Emma, Mr. Knightley, And Chili-Slaw Dogs Part 17

Manning nodded, his lips quirking up. "I do worry about Brooks, believe me." He turned to his wife and winked. "I'll be right back."

He walked away and Caroline let out a sound of exasperation. "Those two are downright difficult to figure out."

Debbie Mae took her arm and walked her toward the food table. "Ignore him. He's mad there are no hush puppies. You've got to try the flummery. It's perfect!"

She tried not to grimace at the sight of the quivering towers of multicolored jelly. She bent down and peered at one. "Is that... a boiled egg in there?"

"Sure is! They suspended all sorts of things in the middle. There's sweet flummery and salty flummery and if you're really lucky you might get one that has olives and plums together. I've heard it's really tasty."

Caroline had a vision of the pickle and raisin ca.s.serole and fought back a laugh.

"There you are," a low voice said on her left. She looked up to see Frank smiling down at her. He was perfectly dressed in Regency attire, although his tie was a bit crooked.

"I've been trying to call you," she said, offering her hand the way a Regency lady might.

He bent low over it, eyes locked on hers. His lips touched her skin and she waited for some kind of emotion to zap through her system. But nothing came, just the warm press of his lips on the back of her hand.

"Frank." The tone in Brooks' voice was enough to make Caroline s.n.a.t.c.h back her hand.

He stood behind them, holding a cup of punch. His face was tightly controlled anger. "How is Lauren?"

Frank glanced at Caroline and rolled his eyes, laughing. "Fine, I guess. She's around here somewhere."

"You guess? I figure you'd know better than that."

Caroline glared at him, willing him to stop with the hints. He was mistaken about the kissing in the car, she was sure of it.

Frank didn't respond for a moment. He smile faded and he seemed to take stock of Brooks. "I saw her on the way in. She looked spectacular."

"You mean, you met her around the back before the dance." Brooks stepped forward, putting the cups of punch on the table. "See, Frank, I walked my bike around the corner so it would be out of the way. I saw you two back there."

Caroline looked from one to the other, bile rising in her throat. Why would Frank pretend not to know Lauren? Why try so hard to be unimpressed with her beauty, her talent?

He shrugged. "So, we had a little momentary diversion. It's the summer air. The costumes. No one can resist a man in breaches, you know. I'm sure-"

Frank broke off abruptly as Brooks stepped forward, hands clenched. He looked for all the world like he was going to take a swing. Caroline put a hand on his arm, alarm coursing through her.

"Get away from her. I don't want to see you talking to her again. Don't call her. Don't invite her to lunch. Don't touch her. Ever. Again." His voice was deep and calm. He was more angry than she had ever heard him.

"Okay, back off, buddy. I'm going." Frank turned on his heel and walked away.

Caroline could feel the tension pulsing through Brooks' arm. "Hey," she whispered.

He turned and seemed to see her for the first time. "Sorry about that. You know I can't stand a liar."

She nodded. It was something that really set him off. But this was more than losing respect for a man who fudged the truth. This was about Lauren. He had warned Frank away from Lauren in a way that was completely proprietary, like a man would who found a creep touching the woman he loved.

The music started up behind them and Brooks tried to smile. "Ready for another round?"

She shook her head. "It's just a bit warm in there. I think I'll sit down for a moment. You go ahead."

He glanced at her, then dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"I'm surprised. I suppose I should have known, but I'm not always the most observant." She felt her stomach tighten into a knot and she lowered herself into a chair. She saw how he acted that day she'd mentioned Lauren, the day he'd said he was staying for the summer. It was obvious. To anyone but her.

"Brooks, you can't hide over here." Manning jogged over. "There are way too many women here for you to stand in the corner."

He opened his mouth to say something, and seemed to think better of it. Seconds later he was moving across the dance floor, taking up a position directly across from Lauren.

She swallowed back the ache in her throat. He'd been trying to tell her for so long and she hadn't wanted to know. She never wanted anything to change, but the world didn't work that way. Everything changed. Even the deepest of friends.h.i.+ps.

"It is not every man's fate to marry the woman who loves him best." Mr. Knightley

Chapter Twenty.

Brooks watched Frank hover by the exit until the dance was over. Lauren had smiled politely through their turn as partners but as soon as the last notes sounded, she made her way to the same doorway, slipping out into the night. Frank followed, glancing behind him.

He was glad he hadn't actually punched the guy. Nothing worse than a good party devolving into an all-out brawl. He tried to force down the fury but every time he saw Frank bending over Caroline's hand, and putting his mouth to her skin, he wanted to hit the man. He should have told her alone, should have broken the news some other way than announcing in mid-conversation. But what he'd seen behind the barn was not a momentary indiscretion. It was two seasoned lovers taking their chance at reacquainting themselves with the pleasures they had already sampled. Hands had roamed places hands didn't roam on a first date.

He glanced at Caroline's face and his chest went tight. She looked crushed. Frank had promised many things, spoken and unspoken. He guessed that the job offer was really the least of her attraction to Frank. The guy was handsome, smooth, and a lot more fun than a journalism professor.

The dance went on for what seemed an eternity. He tried his best to keep her attention, but she didn't seem to be able to focus. Their eyes would meet, she would look pained then glance away. He cursed Frank and his slime-bag, cheating ways.

"I feel weird." Caroline blinked a few times. "Do you feel weird?"

Brooks shrugged. "How weird? We're all dressed like people in a Jane Austen book. I think weird comes with the territory."

"My head feels woozy. Maybe it's the heat." She stood up and fell against him. "Ugh. Sorry. I wonder if I ate something bad."

"What did you have?" he asked. He looked at the table of wobbling structures and hoped she didn't have food poisoning.

Debbie Mae came up and her eyes opened wide. "Have you been drinking?"

"Me? Not a drop!" Caroline protested but her words were slurring together.

Brooks sucked in a breath. "Oh, boy. I think I know what happened." He searched the barn until he found Blanche.

He jogged over and said, "Someone's been messing with the punch again."

She laughed. "A little. I don't see how you can have a party with virgin punch."

He groaned. "Grandma, we've got people driving. You can't just dump a liter of rum into the punch bowls."

"It was only one bowl. The other one is fine. n.o.body's complaining." She waved a hand. "See? Everybody's having a great time."

Not bothering to respond, he went to find Jennie Purdy. He explained as best he could and she nodded. Grabbing the microphone, she called out for quiet. "We have a little bit of news. Looks like there was a misunderstandin' at the punch table. Looks as if one bowl has got some liquor in it. We don't want any of y'all to be in danger driving back to town. If you had the rum, we ask that you find a ride home." The sound of murmurs and laughter filled the hall. "If you're in doubt, you come on up here and I'll smell ya. I can usually smell it real clear when a person's been drinkin'." With that she turned off the microphone and stood at the ready, waiting to offer her services to the guests.

Brooks went back to Caroline and held out a hand. "Keys, please."

"No argument from me." She plopped them in his hand. "But this doesn't mean I'm riding home on the back of that old bike."

He grinned. "No, I'm not that mean. I'll drive you back."

He hated the thought of leaving the Triumph leaning up against the barn, but Debbie Mae and Manning were already smelling each other's breath. "Come on you guys, let's head home. We'll come back and get the cars in the morning."

Brooks dropped Debbie Mae and Manning at Badewood. "I'll take Caroline home and walk back from there." She didn't offer an opinion, still feeling like her head was full of fuzz. It made perfect sense to her. But then, probably any kind of plan would make sense right then.

"Why don't you go out the back?" she asked, when they pulled up. He agreed, probably more to make sure she was actually going to be able to make the stairs to the front porch.

She felt clearer as she stepped into the night air. No problem getting the keys in the lock but she tried to be quiet anyway, just in case her mother was awake. The living room was dark except for the small stained-gla.s.s lamp glowing in the far corner. Caroline dropped her handbag on the low table. She'd never been so glad to be home and all she wanted to do was sprawl out on the couch.

"I think that was the longest party on record." Fun, but all that dancing was better than an early-morning run.

Brooks closed the door softly, following her across the room, toward the kitchen back door. "It only felt that way. Heartbreak will do that to you."

"Heartbreak?" Caroline stopped where she was, midway to throwing herself onto the cus.h.i.+ons and shot him a look.

"Did you want some water? It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

"Wait a minute. What heartbreak?" Caroline stepped into his way and put out a hand.

"Forget I said anything about it." He rubbed a hand over his face.

"I can't. You just implied I'd had my heart broken and as far as I can tell" she patted her chest like she'd lost something, "everything is still intact."

"Well, I'm glad. I just a.s.sumed that you'd be feeling a tiny bit of pain and betrayal since you and Frank were so chummy this summer."

Caroline felt her jaw drop. "Chummy?"

"Just an impression; don't ask me to define the term exactly. I don't always know what's going on with you, anyway."

"I said we were friends. I told you we might be working together."

"That's all? Really?" His eyes were narrowed. "It sure didn't look that way when you were driving to Spartainville for lunch."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake. I don't understand why you're being so jealous." It was about Lauren, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Right. And I still don't understand how it happened Frank managed to weasel his way into everyone's good graces when he didn't have anything other than a handsome face and some flashy clothes." He stepped closer, features half- revealed in the dim light. "But I can tell you one thing. If Frank hadn't suddenly decided there was a better place to be tonight, he and I were headed to no good end. He was all over you."

"All over me?" Caroline put her fists on her hips and tried to make sense of the conversation. "Did you get into the punch, too?"

"I've never been more sober." He stepped closer still. The air seemed to vibrate with tension. Maybe he wasn't angry about Lauren after all. The implications of that thought sent the world tilting under her feet. She swallowed hard.

"He's a player, you were right. The first day we met him, you said he was a snake oil salesman. It was all true. Are you happy?"

"No." He was near enough that she could feel a buffer of heat between them. His next words were so soft she strained to hear. "I'm not happy and I don't know what to do about it."

She shook her head, his words b.u.mping up against her heart like ripples in a pond. "But why?"

He didn't answer. The next moment he'd reached out, slipping his hand behind her head and placing the very softest kiss on her lips. There was an infinite pulse of time where neither of them moved. He leaned back and she met his eyes, stunned.

"Finley." His voice was rough. "Now is when you tell me to get on home."

Of course she should. It was late. They were tired. Rum punch had addled her brain. Something strange and incomprehensible was happening. The very best thing would be to put a firm hand to his chest and get some s.p.a.ce.

Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as if she were drowning, as if he were her lifeline in a stormy sea. He let out a sound that was part groan, part sigh. His tongue touched hers for a fraction of a second and her knees went weak.

Her head was spinning and she s.h.i.+fted, catching her heel on the edge of the carpet. Losing her balance, but not willing or able to let go, she brought them both tumbling down to the couch. For the barest moment, she hesitated and then all thought was gone. Pulling him close, she matched him kiss for kiss, breath for breath. Her universe narrowed to the fire that was building in her, to the desperate need that made her grip his shoulders. The rough shadow of his beard rasped against her cheek, her chin and she ran her hands up through his hair.

Brooks, she was kissing Brooks. Her friend. It made no sense but nothing had ever felt so right. His hands skimmed up her rib cage, making her gasp. His weight should have felt like a burden, like she was being crushed, but she welcomed it with an arching need. Time ceased to have meaning and all she knew was the heat they created, like they'd been soaked with fuel and someone had tossed them a lit match.

He kissed a trail down her neck and she wanted to weep. The familiar scent of him, the warmth of his skin, was like a drug and she was helpless to refuse, to push away.

"Finley," he whispered and brought his lips back to hers with a gentleness that squeezed hot tears from her eyes.

"Caroline?" her mother's voice sounded down the stairwell.

They froze for just a moment. Brooks rolled off the couch onto his feet and pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. She hadn't remembered pulling it off. He glanced over at her and his eyes traveled down her gown, to the hem. He pulled it from where it had crept near her calves down to her ankles.

"Caroline, are you home?"

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. "Yes, Mama." It came out weak and shaking.

"Did you have a good time?" She didn't sound like she was coming any nearer.

Caroline sat up, a pulse pounding in her head. "Yes, I did. I'll be right up. I'm just going to get some... water."

"Okay." The sound of her mother's slippers shuffled down the hallway.

Brooks met her eyes and his face was a mixture of shock and dismay. "Caroline," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to-"

She shook her head. Of course he was sorry. She'd practically attacked him and thrown him on the couch. She held a finger to her lips and stood. Walking quietly through the house, she made her way in the dark to the back door. He was right behind her, footsteps echoing her own.

She opened it and stood aside. Her face was burning and she was glad it was dark in the kitchen.

"Finley, I just don't know what to say. I'm sorry-"

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. If only he would quit apologizing. "Can we talk about this later? Maybe when the punch has worn off?"

He stood for a moment silently. Then he nodded, walking through the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."