Chapter Twenty-Three #3
She would carry last night branded on her skin until she turned to dust. The memory of his mouth, his hands, the way he filled her so completely. Even now, a traitorous ache pulsed low between her thighs, a secret throb that rejoiced in every bump of the road. Proof. Evidence.
Shame.
Frustration clawed a hot path up her throat. She wanted to scream, to beat her fists against something. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek until a metallic tang bloomed across her tongue.
They rattled into the city, twisting through narrow streets.
Laundry sagged from balconies, limp in the morning stillness while chickens scattered from the wheels of passing carts.
The perfume of brewing coffee mingled with the muddy river’s breath in a warm earthy swirl.
Lucien drew the horse to a stop in front of Warstein’s townhome, its green shutters still closed tight against the morning.
He climbed down and helped Eloise down with careful courtesy. Then he turned, lifting one hand toward Abigail. She hesitated, balanced on the wagon step as she measured the distance between them, unsure if she should bridge it.
His eyes lifted to meet hers, dark lashes doing little to hide the tempest churning behind them. Clenching her teeth, she set her fingers in his, ignoring the flash of heat from the contact. The moment her half boots found purchase on the stones, she tugged at her hand.
He held it fast, the warmth from his fingers curling up her arm. “Abigail…”
The pleading tone snagged in her chest. Her pulse skittered in panic. Whatever confession hovered on his tongue, she wasn’t sure she could bear it. Not here. Not with her friends waiting inside and the taste of shame still metallic on her tongue.
“Let go.” With a twist of her wrist, she broke free from his grasp and turned toward the house.
She pulled her shoulders back and climbed the steps without another look back. The door flew open, and Josephine rushed forward, arms outstretched. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. I can’t handle how tense it is in there. Christian and Samantha have hardly spoken.”
Abigail managed a brittle smile that felt like it might crack her face, and she followed her friend inside.
“Ah, Miss Ross. Right on time it seems. You’ll be pleased you came along.” Mr. Warstein stood at the hall entrance. “There’s someone here to see you.”
A cold fist squeezed around her already bruised heart.
Her father.
A few days ago, she would have been overjoyed at the reunion. Now? Now her stomach twisted at the thought of facing him.
The merchant gave her a knowing look and gestured to a heavy wooden door down the hall. “I think it’s best if this meeting is in private. I’ve got him waiting in the study.”
She gave a tight nod, grateful for the seclusion it would offer. “Of course.”
With a deep breath, she opened the study door and stepped through, clicking it softly shut behind her.
She frowned, unease prickling through her.
The form at the hearth was too tall, too lean to be her father.
Sunlight from the tall windows caught on gold hair and the crisp folds of an expensive tailcoat.
He turned and her heart lurched, stuttering painfully in her chest.
“M-Mr. Ainsley?”
He stood before her as if conjured from her dreams, immaculate and handsome as ever.
Abigail braced for the rush of feeling that once would have swept her off her feet, for the dizzying relief of seeing her suitor’s face again, but her pulse settled into a slow and wary rhythm.
One that had learned, between one terror and the next, to beat for someone else.
Someone who didn’t—couldn’t—return her affection.
Ainsley’s pale gaze swept over her slowly, taking in the borrowed dress, her unruly hair she’d barely twisted into a manageable knot this morning. “You look different. Rather… windswept.”
She lifted her chin, though heat climbed her cheeks. “Yes, it’s been a very trying time for me. How did you know where to find me?”
“Don’t be silly. You told me in the letter you sent from Augusta that you would be joining Mr. Warstein here in New Orleans.”
Augusta. The hurried scrawl on a scrap piece of paper seemed a lifetime away.
“Why did you come?”
He chuckled, the sound smooth and faintly amused. “Don’t be silly. After your shocking news, I had to come make sure you were alright.”
She tried to recall the exact words she had dashed off as her father had arranged passage west. Their midnight departure. A pirate hunting her family. That they had a safe place in New Orleans.
He crossed his arms, the picture of benevolent patience. “To be honest, I expected a little more enthusiasm at seeing me.”
Her hands fisted in her skirt. “I’m… I’m just overwhelmed.”
He tsked, as one would to a naughty child. “With your home burned and prospects scattered, I knew returning to Savannah would be difficult for you. Well, I have devised the perfect solution.”
She jerked her head up. “You have?”
“Yes” He stepped forward with a confident smile, taking her hands in his. “We shall marry. At once.”