by Wendy Vella
“I am unhurt, and thank you, Cam. I thought we were not discussing that incident.”
Cam shrugged, then leaned to whisper in her ear. “Don’t think I don’t remember how upset you were when Huntington left either, sister. We shall discuss this later.”
“I was upset about Brunt!”
“No, you were not, so don’t try and fudge me.”
“You knew about this business with Brunt and didn’t tell me!” Dev glared at his brother.
“I knew too.”
Essie wondered if anyone would notice her hands slipping up around her sister’s neck and squeezing.
Dev spun to impale her with his fierce green gaze. Had she not been the recipient hundreds of times before, Essie would admit it was intimidating.
“You told them and not me.”
“Cam was there when it happened, and I told Eden today after meeting Mr. Huntington again, Dev. Don’t make a fuss.”
“Sssh, all of you, Aunt and Uncle are approaching with Mr. Huntington,” Eden said, her eyes snapping with excitement, and suddenly Essie wished she were anywhere else but standing here, about to see Max again.
“Allow me to introduce you to my family, Mr. Huntington.”
Max couldn’t draw his eyes from Essie. Beautiful seemed too simple a word for how she looked. Her dress was pale apricot satin with a soft floating overskirt in a matching color. A twist of braided satin ran down the center and banded cap sleeves. Her hair was swept high and styled in a mass of curls, and as she turned to look at her brother, he saw a stem of flowers in gold and emerald set in the back. Around her neck sat a thin gold chain that held a heart-shaped locket.
Digging his toes into his shoes, Max resisted the urge to lean forward and inhale her scent. He wanted to place his lips in that spot at the base of her neck.
Stop it, Max!
This had to stop. He could not have this woman in his life even if he wanted her. Her family would never allow that, and if they knew what had already happened between them, he would likely end up hanging from a noose. Or beaten and thrown in the Thames, he thought, looking at her two large brothers. The eldest looked not exactly inhospitable, but it was a near thing.
“My niece and her husband, the Duke and Duchess of Raven,” Lord Wynburg said, and pride rang loud and clear in his voice.
“Your Grace, your Grace,” Max said hoping he was addressing them correctly. His tutor had spent many months teaching him how to behave when he was around nobility, and he remembered most of it… he hoped.
The duke was a big man, almost Max’s size, and the way he lowered his head was regal enough for the title he carried.
“How wonderful to see you again, Mr. Huntington, and so soon.”
Essie’s sister, however, may look regal, but by the wicked sparkle in her eyes, he thought that perhaps she was anything but, and had cost her brother many sleepless nights. The duchess was enjoying this encounter between him and Essie. Max wondered what, if anything, Essex had said to her sister about their acquaintance.
“And you, your Grace.”
“My nephews, Lord Sinclair and Mr. Cambridge Sinclair, and niece Miss Sinclair,” Lord Wynburg continued.
“My lord, Mr. Sinclair, and Miss Sinclair.” He looked briefly at Essie, but she did not meet his eyes.
“Mr. Huntington, I hope your wound is healed.”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Sinclair, and thank you for coming to my aid.” This man had carried his unconscious, bleeding body into Oak’s Knoll. The thought that he may have seen his back was an unsettling one. The green eyes gave nothing away, however.
“And by no means the last of our family members, but the last one here this evening, is Lady Sinclair, my nephew’s wife,” Lord Wynburg finished.
She was the only fair-haired one among them, and her smile the most welcoming.
“My lady.” Max bowed again.
“I hear my sisters visited you today, Mr. Huntington?”
“Indeed they did, Lord Sinclair.”
“I also understand that my siblings tended you after you arrived at Oak’s Knoll with a bullet in you?”
“Right again, my lord. It’s my hope the sheets to your bed are changed before you sleep in them again.” Max wasn’t entirely sure why he said the words, but they came out just the same.
“I beg your pardon?” Lord Sinclair’s eyes were the most startling green he had ever seen, piercing in their intensity.
“Well, I was hardly carrying him up the stairs to mine,” Cambridge Sinclair drawled. “Good Lord, look at the size of him. My back would have ached for a month.”
Lady Sinclair muffled her giggle behind a glove. Her husband shot her a dark look.
“Your bed was the only one he could fit in, Dev.”
Essie said the words, and Max knew that she was the peacemaker in this family. The soft, calming influence. Strangely, she did not have that effect on Max. He felt anything but calm when she was near.
“May I ask who shot you, Mr. Huntington?”
Max swung his eyes to the duke. He spoke in the smooth, cultured tone of a man who had been raised with the assurance his every need would be met… and met well.
“I don’t know who shot me, your Grace. It happened as I was riding to view a property I was interested in purchasing. My horse bolted, and I was unaware of much after that, only that I had the good fortune to end up at Oak’s Knoll.”
“If I may have this dance, Miss Sinclair?”
A man in naval uniform had joined the group, and it was he who asked Essie to dance. Max watched her brothers look the man over, the eldest staring intently at him. Cambridge raised his nose and sniffed the air, looking like an animal catching a scent.
“Of course, Captain Hilliard, I would love to dance.”
Max looked away as Essie placed her hand on the man’s arm, and called himself every kind of fool for feeling a bolt of jealousy travel through him.
“I have heard of your houses, Mr. Huntington.”
Lady Sinclair had moved to his side, and Max dragged his eyes from the sight of Essie being escorted onto the dance floor by Captain Hilliard.
“You are doing wonderful work with those boys.”
She had a lovely smile, and eyes the color of the heather that he had seen growing wild on the hills and valleys of Scotland.
“I’m not sure how you came to hear about my houses, Lady Sinclair.”
Her smile only increased her beauty, but it had no effect on Max, unlike Essie’s smiles. Those made his toes curl inside his boots.
“I look after children who live on the streets, Mr. Huntington. It has been a passion of mine for many years.”
“Yes, Miss Sinclair told me about your house today.”
“When she and my wife visited your warehouse?” The duke joined the conversation.
“They were in no danger, your Grace. I would not have let harm befall them.”
The air expelled loudly from the duke’s lips, in a very unnoble way. “I do not blame you, Mr. Huntington. The women in this family are a force of nature. I have learned that you can’t barricade them in, you need to simply keep a close eye on them.”
“Well done, darling, you are learning,” his duchess called from several feet away, and Max wasn’t entirely sure how she heard her husband’s words so clearly.
Lady Sinclair laughed. “I am impressed by your capacity to understand the female mind, cousin. Perhaps you could speak to my husband now, so he can learn also.”
“After years of keeping my sisters safe, I am not about to change now, my love,” Lord Sinclair said, holding out his hand to his wife. “Now come and dance with me.”
“Seeing as you asked so nicely.”
Max shook his head. He had never encountered nobility quite like this group. They weren’t rigidly polite to each other like many he knew. In fact, they seemed comfortable in speaking exactly as they wished, even with Max in hearing distance.
“I’m not entirely sure why my sister was upset whe
n you suddenly disappeared from Oak’s Knoll, Huntington, but she assures me it is her business and not mine.”
Max found Cambridge Sinclair at his side. The man wore a pleasant expression, but his green eyes were deadly serious.
“But as I wish to know about this steam-powered mill,” he said conversationally, “I will not pursue the matter at this time. However, if I find you have hurt her, then I will come calling.”
“I don’t like threats, Mr. Sinclair.” Even if they are warranted, Max added silently.
“Excellent.” The man slapped him on the back. “We understand each other, then. Now tell me more, Huntington.”
He was serious, Max realized. Shaking his head, he dismissed his first thought, which was to leave, as the lure to talk about one of the few things in his life he was passionate about overrode all else. He was soon lost in the world he loved. Technology, and what it offered those bold enough to embrace it.
“Advancements in tools and machinery are improving steam power rapidly, Mr. Sinclair.”
The duke and Lord Sinclair soon joined their conversation, and Max answered the questions they fired at him. These noblemen were surprisingly intelligent and had a vast knowledge of the industry. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but when the Duchess of Raven coughed loudly, the men turned to find her frowning at her husband’s back.
“Forty minutes is quite long enough for this conversation, don’t you think, gentlemen? While this has been extremely entertaining for you men, I assure you Lilly and I are near bored to tears.”
“Excuse us, Mr. Huntington,” the duke said. “We have neglected our wives for too long.”
“And there are several women in dire need of my attention also,” Cambridge Sinclair said, walking away.
Max found himself alone. He should leave; there was nothing else for him here. He had made an appearance and now it was acceptable for him to go. His gaze found Essie a few feet away. She was standing with her aunt, chatting. One dance, he told himself. Just one.
“May I have this dance, Miss Sinclair?”
No!
“I... ah, well, as to that—”
“She would love to, Mr. Huntington.”
Essie couldn’t glare at her aunt, as she had no idea why she had no wish to dance with Max.
“Miss Sinclair?”
He held out his arm, and Essie placed her fingers on it. Of course it would be a waltz; why had she believed otherwise. Bracing herself, she let him turn her into his arms.
I did not just shiver, it’s merely cold in here.
“You have an interesting family, Essex.”
“Miss Sinclair,” she said. “And yes, they are very important to me.”
“You are lucky to have them in your life, then.”
She wanted to ask him about his life, but no good could come of her engaging him in conversation. She would get through the dance and then leave his side.
“Peter is doing a great deal better. Thank you for your care of him today.”
“I am glad.”
“Silver asked me to talk with you about his headaches.”
She looked up and found him smiling down at her.
“I knew it would take speaking about the boys to have you look up at me.”
“Don’t toy with me, Mr. Huntington. What happened between us should not have, but as it did, we must now move on and I wish to never think of it again.”
“Is that possible?” He spoke softly.
“Yes, very much so.”
“Then you have more control than I.”
Essie looked away from him, to watch the other couples dance by. Dev and Lilly moved to her side, and she saw her brother’s questioning look. She smiled in reply, which seemed to appease him.
“Your family are very protective of you.”
“It is our way.”
“It must be both stifling and comforting.”
It was, but she would not have it any other way.
“I love my family, Mr. Huntington.”
“I did not say otherwise.”
They danced in silence, and Essie focused on his necktie. She was no simpering, silly maiden to swoon over a man. Control, she realized. Control was what she needed, and for most of her life she had managed to achieve just that, so surely she could do so now around this one man.
“How are you different, Essie?”
She had told him the first night they met, that the Sinclair’s were different.
“I’m a healer, Mr. Huntington, my family are not. That is how I am different.”
His look told her he was not convinced. “And how is your family different?”
“Even on such short acquaintance, I’m sure you have seen that we are not a regular family,” Essie said calmly.
“Yes, they are certainly different, but I had a feeling there was more to it than that, when I heard you speak on the matter.”
“You were delirious with fever, Mr. Huntington. I’m not sure you could remember what I said that night.”
“I remember.”
And Essie had a feeling he really did, and the thought was not a pleasant one. Her family had secrets, and she had no wish for this man be aware of them.
“Are we to forget all that lay between us also, Essie?”
“It was you who walked away, Mr. Huntington, not I. And that, I now believe, was for the best. I would ask that you respect my wishes and speak of this matter no more.”
“I wish I could. But as yet, I have been unable to put you out of my head.” His words were deep and steady.
She looked at him then, and saw the flare of passion. He felt this dangerous need they had for each other, too. So she would have to keep herself safe by avoiding him. It was the only way.
“You lied to me and walked away. I want nothing further to do with you.” She made herself look at him. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Huntington.” Essie dropped into a curtsy as the music finished, and fled.
Essie knew her aunt and uncle’s house well, as she had lived there when she first came to London. Leaving the ballroom without her siblings being aware, she made her way to the stairs, and climbed.
Her body had betrayed her in Max’s arms. He had awakened something inside her that night in Oak’s Knoll, and now when he was near she responded to him. Surely if she just kept her distance, all would be well. She wanted no man to have control over her ever again. Distance, Essie thought. She must keep her distance from him. And if she was forced into his company, then she would ensure she always had someone with her.
She had watched him talking with her brothers and James, confident and comfortable in whatever discussion was taking place. He had also been comfortable with those boys at his warehouse today, leaving her in no doubt he was helping, rather than harming them. Again, she wondered at his story. How had he ended up living the life he now did? He had suffered, his back told her that, but risen above that suffering to be a powerful, wealthy man.
She found the small terrace off the end of the hall, opened the doors, and walked out. The cool air was a relief after the ballroom, with its scents and body odors.
“I must stay away from him,” Essie whispered, gripping the railing. He made her weak, he made her feel, and she could not allow that. Could not allow him to lie and manipulate her again. “Put him from your thoughts,” she whispered.
“Essie.”
She spun to find Max walking through the doors behind her.
“Why are you here?”
“I followed you.”
Essie couldn’t read his expression as he drew closer.
“Why?”
“Ask me instead to recite a few Latin proverbs. I assure you that would be easier.”
He walked closer, and she was pressed to the stone balustrade, with no escape.
“You look like an angel tonight.”
“No.” Essie shook her head. Holding a hand out before her, she kept him at bay. “Go away, Max. I told you I wanted nothing to do with you.”
“Why can’t you accept a compliment?”
“Why can’t you leave me alone?”
He trailed a finger down one cheek, and Essie could do nothing to stop the betraying shiver of awareness.
“You should not be here,” Essie whispered. “What happened between us is over... done with. This, what was, can no longer be, which I know is what you wanted when you left Oak’s Knoll in the middle of the night.”
“That’s not why I left.”
“It matters not. You lied to me, and I will not forgive you.”
“As you shouldn’t, because I am a man who does not deserve to touch one such as you.” He cupped her cheek and leaned closer. “But you tempt me to do what I shouldn’t.”
“I don’t want to tempt you.”
Essie felt her body lean toward him, telling him her words were a lie. Lean into that wonderful strength. She’d never before felt this frenzied need to be close to a man.
He kissed her again, deep and long, and she lost the ability to do anything but feel. He held her pressed close to his body, and she wanted to open his jacket and slide her hands inside.
“I’ve watched you dance tonight, and battled the need to plant my fist in the face of each of your partners.”
His hands moved to the front of her body, and up. She gasped as he cupped her breasts.
“I am no good for you, Essex Sinclair. I’m savage, and have a darkness in me that would destroy you.” His words were deep and dredged from deep inside him. “You are right to keep your distance, but God help me, I cannot stay away from you.”
“What darkness?” Essie wrapped her arms around his neck and fisted her fingers in his hair. Tugging his head down, she kissed him.
His hand touched the skin above her bodice, brushing softly from side to side, until her body was a furnace of need. He then tugged the material down and took her breast into his hands, and Essie moaned.
“God, I’m a fool!” He stepped away from her. “I have to leave here now.”
“Then go, and d-do not toy with me again!” Essie cried, sounding like the heroine in a dreadful novel. “I am a nobleman’s daughter, damn you! I-I will not be treated this way!”
