Free Lovers' Dance by K Carr Page A

leaving a puzzled Nathan behind. He had mentioned it in passing to Nathan a week after the incident. If Matt was honest with himself, he would admit it had been deliberate. He wanted to tell someone about her. Nathan was his best friend since their Eton days. Rocky at the start, but building into a solid friendship that he had come to depend on through university life at Cambridge, and now. Nathan knew something about what had transpired that night, but not how close Matt had come to sleeping with Madi and, certainly, not her race.
    “I absolutely refuse to look for her,” he muttered under his breath. As he spotted his captain sorting out the rigging, Matt plastered a relaxed smile on his face as he approached. He’d had enough of France. It was time to go home.
     
    <><><>
     
    Nathan pondered his friend’s hasty escape. He knew Matt, and he knew this mystery woman was the underlying reason for Matt’s malcontent these past weeks. Women. Matt always had women eating out of his hands. He never cared for any of them. Nathan was secretly worried about the not so subtle pressure being applied on Matt by his parents over his relationship with Louisa. Nathan stared out at the water glistening under the bright sunshine. Louisa was fine, in small doses. If Matt married her, Nathan was under no illusions of the strain that would put on their friendship. His sweet Bella, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, privately detested Louisa Gilliford. Found her to be nauseatingly insincere and elitist. Bella wasn’t like them; she had money, of course, but not handed down from previous generations. Her parents had both made their fortunes in the London financial markets. Bella had seen her parents work hard for everything they had. It gave her a different perspective, one Nathan himself didn’t have. His background was the same as the others on the yacht: old money. Sometimes he felt ashamed of his arrogant assumption of his place in their society. Bella had shown him a different world. He was thankful for the day he met her.
    Madison DuMont. The name popped into his head. Nathan smiled to himself. He would find this mystery lady. Then Matt could get over this secret obsession of her once he realized she was another woman undeserving of the pedestal he’d placed her on.
    “Nate,” his sweetheart’s voice called behind him. Nathan spun around with the widest grin on his face. “Is Matt okay?”
    “Of course. Did I mention how much I love you today?”
    Bella pulled off her shades, light brown eyes twinkling. “Several times. Now what do you want? You’re only this sweet when you’re up to no good.”
    Nathan pulled her into a tight embrace. “Just you, sweetheart. I only want you.”    
     
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    A week after their return to England, a soaked Nathan stood outside his front door with a thick file in one hand and an unopened bottle of Scotch in the other.
    “We need to talk,” his friend said, and pushed past him without waiting for Matt to step back. It was Sunday afternoon, the rain had been falling all day. Lovely British weather at its best. Matt closed the door, faintly amused at Nathan’s abrupt behaviour.
    “Hello, Matthew,” he mocked, following his soggy friend. “How are you? This weather is horrendous, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you—”
    “Shut up, Matt,” Nathan interrupted brusquely. “I am not in the mood and you have some serious explaining to do.”
    “Pardon me?” Matt was surprised at the sharpness of Nathan’s tone. His attitude since barging through his front door spelt trouble. Matt had no idea what had riled him.
    “Madison DuMont,” Nathan ground out, trying to shake his coat over his shoulders. He grunted impatiently, then shoved the file and bottle at Matt, who awkwardly managed to grab it before everything fell on the floor.
    “Nathan, leave it alone—”
    “I will not,” he practically shouted as he removed his coat and flung it to the floor.
    “Are you going to pick that up?