Authors: Choices
Rachel Carrington (10 page)
Carla watched him leave, disappointment wrapping around her like a fog. She’d wanted to touch him, taste him, but he’d rebuffed her, and for the life of her, she couldn’t convince herself it was only because she still wanted to leave.
But most importantly, how could she consider such an act when she barely knew the man? What was it about Sinclair Heath that reduced her to a tangled jumble of passion and liquid heat? Certainly no man in her world had ever done the same for her.
Just her luck she had to find the only man who could render her unconscious from too many orgasms and he had to be one she couldn’t take home to meet her parents.
“It is simply not possible that she has disappeared off of the face of the earth.” Sandra Morgan faced Jenny with a displeased expression and one hand on the doorknob. As Diane watched, she sensed a storm brewing and there was nothing quite like her mother’s temper.
“Tomorrow morning, I will hire a detective to track her down,” Sandra announced in a haughty tone of voice.
Jenny’s mouth fell open. “You think she’s run away?”
“I would not put it past her. Carla always was an impetuous child.”
“Mother, she’s not a child anymore,” Diane said, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted and the last thing she’d wanted was to be hauled to a meeting with her mother. But Diane was always obedient and responded to every one of her mother’s summons. She missed Carla, her mother was simply pissed that Carla had the nerve to stay away.
Sea-green eyes swept her oldest daughter with disapproval. “You do not need to point that out to me, Diane. I am well aware of Carla’s age. However, I do think she goes out of her way to act much younger than her thirty-three years.” Her hand fell away from the doorknob and she patted her elegantly coiffed hair. With a slight turn of her wrist, she checked the sleek gold watch. “I am meeting your father in fifteen minutes for lunch. He is devastated by this entire episode. For Carla’s sake, she had better not have done this for attention.”
Diane leaped to her feet, her eyes blazing. And for the first time in her entire life, she talked back to her mother. “How can you say that? Your daughter, my sister, is missing and all you’re worried about is the inconvenience to you! How can you be so heartless? I hope, if Carla really did walk away from this life, that she has the sense enough to stay gone. God knows, if I had the courage, I would leave.” Gathering her purse and briefcase, she walked to the door. “Jenny, I apologize for dragging you into all of this. I might have known that my mother wouldn’t be as concerned about my sister’s disappearance as she was the disruption to her own life.”
“Diane Margaret! You stop right there!” Sandra, her face red, planted herself directly in the path to the door. “I will not allow you to talk to me in such a manner! It was never tolerated when you were a child and it will not be tolerated now, either. Imagine what your father would say if he were here.”
“You mean if he was paying attention? I doubt he would be. Dad cannot drag his eyes away from his business proposals and checking account statement to even notice the things going on with his family. In fact, I’d be very much surprised if he is as devastated as you say he is. It would appear that I know my father better than even you do.” Wedging her shoulder past her mother, Diane continued her journey to the front door of her mother’s elegant three-story house, a place that was more a showcase than a home.
“Carla, wherever you are, I hope you’ve found happiness because you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Diane muttered as she punched the key into the ignition of her serviceable import.
Even missing her sister wouldn’t make Diane wish her home again.
* * * * *
Sinclair’s younger brother, Marcus, was similar to Sinclair in every way except his personality.
Boisterous and loud, he demanded to be the center of attention, much to the chagrin of his beleaguered wife, Lara.
The youngest brother, Jonathan, didn’t fit the mold of the family. At just twenty-eight years of age, he seemed to struggle to find his place among the royal line of his family roots. With his young wife, Elizabeth, in tow, he was quiet and reserved, allowing the others to carry the conversation while he listened and observed.
But Sinclair’s sister won Carla over the second she walked inside the front gate. With a wealth of curly, black hair that she wore piled atop her head in a fashionable chignon, Charlotte was beautiful, witty and had warmed to Carla immediately. Thus, making the evening a much more pleasant experience for Carla.
She had to admit she’d been a bit befuddled when she’d approached the dining room. To see Sinclair’s relatives dressed in their nineteenth-century finery had given Carla a moment of pause. It felt surreal.
“Carla, you’re staring. Have I something on my chin?” Marcus teased, leaning forward to gain Carla’s attention.
Flushing, Carla drew her focus back to the present. “I’m sorry. I guess today’s activities were a bit much for me. Please forgive me.” Favoring the brother with a warm smile, she folded her napkin and placed it atop her plate. “Did I miss a part of the conversation?” She saw Sinclair look at her over the top of his wine goblet, so she quickly averted her eyes. She hadn’t a clue if she was following proper protocol at this blasted dinner party. Besides that, the white muslin dress the ladies in waiting had stuffed her into was pinching her in the most uncomfortable areas. She was finding it hard put to be pleasant.
“Actually, we were just discussing taking a ride tomorrow across the countryside. If you haven’t seen it yet, it really is quite breathtaking.” Charlotte mimicked Carla’s actions and placed her own napkin atop her plate. “Shall we go then?”
“Actually,” Sinclair inserted, “Carla and I had made plans for the morning, but perhaps we could go tomorrow afternoon.”
Charlotte didn’t miss a beat. She prided herself on that. “Certainly.”
“If we are to have a long day tomorrow, I fear that I must go straight to bed. I am simply exhausted.”
Lara placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn and smiled apologetically.
“I suppose that is the way of women with child.” Marcus’ chest swelled with pride.
Lara cast her horrified expression on her husband’s smug face. “Marcus! We had agreed not to share the news with the family until I had been examined by the doctor.”
Marcus waved a hand in dismissal. “That will be too long. Besides, I do not know when we will be back this way again. I would not want my brothers to discover this news down the line. They should hear it from me.”
“Congratulations,” Carla murmured, trying to ignore the slight twinge of envy. Until now, she’d never wanted the same things that Lara and Elizabeth enjoyed. She felt Sinclair’s eyes on her face once more, but she didn’t look up, concentrating on her clasped hands. “I wish you well.” Damn the man! Couldn’t he focus his attention anywhere else besides her?
Lara’s hesitant smile appeared. “Thank you. That is very kind.”
Marcus scooted his chair away from the table and stood, wrapping an arm around his wife’s still slender waist. “I suppose I should be off as well. I cannot let my wife take to the bedchamber alone.” He gave his brothers a wolfish grin.
Jonathan watched his brother leave and he sighed. “When do you suppose he is going to grow up?”
Sinclair laughed aloud. “I do not suppose Marcus will ever achieve full maturity. He enjoys being immature too much.” Black eyes fell to Carla’s profile. “Are you feeling ill?”
That got Carla’s attention and her head lifted. “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”
“Would you like to go to bed as well?”
Carla searched his face for any hidden meanings. When she found none, she shook her head. “I think I would like some fresh air.”
Jonathan quickly inserted his protest. “It is not safe to walk the grounds alone at night.”
“I thought the castle was well guarded.”
“And it is, but even the best of guards can be overpowered. If my family will excuse me, I will join you.”
Sinclair stood, pulling Carla’s chair away from the table.
“I don’t want to take you away from your family.” The protest sounded feeble even to her own ears. In all honesty, she liked feeling the heat of Sinclair’s body behind her. He pulled her closer against his tall frame and pushed the chair in with his foot.
“If all of you will excuse us, we shall take our leave.”
Carla spared the remaining trio a small smile. “Forgive me for depriving you of your brother’s company.”
Jonathan waved a hand in dismissal. “I see him more often than Marcus does and he has already deserted us. No worry. We shall see him again, God willing.”
“Your brothers are very different,” Carla noted when she and Sinclair were alone, walking toward the garden.
Sinclair, his hand at the small of her back, nodded his agreement. “As different as the towns they serve.”
“You say serve. I thought they were Dukes as well.”
“And they are.”
“But they rule then.”
Sinclair stopped in the shadows to face her. The slight wind ruffled his hair, pulling several strands loose from the confining piece of leather. With the darkness obscuring his features, he became a shadow holding her captive with his voice. “My brothers feel as I do. We are here to serve our people, not to be served by our people. I have much in my life. I should give some back to the people who do not have as much.”
Carla blinked up at him in surprise. “Have you worked among them?”
“The villagers? Of course. They are comfortable with me. I long ago learned that respect is earned not bestowed. That is why my people know that I will help when I can. They are not afraid to come to me.”
“You have worked in the fields with them?”
Sinclair’s lips curved into a slight smile as he surely heard the disbelief in her tone. “I have.”
“That would explain why you are so dark. You’ve been working this summer.”
“I work with them every summer.” His voice dropped a notch, coated with sadness.
“When did you start working with them? I mean, have you been doing this all along?”
With a sudden movement, Sinclair turned away from her, taking a few steps toward the edge of the garden. Even in the black of night, Carla couldn’t miss the stiffness of his spine. “I started three years ago when we had an outbreak of typhoid. The men did not have enough workers in the field. My brothers and I helped them.”
The pain in his voice sliced through Carla like a serrated knife and she approached him quietly, the damp grass muffling her steps. She touched his back, her fingers barely grazing against the material of his waistcoat. “That was when your wife died, wasn’t it?”
Sinclair didn’t turn around, but Carla could imagine the pain in his eyes. “She caught typhoid. I was in a neighboring village, two days from here. She died before I could get home to help her. She died alone with only Nettie to comfort her.” His breath shuddered out of his lungs.
Carla allowed her instincts to guide her. Wrapping her arms around his trim waist, she rested her head against his spine. “And you’ve carried the guilt of not being there for your wife around with you for three years.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t know how to let it go.”
His hands covered hers. “I am not sure that I can let it go.”
“You’re the only one who can decide that.” The warmth of his skin heated her cheek. “I wish I could help you.”
“Why?” He turned in her arms. “Why would you want to help me?”
The question caught her off-guard. “I’m not sure. I…you’ve become a friend.”
Sinclair closed his eyes. “Perhaps we should go in now. The air is growing colder.”
“Sinclair.” Carla didn’t move. “Do you know how I could see my family? At least my sister? I’m not asking you to help me leave, but she has to be worried about me. If I could at least get a message to her, just to let her know that I’m all right, I would feel much better.”
Without revealing what he knew, Sinclair shrugged. “I will ask in town tomorrow. Perhaps the soothsayer will know of a way.”
So the town had a local psychic. Carla tucked the bit of knowledge inside her and hooked her arm through Sinclair’s. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t have missed the guilt that skated across his face and Carla’s fears were confirmed. Sinclair knew more than what he had told her.
* * * * *
Peddlers offering their wares lined the roadway, showing brightly colored material for new gowns or silver-handled mirrors. Bright toothless grins beckoned Carla from atop the carriage seat, but she could only return their smiles and shake her head. Even if she could locate her purse, her money would do her no good here.
“You are well liked here,” she noted quietly.
Beneath the cover of the carriage, Sinclair swept a look toward her. “You sound surprised.”
“I would imagine it is because of the books I have read. History does not portray the men of aristocracy to be kind, gentle men…at least not always. Most are self-centered and live for their own gain.”
“I have known many like that. However, my father raised my family differently. We were shown both sides of our world.”
“Your father was a wise man.”
“The soothsayer’s house is just up ahead. Are you sure you want to talk to her?”
Carla’s hands tightened in her lap. “I don’t really have a choice.”
Sinclair nodded and slowed the carriage to stop outside a small stone house. A large dog lay near the door, basking in the heat of the sun. He barely lifted his head to look at them as Sinclair stepped over him to knock on the door.
