The Secret Wallflower Society: (Books 1-3) by Eaton Jillian

Author:Eaton, Jillian [Eaton, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

Well, that could have gone better.

As he stared blindly at his tankard of ale, Stephen cursed himself for everything he’d said to Helena during their fractious encounter.

And everything he hadn’t.

The plan had been a simple one. Collect his debt and wash his hands of her. But there’d been nothing simple about the emotions he had experienced when he saw Helena again. There’d been nothing simple about the heat that had filled his loins when he touched her again. There’d been nothing simple about the intense desire he’d felt to kiss her again.

There was nothing simple about Helena, period.

A fact he’d conveniently chosen to forget on this ill-fated quest for revenge.

Grimacing, he tipped his tankard back and drained what was left of his ale, then signaled one of the curvaceous barmaids waltzing around the dark, dingy tavern for another.

“And a bowl of the stew,” he added, belatedly realizing he hadn’t eaten anything since early this morning when he’d left London.

“Anything else, love?” the barmaid purred as she rubbed up against his thigh.

The invitation was obvious.

So was his body’s response.

Or rather, its notable lack of a response.

“No,” he muttered. “That will be all.”

With a disappointed pout, the barmaid plucked up his tankard and sashayed away. Stephen studied her hips, willing himself to feel something. But the only thing he felt was disappointment that the barmaid wasn’t Helena.

Curling his hand into a fist, he thumped it on the table in muted frustration. He’d genuinely believed that by confronting Helena, he could purge her once and for all. From his mind, from his heart, from his blood.

Instead, he’d made everything infinitely worse.

And this time there was only himself to blame.

When the barmaid returned with his food and drink, he ate quickly. Shoveling the last spoonful of stew into his mouth, he chased it down with the rest of the ale and threw a handful of coins into the empty tankard. The legs of his chair scraped against the wooden floorboards as he stood up, the sound drowned out by the loud swell of voices from the other patrons in the tavern as they fought to outshout one another. Pushing his way out the door, he stepped to the side and drew in a lungful of cool spring air, his gaze automatically drawn up to the stars glittering like diamonds in a black, velvet sky.

The same stars had looked down on him the night he’d met Helena. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Stephan inwardly marked off one constellation after another, beginning with Orion and ending with Cassiopeia. Named after a beautiful and vain Ethiopian queen, Cassiopeia cut a jagged line through the inky darkness. It was Helena’s favorite constellation, he recalled. Although he couldn’t remember her reason.

He had been too busy admiring the moonlight in her hair.

God, how she’d taken his breath away. He’d never imagined he would be the sort of fool who fell in love at first glance, but all it had taken was one look at Helena and he had fallen so hard and so fast, he was still trying to catch his breath four years later.

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