Beautifully Forgotten (20 page)

He wanted to take her out, wanted her on his arm, wanted to claim her. It sounded barbaric, but the need to make her his own was as strong now as it had been in that orphanage.

He heard her arrive and gave her a few minutes to get settled. Once he reached her office he could tell just by looking at her that she had been having the same argument with herself over the wisdom of traveling down that road again. And he knew she was going to come to the same conclusion that he had—they could fight it all they wanted, but it was a battle they wouldn’t win.

Her eyes lifted to his and she smiled like she’d used to, so effortlessly and sincere. “Good morning.”

“I have a fund-raiser tonight. Will you come with me?”

If possible, her smile grew even warmer. “I would love to.” And then it looked as if she remembered something, adding, “I’ll have to meet you there because I have a prior engagement.”

He didn’t like that at all. He snarled at her, “What engagement?”

“It’s just a commitment I’ve made, but I’ll be yours for the rest of the evening.”

Some of his ire left him. A man could dream.

“It starts at seven at the New York Public Library on Fifth. I’ll meet you inside at the entrance to Astor Hall.”

“I’ll be there.”

He started out of her office, but peered at her from the door. “Oh, and it’s black tie,” he said with a smile.

“Of course it is.”

The cemetery was empty and Darcy was thankful for that, since she liked her time alone with Sister Anne. She carried with her a tray of plants and her shovel and gloves. This was her way to remember not only Sister Anne, but Lucien too. She felt closer to him here, touching the same stone he did countless times throughout the year, walking the same path that he walked.

She’d had only two years with Sister Anne—and, sadly, for much of that time the nun had been battling cancer—but the woman had left her mark. In a world where even the clergy were caught up in appearances and politics, Sister Anne had been a refreshing change because she was more interested in what was on the inside of a person.

Lucien often referred to her as his mother and, having witnessed their relationship, it was a beautiful thing to see. Darcy envied him that even as she felt happy for him to have found it. Sister Anne was more a mother to Lucien than her own mother had ever been to her.

Darcy settled in front of the grave and pulled the dying plants from the soil before she started to plant the new ones: yellow lantana, purple heliotrope, pale pink petunias, and white stock. As was her habit, she filled Sister Anne in on current events.

“It’s funny, but it doesn’t feel like fourteen years have passed. It’s not the same as it was, but I think it has the potential to be even better.” She reached for the small watering can and watched as the water beaded on the flower petals.

“I think he’s happy, in his way, and I know you would be happy with the man he has become. You did a fine job with him, Sister Anne.” She checked her watch, prompting Darcy to rise. “I should go. I’m going to be late to this function and Mr. Black doesn’t tolerate tardiness.” A smile touched her lips at the memory.

She kissed the gravestone in farewell before she gathered her things and headed from the cemetery.

Lucien paced the entrance of Astor Hall, checking his watch every few minutes. He was going to wear a trench in the marble floor. She was late, which was completely out of character for Darcy. He wondered what was keeping her. Whatever it was must be very important to her. The fact that he didn’t know what that something was, particularly whether it involved a man, made him clench his jaw.

Ten minutes passed; just as he was reaching for his phone, the door opened and in she walked. He had planned on lecturing her about tardiness, but the words fled at the sight of her. She was breathtaking. Her black gown hung low in the front and dipped in the back, hugging her curves and sweeping the ground; but it was the slit up the left leg that made his mouth go dry. With her hair up, her delicate neck was exposed and suddenly he wanted his mouth right where her neck and shoulder met. He knew how it drove her wild.

The sight of her was like getting sucker punched, so to help regain his balance, he decided to throw her off hers. Instead of telling her how beautiful she looked, he furrowed his brow and said, “You’re late.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss in her palm. “I forgive you, though, because you look absolutely stunning.”

A softness entered her expression and her smile hit him right in the middle of his chest. He didn’t want to let her go, so he kept her hand in his.

“Shall we?”

They walked to the third floor where the fund-raiser was being held in an astonishingly ornate room with murals painted on the stucco walls that were made to look like wood panels. As they moved through the crowd toward the bar, Lucien was stopped by an older gentleman. He had to be pushing seventy, and yet he was fit and rather handsome in a distinguished way; but it was the way that Lucien tensed when the man stepped into their path that clued Darcy in that this was no friend.

“Lucien Black.”

“Judge.”

“I’m surprised to see you here; I would have thought for sure you had more entertaining pursuits than supporting the arts.”

“Which goes to show you know nothing about me.” Lucien tightened his hold on Darcy’s hand and she could practically feel the anger pulsing from him.

“Who is your friend? She’s not really your type, is she?”

Darcy stepped in at that moment because she had the sense that Lucien was about to punch the older man in the face.

“Darcy MacBride, and you are?”

He didn’t seem to hear her, because he simply stared with an odd look on his face. And then, as if his brain kick-started again, a smile spread over his face, but it was far from warm as he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

“And what is such a beautiful creature doing with the likes of him?”

Darcy pulled her hand away and her voice turned cold. “Lucien, I’d like a drink.”

Not missing a beat, Lucien pulled her from the judge.

“Nicely done, Darcy,” he whispered in her ear, and she looked up at him, surprised to see humor had already replaced his anger.

“What a jackass,” she said in reply.

A short while later, Darcy sipped her wine and watched Lucien talk with someone important across the room. She hadn’t been able to move her thoughts from their greeting earlier. It wasn’t so much what he’d said, but how he’d looked at her, like she was a tall glass of water and he was a thirsty man.

His head turned in her direction and he smiled, a secret little smile that made desire stir in her gut. In the next minute he was walking toward her, and his determined look made her body pulse. He reached her and grabbed her hand before leading her away from the crowd. He found an empty room and pulled her into it before closing the door behind them.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to give in, Darcy, and to hell with the consequences.”

Even though she already knew the answer, she heard herself ask, “Looking like what?”

He moved so close that their bodies were practically touching. His breath fanned out along her skin as his scent filled her. “Like you want to devour me.”

She did. Heaven help her, but she did.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he demanded.

The words wouldn’t come and she even went so far as to lick her lips in anticipation. His eyes moved to her mouth and she saw how hard he was fighting it.

“Kiss me,” she said.

He needed no other encouragement and yanked her up against him before settling his mouth over hers. She was like a junkie, craving his taste. He licked her lips and when she sighed, he plunged in, tasting her with a thoroughness that left her weak. His hands moved over her bare back, claiming her as hers moved under his jacket to roam over the corded muscles of his back.

He wanted to push her up against the wall, lift her skirt, and sink into her, but self-preservation made him pull back. Her eyes were still closed and desire had brought a rosy hue to her cheeks. She was so fucking beautiful, so goddamn edible, but sex was the easy part; it was all the rest they’d had trouble with.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted you to,” she said simply.

“I wanted to too, but—”

Darcy finished what he intended to say.

“Not a good idea.”

“I’m glad you feel the same way.” But he wasn’t glad. He was actually pissed that she could even suggest that something as explosive as that kiss could be a bad idea. He ignored the fact that he had been about to say that very same thing to her.

“We should probably get back out there. There are still elbows to rub,” she said, and though she sounded like she was trying for funny, it fell flat.

Regret, that was what he felt—but it was for the best. He reached for her hand, which had grown cold, and linked their fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

She turned those eyes on him and he saw a brightness there, as if from tears, but she smiled and squeezed his hand. “Me too.”

L
ucien, are you here?”

Darcy was in the middle of finding a file in the cabinet, but looked up to see a woman unlike Lucien’s usual preference: wholesome, kindergarten-teacher sweet, with dark hair and eyes. And after Lucien had withdrawn from her the other night, the thought that this woman was involved with him made Darcy feel suddenly sick; unlike the others, Darcy could see herself liking this woman. When the woman turned and saw Darcy, she seemed genuinely surprised.

“Oh, hi. Is Lucien here?”

“No, sorry, he had a lunch meeting.”

“Right. I should have called first. I’m Ember. Are you new?”

“Yes, I started a few months ago. I’m Darcy.”

Mischief sparkled in the other woman’s eyes before she asked, “What’s it like working for Lucien?”

“He’s actually a pretty fair boss.”

“I bet. Well, I don’t want to keep you. Could you let him know I stopped by?”

“I will.”

She smiled and started away, but stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Have you had lunch?”

“I was about to.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like company?”

Darcy was completely thrown. It had been a long time since she was on the receiving end of such genuine friendliness.

“I mean, unless you prefer eating alone. I completely understand that.”

“No, I’d like to have lunch.”

“Oh cool. I know a great little place that’s close.”