The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(97)

After Bennett’s visit, McCalpin had spent the rest of the night in his study mulling over the events of the day. March disavowed any guilt except the trust fund thefts and the use of his seal to keep Rupert off the Lawson lands. However, when she’d turned to him and demanded his promise to care for her family, it hadn’t set right with him. Almost as if she was leaving him.

He’d hurt her when he’d sent her away, but it was best for both of them. It protected her and her family somewhat from the critics. For him, he’d hoped he could clear his thoughts. After last night, his mind was still swimming with all the revelations.

When morning came, he rang the bell and ordered a bath, then directed Donar saddled. He promised Bennett he’d visit March and see how she was faring. He’d do more than that. He’d press her until he discovered what thoughts were rolling around in that beautiful head of hers. Chocolate waves of curls twined about his fingers crowded into his thoughts. His body tightened in response to the image.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax as he remembered holding her sweet body next to his. He’d taken her virginity. No matter what, he was an honorable man. He’d still marry her.

Within an hour, he found March standing guard on the crest of a hill overlooking the valley that bordered Lawson Court and the next farm. Decorating the landscape, white sheep with black faces dotted the slopping hill’s dormant grass. He brought Donar to a halt. The wind howled in concert with the cold winter day as he gazed his fill at the sight of her.

Without delay, he urged his horse forward. Before he could dismount, the sound of Donar shaking his bridle caused her to turn. Tears streamed down her face. The look of anguish so acute he tasted her bitter torment.

In that moment, a part of him withered as pain wracked through him in waves. Deep inside his chest where his heart resided, he knew the truth.

He’d destroyed a part of her.

*

At the sound of a jangle of a bridle, March turned, fully expecting Hart. He wanted her decision whether she’d come to Boston with him.

Instead, Michael stood before her more beautiful than ever. She catalogued his features carefully so she could remember them perfectly during the lonely days ahead. The task proved difficult as her recalcitrant tears refused to obey.

With grace and quickness, he dismounted and moved toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. She didn’t know how it happened, but she was in his arms with her head buried against his chest. His arms tightened as her tears turned into sobs.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t,” he whispered.

It was pure bliss in his arms, as if everything would return to the way it was before yesterday. She stole one more moment of comfort before she forced herself from his embrace. “Why are you here?”

The startling blue of his eyes contrasted perfectly with the gray winter day. An omen he could steal the cold and loneliness that had captured her heart. She blinked to clear such silly nonsense. Her fate had been cast when everyone believed she’d stolen from him.

“I promised Bennett I would see how you’re faring,” he whispered as he framed her cheeks in his hands.

“I’m fine.” With all her practice, the lie slipped easily from her lips.

He gently traced the angles of her cheeks with his thumbs. The leather of his gloves teased her skin, reminding her how safe she felt in his arms. “You don’t appear fine.”

“It’s hard to say good-bye.” She took a step back. Her gaze skimmed the muddy hem of her cloak. Walking the fields for hours, she’d tried to memorize each hill and valley of the estate. Always, her thoughts circled back to Michael. “I’m leaving for Boston with Hart tomorrow.” She lifted her head and waved a hand behind her at the hill. “I wanted one final walk—”

“Boston?” His eyes widened, making the blue even more striking. “What about Bennett and your sisters? What about me?”

All she could offer was a shrug and hoped it hid the depths of her desolation. “I’m ruined. I’m a bastard, and it’s clear you think I’ve stolen from you and my family.”

“I want to believe you, March.”

The plea in his voice was unmistakable, but she had no answers for him.

“But you don’t believe me, and neither does anyone else. When I arrived home yesterday, it became clear that even the people of Leyton don’t trust me. I’d hope to work as a bookkeeper for the merchants around town to reimburse you, but they want nothing to do with me.…” She let the words drift to nothing. “I want to right this wrong, but I can’t do it here.”

Michael clasped her elbow, forcing her to look at him. His stern countenance baffled her. “You can’t accomplish anything halfway around the world. People will think you’re guilty if you leave. No, you stay here.” He pulled her close. “You needn’t worry. No matter what has happened, I will marry you. We shared a bed. You could be carrying my child as we speak.”

She broke from his hold. With him this near, her senses would stage a revolt, demanding she seek comfort in his arms again. She had to keep her mind sharp if she wanted to survive this. The haunting memory of a future with him had died a slow death after the wounds from last night.

He started to say something, but faltered in the enveloping silence that had descended between them. He ran his gloved fingers through his hair. “I don’t understand yesterday, but deep down, I want to trust you. I need to trust you.” He smiled, but the effort lacked his natural warmth. “We can mend this breech between us. Your fears made you act in ways that went against our interests. Even if you thought you had good reason to do what you did, we both realize that wasn’t the case.”