Windemere’ (The McKenzie Brothers)

by Kimberly Nee

  It was risky, teasing him, but if she didn’t, she’d do or say something foolish.

  But when he looked down, his eyes were bright. “I would like to see them as well.”

  “Good. They’ll be pleased.” The wind picked up, with a bit more bite this time. She tugged her cloak more tightly about herself. “I do wish she would hurry up in there.”

  “Shopping with Miss Adams?”

  “How did you know?”

  He smiled. “Some things never change. Come, I’ll treat you to a cup of tea over at Croft’s.”

  She hesitated. Was Rose ever coming out of the emporium? She didn’t want to just up and leave, especially since Rose wouldn’t know where she’d gone, and they’d come into town together. It didn’t seem right to just disappear on her.

  “Miss McKenzie?” He cupped his gloved hands and blew on them for effect. “Shall we?”

  The bell above the door in the emporium tinkled, and Rose’s voice was as welcoming as a hug as she greeted them with, “Mr. McCallister, it’s wonderful to see you.”

  “And you, too, Miss Adams. I just invited Miss McKenzie to join me at Croft’s. You’re welcome to join us as well.”

  Rose shivered and tugged her cloak tighter. “That sounds lovely. I hate the cold.” She blew on her hands and hurried along the walkway. “Em, I bought six yards of that lace. But I think I might need more.”

  “For what?”

  “My veil.”

  Emma stared at her. “Six yards? George hasn’t even proposed yet!”

  “But he will, and when he does, I want to be prepared.”

  Julian cleared his throat. “If you ladies are ready?”

  “Oh. Right. I beg your pardon.” Emma linked her arm through Rose’s as they made their way toward the café. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear all about Rose and George?”

  “Quite.”

  “Men don’t care for things like weddings, Em. Everyone knows that.”

  Before she could answer, they were at the café, and when Julian opened the door, a fragrant breeze wafted out, carrying the delicious scents of vanilla and cinnamon.

  Rose let out a little happy noise as she darted inside. Emma would have happy-noised right alongside her, but was too aware of Julian right behind them. It wouldn’t do with him right there, no matter how happy she was to get out of the cold.

  She eased her hands from her gloves then shucked her cloak to hang on the rack by their table. The café was crowded with people trying to get out of the cold, and Delia Croft made some of the best hot chocolate anyone in Brunswick had ever tasted.

  And that was what Emma ordered. The chocolate was rich and thick and thawed her from the moment it touched her lips.

  Beside her, Julian sipped a cup of rich-smelling black coffee.

  Rose, however, had gone flitting across the café to chatter away with Diana Reynolds and Martha Dunbridge.

  “It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed at all,” Julian remarked, lifting his mug to take a sip. “She’s every bit the social butterfly.”

  “And I’m every bit the wallflower.”

  “I don’t know I’d call you a wallflower, Emma. You’ve never struck me as particularly shy.”

  “No, but I do tend to rub people the wrong way rather easily. It’s a McKenzie trait, handed down from my grandfather, according to my father.” She shrugged as she drew a spoon through the thick hot chocolate with a lazy swirl. “And I think both he and Momma aren’t at all happy with that. They seem quite determined to make me into a proper lady whom every eligible gentleman would sell his right arm to court.”

  “And let me guess.” He set his cup down. “You don’t want any of them.”

  “Not unless they have a wild streak, like Drew, or a bit of an adventuring spirit, like Garrett. Then I might consider accepting one. But so far, all I’ve seen are doddering fools who want to talk horses only with men, who wish to discuss politics only with men, and who wish to play cards with only men. So, as long as I remain a woman—and I’ve never thought to be anything other than a woman—I am going to grow old alone. Oh, and I’ll most likely kill my mother off in the process since she’s sure to end up with broken heart.”

  “Well, that should be avoided at all costs, I think.” He grinned, tracing his forefinger around his cup’s damp rim.

  She couldn’t help but stare. His fingers were thick and long, somewhat battered as a testament to his life as a shipbuilder.

  “So I suppose a wallflower you shall stay. At least for now.”

  She sipped her chocolate. It was sweet, without being overly so, and deliciously warm for such a chilly day. Lowering the cup, she said, “It isn’t easy being a wallflower, you know.”

  “I wouldn’t. I’ve never been one.”

  “Of course you haven’t. Men don’t have to worry about being wallflowers. They don’t have to worry about being witty and flirty, or eating too much in public. They worry about cards and cigars and horses and which lady has the biggest—” She caught herself just in time, a blush tickling her as Julian’s eyebrows crept up.

  “The biggest—?” Laughter edged his words. “Finish the thought, Miss McKenzie.”

  “Family,” she finished, wincing at how lame that sounded. He knew what she meant, and she knew what she meant. It was silly to pretend she meant anything else but that.

  She waved a hand in Rose’s general vicinity. “And while they do that, I watch all the Darcy Penroses of the world out dancing and chatting gaily and laughing over silly jokes. They haven’t a care in the world. Where I, on the other hand, worry too much about tangling my feet or tripping over my skirts. I frighten off any would-be suitors in a flash.”

  “You don’t seem too sad about that, Emma. I hope you don’t mind my pointing that out.”

  She sat back, tapping her forefinger against the tabletop. “No. I don’t suppose I am. I’ve had years to get this all worked out in my head. Years to accept the things I can’t change about myself.” By now, Rose was on the opposite side of the room, sitting and chatting gaily with Martha and Diana. For a moment, Emma envied her friend with such ferocity that it stung. People always gravitated to Rose. She was so vivacious, so bubbly.

  “A man would have to be a fool to not see what you have to offer.”

  It was a good thing she held her cup with both hands, for the look Julian sent her way was enough to make her loosen her grip on it. His gaze remained direct, locked with hers, and she swallowed hard.

  “Miss McKenzie?” She jolted back to find Julian staring at her with a quizzical expression. “Where are you?”

  She set her empty cup on the table. “Woolgathering, I suppose. Where was I?”

  “You were scaring men off left and right.”

  “Right.” She finished her chocolate, which now tasted too sweet and left a foul taste in her mouth. Julian drained his coffee cup, and when Rose returned, he ushered them back out into the cold, which seemed even colder now.

  Joseph was just down beyond the café, rubbing his hands together, and his frown curved upward as his gaze fell on Julian. “Mr. McCallister. Good to see you, sir.”

  “Mr. McCallister will be accompanying me back to Stonebridge, Joseph.” Emma ducked her head as she climbed up into the carriage.

  “Yes, Miss McKenzie.”

  Rose climbed up next to her and settled in. “It’s beastly out there.” She clasped her hands on her lap. “So, are you going up to Stonebridge, Mr. McCallister?”

  Emma waited, trying hard not to hold her breath.

  Julian didn’t make her wait long, though, saying, “How could I not?”

  How indeed. Emma turned toward the window, so her smile would be lost in the shadow of her bonnet. As Rose chattered, Emma stared out the steamed-up window. The snow was coming down even harder than ever, dancing in wild patterns against the darkening sky. Julian’s voice, low and soft, countered Rose’s lilting speech. His was a voice that could lull someone to sleep, it was so smooth, bu
t it no longer had that hint of laughter in it that she remembered from childhood.

  They never spoke of what happened at the wishing well. As far as she was concerned, they never had to speak of it, either. Her cheeks burned just thinking about how foolishly she had behaved and how stupid she had sounded.

  Well, that was all in the past. She was not going to make the same mistake again.

  Chapter Two

  “SO, MR. MCCALLISTER, how long will you be here? Where have you been for so long? Were you in the West Indies or in Europe? Where are you going next?”

  Julian smiled at Rose as she peppered him with a few more questions before she stopped to catch her breath, which finally allowed him to answer. “I’m only here another day or so before I leave for Boston. I was in Bermuda before this.”

  “Rose, when did you get so nosy?” Emma elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

  Rose wrinkled her nose. “There is nothing nosy about wondering where he’s been. He’s been gone for so long, it’s only normal to ask where and such. Besides, he knows he doesn’t have to answer any questions he doesn’t want to.”

  The rig swayed as they hit a particularly deep rut. Julian braced a hand against the side wall. It was nice to see some things hadn’t changed, and the road out of Brunswick proper was one of those things. It must have been a snowy winter, for the road was in worse shape than usual. He sat back, surreptitiously shifting as a wayward spring poked up through the dark upholstery. The ride was uncomfortable enough without being skewered in the process.

  “Well, at least let him answer one before firing another at him,” Emma replied.

  The coach swung wide as they rounded a curve. As the road straightened, the last of the dying sunlight glinted with enough sharpness off the windowpane to blind him for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  Rose replied, “I wasn’t being at all rude. Perhaps you don’t care about traveling, but I do. And George and I have been discussing where we’re going to take our wedding trip, and one of the places we’re considering is the West Indies.”

  “Discussing a wedding trip?” Emma chuckled. “If it were me, I’d be more concerned with if he was ever going to ask for my hand first. Can’t have a wedding trip if you don’t have a wedding first.”

  Julian opened his eyes in time to see Rose scowl. “Why are you in such a mood, Em? What happened? Did you bump into Darcy Penrose while you were waiting for me at Scotch’s?”

  “No. I…I suppose I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Emma rubbed her eyes as she looked from Rose to him. “I beg your pardon, both of you. I don’t mean to be so rude.”

  The coach swung again as they turned up the less-rutted Elm Road, where the Adamses lived.

  Rose gave Emma a gentle smile. “He says he is waiting for the right moment, and then he will ask me. But if it isn’t soon, I’m going to brain him with something. I’ve been waiting for this proposal for almost a year now.”

  So George still hadn’t asked for her hand yet, despite his assertions in days past he was ready to settle down.

  Julian bit back a smile as Emma assured Rose that everything would be well, and that George was waiting for a truly special moment, but Julian couldn’t help but wonder if ol’ Georgie was stalling for time. After all, he and Rose had been a couple since they were practically in swaddling clothes, and no man in his right mind would settle with the only girl he’d ever kissed. As far as Julian knew, Rose was just that girl.

  Finally, after Rose took her leave, and Emma settled back, Julian said, “So they still aren’t officially betrothed?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. She can insist otherwise all she wants, but I think George simply doesn’t want to commit to her yet. Waiting for the right moment.” She sniffed. “Waiting for the right moment, my foot.”

  He rubbed his hands together. The coach was an older one, and a frigid draft seeped in around the windows and little by little, the chill stole over him to settle into his bones. He hated winter. Spring couldn’t come quickly enough.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Even in the fading light, he could see a murderous glint in her eyes. “At Sarah Lewis’s Harvest Ball, I caught him trying to steal a kiss from none other than Darcy Penrose.”

  “And he’s still walking among the living?”

  She nodded. “I told her, but she didn’t want to hear it. I don’t know if she confronted George, and I haven’t worked up the nerve. It’s not my concern, but I think I should. George is afraid of me. I could make certain he never looks at another woman again.”

  Why didn’t that surprise him? Emma was a small package, but she was all fire and brimstone when riled. He’d seen her stand up to Garrett, and he stood nearly a foot over her. True, he was her brother, but she was fearless when it came to flattening someone.

  “You should listen to your instinct and stay out of it. It’s between them.” He shifted on the seat again. Damn spring was doing its best to draw blood. “Let them work it out.”

  “I suppose.”

  The coach skipped over ruts and slid over ice before it bounced to a halt.

  Joseph pulled open the door.

  Julian stepped out then turned to help Emma down. As her gloved hand slipped into his, an electrical current tingled up his arm, strong enough that he looked down. He saw nothing, and judging by her serene demeanor, Emma felt nothing.

  She smiled as she stepped onto one of the slate stones that had already been cleared of snow.

  The main house at Stonebridge blazed with golden, welcoming light, and as he escorted Emma up the front portico, the last of his tension lifted. Coming here was coming home, and no matter how long he’d been away, he never felt anything but serenity when he approached the front doors.

  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 pass 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.”
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br />   “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 pass 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 balls and teas, and without being told, he knew what they were saying.