Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas
“I’ve heard McKenna recite one before,” Shaw said. “I believe it started with the line ‘There once was a man from Bombay.’ But as I recall, the rest of it would prove unsuitable for present company.”
Mr. Chamberlain turned red and began to snicker, betraying his familiarity with the rest of the so-called poem.
McKenna grinned. “Obviously it falls to Lady Aline to improve my literary tastes.”
“I doubt that can be accomplished during one carriage ride,” Aline replied demurely.
“That depends on how long the ride lasts,” McKenna rejoined.
The remark could hardly be construed as a suggestive one, but something in his tone and the way he looked at her brought a blush to Aline’s face.
“I suggest you don’t stop until you reach Siberia, then,” Shaw said, breaking the sudden tension between them, and a chuckle rumbled through the group. Gallantly he presented his arm to Livia. “My lady, please allow me…”
As Shaw guided her sister to the waiting carriage, Aline stared after them in wonder. It was a bit odd, really, to see Livia with another man. And yet Gideon Shaw seemed to be good for her. Perhaps Livia needed a man with his easy confidence and worldliness. And he seemed to be a gentleman, in spite of his cynicism.
However, there seemed to be no real possibility of a match between Shaw and Livia. His drinking was a problem that worried Aline greatly, not to mention his wicked reputation, and the fact that he came from an entirely different world from Livia’s. Sighing with a thoughtful frown, Aline looked up at McKenna.
“He’s a good man,” McKenna said, reading her thoughts with an ease that amazed her.
“I believe that,” Aline said quietly. “But if Livia were your sister, McKenna…would you want her to be involved with him?” The question was asked without prejudice, only concern.
McKenna hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head.
“I was afraid of that,” Aline murmured. She took his arm. “Well, since you’ve availed yourself of my carriage, we may as well depart.”
“Is your brother coming with us?” he asked, escorting her along the drive.
“No, Westcliff has no interest in the fair. He’s staying at the manor this evening.”
“Good,” McKenna said with such obvious satisfaction that Aline laughed.
It was clear that McKenna would have preferred to ride alone with her in the carriage, but they were joined by the Cuylers, who turned the conversation to the subject of local cheeses. As Aline answered their questions in detail, she found it difficult to hide a grin at the sight of McKenna’s disgruntlement.
By the time the entire party had arrived in the heart of Stony Cross, the village was blazing with lamps and torches. Music floated over the oval-shaped village green, which was crowded with exuberant dancers. Tidy rows of thatched black and white cottages were nearly obscured by a proliferation of booths. The flimsy wooden structures were all similar, with a stall in front for selling and a tiny room in back where the owner took shelter at night. There were stalls featuring jewelry, cutlery, toys, shoes, fans, glassware, furniture, and specialty foods. Bursts of laughter issued from the crowds around the theatrical booths, where actors and comedians entertained as coins were scattered at their feet.
Allowing McKenna to escort her along the rows, Aline glanced at him curiously. “This must bring back many memories.”
McKenna nodded, his gaze turning distant. “It seems as if it was a lifetime ago.”
“Yes,” Aline agreed with a touch of melancholy. How different they both had been. The innocence of those days, the exquisite simplicity, the sense of life and youth that had imbued every moment with a golden aura…remembering, she was suddenly invaded by a warm impatience that seemed to have no particular aim or outlet. The feeling coalesced inside her until her blood was pumping and she felt radiantly aware of every sight and sound and sensation. Walking through the village with McKenna by her side…it was a lovely echo of the past, like listening to a beautiful melody she had not heard since childhood.
Staring into his eyes, she saw that he too was becoming enmeshed in the feeling. He was relaxing, smiling more easily, losing the harsh look about his eyes and mouth. They pushed through a tightly packed section of High Street, where a pair of conjurors was eliciting cries of delight from the gathering onlookers. Sliding an arm around Aline to protect her from being jostled, McKenna continued to shoulder his way through the crowd. In the excitement of the fair, no one took notice of the gesture, but Aline was stunned by the naturalness of it, and by the response he evoked from her. It felt completely right to be held close against his side, to let him guide her where he would, to surrender to the coaxing pressure of his hand at her back.
As they emerged from the densely gathered fair-goers, McKenna’s hand found hers, and he pulled it back to the crook of his arm. Aline’s fingers conformed to the hard swell of muscle, while the side of her breast brushed against his elbow. “Where are we going?” she asked, vaguely perturbed by the languid, almost dreamlike quality of her own voice.
McKenna didn’t answer, only led her past more stalls until they reached the one he wanted. The pungent fragrance of gingerbread rose in a warm draught to her nostrils, and Aline laughed in delight. “You remembered!” As a girl, the first thing she had always done at the fair was to gorge on iced gingerbread—and although McKenna had never shared her fondness for the treat, he had always gone with her.
“Of course,” McKenna said, extracting a coin from his pocket and purchasing a thick slice for her. “To this day, I’ve never seen anyone devour an entire loaf the way you used to.”
“I did not,” Aline protested with a frown, sinking her teeth into the heavy, sticky bread.
“I was in awe,” McKenna continued. He drew her away from the stall. “To watch you eat something the size of your head in less than a quarter hour—”
“I would never be that gluttonous,” she informed him, deliberately taking another huge bite.
He grinned. “I must be thinking of someone else, then.”
As they browsed leisurely among the stalls, McKenna bought some sweet wine for Aline to wash down her gingerbread with, and she drank thirstily. “Slowly,” McKenna admonished, his gaze caressing. “You’ll make yourself dizzy.”
“Who cares?” Aline asked blithely, drinking again. “If I stumble, you’ll be here to catch me, won’t you?”
“With both arms,” he murmured. Coming from anyone else, the statement would have had the ring of gallantry. From McKenna, however, it contained a deliciously threatening edge.
They made their way toward the village green, but before they reached it, Aline saw a familiar face. It was Adam, his blond hair glittering in the torchlight. He was accompanied by friends, both male and female, and he parted from the group with a brief comment, eliciting a few knowing laughs as they saw that he was heading to Aline.
She went to him eagerly, while McKenna followed like a grim specter. Reaching Adam, Aline took his hands and smiled up at him. “I behold a handsome stranger,” she teased. “No, wait—were you not once a frequent visitor to Stony Cross Park? It has been so long since I’ve seen you, my memory fails me.”
Adam’s mouth quirked with amusement as he replied. “My absence has been deliberate, sweet—and you know why.”
She felt a glow of fondness, comprehending that he had stayed away to allow her to deal with McKenna in any way she desired. “That doesn’t prevent me from missing you, however.”
Adam’s smooth, strong fingers squeezed hers before he released her hand. “I’ll come to call soon,” he promised. “Now, introduce me to your companion.”
Obediently Aline made the introduction between her dearest friend and her past love…the former, who would never cause her unhappiness, and the latter, who almost certainly would again. It was strange to see McKenna and Adam shaking hands. She had never imagined the two of them meeting, and she could not help but mark the contrasts between them, the angel and
“Mr. McKenna,” Adam said easily, “your return to Stony Cross has afforded Lady Aline such delight that I can’t help but share it, as I am appreciative of all things that bring her pleasure.”
“Thank you.” McKenna subjected him to a coldly hostile stare. “You have been friends for some time, I gather.”
“Well nigh five years,” Adam replied.
A stilted silence ensued, until it was broken by a cry from several yards away. “McKenna?…”
Glancing in the direction of the voice, Aline realized that some of McKenna’s old friends had seen him…Dick Burlison, once a carrot-headed, gangly-legged boy, who was now a stocky married man in his midthirties…Tom Haydon, the baker’s son, who now ran his father’s business…and Tom’s wife, Mary, the buxom butcher’s daughter whom McKenna had so often flirted with in his youth.
Smiling, Aline nudged McKenna gently. “Go on.”
He needed no further urging. As he strode to the group with a grin, they all let out jubilant laughs and shook hands enthusiastically. Mary, a mother of five, wore a look of astonishment on her round face as McKenna bent to kiss her cheek.
“I perceive that you have not been intimate with him yet,” Adam said to Aline sotto voce.
She replied softly as she continued to watch McKenna. “I may not be brave enough to take such a risk.”
“As your friend, I should probably advise you not to do something that you may regret later.” Adam smiled as he added, “Of course, one tends to miss out on a great deal of fun that way.”
“Adam,” she chided, “are you encouraging me to do the wrong thing?”
“Only if you promise to tell me all about it afterward.”
Aline shook her head with a laugh. Hearing the sound, McKenna turned and looked at her, a scowl working between his dark brows.
“There, I’ve just made it easier for you,” Adam murmured. “The flames of jealousy have been fanned. Now he won’t rest until he claims his territory. My God, you do like them primitive, don’t you?”
Sure enough, McKenna returned to her in less than a minute, his fingers clasping Aline’s elbow in a clear display of ownership. “We were heading to the village green,” he reminded her curtly.
“So we were,” Aline murmured. “Lord Sandridge, will you join us?”
“Regretfully, no.” Adam lifted Aline’s free hand to kiss the points of her knuckles. “I must rejoin my companions. Good evening to you both.”
“Goodbye,” McKenna said, making no effort to hide his animosity as the handsome viscount took his leave.
“Do be civil to him, please,” Aline said. “Lord Sandridge is quite dear to me, and I wouldn’t have his feelings hurt for the world.”
“I was being civil,” McKenna muttered.
She laughed, relishing his obvious jealousy. “You barely said one word to him, except to bid him goodbye. And the way you glowered reminded me of a stuck boar, ready to charge—”
“What kind of a man is he,” McKenna interrupted, “that he makes no objection when he sees you being escorted through the village by someone like me?”
“A trusting one. Lord Sandridge and I have a certain understanding—we allow each other as much freedom as is needed. It’s a very enlightened arrangement.”
“Enlightened,” he repeated with ill-concealed contempt. “Sandridge is a fool. And if I were in his place, you wouldn’t even be here.”
“Where would I be, then?” she asked pertly. “At home, I suppose, mending your shirt cuffs?”
“No, in my bed. Under me.”
Her amusement dissolved at once. Reaction to the soft-voiced words skittered through her body, making her feel light and shivery. She kept silent, her face turning pink as she walked with him to the village green. More than a few people glanced at them speculatively as they passed. After McKenna had spent so many years away, his return was reason enough for the villagers’ interest, but the fact that he was in Aline’s company caused tongues to wag even more eagerly.
The music was accompanied by clapping hands and stomping feet as men and women skipped and spun to a spirited folk tune. Enjoying the infectious melody, Aline let McKenna draw her closer to the musicians.
As soon as the song finished, McKenna gestured to their leader, a fiddle player, who approached him at once. McKenna spoke close to the man’s ear and crossed his palm with a few coins, while Aline observed him with sudden suspicion.
Grinning broadly, the fiddle player hastened back to his companions, held a quick conference, and the group of eight musicians walked en masse to Aline. She regarded McKenna with growing suspicion. “What have you done?”
Bringing her with them to the center of the crowd, the musicians stood her in front where she was visible to everyone. Their leader gestured with his bow to McKenna. “My merry friends,” he called, “this gentleman has requested a song to honor the charms of the lady who stands before us. I beg your kind assistance in singing ‘The Rose of Tralee’ to Lady Aline.”
The audience applauded heartily, for the tune was a wildly popular one that had just been published that year. Turning scarlet, Aline gave McKenna a glance that openly threatened murder, causing most of the assemblage to laugh. He returned her gaze with an innocent smile, lifting his brows mockingly to remind her that she had been the one to request a serenade.
The musicians gazed at Aline with exaggerated soulful gazes, and she shook her head with a grin as they began to play, accompanied by at least two hundred voices. Even some of the shopkeepers and traveling merchants gathered near to join in, substituting her name for that of the heroine in the song:
The pale moon was rising
above the green mountain;
the sun was declining
beneath the blue sea
when I strayed with my love
to the pure crystal fountain
that stands in the beautiful
vale of Tralee.
She was
lovely and fair
as the rose of the summer
yet ’twas not her beauty
alone the won me
Oh, no! ’twas the truth
in her eye ever dawning
that made me love Aline,
the Rose of Tralee
The cool shades of evening
their mantle was spreading,
and Aline, all smiling,
was listening to me,
The moon through the valley,
her pale rays was shedding
when I won the heart
of the rose of Tra-leeeeee!
At the conclusion of the song, Aline curtsied deeply in acknowledgment. She gave the lead fiddle player her hand, and after bending to kiss it, he pretended to fall backward in a swoon, eliciting a round of applause and friendly laughter from the gathering.
Returning to McKenna, Aline regarded him with a mock glare. “You’re going to pay for this,” she warned.
He grinned. “You wanted a serenade.”
Laughter rustled up from her chest. “From you,” she exclaimed, taking his arm once again. “Not from the entire population of Stony Cross!”
“Trust me—that was far better than hearing me sing alone.”
“As I recall, you had a very nice voice.”
“I’m out of practice.”
They stared at each other, smiling, while delight hummed through Aline’s veins. “I also asked for a poem,” she said.
The flirtatious sparkle of her eyes seemed to affect McKenna, causing his voice to deepen as he replied. “And I told you I needed more inspiration.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more precise. What kind of inspiration are you referring to?”
His wide mouth curled up at the corners. “Use your imagination.”
Aline was struck by the words. Unknowingly, McKenna had used the same phrase that Adam had once spoken, when they had discussed the scars on her legs.
The feeling of impatience returned, and she could hardly draw br
No.
No matter what it cost her, she would have a few precious moments of intimacy with the man she had never stopped loving. And she would find a way to do it without letting him know her secrets. Tonight, she thought in passionate rebellion, and damn anyone or anything that tried to stop her. Damn Fate itself…she and McKenna were finally going to have their reckoning.
Twelve
It was long past midnight, and the torches were burning down. Villagers and visitors swarmed through the darkened streets, many of them intoxicated. Some sang, some scuffled and disputed, while others took advantage of the shadows to indulge in brazen kisses. Those of more genteel sensibilities had prudently left for home, while those who remained could not help but be aware that the crowd’s inhibitions were fading as fast as the torchlight. Musicians played near the bonfire, while dancers perspired freely as they moved in and out of the pool of flickering light.
Staring into the glow of the bonfire, Aline leaned back against McKenna. He supported her automatically, one hand settling at the nipped-in curve of her waist, the other cupping gently around her elbow. On any other night, in any other circumstances, the way they stood would have caused a scandal. However, the usual standards of propriety were relaxed, if not outright ignored, at fair time. And in the milling crowd, no one seemed to notice or care that Aline and McKenna had materialized like a pair of shades from a time long past.
Aline’s eyes half closed as the heat of the firelight limned her face. “You’re taller,” she murmured absently, thinking of how he used to stand with his chin resting on the top of her head. Now he couldn’t do the same without hunching over.
He bent his head, his voice warm and soft in her ear. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Wine had loosened her tongue. “We don’t fit the way we used to.”