The McKenzie Brothers: Windemere Part 10

As she spoke, Mary came back to her bed, wrapping one hand about a bedpost to slowly swing around it and dropped onto her bed.

Emma smiled. She knew that feeling all too well. It was probably fairly close to what she felt when she stood in Julian's room, right before their kiss. It was probably exactly the same as how she felt when she simply thought about Julian. Words couldn't possibly do it justice.

"Well, your secret's safe with me," Emma promised her.

"Just like your kiss with Julian is safe with me."

The impish tone in Mary's voice gave Emma pause. She didn't sound as if she was guessing about this kiss, but that she knew for a fact the kiss happened. She tried to laugh it off. "What're you talking about?"

"Please, Em, I'm not an idiot." Mary leveled her with a stare that made her look years older. For a moment, she looked like their mother. "You were on your way down to breakfast, and then you were gone for almost forty-five minutes." Her smile was the same conspiratorial one they had shared since they were children.

"I know, but-" Emma hedged.

Mary's smile widened. "I knew it! You did share a kiss with him that morning. Didn't you?"

Now it was Emma's turn to savor the delicious flavor of a treasured memory. She hugged it close. Flopping down beside her sister, she stared up at the purple canopy. Purple was Mary's favorite color, and it dominated the room, from the cus.h.i.+ons on the window bench to the hints of purple woven through the green and gold carpet beneath the bed. Even the cords holding the gauzy white draperies on the north-facing windows were purple.

"Yes," she murmured, turning her head to smile at her sister. "We kissed."

Mary turned to her, her blue eyes sparkling. "And it made the world stop, didn't it?"

"That describes it perfectly. I only wish the world stayed stopped for a little longer."

"Amen to that. But hopefully it will happen again. Tonight. He's already promised me a dance."

"Wonderful. I hope it all works out for you, Mare. If he makes you happy, he must be an all right suitor. Do you think Papa would approve? Of either one of them?"

Mary sat up. "Honestly, I don't know. You know what they say about his family. The men all go mad. They go violently mad. His grandfather did it. His father did it. And probably his great-grandfathers also went mad, all the way back to the first McCallister man. And if it's true, Papa wouldn't be happy at all."

Emma had heard the stories, but always considered herself too pragmatic to believe something as silly as cursed blood. "I don't believe in curses," she replied flatly. "It's a load of nonsense."

She didn't trouble to keep the scolding notes from her tone, and if they bothered Mary, she gave no indication of it.

Instead, she traced a finger along the seam in the deep plum quilt. "Em, the men are dead. Their wives are dead. And we know his father killed his mother. Then he killed himself. If that isn't madness, what is?"

"You choose to believe stories that have never been verified? That isn't entirely fair, is it?"

The hint of color on Mary's pointed cheekbones spoke volumes, as did her averted gaze. Several long minutes pa.s.sed before she murmured, "Do you think you and Mr. McCallister will kiss again?"

Emma giggled. "I certainly hope so." She tapped her sister's arm. "What about you and Ben?"

Now it was Mary's turn to giggle. "I wouldn't mind kissing him again. I'll have to find some way to lure him beneath the mistletoe."

"Momma will pop if you do that!" Even as she spoke, Emma wondered if she'd be able to lure Julian anywhere near the mistletoe in the parlor doorway. "You know she hangs it for decoration only. And to give Papa an excuse to kiss her."

A wistful sigh replaced Mary's giggle. "I do hope he'll ask to court me. But he hasn't said anything about it. And I hate that, I hate not knowing what will happen next. It's as if I'll burst right out of my skin the next time I see him and yet, what if it was only a kiss for him? What if it was only a kiss and nothing more?"

"Do you think it might be?"

"I'm hardly an expert on such matters, Em. I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen."

"I hate that. Don't you? The not knowing. At least with a book, I can flip ahead and see how everything turns out."

"I do, but at the same time, I don't. There's something-I don't know-exhilarating about that up and down feeling. It's awful, but it's wonderful at the same time."

Mary closed her eyes but said nothing, and Emma didn't speak either. A peaceful silence reigned for several long minutes, and then Mary opened her eyes. "I suppose we should be readying ourselves. The guests will be arriving soon."

Emma rose. "You're probably right."

Mary sat at her dressing table, and Emma went to work combing her sister's thick, chestnut hair, twisting it into a complicated twist and weaving the green ribbon through the locks.

When she was finished, Mary gave her a warm hug and thanked her, then Emma returned to her bedroom to get herself ready. She wanted to look her best this evening. There was always the possibility that tonight, she and Julian would do more than kiss.

Chapter Ten.

AT HALF PAST SEVEN, the guests began to arrive. Emma stood at the top of the main staircase and took a deep breath.

As she descended the main staircase, the low rumble of several male voices rose up to greet her. She paused, waiting for the voices to fade. None were familiar, and she didn't want to walk into the ballroom on her own. Mary, Drew, and Garrett were supposed to join her, but so far, she was the only one there.

At the foot of the staircase, she found Drew grinning up at her as he leaned one elbow on the banister. "I thought I heard someone coming down." His grin grew impish. "Hoping to make a grand entrance?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Hardly. I thought Momma and Papa would be here, greeting everyone. I just don't want to walk in there alone. I hate when everyone stares at me."

"They're doing that in the ballroom instead." To her surprise, his grin faded and his brows pulled together. "And I'd be honored to escort you, Em. But before we go in, I wanted to ask you something."

She froze on the bottommost step as a softened sense of panic rippled through her. Had Drew been pa.s.sing by Mary's bedroom and overheard them? And if he had, which part had he overheard?

Garrett was the serious one, while Drew tended to be more light-hearted. At least, he normally was. Right now, he looked every bit as serious as Garrett. Still, she forced herself to take the last step and slipped her arm through his. "What about?"

"I heard a rumor while I was in town with Papa yesterday." Her mouth went dry as he continued, "And it's a bit troubling, so I hope you can clear it up for me."

A rumor? In town? How the devil could anyone know about her steamy kiss with Julian? No. It simply wasn't possible for gossip to travel that fast. She tried to remember if any of the servants had had the day off. No, none had. Everyone in service at Stonebridge was somewhere in the house, readying for the party. She was certain of it.

Willing her voice to remain steady, she asked, "A rumor? What about?"

He stopped and faced her, flicking something from the sleeve of his black frock coat. "Mary."

Relief swept through her with such force that she almost took a step back, but thankfully caught herself in time.

Drew stopped brus.h.i.+ng his sleeve, and now his expression suggested definite discomfort. "About her and Ben Jacobs behind Croft's Cafe?"

Mindful of her promise to Mary to keep her secret, she shook her head. "What about her and Ben Jacobs behind Croft's?"

"It was fairly tame-a kiss-but I don't like it just the same." Drew folded his arms, his left brow raised just enough to suggest he didn't believe her. "She's said nothing to you? You've heard no gossip from Miss Adams?"

She gave him an exasperated stare. "Rose and I do not gossip. We discuss things that are important." She held his stare, but as he refused to relent, she sighed. "Very well. On occasion we might discuss things that are going on. From time to time, that is. But no, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. So maybe you should tell me what you've heard, and I'll see what I know about it."

"Em, talking to you is like trying to speak English to a person who only speaks Greek, and I'm not faring well at either." Drew grumbled, his jaw tightening a little more. "All I want to know is if you've heard anything. Anything at all."

"Well, I'm sorry, Drew. I've been far too occupied with George Hadley and Rose Adams, and that's about all the meddling I can handle at one party." She slapped her hands against her thighs. "This one is all yours."

His lips pursed, and at first she thought he was angry with her, but then he grinned. "You do have your hands full, don't you? Fair enough." He cast a quick glance up the staircase. "Where is Mary?"

"I suppose she's still dressing. Are you going to confront her?" Her belly gave a little ripple of apprehension. She didn't want Mary thinking she'd spilled her secret to Drew.

"No. Not tonight. But I think that might be what Momma was so upset about earlier." Her relief must have shown on her face, for he added, "Unless there's another reason."

"No. I've been wondering about her mood all day myself. Although I do like the festive one she's in now. I think she's in a pet; she'll be fine. She was back to her normal jovial self by the time we were in church." She tucked her arm through his. "And if there's some rumor-wait, how terrible is it?"

As they strolled toward the ballroom, Drew lowered his voice. "Nothing too scandalous. A stolen kiss behind the cafe. At least, that's the version I heard. That's why I wanted to know if you'd heard anything. Momma wouldn't be too upset over an innocent kiss. I think there must have been a witness, but I don't know who. All I've heard so far is that so-and-so heard it from so-and-so. But I don't know who the first so-and-so is."

"That's too many so-and-sos, Drew. Sounds to me as if someone's imagination has run wild."

"Maybe it has. I don't know. I haven't talked to her about it yet." He glanced down at her. "But if this is what's got her so out of sorts, it must be more than a kiss. And I should hate to think what that something was, or who saw it."

"Have you asked Garrett? Perhaps he's heard something."

"Already spoke to him. He heard the same story."

"So it sounds as if that's the only story going around. Which wouldn't put Momma in so bleak a mood. Would it?"

"I doubt it. That's why I want to know if there are any other versions floating about. They might lead me to the first so-and-so as well."

"All these so-and-sos are making my head hurt."

They strolled down the corridor, and Emma savored the hint of pine from the wreaths on the walls, each tied with a red velvet bow. Momma loved to decorate the house for Christmas, and this year was no exception. Red and green draped every surface that didn't get out of her way quickly enough, and she even provided the servants with red and green livery for the evening. The footmen wore green tunics and red trousers, while the maids wore green dresses with red ap.r.o.ns. They were colorful, to say the least.

As they rounded the corner leading to the ballroom, Emma spied a clump of people gathered at the doors, waiting to enter. She didn't see Mary or Ben Jacobs, but her gaze found Julian with little effort. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him the way lightning was drawn to water. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked handsome in black breeches that skimmed the muscles in his thighs. With that, he wore a waistcoat embroidered with silver, blue, and purple thread, and his frock coat was the same shade of periwinkle as the thread accents in his waistcoat.

He turned the rest of the way toward her, as if feeling her gaze on him, and smiled. He'd been standing with a small group of men and broke away to stride toward them. "Good evening, Miss McKenzie. You look lovely this evening. That blue suits you."

An unexpected giggle rose. Somehow, she managed to cover it with a cough and replied, "Thank you, Mr. McCallister. I'm glad you approve."

"McKenzie, where's the bigger, angrier one?" Julian asked with a grin. "I thought he'd be in the bar well on his way to climbing into his cups."

"I'll go find out, but then chances are we'll both be climbing into our cups." Drew released Emma's arm to slip it through Julian's. "And so I will entrust my sister's chaperonage to you, McCallister. Don't let anything happen to her."

"As if I would."

"Drew, please. Just don't attack either Mary or Ben. You said yourself it was just a kiss. And it might not even have happened. Find out first. Remember the so-and-sos."

"So-and-sos?" Julian's brow wrinkled.

Drew grinned. "I know what I have to do, Em."

After Drew left them, Julian tucked her arm through his and covered her hand. His fingers threaded through hers, and a tingle wound its way up her arm, all the way into her shoulder. He gave a gentle squeeze, one that rippled through her, especially when he didn't ease his grip. A sidelong glance told her he was grinning down at her.

"What?"

"Come with me, Miss McKenzie. You need to make your entrance."

"Oh, hardly. I wasn't the least bit concerned with that. I just didn't want to walk in there alone." She filled him in on the details Drew offered up. "Especially if I'm to be bombarded with questions over a small kiss."

"Better her than you."

She chewed on that for a long moment and then nodded. "True. Very true."

He tugged on her arm to draw her closer. As his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, "Unless you'd rather give them something else to gossip about?"

"Julian!" She bit back a smile. "I need to speak with Rose, and you're cornering George, remember?"

"And if he's with Darcy?"

She'd already considered and rejected half a dozen plans, going back to the first one that came to mind. "Flirt with her. You're handsome enough to make her forget all about Mr. Hadley. I think you could make her forget about all other men in this room."

As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. It wasn't that she didn't mean them, but she hadn't meant to blurt it out that way. And she hadn't even had any champagne or wa.s.sail yet. Dear Lord. Imagine what would come out of her mouth if she imbibed?

She swallowed hard as Julian stared down at her. For several heart-stopping minutes he said nothing, and the voices of the guests melded into a low buzz off in the distance. But then he smiled. "I thank you for the compliment."

"That wasn't too bold of me, was it?"

"It was fine and I won't hold it against you. Remember, I'm used to you being blunt. It's just been a while since I've been the subject of your bluntness."

"Ah, Mr. McCallister, Miss McKenzie, there you are." Lydia Morris beamed as she came toward them, her arm tucked through her husband's. "How are you, Mr. McCallister? It's been too long since I've last seen you."

"I'm well, Mrs. Morris. You look even younger than you did the last time I saw you." Julian smiled at her and then her husband. "And how are you, Mr. Morris? Still up to your eyes in cakes and pastries?"

Ellis Morris's smile shone through his bushy white mustache. "I will be buried by icing cupids and cake layers, and I will still have a smile on my face, young man." He clasped Julian's hand in his. "And you're looking good as well. Life at sea agrees with you."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I far prefer being on dry land, building the s.h.i.+ps instead of sailing them. But sometimes duty calls."

"You'd go mad without a lady in every port," Lydia chuckled, a glint in her blue eyes. "And Ellis, don't you even think to scold me. You know I'm right."

Emma bit back a grin as Ellis only shook his head. Somehow, she didn't think there was much his wife could say that would shock him after three decades of marriage. She said what she thought, and anyone who didn't like it quickly found themselves on society's outskirts.

"Lydia, Ellis." Emma held her breath as her father and mother joined them, each holding two gla.s.ses of wa.s.sail. Momma smiled as she pa.s.sed one of the gla.s.ses to Lydia, who accepted and sipped.

Momma directed her smile at Julian. "I'm surprised you aren't with Garrett and Drew in there, with a gla.s.s in each hand."

Papa lifted his own gla.s.s. "Sounds like a festive way to pa.s.s Christmas, if you ask me."