Page 90 of The Witch's Heart
Why do I suddenly feel so nervous?
I know I can’t have seen what I thought I saw, and I’ve half convinced myself to return to the party when a flicker of light turns into a girl, her face pained, her arm outstretched.
“Estelle?” I cry, and run toward her, nearly tripping on my dress.
Strong arms catch me, and I turn, startled, to find a tall, beautiful man holding me up. His rich sepia-toned skin contrasts brilliantly with cobalt eyes that hold the depth of the ocean itself. His jaw is squared and chiseled and his dark hair is short and stylishly messy. He fills out his tuxedo with muscle that looks earned from more than just time in a gym. And everything about him feels painfully familiar. And achingly mine.
The sight of him here, now, touching me, fills part of the hole in my heart.
I clutch him, riveted by his expression, unable to pull my gaze from his. After a moment, I speak, my voice hoarse. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods. “Are you well?” he asks, his British accent polished and melodic.
I nod. “I think so.”
He cocks his head. “You look pale. Frightened.”
“I’m always pale,” I say. As to the frightened part, I don’t know how to respond to that. I certainly don’t feel frightened now. My body’s reaction to this man is entirely independent of my mind, and I’m stunned by the instant attraction, the need, the deep longing.
“Celeste?” he says, his gaze penetrating.
“How… how do you know my name?” I ask, reluctantly pulling away.
He hesitates, his eyes shifting before he answers. “I heard you introduced, and you reminded me of someone I once knew.” His voice has a melancholic undertone that makes me wonder about this other woman, even as a flare of jealousy consumes me. Which is… inappropriate and ridiculous, obviously.
“You seemed to be in a hurry,” he says.
My gaze darts to the place I saw Estelle but there’s no one there now.
“I thought I saw someone, but it must have been my mind playing tricks on me,” I say, confused by everything happening.
He looks up and past me, to where I was sure I saw Estelle, then he glances back down at me before pulling out a business card. “If you ever need to talk, call me.”
I take it. “Dr. Logan Livingstone. What kind of doctor?” I ask.
“The kind that’s a good listener,” he says with a small smile.
“Celeste!” This time the voice comes from behind us, and I resist the urge to groan when Corbin walks up to us, but I put on my game face and smile.
“Honey, this is Dr. Livingstone. He helped me avoid a near fatal fall. Dr. Livingstone, this is Dr. Cutter, my fiancé.”
Those last words feel raw and painful on my throat, and for a flash of a moment it seems they cause Dr. Livingstone pain as well.
I discreetly slip the doctor’s card into my purse and take Corbin’s arm. “I got turned around coming back from the restroom. Shall we join the party?”
Corbin is glaring at Dr. Livingstone, but I pull him away and refocus him with small talk, my eyes flicking to the doctor as we part. There’s a longing in his eyes that matches the inexplicable emotions welling within me, but this is not the time or place to unpack that confusion.
The last thing I want is for Corbin to get angry in front of all these people.
“I’m so glad you found me,” I say with a forced giggle. Ugh. I want to gag myself right now. “Did I miss anyone important?”
Corbin’s face lights up, the mysterious doctor forgotten as he tells me all about the biggest donors and how we’ve been invited to a yacht party in two weeks. Of course we won’t go. We never go to events that require exposure to the sun. Corbin has always been sensitive to the sun, to the point he was hospitalized once. Now we structure our lives to revolve around the evenings. Still, he’s excited to have been invited and it sounds like we will be hosting a dinner for them instead.
“You’ll have to organize with Maurice to make sure the menu is perfect,” he says, referring to our chef.
I nod. I hate planning dinner parties, but it’s a small price to pay for the life of luxury I enjoy, I suppose.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of alcohol, auctions, dinner, and small talk. I don’t see the sexy doctor again, and any ghostly apparitions that might be haunting me seem to have left for the night as well.
