Winter's Touch
Page 43
Her girl had grown into a lovely young woman. Her brown hair curled down to her shoulders, and her body had grown, turning her from gangly and awkward to sleek and graceful.
“He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”
Winter put her arm around Aisha’s shoulders at the heartbreak she heard in her voice. “Darling, he’s going to be back in six months.”
“It won’t be the same.”
Winter nodded, acknowledging Aisha’s sentiment as they watched Viper talking to the three men who were leaving for basic training. Chance and Noah had worked in the factory for a year so that the three of them could go into the service together. They were leaving in the middle of the night to make the drive to Lexington, where they would catch their flight for basic training. Lily and Shade were driving with John, while Razer and Beth would take their boys, so they could spend an extra day shopping.
Viper gave each of the men a hug goodbye before walking toward the hill where they sat, watching.
He stared down at his women, and Winter scooted over to make room for him. He sat down, unfolding his legs and placing an arm over each of their shoulders.
“They’re going to be fine. You sure you two don’t want to go down to tell them goodbye again?”
Winter sniffled. “I told them last night. I don’t want to start crying again. Lily’s having a hard enough time as it is.”
Viper turned to Aisha. “How about you?”
She silently shook her head, biting a trembling lip. “I told them goodbye when I helped them pack down their bags.”
The Last Riders began waving as Razer’s car pulled out of the parking lot.
Her heart broke along with Aisha’s as she lowered her head to rest on her knees. Her hair covered her tears, but it couldn’t mute the sobs.
“He’s waving to you,” Viper said so softly Winter laid her head on his shoulder, knowing how hard it was going to be to lose his baby girl. He cleared his voice. “Aisha, John’s waving to you.”
Aisha raised her head up from her knees then took off running when she saw John walking toward the path where she was sitting.
Winter and Viper watched as John said something before kissing her cheek then going back to his parents’ car.
Aisha stayed on the bottom of the path until she could no longer see the taillights as the car disappeared around the corner. She turned toward them then, giving them a radiant smile as she walked up.
“What did he say?” Viper asked gruffly, as she came within earshot.
“John said he loves me, and he thinks I’m special enough to wait for.”
TO WIN A SCOUNDREL’S HEART
The Lords of Whitehall, #2
Kristen McLean
Available Now!
1
Paris 1824
Céleste waited while her abigail nestled the pearl-studded gold comb in her hair amidst a low knot of dark curls. As she expected, it complemented her gown of blue with gold brocade that fit her slim figure with perfection. She ought to be pleased. She ought to feel her usual self—calm, collected, and in complete control—but a dreadful sense of foreboding tormented her, as though she were somehow stepping past the point of no return.
“You look lovely.” Juliette examined Céleste’s reflection in the mirror.
Juliette lived with Céleste as a companion, and had for several years. They were the dearest of friends. Even on the worst of days, Juliette could be counted on to chase away unwanted feelings. Grief, sadness, nervousness—they usually dissipated when she was with Juliette. The fact that Céleste still felt her stomach pitching violently despite her friend’s soothing voice only frustrated her.
“I ought to,” Céleste said. “I have been here for over an hour.” She picked up an ivory handheld mirror to check the back of her coiffure. “What time is it?”
Juliette smiled sweetly. “Time for your guests to start arriving.”
“Hmm.” With a deep breath, Céleste set down the mirror, sprayed a touch of perfume on her neck, and grabbed her long gloves, the new ones. She needed all her armor tonight.
Juliette’s fair brow knit suspiciously. “That isn’t like you,” she said as she followed Céleste to the door. “You anticipate this ball every year. What did you do?”
Céleste lifted her chin, looking over her shoulder to send her friend a quelling look. “I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Juliette turned her nose up mockingly. “I am sure you have every idea what I am talking about.” The blonde beauty crossed her arms stubbornly. “Come now. What have you done to make you dread a ball so?”
Céleste sighed. “You are like a dog with a bone, are you not?”
Juliette waited silently for an explanation.
The corner of Céleste’s lips twitched. No one else would have the audacity to mock and hound her. It was one of the reasons she loved the girl so much.
“The Duc de Béarn suggested I invite a friend of his, so I penned an extra invitation for him last week.”
Because Céleste had no time to argue with her dearest friend, she chose to omit that this particular man was considered a capable investigator, and that Béarn thought he might be able to find some answers about her husband’s death. The man was also renowned as a rogue. Céleste hated rogues. Nevertheless, she had run out of options, and she was now lowered to seeking help from a disreputable man.
Juliette lifted a brow. “And …?”
“And, what? What more could you possibly want to know?” Céleste started out the door and down the hall, the patter of Juliette’s feet following closely behind.
“Who is he?” Juliette probed.
“It is doubtful you would know him.”
“Humor me.”
Céleste had understated. Juliette was more like a starving dog with the only bone in existence.
“Lord Pembridge,” Céleste answered, almost choking on the name.
“Ooo…” Juliette’s brows lifted with sparked interest. “Is he a target, or do you have other plans for this dashing Englishman?”
“Nonsense. Béarn is a friend, and he asked a favor.” Céleste tugged on her gloves as they began to make their way down the grand staircase.
“Yes, but Lord Pembridge is a very charming rake, and you have sworn to rid Paris of the like. Lady Dumonte’s Crusade, they are calling it.”
A crusade, indeed. All she did was drop a few hints, ask a few favors, and suddenly doors would close on the rakes and scoundrels plaguing Paris one at a time. Only once had she taken specific notice of Lord Pembridge before tonight. She had heard talk of him, and when she hinted at shutting him out she was met with resistance. It seemed he was exceptionally well liked. At the time, it was not a fight she was willing to have. If he chose not to help her, however, she would be very determined to try again, and this time she would fight.
“I shall say no more to him than necessary to be polite.” Céleste frowned and stopped on the stairs to face Juliette. “How do you know how very charming—No, never mind that.” She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “My guests will be arriving any minute, and the ton will not appreciate a tardy hostess, which is what I shall be if I keep answering your incessant inquiries.
“He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”
Winter put her arm around Aisha’s shoulders at the heartbreak she heard in her voice. “Darling, he’s going to be back in six months.”
“It won’t be the same.”
Winter nodded, acknowledging Aisha’s sentiment as they watched Viper talking to the three men who were leaving for basic training. Chance and Noah had worked in the factory for a year so that the three of them could go into the service together. They were leaving in the middle of the night to make the drive to Lexington, where they would catch their flight for basic training. Lily and Shade were driving with John, while Razer and Beth would take their boys, so they could spend an extra day shopping.
Viper gave each of the men a hug goodbye before walking toward the hill where they sat, watching.
He stared down at his women, and Winter scooted over to make room for him. He sat down, unfolding his legs and placing an arm over each of their shoulders.
“They’re going to be fine. You sure you two don’t want to go down to tell them goodbye again?”
Winter sniffled. “I told them last night. I don’t want to start crying again. Lily’s having a hard enough time as it is.”
Viper turned to Aisha. “How about you?”
She silently shook her head, biting a trembling lip. “I told them goodbye when I helped them pack down their bags.”
The Last Riders began waving as Razer’s car pulled out of the parking lot.
Her heart broke along with Aisha’s as she lowered her head to rest on her knees. Her hair covered her tears, but it couldn’t mute the sobs.
“He’s waving to you,” Viper said so softly Winter laid her head on his shoulder, knowing how hard it was going to be to lose his baby girl. He cleared his voice. “Aisha, John’s waving to you.”
Aisha raised her head up from her knees then took off running when she saw John walking toward the path where she was sitting.
Winter and Viper watched as John said something before kissing her cheek then going back to his parents’ car.
Aisha stayed on the bottom of the path until she could no longer see the taillights as the car disappeared around the corner. She turned toward them then, giving them a radiant smile as she walked up.
“What did he say?” Viper asked gruffly, as she came within earshot.
“John said he loves me, and he thinks I’m special enough to wait for.”
TO WIN A SCOUNDREL’S HEART
The Lords of Whitehall, #2
Kristen McLean
Available Now!
1
Paris 1824
Céleste waited while her abigail nestled the pearl-studded gold comb in her hair amidst a low knot of dark curls. As she expected, it complemented her gown of blue with gold brocade that fit her slim figure with perfection. She ought to be pleased. She ought to feel her usual self—calm, collected, and in complete control—but a dreadful sense of foreboding tormented her, as though she were somehow stepping past the point of no return.
“You look lovely.” Juliette examined Céleste’s reflection in the mirror.
Juliette lived with Céleste as a companion, and had for several years. They were the dearest of friends. Even on the worst of days, Juliette could be counted on to chase away unwanted feelings. Grief, sadness, nervousness—they usually dissipated when she was with Juliette. The fact that Céleste still felt her stomach pitching violently despite her friend’s soothing voice only frustrated her.
“I ought to,” Céleste said. “I have been here for over an hour.” She picked up an ivory handheld mirror to check the back of her coiffure. “What time is it?”
Juliette smiled sweetly. “Time for your guests to start arriving.”
“Hmm.” With a deep breath, Céleste set down the mirror, sprayed a touch of perfume on her neck, and grabbed her long gloves, the new ones. She needed all her armor tonight.
Juliette’s fair brow knit suspiciously. “That isn’t like you,” she said as she followed Céleste to the door. “You anticipate this ball every year. What did you do?”
Céleste lifted her chin, looking over her shoulder to send her friend a quelling look. “I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Juliette turned her nose up mockingly. “I am sure you have every idea what I am talking about.” The blonde beauty crossed her arms stubbornly. “Come now. What have you done to make you dread a ball so?”
Céleste sighed. “You are like a dog with a bone, are you not?”
Juliette waited silently for an explanation.
The corner of Céleste’s lips twitched. No one else would have the audacity to mock and hound her. It was one of the reasons she loved the girl so much.
“The Duc de Béarn suggested I invite a friend of his, so I penned an extra invitation for him last week.”
Because Céleste had no time to argue with her dearest friend, she chose to omit that this particular man was considered a capable investigator, and that Béarn thought he might be able to find some answers about her husband’s death. The man was also renowned as a rogue. Céleste hated rogues. Nevertheless, she had run out of options, and she was now lowered to seeking help from a disreputable man.
Juliette lifted a brow. “And …?”
“And, what? What more could you possibly want to know?” Céleste started out the door and down the hall, the patter of Juliette’s feet following closely behind.
“Who is he?” Juliette probed.
“It is doubtful you would know him.”
“Humor me.”
Céleste had understated. Juliette was more like a starving dog with the only bone in existence.
“Lord Pembridge,” Céleste answered, almost choking on the name.
“Ooo…” Juliette’s brows lifted with sparked interest. “Is he a target, or do you have other plans for this dashing Englishman?”
“Nonsense. Béarn is a friend, and he asked a favor.” Céleste tugged on her gloves as they began to make their way down the grand staircase.
“Yes, but Lord Pembridge is a very charming rake, and you have sworn to rid Paris of the like. Lady Dumonte’s Crusade, they are calling it.”
A crusade, indeed. All she did was drop a few hints, ask a few favors, and suddenly doors would close on the rakes and scoundrels plaguing Paris one at a time. Only once had she taken specific notice of Lord Pembridge before tonight. She had heard talk of him, and when she hinted at shutting him out she was met with resistance. It seemed he was exceptionally well liked. At the time, it was not a fight she was willing to have. If he chose not to help her, however, she would be very determined to try again, and this time she would fight.
“I shall say no more to him than necessary to be polite.” Céleste frowned and stopped on the stairs to face Juliette. “How do you know how very charming—No, never mind that.” She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “My guests will be arriving any minute, and the ton will not appreciate a tardy hostess, which is what I shall be if I keep answering your incessant inquiries.
