Too Late For Regret, Mr. Preston

gui

. Just a hollow ringing in her ears that drowned out the frantic whispers of the gallery. Her lawy

Emilia. Yo

he back of the room. He wasn't there. Throughout the e

of dizziness through her. The pregnancy, combined with weeks of sleeples

erupted. A wall of flashing lights blinded her, and t

ow does it feel

comment for the

nning to lea

y. It was a gesture of protection, small and unconscious. Sullivan tried to forge

cream cut thr

rde

ace was a mask of grief and fury, her eyes burning with a hatred that felt ho

d my son!

tly, pulling her behind him, but he wasn't fast enough. Eleanor's nails raked across E

ed, cradling the injury as the cameras clicked a

ve into a full-blown riot, a silent,

arely audible hum. The sheer authority of the vehicle was enough t

r door

eston e

ke he was attending a funeral. His face, always handsome, was carved fr

aped. Hope, fragile and foolish, fluttered in her

g her stomach. There was no recognition. No flicker of warmth. It was the look one

ather shoes silent on the pavement,

voice, when he spoke, was low and soothing, a stark contrast

r," he said.

u

pe she had clung to. Of course. The Prestons and the Carlisles were old family friends. Sterl

onger vacant. It was filled with a visceral, chilling disgust. He was l

ying with a deadly clarity that cut th

, his eyes locked on hers,

everything. It was a public declaration of her guilt from the one man whose opinio

r hand, still resting on her belly. A

s voice soft but laced w

eath her feet. This was worse than the accusation of murder. It

ed whisper. "Knox, y

roat. It was a terrible sound. "Is

his face white with fury. "Mr. Pr

moved in, silent and efficient, boxing him in. They didn't

liar smell that had once brought her comfort, now made her stomach clen

in, forcing her to meet his gaze. The coldness in hi

against her ear, for her ears only. "When Sterling was tou

d despair broke. A hot, shameful tear slid down her cheek. She tried to push him away

. He withdrew a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and m

dkerchief fall to th

he car," he co

er. "No! You c

arms, their grips like iron. They began to d

cried, her voice r

lding him back, his face a picture of helple

ts feeling like a cage. The door slammed shut, sealing her in w