After The Night by Linda Howard

By Linda Howard

Religion DEVLIN: A terrible, outcast baby in Prescott, Louisiana, she'd continually loved the town's golden boy from afar. yet he referred to as her white trash that sultry Southern evening while his wealthy, revered father disappeared, with her lovely mother. Now religion desired to hate grey Rouillard...not to consider a strong surge of hope. yet she could not quench her ardour, any longer than she may well cover the reality concerning the previous she had waited see you later to solve. grey ROUILLARD: even if he raised hell, he did it with sort. Reckless, captivating, and subsidized by means of Rouillard cash, grey managed town of Prescott -- and Devlin used to be a reputation he by no means desired to pay attention back. but if he gazed at religion Devlin, all he observed used to be a swirl of tangled sheets and her silken flesh underneath him. To take care of her was once very unlikely, unthinkable...because grey Rouillard deliberate to exploit all his energy to smash her.

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As bad as things had been, at least there had been a kind of security, because things were the same day after day and she knew what to expect. Now everything had come apart, and she was terrified. She had learned how to get along, how to manage Pa and the boys, but nothing was going according to plan now and she was helpless. She hated the feeling, hated it with a ferocity that made her stomach knot. And damn Guy Rouillard. All they had thought about was themselves, not their families, nor about the turmoil they would leave behind.

Not being deaf, of course, she had heard some of the uproar. The speculation between Oriane, her husband, Garron, who took care of the grounds, and Delfina, the cook, would be rampant. They would have to be told, of course, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it right then. Maybe after he had that drink of Scotch. He opened the cabinet and took out the bottle, and splashed a couple of inches of the amber liquid into a glass. The smoky, biting flavor was sharp on his tongue as he took the first sip, then threw the rest of it back with a neat, stiff motion of his wrist.

She had been born here, grown up here. Her memories of Prescott were bitter, but still it pulled at her with invisible strings she hadn’t even known existed. She hadn’t wanted this. She had wanted only to satisfy her curiosity, gain a sense of closure, so she could completely let go of the past and build her future. It hadn’t been easy, coming back. Gray Rouillard’s words still burned in her memory as if it had been yesterday he’d said them rather than twelve years before. Sometimes she went for days without thinking of him, but the pain was always there – under control, but there, a permanent companion.

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