking.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to weave her way through the throng of guests, shaking off the ones who persisted in having a conversation. She would leave. No dammit! She belonged here, much more than he did.
She had heard the whispers of course. How he was saving the doomed publishing house singlehandedly. How he had discovered several manuscripts and one was even being considered as a screenplay.
It did not matter, none of it did. She just had to stay away from him. From his family.
A furtive glance over to where they had congregated showed that he was no longer there. Putting her half-finished glass of champagne on a table, she was about to go and find her own family when someone touched her on the arm.
Before she turned, she knew it was him. Steeling herself to be polite, she faced him.
"I thought I recognized the person." His blue eyes crinkled in surprise. "Little Abigail."
"Kincaid Tyrell." Squaring her shoulders, she could only thank heavens she had decided to wear the little red dress that clung to her curves and showed off her legs. "I heard you were back."
"And I heard you're making wonderful strides in the book industry. I've been meaning to call on you."
"Why?" The coolly polite tone had changed into icy dislike and had him lifting his brows.
"To apologize for one." He offered an easy, charming smile that had her hackles rising.
"Whatever for?"
"The way I left things all those years ago." Laser blue eyes searched her exquisite face. It did not surprise him that she had grown into her looks. She was still petite, but her curves had ripened with age.
Her skin was still a flawless caramel and interestingly, she had the same effect on him. It was as if the years had melted away and they were back in another ballroom.
"No need." Forcing the anger away, she feigned polite disinterest. "If you would excuse me--"
"How about a dance?"
This time, she could not control the anger. But there were reporters present. As a Tyrell, especially this one, he was bound to attract a tremendous amount of attention, one she could not afford. With a supreme effort, she reigned in her anger and smiled sweetly.
"Like before? What, do you expect that this is the same twenty-three year old who practically fell into a puddle at your feet.
" She gestured around the room. "I'm sure there are dozens of women who are still attracted to your kind of dubious and obvious charms, pick one.
I can assure you without a doubt that I'm not one of them. Please excuse me."
"Ouch." His brother who had come up behind him silently, rubbed his hand over his chest. "What on earth did you do to that beautiful woman to have her drawing blood?"
He was still reeling from her words and could only just stare after her.
"I had sex with her around five years ago and ghosted her." To his shock, he could feel the burning in his gut from her words.
"That would do it." Kevin touched his arm briefly. "There's someone I think you should meet."
Taking one last look at the woman who was chatting with a redhead wearing emerald green silk, he turned away with his brother.
Abigail's heart hammered, her breath coming quicker as she slipped through the clusters of laughing guests.
The glittering lights and clinking glasses felt a world apart from the storm quietly raging inside her.
She could still feel the phantom heat of his touch on her arm, the echo of old pain and longing stubbornly refusing to fade.
For a moment, she allowed herself to glance at Kincaid's retreating back, wondering if he too was haunted by memories that refused to stay buried. But with each step, she reminded herself: she was not here for him, nor for the ghosts of what might have been.
Tonight, she resolved, she would hold her head high and reclaim the evening on her own terms.
He kept his eyes on her. The night had suddenly gone downhill for him. He had felt the anger and hurt vibrating from her and regretted the part he had played in it. He had taken her innocence and then left her without a word.
He could afford to feel shame for his behavior.
He wanted to apologize, wanted to suggest they start over. What the hell was he thinking? he thought angrily. He was going to leave it alone, leave her the hell alone. But he could not take his eyes off her, not for long.
She had grown more beautiful. From his vantage point he could make out the way the dress clung to her in places. Had he noticed how long and shapely her legs were? Memories of that night came crashing back violently and almost staggered him.
Something twisted painfully in his gut. His hands clenched into fists as he wondered who the guy was who had his hand around her waist. She seemed to have dismissed him and the conversation they had before. While he was here torturing himself looking at her.
"Let's dance." Taking his hand, Kat tugged him onto the dance floor. "You're wearing your anger on your face. Who's she?"
Dragging his gaze from the couple, he stared down into her exquisite face. "No one."
That had her making noncommittal noises as she twirled with him. "That 'no one' has you thinking dark thoughts. One of your exes? There are several of them hanging around, waiting to be noticed by you."
His jaw tightened as he gazed back at the couple. "Give it a rest."
"Why don't you ask her to dance?"
His anger was replaced by irritation. "You're like a damn dog with a bone."
She trailed long shell pink coated nails over his smoothly shaved jaw. "Bear that in mind." Switching her gaze, she stared at the couple thoughtfully. "I know her. Abigail Blake, she is the force behind that very successful chain of bookstores." Angling her head, she stared at her brother.
"And an excellent way to get her attention is visiting the one on Bow Street."