Free A Fallen Woman by Kate Harper

a
yawning difference in what he had experienced then and what he felt
now. As one of her many suitors, Nash had been overawed by Rachel
Sheridan, a golden Aphrodite who had appeared to be as remote and
unattainable as anything to be found on the fabled Olympus. Not
that she had been standoffish. On the contrary, she was an
excellent conversationalist and he had thrilled at the feel of her
in his arms when they had glided around the dance floor.
    But awed admiration wasn’t what he felt for her now.
Something had changed, fo r when he had seen Rachel again it had been
desire, hot as a flame and just as dangerous had flared within him.
It had been followed immediately by a slow ache of need that had
gripped him, stealing the breath from his body and leaving him
deeply shaken.
    But there was more to it than that, much as he hated to
admit it. Desire was a physical reaction, as understandable as it was
controllable. But the other, more subtle emotions that had gripped
him, making it impossible to keep his eyes away from her, were far
more alarming and he would not willingly put a name to them, even
if he could.
    Nash
ground his teeth, making himself face the truth. He had acted like
an impetuous fool because, when he had looked at Rachel for the
first time in years, he had experienced a curious sense that, at
last, he had come home. Rachel’s face had not dimmed at all in the
passing years no matter how he might convince himself otherwise and
seeing her once more, it had felt as if a missing piece of himself
had fallen into place.
    It had scared
the hell out of him.
    How had he not anticipated something like this?
H e had
confused being removed from her presence with recovery. There was
no two ways about the matter; this little jaunt into Northumberland
was a bloody disaster and he had only just arrived!
    Letting
out a sigh that he had not realized he had been holding in, Nash
walked across the room to fall into a chair, staring at the fire
that was burning cheerfully in the grate. Every comfort had been
extended for the Sheridans’ guests and he had been provided a
cheerful blaze to warm the room. Excellent. More flames to stare at
while he pondered the disastrous turn his life had taken. No matter
that Adam was his best friend, he should never have agreed to
this.
    It was not as
if he had not experienced warning signs.
    The twist in the gut when he had listened to how far his former love
had fallen.
    His inability to shake of f the sensation of unfinished business. He
had thought that returning to his family’s estate in Warwickshire
would alleviate the peculiar itch he could not seem to scratch but
that had done nothing to ease whatever ailed him.
    And the way he
had controlled his waking thoughts, never letting them stray in a
direction that might be considered dangerous.
    Even before he
had encountered Adam, Nash knew himself to be afflicted with some
mysterious malaise. Listening to his friend say the Sheridan name,
a kind of inevitability had afflicted him. He had been trying to
shake the feeling off ever since, with little effect.
    Nash, who
firmly believed that men made their own destiny, now wondered if
other forces had been at work to bring him face to face with Rachel
Sheridan. All of the casual insouciance that he had thought he
possessed had evaporated the moment he had walked into that parlor
and had laid eyes on that glorious, wretched creature and now he
was struggling to know what to do.
    Why the devil couldn’t the intervening years have weathered
her? Scarred her? Taken the damn shine off her? I do not believe myself to
still be in love with the woman, by God I do not. Damn it all, I do
not even believe in the blasted emotion and I am certainly not
going to spend the next five days acting like the lovelorn
simpleton that I was three years ago!
    No, instead he was going to insult her. Nash felt a little
sick, remembering how the color had drained from Rachel’s face as he had
thrown words as hard as stones