Authors: Choices
Rachel Carrington (2 page)
Once, when she was a little girl, Carla had written a “happily ever after” story. She’d been unfortunate enough to leave the three-page tale where Sandra Morgan could read the words. Her mother had belittled the story, turning the pages of fiction into a waste of time and decrying her daughter’s belief in Prince Charming and the damsel in distress that he saved from a miserable world of sorrow and woe.
Carla never wrote again and from that moment on, she kept her imagination grounded in reality.
Below her, the street bustled with activity despite the lateness of the hour. Manhattan never closed and normally, the busyness would have thrilled her, but tonight, Carla desired sanctuary and a solitary existence that would shut out her family.
Family, that horrific turn that had damned her to a life of etiquette and polite smiles that took the place of love and caring. If not for Diane, Carla would have told the entire lot to go to hell a long time ago. But Diane needed her, Diane would always need her.
Diane hadn’t been given a choice when Sam had announced his desire for her as his wife. To Baylor Morgan, it was a good match and no further conversation was needed. Still living at home, Diane had been forced to follow her father’s dictates much as a woman living in an earlier century would have. After the wedding, Carla moved out, escaping from the possibility of a suitable marriage of her own.
A car horn blared below and Carla leaned farther over the edge of the balcony to see the street below as her cell phone trilled. Carla answered dutifully, hoping it wasn’t her mother.
“Hey, Carla!” A feminine voice chirped. “Is that you on your balcony?”
Carla squinted to see against the stream of headlights. “Who is this?”
“It’s me, Jenny! And I’m right below you. See me waving?”
“Jenny? What are you doing out this late?” Carla waved. “Never mind. I’ll buzz you up.” Knowing her best friend’s impulsiveness, Carla tried not to be surprised at Jenny’s late-night arrival, but something told her to be concerned anyway. Jenny had taken off three months ago for Italy and except for one measly postcard, Carla had received no further information.
Jenny guided the snappy little convertible to the curb and tossed the keys to the valet. “Park it somewhere safe, buddy.” Then, with a jaunty wave, she disappeared beneath the canopy to await the release of the lock.
In a daze, Carla pressed the button to release the lock and walked to the front door. She had just turned the locks when the doorbell rang. “Do you realize what time it is?”
“Actually, I do. Believe it or not, I learned how to tell time in the first grade. Now, are you going to invite me in or are you going to stand there staring at me all evening?” Jenny jammed her hands on her jeans-clad hips and flashed a brilliant smile.
Carla stepped back. “I’m sorry. Come on in.” She raked her hands through her hair.
Jenny walked across the threshold and whistled low in her throat. “I like what you’ve done with the place. I’ve been meaning to stop by, but you know, time gets away from us.”
Carla didn’t need to be reminded. She and Jenny shared a love of the high life and worked hard for every cent they earned. Unfortunately, their respective drives didn’t give them much by way of free time.
Jenny turned and with her usual candor, queried, “Is all of this your doing or did you finally cave in to Daddy’s demands?”
Carla laughed slightly. “Kiss my ass. You know better than that.”
Jenny laughed aloud and dropped her purse to the carpeted floor.
“I thought you were in Italy,” Carla began.
“Italy. Jesus. One Carlo, three bottles of wine and I don’t even want to talk about the rest.” Jenny smacked her hands against her thighs and twirled around. “How about a grand tour so I can see all the adjustments you’ve made?”
With little enthusiasm, Carla led the way down the hallway, past the framed family portraits that Sandra had bestowed upon her with great pomp and circumstance upon her college graduation. She made the tour short and sweet, consisting of little more than the flicking of light switches to enable Jenny to see the grandeur of each room.
When they’d returned to the den, Jenny turned and tilting her head to one side, surveyed her best friend with customary boldness. “I have to say this, Carl. Even though you’re as beautiful as ever, you don’t look happy.”
Carla gave her a strained smile. “Who? Me? Oh, I’m blissfully happy.” She returned to her glass of wine. “May I offer you some wine?”
“Listen to yourself! You sound just like your mother. It would appear that I’ve returned just in time.”
“You haven’t said why you’re here.”
Jenny made herself comfortable on the sectional sofa. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” She waved a hand as Carla lifted the bottle. “I’ll skip the wine, thanks. I want a clear head when I tell you my plans.”
“Your plans?”
“You look like you could use a vacation. I just so happen to be headed in that direction.”
Carla blinked at her. “What direction?”
“Toward a vacation. Well, actually, it would be more of a working vacation. I’m doing an exposé on this nineteenth-century castle in England. I know how much you’ve always been fascinated with that culture and I thought you might like to join me in my quest.”
Carla sat down before her legs failed her. “You have no idea how much I wish I could go.
Unfortunately, I just don’t have the time.”
Jenny leaned forward, her pixie face intent. “You have to make time for the things that are important to you and your health should be very important to you.”
Carla’s eyes narrowed. “Who have you been talking to?”
Jenny threw her hands up in the air and relented. “Okay. I give. Diane called me. She said that you have been so depressed that she’s worried about you. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.”
“She’s worried about me? She’s the one married to Sam O’Hara. At least I can get away from the family once in a while. She’s stuck there in the thick of things.”
“She told me about the family reunion. Carla, if you don’t get out of here, your family is going to swallow you whole, just like one of your father’s conquests. I’m telling you that this is the perfect solution. You can take some time, clear your head and when you come back, you can put your life back in order.”
Carla crossed slim legs and took another sip of the fruity wine. She took her time, savoring the acidic bite before responding. “My life is in order.”
Jenny dragged her hands through her short cap of blonde curls and shook her head. “No, your life according to Sandra Morgan is in order. This can’t be what you want to do with the rest of your life.”
“I have a job I enjoy, Jenny. Not too many people can say that.”
“Yes, and you’ve achieved everything you told me you were going to achieve. Now what? Where do you go from here? How much longer are you going to live under your mother’s thumb, risking your father’s wrath on a daily basis? I’ve seen him mad and believe me, I don’t want to be around when the next volcano erupts.” Jenny squirmed on the leather sofa that matched the recliner that matched the entertainment center. Everything matched in Carla’s home, a perfect blend of colors and material.
Everything in place. Not even a magazine marred the glass-topped coffee table with its intricate etched patterns.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Think quick. Our flight leaves tomorrow morning at six.”
“Tomorrow? That doesn’t give me a whole lot of time.”
“I didn’t want you to have time to back out.”
Carla placed the crystal back down on the coaster and steepled her fingers, considering her friend with a shrewd eye and then, slowly, she grinned.
* * * * *
The heavy brocade draperies obscured the windows, blocking the sunlight and shrouding the interior room in darkness, but the housekeeper knew Sinclair Heath liked it that way. He’d been living in the darkness for so long he probably wasn’t sure he could face the light.
Standing beside the velvet brocade settee, he cut an imposing figure in the black breeches that molded to his hard thighs. His shoulder-length black hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a slim piece of leather and broad shoulders were covered by a black waistcoat. His dark eyes stared into space, seeing nothing and Nettie’s heart hurt for him.
“Your Grace.” She reluctantly interrupted his musings.
Sinclair spun around, dropping his hands to his sides. “What is it, Nettie?” She could see by his eyes that he’d been remembering Sara again. How long had it been since she’d succumbed to the fever and left him alone? Two years or was it three? Nettie wondered if he’d ever get over the loss of his young wife.
“There’s a young lady here to see you. She says it’s very important.”
Sinclair checked his pocket watch and nodded abruptly. “Show her in.”
Amid a rustle of skirts, Nettie moved to do as she was bid.
* * * * *
So what have you to say? Do you have information that I must know?”
A young girl wearing a simple frock curtsied properly and kept her eyes downcast. “Yes, Your Grace.
I’m sorry to intrude upon your day, but my mother told me that it was very important that I tell you what I saw.”
“You saw?” Sinclair didn’t bother to stifle his impatience. “What is it that you saw, girl, and be quick about it.”
“I saw your future, Your Grace…with a woman.”
Sinclair’s hand fell to the back of the settee. “Any future I might have had with a woman died when my wife died. Now, get out of here. I’ve heard enough of this nonsense.” He couldn’t listen to more. At the thought of his wife, his heart began to ache again and not because of the grief of his loss. He felt guilty and the uneasiness over the past couple of days disturbed him.
Going against the dictates of the Duke, the girl stood her ground. “I see things, Your Grace. I’ve always been able to see things. It’s a gift. I know you have not been feeling yourself lately and just as I see that, I saw a woman in your future, but she’s not someone like us.”
In spite of himself, Sinclair’s interest was piqued. “Speak in plain English.”
“When I saw her, she was dressed strangely. She may be from across the sea.”
Sinclair wanted to dismiss her words as nonsense, but his heart began to hammer. “The Americas?”
“Possibly. I cannot be sure, but I know that she will come.”
“And what of her arrival? What has that to do with me?” In truth, he’d closed off his emotions years ago when his wife died. He wasn’t so sure he could resurrect them. Or if he wanted to. He’d had the chance at love and he’d thrown it away. His wife wanted so much more than he could give her. He raised his eyes to see the minute girl staring at him. “Speak up, girl. I haven’t all day.”
She curtsied once more and began backing to the door. “You will love her, of that I’m sure.”
Sinclair heard the gasp from behind the young girl and his temper began to climb. “Nettie, show yourself.
You dare to listen to my conversations?”
The housekeeper curtsied herself and apologized. “It’s not that I eavesdrop, Your Grace, but this young girl has quite a reputation in town.”
Sinclair’s gaze rested on the young lady. “And this reputation is…?”
“Of a soothsayer. She sees the future.”
His knuckles tightened until the skin turned white. “If you choose to believe in such nonsense that is no concern of mine, but I will not tolerate it in my house. Be gone with you, child, and tell your mother that the Duke does not wish to hear of your future visions.” He presented his back to the visitor and waited until her footsteps retreated before he turned back around. He pinned his angry gaze on his housekeeper.
“Damnation, Nettie! How could you allow such a girl in here when you know my beliefs?”
“I thought she might be of help, Your Grace. It has been quite some time since your wife passed and I was only thinking of your future.”
His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Nettie knew of his pain. Why would she bring up such an agonizing issue? “My future is seeing to my subjects, nothing more.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Nettie protested. Having helped to raise the Duke since he was a small boy, Sinclair knew she felt the freedom to speak her mind.
“No? And how do you suppose my life is going to change? By a woman from across the seas? It is nonsense, I tell you. Now go. I wish to be alone.”
Nettie sighed heavily, but turned to do as she was bid, but not before offering one last comment. “I would not be so quick to dismiss something that could possibly come true, Your Grace.”
* * * * *
Her luggage was already stashed by the front door and she’d left a message at the firm where she worked informing them she wouldn’t be in for a week. More than likely, her colleagues would assume someone had died. That was the only time Carla took time off from work.
Until now.
Still grinning, she slipped out of her clothes and climbed nude beneath the scented sheets, tucking the comforter around her legs. Visions of courtly English gentlemen danced in her head and she sighed with pleasure. A vacation. It was about damned time.
And she’d always had a thing for men with accents, especially Englishmen. Although she wasn’t intending this vacation to be about sex, she certainly wouldn’t mind hooking up with an upright member of royalty for just one evening. As the scene played out in her mind, she began to stroke her breasts, massaging the mounds until the familiar tingling began in her abdomen. The nipples peaked and she damped one finger with her tongue and drew lazy circles around the taut nub on each breast.
Eyes closed, she envisioned an attractive man with a dimple in his cheek approaching her. Her breath escaped on a sigh and one hand traveled lower, dipping beneath the sheet to touch the downy nest of curls covering her pussy. Shivering with anticipation, she parted her lips gently and began to stroke the crease.
