Part 2 (1/2)
Amanda Hastings was halfway down the stairs when he and Emma stepped inside, and her creased face broke into a wide smile. ”Mr. McCallister, it's wonderful to see you, sir.”
”Thank you, Amanda.”
”Good evening, Miss McKenzie. You look chilled. Shall I order water drawn for a bath?”
”Thank you, Amanda. I would love that.”
The maid bobbed her silver-haired head, collected Emma's cloak and his greatcoat and then hurried off, calling, ”Mrs. McKenzie! Captain McKenzie! Mr. McCallister's come home!”
”Do my eyes deceive me?” Rebecca McKenzie rounded the corner and hurried to throw her arms about Julian's waist and hugged him as if to crush the life from him. ”How wonderful to see you!”
Julian returned the tight embrace. It'd been a long time since anyone thought to hug him.
Behind her, Captain McKenzie smiled. ”It's good to see you again, son. It's been too long since you've darkened our door.”
”I think he thought he'd manage to pa.s.s through without coming to call.” Emma's voice held a teasing note, and from the corner of his eye, Julian saw her wicked grin. ”But I managed to talk him into it.”
”Not that it took many words,” he replied.
Mrs. McKenzie broke the embrace to step back.
”How are you, Mrs. McKenzie? Captain McKenzie?”
”Fine. Oh, but you look exhausted, Julian.” Mrs. McKenzie touched his cheek with a hand. ”Have you been ill?”
”Momma!”
Julian grinned. ”There's no need to sound so horrified, Emma. She has a mother's eye for such detail. I was recently ill, only I hadn't realized just how much it showed.” He bent to brush Mrs. McKenzie's cheek with a kiss.
”Not seriously, I hope?” Captain McKenzie asked, clasping Julian's hand.
”No. Just enough to make me want to take to my bed and stay there. Fortunately, my crew is competent and I was able to do just that.”
”Well, don't just stand there. Come in and shake off the cold.” Mrs. McKenzie brushed the remaining snow from his hair with a maternal hand. ”You both look almost frozen.”
”Momma, please help me convince Mr. McCallister to stay for supper.”
”Stay for supper? Oh, of course.” Mrs. McKenzie glanced up at the captain, who gave a slight nod. Then, she added, ”And you will be staying the night as well, won't you? That is, if you weren't intending on going up to Cheltenham.”
A thin chill needled through him at the mention of Cheltenham. ”No. That wasn't my intention at all, Mrs. McKenzie. I planned to go to home. I bought a house on Witherspoon the last time I was in town. If all goes well and the snow stops, I plan to sail tomorrow morning.”
”So soon?”
”That's what I said,” Emma broke in as they made their way from the entrance to the parlor. ”Perhaps you can help me convince him to stay longer.”
”Are you on a schedule?” Captain McKenzie asked.
A fire crackled on the wide hearth, as welcoming as Rebecca McKenzie's hug. The parlor was small and cozy, with family portraits on the walls and lining the mantle. Julian made his way to one of the armchairs halfway between the hearth and the bank of windows on the western wall. ”Yes. I have to be in Boston by the first, but I made it in from Bermuda more quickly than I expected.”
”So you'll be able to spend a few days with us? Garrett and Drew will be so disappointed if-”
”Becca,” Captain McKenzie said, his voice low with warning, ”leave the boy alone. He's old enough to decide for himself how long he's able to stay in Brunswick.”
A flush swept over Mrs. McKenzie's cheeks and she cleared her throat. ”My apologies, Julian, if I've overstepped.”
”But you haven't.” He stretched his legs across the hearthrug, crossing them at the ankles. There was no reason why he couldn't pa.s.s a few days in Brunswick. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was going to make him go up to Cheltenham.
Emma settled on the blue damask sofa alongside her mother. ”Good. I'm glad you've decided to stay. It'll be nice to have everyone here again. It's been too quiet.” Her eyes brightened. ”Perhaps we can have a party to celebrate?”
”Emma, let's not be hasty,” Mrs. McKenzie broke in sternly, and to Julian's relief. The last thing he wanted was a social situation. People already whispered about him. He could feel their stares on the sidewalk in town. He could almost hear them gossiping at parties and b.a.l.l.s and teas, and without being told, he knew what they were saying.
”Oh, please, no. Don't do that. I'm not going to be able to stay long, Emma. As I said, I need to be in Boston as soon as possible after the holiday.”
Captain McKenzie sighed. ”Any reason will do, eh, Em?”
Now it was Emma's turn to flush, and she rose from the sofa. ”I just thought it would be nice.” She edged to the doorway. ”I should go and get ready for supper.”
Guilt flashed through him as she ducked her face and hurried from the parlor, her footsteps fading in the distance. He hadn't meant to embarra.s.s her.
Being at Stonebridge wasn't as difficult as Julian had thought, but in some ways, it wasn't as easy, either. He adored Rebecca and James McKenzie. They took him in after his parents' deaths, made him feel at home when he returned from the War, and always treated him as if he was one of their own. They didn't look at him askance or wonder if he'd follow in his father's path to madness. They didn't whisper about the terrible tragedy that had taken place at Cheltenham, and they never made him feel wrong about not wanting to return to his childhood home.
He still had his own room at Stonebridge, and when he accepted Mrs. McKenzie's invitation to stay the night, she ordered the fire lit. Now, as a clock chimed midnight somewhere in the darkness below, he lay in the comfortable bed, staring up at the hangings, and he felt at peace. Or almost at peace.
He hadn't expected to b.u.mp into Emma, and he hadn't expected his reaction to their chance meeting. It hadn't been that long since he'd last seen her, had it? He tried to remember. He'd been in Brunswick last spring and didn't see her. But what about before that? At least eighteen months had gone by. Maybe even more. He wasn't sure.
But one thing he was sure of. During that time, Emma had gone from a little tomboy in her brother's castoff breeches to a woman filling out the latest fas.h.i.+ons as perfectly as any woman could. And when the devil did she develop such luscious-G.o.d help him for even noticing-curves?
And that wasn't all he noticed. Garrett would pummel him silly for the thoughts that raced through his mind when he b.u.mped into Emma on that walkway. All he had thought about was whisking her bonnet from her head, loosening any pins holding her lush black curls in place, and setting it to tumble over her shoulders and down her back. How long was it by now? He'd never seen it loose, never seen it in anything other than a braid or tucked up beneath a bonnet.
When she had looked up at him and smiled, it was as if someone had lit a life-size match and held it to his body. Heat had surged through him, pulsed outward from his core. It was all he had been able to do to keep his breathing even when she had slipped her hand into his. Very few women ever affected him in such a powerful way.
But Emma wasn't most women. She was special.
He'd never forgotten how sweet she'd been the day of his parents' funerals. She never whispered, never refused to look him in the eye or appeared to be afraid to stand too close to him. And when she approached him at the wis.h.i.+ng well, there was such sympathy in her midnight blue eyes, he could have crawled into them and been completely happy to remain there.
Midnight blue eyes? When had they gone from blue to midnight blue?
He groaned softly. What man noticed eyes with such detail? He clapped his hand over his own eyes with a little more force than he meant. White light burst into his line of vision, but quickly faded. ”Don't do anything stupid, man,” he muttered. ”Even without Garrett and Drew here to help, she could take me apart quite handily.”
But the thought of wrestling with her made the tightness in his gut even tighter still. He should not be thinking anything l.u.s.ty where the younger sister of his best friend was concerned. And yet, he could think of nothing else. He knew Emma's chambers were in the west wing, at the rear of the house. He'd be able to find her with relative ease, and if she were anyone else, he'd be there now, slipping into her bed...
Everything inside him tightened, uncomfortably so. It'd been months since he gave in to his needs and sought out a barmaid to tumble. Christ, when was it? Bermuda? Jamaica? He couldn't remember exactly, but it had still been summer, he knew that.
He kicked back the bedclothes and rose. The carpet surrounded the bed, but there was still a great expanse of bare wood as he crossed to the built-in window benches at the window. He bit back a yelp as his naked foot touched cold wood, and he skipped the remaining distance to the window. He opened one pane to let in some cool air. He opened his dressing gown at the throat, half-expecting to see steam rise up from the opening. The snow fluttered against his bared skin, but instead of cooling him off, it merely melted, and yet he remained uncomfortably warm.
He sank onto the window's sill. Desiring Emma McKenzie was so easy. h.e.l.l, he'd done it since he was twenty, when he returned from the war. She was still a bit awkward, but even then he saw what she'd become and what would lay in her future. Not only would he have to be a fool, but he'd also have to be blind. And completely stupid. He rubbed his eyes again and turned away from the gla.s.s. The pane was cool beneath his temple as he leaned his head against it.