Page 70 of Compulsion

“I didn’t realize that your friend is Meadows Coatesworth.”

I should’ve realized. It’s not exactly a common first name, and Charleston is a small place when it comes to local families.

Dane’s heavy brows draw together. “Do you know him?”

Nausea tightens my gut, and I swallow hard against the burn at the back of my throat.

“Not well, but our families are in the same social circle. This isn’t the first time I’ve visited their plantation.”

My family’s own planation, Elysium, is just another hour’s drive down the coast. The beautiful, haunted, rotten place where I was raised is far too close for comfort. Years of distance haveallowed me to see how fucked-up it is that my family lives in a place where so much evil took place, even if they hide it under the guise of a proud history.

“Meadows was six years ahead of me at school. I knew of him, but I rarely spoke to him,” I continue. “But it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

I try to summon up my sunny smile, but my lips barely twitch.

“You’re upset,” he observes, eyes dark with concern. “Why?”

“My family will probably be here,” I say, forcing the words through my constricted throat. “I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

The last time I spoke to my parents, it ended in a screaming match, and my father said he was cutting me out of his will. I told him that I didn’t care, and I never wanted to see him again.

My mother called every day for a month after that, begging and then scolding and then threatening to get me to come back into the fold. To spare the family the embarrassment of an estranged daughter.

What am I supposed to tell the women at bridge club?she’d demanded.What will I say when you don’t show up at the next cotillion ball?

I told her that was her problem, not mine.

Now, we haven’t spoken in two years. We avoid one another, and I’ve been careful not to do anything that might attract their unwanted attention.

It’s why I didn’t report the thief for stealing my purse.

And it’s part of the reason why I didn’t go to the cops after the masked man attacked me.

That, and my shameful physical response to being violated.

“Abigail.” I flinch when Dane touches my hand. He frowns and folds his fingers firmly around mine. “You don’t look well. I’ll take you home.”

“No!” I protest quickly. Dane can’t miss his friend’s wedding because of me. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he warns, but his voice is soothing rather than threatening. “If this is too much, we’ll leave. I don’t give a fuck about Meadows’ wedding. I’m here because it’s expected of me. I only care about you.”

I draw in a shuddering breath, finding comfort in his fierce declaration. I squeeze his fingers in a pulse of reassurance.

“You saying that makes all the difference,” I say. “But I can handle this. I won’t run away from my family.”

He captures my tilted chin between his fingers and gives me a proud smile. “That’s my stubborn pet.”

“Dane!” I scold under my breath and shoot a significant glance in the direction of our driver.

He chuckles and kisses me. “It’s just a Yorkshire endearment, darling. No reason to get all hot and flustered.”

I release an exasperated huff, and his grin widens.

Oh.

He’s baiting me to distract me.

My heart gives an almost painful squeeze, and I crush my lips to his. He’s still for a moment, surprised at my boldness. Then his hand firms at my nape, and he deepens the kiss. For a blissful minute, I lose myself in him, and all of my anxiety melts away.

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