Page 42 of Dukes Do It Better
Emma raised a finger, pausing the conversation. “Let’s look in the basket Miss Lacey sent along.” The basket pinned one corner of the blanket they’d stretched out on the grass a few feet away. “You never know what you’ll need when you’re out and about with little boys.”
“Ah yes,” Mal said. “Our needs are many.” He winked and she grinned.
“How about this?” Emma held up the ball of twine attached to the kite they hadn’t been able to fly because of the lack of wind.
“Perfect.” Tying off the kite string and snipping it with a pocketknife, Mal resumed his seat next to Alton. “This way,” he explained to the boy, “we can let it bob down the river a ways, but it can never go beyond the line.”
“What do you mean the line? It’s string.” Alton cocked his head.
Mal raised one scarred eyebrow at her son, and the melted butter feeling grew until Emma crossed her arms over her belly. “Rule number one of being a sailor, young lad. It’s never string. It’s line. Ropes on boats and ships are called lines. So, sailor. Secure the line.” He passed it over to Alton.
“Make a knot?” Alton asked.
“Any kind of knot. Just make sure it’s secure.” Mal busied himself with unspooling a length of the string.
Alton placed the boat in Mal’s lap. “I’m not very good at knots yet. Would you make a proper sailor knot, please?”
“Of course.” Mal tied the twine to the mast of the ship, and a few moments later, the boat bobbed down the Serpentine, tugged along by Alton and cheered on by Mal.
If her heart was in danger of melting, this was it. Bringing Mal and Alton together might have been a misstep. Allowing Mal to see her in her role of Alton’s mother was the biggest part of her personality he hadn’t witnessed yet.
But nothing could have prepared her for this. Lordy goodness, if she hadn’t already been wondering if she’d be happy to say goodbye to Mal in a couple weeks, seeing him handling Alton so perfectly would have done it. Again, the question of whether this affair should be as short-lived as planned rose in her mind. Emma tried to shrug it off, but the thought persisted.
No matter what, Mal was leaving to return to his first love, the Athena. Emma tightened her arms over her belly as if she could quell the butterflies there by barricading them from the man causing it.
What could she possibly lose by asking him to be her lover for longer than these few weeks? No, it didn’t mean she would have him at hand all the time. There would be months and sometimes even years without companionship. But then, she’d already proven she could last years without the touch of a man.
However, keeping the captain around would mean Alton’s dream of a papa would never happen. Not as if Emma planned to make that a reality anyway. Mal could be a great influence in Alton’s life, in addition to Cal.
Emma watched the two, tall and short, dark and fair, as they jogged up and down the bank of the river, and a memory rose in her mind. Mother had shown up at their country estate unexpectedly when Father was in London and whisked Emma away to Paris. It had been right after the war, and all Emma had known at the time was that they were going to buy a new dress. Mother’s attention was most reliable when Emma was her little doll, so she’d eagerly complied. Looking back, it hadn’t occurred to her to question why Mother had arrived at bedtime and then whisked Emma away under cover of moonlight.
In Paris, Emma had gotten her dress. A confection of lace and pale blue satin with a matching bow for her hair. She’d also met her mother’s lover du jour, a man claiming to be an Italian count. A count who, it turned out, didn’t like children.
Mother hadn’t even taken her home herself. Instead, she’d hired a chaperone to travel with Emma back to England. They’d left the day the dress arrived from the modiste. Within a half hour of the delivery, Emma had been packed into a carriage with the stranger calling herself a chaperone and the large box containing the blue dress.
The count had sent Mother away in her own carriage the next month, but Mother hadn’t returned home to her family.
Emma had never worn the dress, and had never met another of her mother’s lovers.
Alton’s shriek of delight, followed by Mal’s booming cheer brought her from her memories.
She turned her back on them and took a seat next to the picnic basket on the blanket. Perhaps a long-term lover situation wasn’t the solution. Major life decisions shouldn’t be made over the course of a picnic, anyway. They had time. A few weeks, at least, to settle this disquiet she felt at Mal’s leaving.
Plucking an apple from the basket, Emma bit into it with more force than needed. Get ahold of yourself. He’s looking for a temporary lover. No more. And Lord knew, no one had ever wanted to keep her long-term anyway.
With a grimace, Emma straightened her shoulders. Self-pity would get her nowhere. Besides, it wasn’t even true. There had been a line of men at the ball waiting for an introduction from Cal. Several had called since. The front drawing room had been full of flowers and compliments for the last several days from a parade of gentlemen. If Mal didn’t want her, she would kiss him goodbye as he returned to his ship, and then proceed to replace him whenever she chose.
She took another bite of the apple and licked the corner of her mouth, where juice was trying to escape toward her chin. Bright and sweet and crisp, she did her best to enjoy the simple pleasures of fresh fruit and watching her son play. Familiar happy spills of laughter bounced off the water and made her smile in return. It was the base echo of chuckles from a man that was new.
A deep breath calmed the whirling thoughts and questions. It might be the first time she’d experienced seeing her son with a man other than Cal or their cottage caretaker, but it wouldn’t be the last. “Come along, little love, before your lemonade gets warm.”
“If you’re offering lemonade, I’ll answer to little love.” Mal grinned and flopped down next to her, stretching those long legs over the blanket, while ensuring his boots remained on the grass. Propped on one elbow, he appeared at ease and happy in a way that sped her pulse.
“I doubt you’ve been called little anything since you were in leading strings,” Emma teased.
Alton sat next to her on the blanket, then copied Mal’s position. It looked like her son might have a case of hero worship. They were so adorable, grinning at her like opposite bookends.
Setting the picnic basket between them, she let them dig for their luncheon while she poured the lemonade.
