The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(47)
Dressed to the nines in a light green velvet morning gown with black satin ribbon trim that set off her brilliant-green eyes, Emma gracefully maneuvered her body into the seat beside McCalpin.
One side of Will’s mouth twitched up. “Any problems escaping from Somerton?”
With a smile, she arched one eyebrow and leaned close as if divulging a secret. “I always tell him I plan to sleep late on the days of our breakfast morning gatherings. He’s been in his study all day.”
“Naughty girl, Em.” Will resumed eating his ham. “Exactly what I would do.”
“Does he mind that you come without him?” McCalpin had always had a soft spot for his high-spirited sister. “I’d hate to cause any disagreement between the two of you.”
Emma snorted in that delicate way of hers. “Please. It’s all a game between us. He stood by the window and waved good-bye as I entered the carriage. He knows nothing would keep me away from our mornings together.”
A footman delivered a plate filled with fresh fruits, cheese, eggs, ham, and toast for Emma. She sipped her tea and addressed a question to Will.
The white of the linen table covering caught McCalpin’s attention. His mind drifted to the creamy softness of March’s neck. Last night, when he’d nuzzled the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder, it had been heaven—one he wanted to taste again.
She’d bewitched him in that dress, but there had been more. Her scent had him panting like a wild animal desperate for its mate. Her lips had practically caused him to come undone. Soft, sweet, and wet, her mouth was a masterpiece of sensual delights, one he could have studied and tasted for hours.
However, she’d devastated him beyond all reason with the sadness in her eyes when he’d first seen her. Something last night had caused her to shy away until he’d practically begged her for a dance. For the life of him, he had no earthly idea what he’d done. That was what had driven him to take her into the alcove and kiss her until neither of them could remember that the rest of the world existed.
A sheepish smile tickled his lips. It would be his pleasure to beg forgiveness again and again if she’d reward him with her little moans of desire.
“Did you enjoy your supper waltz with March?” Emma asked before popping a slice of apple into her mouth.
“Did I?” Will drawled. He placed his fork and knife on the edge of his plate. “Never has a woman felt so perfect”—he bit one lip and narrowed his eyes in concentration—“and heavenly in my arms.”
Emma nodded as if it was nothing out of the ordinary that they were discussing March as if she was William’s heart’s desire. “Every man there had eyes only for her. Moreover, that dress? It was the perfect statement for her introduction last night. Simple, elegant, but up close that velvet practically begged for a gentleman’s touch.”
Will wiped his mouth with his serviette and stared at his plate.
Emma buttered another piece of toast. “This morning, Daphne sent me a note. She read in The Midnight Cryer that Lord Paul Barstowe had tried to find March for a dance, but she’d disappeared. What if he sets his sights on her? Once he’s a duke, she’d make him a perfect duchess.”
William’s shoulders had started to shake slightly. He could barely choke out, “I might seek her out at Lady Pitman’s—”
“Enough,” McCalpin roared as he slammed his coffee cup on its saucer. The black brew spilled across the pristine white linen. “You two are absolutely shameless, not to mention obtuse if you don’t think I know what’s going on here.”
William glanced at Emma. “We woke the lion.”
Emma nodded, but her gaze grew serious when she regarded McCalpin. “Now that we have your attention, there’s something we must discuss.”
McCalpin had lived with his sister long enough to know that her tone of voice meant a lecture was in his future. He took another sip of his coffee for fortitude and waited for the inevitable.
By then, Emma had started to twist her fingers together in the telltale sign she was bothered. “Last night, March was the happiest I’ve ever seen in my life. Radiant, I’d say.” She forced her palms flat on the table and stared at McCalpin, then took a deep breath and pursed her lips. “But when she saw you dance with Lady Miranda, it was as if her entire world fell apart. I tried to talk to her about it, but she refused.”
McCalpin blinked slowly. That was why she was so upset with him last night. “It meant nothing, Em. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
She nodded gently. “But, McCalpin, she’s vulnerable beneath that hard exterior she likes to show everyone. If you have no interest in her, then I beg you to tell her before she … gets hurt.” Suddenly, Emma’s eyes glistened with tears.
“Please not the waterworks, Em.” William inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “You know I can’t stand it when my little sister cries.” He released the breath he’d been holding. “Anything but that.”
McCalpin reached for her hand. “I won’t do anything to harm her, I promise.”
As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, it was as if he’d had an epiphany. He’d never hurt March and would never allow another soul to hurt her either. She was vibrant, and to dim that brilliance would be a travesty. She provided him what no other woman had ever given him before. Peace, contentment, and a friendship he’d never thought possible with the fairer sex. Besides, she had experienced enough pain and heartache to last a lifetime. He’d be damned if he’d cause her any additional unhappiness.