The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(46)

Emma covered her mouth with her elegant silk-gloved hand and yawned. “Come, Bennett. Lord Somerton and I will escort you to the nursery. I’ll show you some of McCalpin’s favorite hiding places when he was your age. Sometime you may need an escape from your lovely sisters. Tomorrow, I’ll show you mine. In exchange, perhaps you’ll share with Somerton that move you used to turn us. I quite enjoyed that.”

Somerton drew her close and kissed her on the cheek. “Minx,” he whispered, but it was still loud enough they all heard it.

With Bennett chatting away to Somerton, the couple took their leave heading to the family quarters.

Without letting go, Michael drew her into the shadows of a curtained alcove. Foolish as it was, March followed without any resistance.

*

Not saying a word, McCalpin waited until March finished her thorough examination of the floor. Thinly disguised, the effort kept her from looking at him. Finally, her gaze met his. Her beautiful eyes glistened with sadness, making his heart clench. Her hurt, mistrust, and longing combined into a maelstrom that nearly brought him to his knees.

Without thought of the decorum or propriety of meeting a woman alone in the middle of a ball, McCalpin trailed the back of his hand against her cheek. He cursed as his glove kept him from touching the silkiness of her skin. He ripped the offending piece off his hand, then returned to his ministrations.

She closed her eyes as if his touch soothed.

“Tell me what’s happened?” he coaxed.

Her eyes fluttered open. She searched his with an intensity that surely exposed every flaw he’d so desperately tried to hide.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing important.”

Her whisper caressed him in return. For the entire night, he’d wanted to take her in his arms. However, when she’d stood beside him and started to discuss wool prices and taxes, he had to escape. If he’d stayed any longer, someone might have asked him a question he would not have been able to answer. His inability to perform his duties laid bare for all to see.

His only solution had led him to ask Lady Miranda to dance. When he’d returned the chit to Lord Fletcher, McCalpin’s father had told him where he could find March.

Now they were alone, and he wanted to brush his lips against hers. Ever since they’d shared their first kiss at Lawson Court, he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. He didn’t care that he was responsible for her family. He didn’t care they were in a ballroom filled with guests.

He didn’t care about anything except her.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. The sweet taste of peppermint and her warm mouth greeted him. She sighed gently. He deepened the kiss until her lips opened, inviting him in.

Not rushing, he tenderly delved into every inch of her mouth with his tongue, exploring what she liked and teaching her in turn. Her moan was a heady sound, and he embraced her tightly to his chest. The softness of the velvet and the crush of her breasts yielding against his chest caused a wildfire of desire to ignite through him. She was as lost as he was if her moans were any indication.

With her fingers threaded through his hair, she urged him closer, almost frantic in her desire for him.

He traced the edge of her bodice with his fingertips as if trying to memorize the dips and swells of her exquisite flesh. With one forefinger he slipped beneath her stays, he explored the gentle curve of her breast and found her nipple. She cried out in pleasure, and he kept up the sweet torment. She pulled him closer, but slowly with infinite care, he pulled away. If they continued, he’d sweep her into his arms and carry her to her bed.

She reached for him as if displeased he broke the kiss. To appease her, he brushed her lips once more, then rested his forehead against hers. Their wayward breathing proved they were both desperate for more.

His lips trailed around the delicate skin of her ear. He closed his body around hers seeking to protect her from any more sadness. Velvet heat coursed through every inch of him. His hard length pulsed against her lower body, electrifying him, and she responded in kind with the tilt of her hips.

He nipped the lobe of her ear to make damn well certain she paid attention.

“Does that feel like a responsibility to you?” he whispered.





Chapter Twelve

While McCalpin always had a voracious appetite in the morning, today was outside of the ordinary. He generously spread the delicate elderberry jam across his toast and inhaled the sweetness that rose to greet him. He couldn’t seem to get enough to eat. Every flavor enhanced, and every bite sweeter, fresher, and better seasoned.

He glanced at William across the table. “Does the food taste any differently to you?”

William sliced another bite of ham. “No.”

McCalpin shook his head in wonderment and stared at his empty plate. “For some reason, everything tastes more delectable.”

His brother smirked. Before he could reply, their sister, Emma, arrived for their weekly breakfast meeting. The siblings had started this ritual shortly after Emma married Nick. They gathered at McCalpin’s townhouse to discuss what was going on in their lives without any interference from parents or spouses. Their cousin Claire always attended as well. More like a sister than a cousin, she grew up beside the three of them. As the sole survivor of the tragic carriage accident that claimed the lives of her parents, the previous Duke and Duchess of Langham, Claire had come to live with them when she was ten. Since she’d just delivered her third child a month ago, she’d chosen to stay away the last several times they’d met.