The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses

by Janna MacGregor

  “My God,” he whispered. “You’re ready to come again.” The shock was evident on his face, but he recovered quickly. His fingers lightly danced over her abdomen and slid through her nether curls until he touched her sensitive nub. She bucked in response.

  Yes, that was what she needed. Instead of saying the words, she moaned and lifted her hips as if offering him anything and everything if he’d just continue to touch her there.

  “Darl—” He broke off and closed his eyes. He inhaled and held his breath. Slowly, he released it. He took possession of her mouth with his tongue mating hers. Her taste still lingered, and she reveled in it.

  He continued to kiss her until he took her hand and placed it on his erection. “Feel me. I want you so much I’m in agony.”

  The hot, hard length throbbed in her hand as his pulse pounded through the thick vein that twined around the underside. She traced the silken head in her hand. On instinct, she gently squeezed, and he hissed. Her gaze shot to his, and he smiled as if encouraging her to continue. She released a ragged breath as the sensation of different textures of touch, scents, and sights curled into smoky clouds in her head.

  He laced their fingers together and raised her hands over her head where he rested his elbows next to hers. He nudged her nose with his. “We don’t have—”

  “Yes, we do,” she whispered. She took possession of his mouth just as he’d done to her earlier. He shifted slightly, and his cock barely entered her.

  Inside, she could feel her muscles clenching for more—more of him. She moaned his name as her body prepared for release. With infinite care, his mouth brushed hers and, inch by inch, he moved inside her.

  With his girth, she had expected to be uncomfortable. Instead, her body hungered for more of the exquisite fullness that he was giving her.

  “Put your legs around my hips,” he whispered, never taking his lips from hers.

  She did as instructed and lifted her hips. Swiftly, he seated himself fully. She felt a pinch and jerked in reaction.

  “All right?” His gaze locked with hers. A longing gleamed from the blue depths of his own that made her feel revered like a divine and rare creature in his safekeeping.

  She nodded and hoped he could see the trust and love she felt for him. Such an exquisite being, and she was going to marry him. He kissed her again and started to move slowly away. She groaned in protest, but he entered her again.

  The pleasure built into a force that fed itself. It became stronger and faster until all she could do was hold him close. His hands gripped the sides of her head as he studied her. Slight trickles of sweat streamed down both sides of his face, so she brushed them away. Each time, he kissed her hand or her fingers—whatever was in his reach.

  What they’d created continued to gather strength. Every touch and move became a force she could no longer harness. Finally, her pleasure took control of all of her senses. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes, and she whispered his name. Inside, her body clenched his as if never letting him go. With a final thrust, he groaned as his seed filled her.

  Their joint release continued in waves. He buried his head in her neck and repeated her name over and over as if in prayer. She’d never felt closer to another being in her entire life. Slowly, their breathing calmed as she stroked his neck, down his muscular back to his taut buttocks, and then reversed the pattern while the sound of his heartbeat echoed in her ear.

  If she never had to leave his arms, it would be too soon.

  He pressed his lips against her cheek. As if luck was against her, he rose from the bed, then crossed the room to a small pitcher and basin where he dunked a linen towel in water. Suddenly shy and unsure, she quietly stood and donned her dressing gown.

  He walked back to her with a surprising frown replacing his easy smile. “Is something amiss?”

  She shook her head and chanced a glance his way. “I’m not certain what I should do.”

  In a move even the most experienced dancer would appreciate, he dropped to his knees once again. She knew him well enough to know he’d never be a humble supplicant. Before she could protest, he unbelted her gown and pressed his lips one the slight curve of her abdomen. “Stay with me.”

  Her mind stilled at his words, but her heart beat frantically, trying to reach the spot where he kissed her. With hooded eyes, he gazed at her, then turned his attention to her body. With utter tenderness, he cleaned her, stroking the linen against her inner thighs. Stains of red marred the perfect white of the cloth. For once, such a sight didn’t bother her. When he finished his ministrations, he kissed her leg again before proceeding to the other side. At his touch, her breasts tightened as if he were making love to her once more.

  Slowly, he stood and tended to himself before he washed the cloth again to remove any evidence that they’d been together. When he returned to her side, he pulled her into his arms. “Will you sleep with me?”

  She nodded and relaxed into his embrace.

  “Did I hurt you?” He pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

  “Never.” She tilted her head back so she could meet his gaze. “It was everything I dreamed it would be.”

  A true genuine smile broke across his face, lending him an exceedingly happy but very satisfied expression. “Come to bed.”

  She pressed a kiss against his heart. Soon, they were nestled next to each other with his hand stroking her hip. They whispered things to each other about everything and anything.

  Eventually, his rhythmic breathing told her he’d fallen asleep. Instead of joining him in slumber, her mind refused to quiet, and her earlier worry and tension returned. How could she marry him with all the upheaval in her life?

  The fire snapped and blazed in answer. Instead of worrying, she should determine the extent of the damage and see if she could rectify it herself. She’d make an accounting of every pound she’d embezzled and the same for her expenditures, then she’d divide it into estate management, household, and personal expenditures.

  At least her mind could concentrate on something besides worries that she had no answers to.

  * * *

  When McCalpin stepped into his study in the wee hours of the morning, he found March huddled over his desk, sound asleep. With a single candle flickering beside her, she appeared so alone that his heart lurched. Biting cold, the kind that reached inside you and took hold like a rabid dog, permeated the room. She’d wrapped herself with a fur cover from one of two sofas that framed the fireplaces.

  He stoked the fire and fed several logs until the room, or at least the area surrounding the sofas, was toasty warm. It’d make the perfect place to hold her while she slept. He might suffer from the heat, but he wanted her comfortable and safely ensconced within his arms.

  He approached to pick her up, then suddenly stopped. Not only were the McCalpin Manor books open, but also the McCalpin House books he’d brought with him when he traveled to find her. They surrounded March as if she were holding court.

  Pieces of vellum where she’d written columns and tables of numbers were stuck between the pages. Scrap sheets where she had added amounts lay partially hidden beneath her arms. She’d remembered to cap the inkstand but her quill lay beside her as if waiting for her to resume whatever she’d been doing.

  She stirred then blinked her eyes several times at the fire. Slowly, she turned. When she recognized him, her mouth twisted into a sleepy smile, the effect so powerful he wondered if she’d drugged him. All he could do was reach for her.

  He stopped, suddenly frozen, but his blood burned like fire. The one book that held all his secrets lay under her hands.

  “Michael.” The remnants of sleep colored her words.

  “What are you doing at my desk?” She flinched as if he’d hurt her, and immediately, he regretted the curt words.

  “I couldn’t sleep. All I could see in my mind were numbers regarding the purchases and withdrawals I’d made over the last several months. I—I needed to determine how much money I’d ta
ken.” She shrugged her shoulders as if defeated. “I wanted a list of each expenditure along with its purpose.”

  “Why are my estate books open?”

  “I needed a distraction and thought I could help with the bookkeeping.”

  He reached for the book that would expose his deepest shame, then stopped stock-still when her hand covered his.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Exactly what?” Much like that fateful day when Will’s hand covered his, time screeched to a halt. He almost sneered, but thankfully, with the slimmest of willpower he held himself in check. It was the natural reaction whenever anyone came close to discovering his problem, but it was completely inappropriate for March. For God’s sake, she would be his marchioness soon.

  “Your difficulty with numbers.” Her face glowed in the candlelight, but her eyes made his heart tumble in his chest. Tender without any judgment or condemnation, they melted into his.

  He plowed a hand through his hair and exhaled. Never before had he ever laid every weakness he possessed at someone’s feet. God, the ability to share this failure, this defect, would be so freeing. To explain how frustrated it made him would lift the heavy burden he’d carried all his life. She would listen. He only prayed she wouldn’t condemn him.

  He took a deep breath and relaxed. Nay, she wouldn’t judge him.

  “Let’s sit by the fire.” He tugged her from the chair and swept her into his arms. She uttered an endearing feminine yelp that was perfectly charming. When he settled her on his lap, she rested her head against his shoulder.

  “I’ll try not to make the story boring.”

  “Nothing you could ever say to me would be the least bit boring.” She leaned and captured his gaze. “I want to know everything.”

  He escaped her stare only to study the fire. It made it easier. “It became apparent to me that I was an idiot with numbers early on. My old governess had railed at my lack of abilities. She even told me that I should be relieved of my responsibilities as the heir to my father.”

  Her eyes narrowed in pain as she she gently squeezed his hand in comfort. “How horrible. I hope she was dismissed.”

  “She was … because of William. But by then, Will and Emma had surpassed me in their mathematical prowess. Thankfully, my parents replaced her with a kind tutor who didn’t punish or rail at me when I struggled with assignments.”

  “You’re one of the most intelligent and empathetic men I’ve ever known. But it must have been difficult to see your siblings surpass you.” With her hand, March turned his face until she held his gaze once again. “Go on.”

  The nurturing gentleness in her tone encouraged him to exhale his trepidation. “I am the mighty Langham ducal heir, and I couldn’t add a column of numbers together successfully.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes at the painful memories. “I was so ashamed. My tutor tried everything, but nothing worked. Every time I had a problem or equation to solve, I was off by one. If the answer were five, I’d find it as six. If it was subtraction and the answer was thirty-six, I’d solve it as thirty-five. If it was a fraction, heaven help me. It was as if my brain played nasty tricks on me.”

  His throat tightened as the familiar panic gripped him, as if he was struggling with calculations now. He shook his head to banish such wicked thoughts and glanced at her.

  She stroked her fingers along his cheeks, the touch soft and reassuring. “How did you hide it at school?”

  “It was Eton.” He grunted with a sound that belied his disgust with himself. “Not much is expected of ducal heirs. I either canceled the exam or went home. Sometimes I wrote a note informing them I was ill and refused to take the exam.”

  March nodded as she continued to offer comfort. “Did your parents ever address it with you?”

  “They never raised it, and neither did I. I thought if I didn’t admit it, then I wasn’t a failure.” He exhaled with difficulty as a vise of shame tightened around his chest. “I exceeded all their expectations in my other subjects. In logic, literature, history, even languages, I received top marks. No one ever questioned my ability in mathematics. I believe they just assumed I excelled in that subject also.” He cleared his throat of its thickness again.

  “Michael.” The soft whisper was as soothing as a caress. “You’ve never been a failure. You’re as brilliant as the sun.”

  “I disagree, my beauty.” He pressed a kiss against her cheek. “That’s why you always see William with me. He plays the role as advisor to me, but really he’s reviewing the accounts and investments.” He chanced a glance her way. “That’s why he was so pointed in his questions to you. He’s protective of me.”

  “Even though he’s skeptical and quite annoying at times, I’m finding he’s one of my favorite people in your family.” She reached out and brushed away an errant lock of hair that had fallen onto his brow. “But if you ever tell him such, I’ll deny it.”

  The simple touch caused something to melt inside of him, a piece he’d kept frozen deep inside, one he believed he’d never share with anyone.

  He bit his lip as he fought to find the right words. As an honorable man, he had to ask if she still wanted to marry him. What a lark that was. How honorable had he been last night? He’d taken her virginity, thus leaving her stranded with him. He’d never let her go now. She was his completely.

  “I should have confessed before I made love to you.” Holding her gaze, he waited for the disgust to cross her beautiful face. “I’m afraid you don’t have any choice now. You’ll have to marry me.”

  March shook her head and bit her lower lip. “Have I ever told you how crazed you make me sometimes?” She pressed her hands against his cheeks. “You glorious foolish man. I love you. This changes nothing for me. I want to marry you.”

  Her dark copper eyes never looked away from his as she waited. She’d just confessed her love, and he stared, unable to repeat them back. What was wrong with him? She meant more to him than words could even express. He’d never shared so much of himself with another person, not even the members of his own family, yet he couldn’t say those three words back to her.

  “I didn’t say that so you’d repeat it in return.” She brushed her lips against his, then regarded him. “Thank you for sharing so much of yourself with me.”

  He blinked, not knowing what to say. She was all things lovely and beautiful. His instincts had been spot-on. “You’ll make a marvelous marchioness. Someday, you’ll make a devastating duchess.”

  “I hope in the distant future. I owe your parents so much.” She released a ragged sigh. “May I tell you what I discovered in your account books and investment records?”

  “With what I’ve just shared, you’ll have to go slow.”

  She nodded briskly. “Every book and record has been meticulously managed except for one.”

  “It’s my practice account,” he interrupted. “I try to improve my skills with the household account book. There are two. One for me and one for the housekeeper. It’s the simplest account to try to balance.”

  Her brilliant smile broke through her pursed lips. “Your threes look like reversed E’s and your fours look like upside-down h’s. Your handwriting is distinctive. That’s how I learned…”

  “That I’m an id—”

  “Please, don’t. I’ll not listen.” March attempted to get off his lap, but he was faster and grabbed her hips.

  He secured her to his lap once again. “Please, go on, sweetheart.”

  “After I finished with your account, I started on the others. I’ve been through every one.”

  “Every one?” He drew his brows together. She couldn’t have accomplished that. It took William two days to review every account and investment attached to McCalpin Manor and McCalpin House. Many of them were complicated investment portfolios tied to the Langham Duchy.

  She tilted her head in challenge. “Every single one.”

  It was a pleasure to surrender to her. She could teach him things a
bout managing an estate and, in return, he could teach her all the things they could do in bed.

  And out of it.

  Completely oblivious to his thoughts, she continued, “Someone has deliberately understated the returns on your personal investments. When you compare Lord Somerton’s correspondence on investment returns, they aren’t the same numbers in the accounting books. In addition, the estate books have entries for expenditures that have either been increased by adding a zero or marked out completely with an increased amount written above.”

  Keenly interested in understanding her explanation, he nodded for her to proceed.

  “For instance, last month, you acquired a draught horse. The expenditure was initially marked as twenty-five pounds, then a zero was added. Two sheep were purchased for seventy-two pence. The amount was crossed out and seven pounds, two pence replaced it. No one would likely notice these changes on a daily basis, but if you look at it over the last several months, there’s a pattern.”

  He exhaled his frustration. Not just at the numbers floating in the air, but more importantly, someone was stealing from him, and he’d had no idea. He never checked the books himself. Even William didn’t catch the errors.

  “Plus, the entries in your household account don’t match the housekeeper’s account. Someone has manipulated the numbers there too.” She narrowed her eyes. “Thank heavens you had the foresight to maintain another book. Otherwise, I’m not certain anyone would have caught the modifications. By my calculations, there’s at least a five-thousand-pound discrepancy.”

  She walked to his desk, then returned with one of the account books. She opened it to a marked page and pointed at one account entry. “See the sevens and ones? They’re distinctive. Dashes or serifs slash the middle of the sevens. The ones have serifs at the top. Whoever is manipulating the books has a unique writing style.”

  Even he could understand what she was stating, but it was difficult to believe someone would deliberately try to steal from him.