Page 115 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

“That makes you a good leader, Julius.”

A satisfying warmth spread throughout his body. Not once had Esmerelda ever voiced anything but support for him as a leader, even as he doubted and questioned. That she continued to maintain her belief in his abilities, despite whatever had happened between them, touched him.

He brought her hand up and brushed his lips across her knuckles as the offbeat rhythms of reggae transitioned into a sultry, dark jazz.

“Dance with me.”

Her eyes widened behind her mask.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

That telltale flush crept up from the bodice of her dress, spread over her décolletage and moved up her neck.

“What if someone recognizes you?”

“Now you’re making excuses.” He leaned down, his lips a breath away from her ear. “You want to dance with me, Esmerelda. So do it.”

He heard the catch of her breath. Savored the soft exhale.

“All right.”

He led her out onto the dance floor. He laid one hand on her waist and cradled her fingers in the other. The music sank beneath his skin. He pulled her closer, rested his cheek on her silky curls, cherished the feel of her in his arms. They drifted in and out of the other couples. The world blissfully faded away, leaving just the two of them in each other’s embrace.

“Esmerelda...”

She relaxed against him, her trust meaning more than he could express.

“Yes?”

Her voice, low and gravelly, heated his blood. An invitation rose to his lips, to ask her to stay with him tonight. One hand glided up her back to draw her closer. His fingers brushed a raised scar on her back. He’d forgotten last night that the horse had first kicked her in the back when she’d shoved him out of the way. His throat tightened. He started to say something, to thank her, to chastise her, he wasn’t sure.

But the words disappeared as he heard a horse’s frightened whinny echo in his head, screams, wince as he felt the sharp scrape of gravel on his hands.

And the swift, stark fear.

He saw it then, a memory as real as his surroundings. Esmerelda’s face twisted in pain, her eyes seeking out his face as he knelt beside her. The tiny smile of relief before her eyes rolled up and her head lolled to the side. He remembered the ride to the hospital, insisting on riding with her in the back of the ambulance. Pacing inside a private waiting room for hours before finally being allowed into her hospital room. Walking in and seeing her so pale beneath the freckles, her attempt to salute. Something inside him had come to life, as if it had been straining for years against the chains he’d bound around it and finally broken free.

Behind that memory, another rose.

He lifted red curls off her back, felt his throat tighten at the sight of the half-moon scar on her shoulder blade. For the first time in years, he surrendered to his emotions and pressed a soft kiss to the scar. The one she had sustained for him...

Julius reared back.

“Julius? What is it?”

So strange, how the different memories came back. Some felt like whiplash, whereas others trickled in.

This memory, the night he had raised a hand to her face, had cradled her as she’d leaned into his touch and accepted what he had offered, simply appeared, there all along waiting for him to open his mind to what he had shared with this woman.

This woman who, when he had asked if they had been lovers, had looked him in the eye and told him no.

Heat drained from his body, replaced by a chill that filled his chest.

“You lied.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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