Page 54 of Dukes Do It Better
They headed toward the ladies sitting on the colorful blankets. Groups sat in clusters on the lawn, but no one besides their friends seemed to have noticed anything amiss. Emma and Phee rose to meet them halfway. The women smiled wide to mask their worry, then held out their arms to the boys, who happily let go of Malachi and Calvin in favor of their mothers.
Just that fast, the tension released. He glanced at Calvin. “Is this what parenting is? Always looking for potential dangers?” He found his place next to Emma and handed a glass of lemonade to Alton.
The blond man nodded, then settled onto the blanket next to his wife. “Essentially, yes. You get used to thinking in terms of ‘what’s the worst that can happen,’ then heading off those eventualities before they can take place.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Malachi said.
“It is.” Emma nodded and bit into a strawberry. The juice coated her pink lips, and all thoughts of parenting and evil men who would say horrible things to little boys fled his brain entirely. Completely oblivious, Emma licked her lips and reached for another berry.
Malachi blinked. The woman was a witch and had cast a spell. Like a fairy tale. Except, if he was lusting after the witch, perhaps he wasn’t the hero of this story after all. Mildly unsettling thought.
Everyone shifted to make room for the boys. Freddie took his plate and made himself at home on Lady Amesbury’s lap; she dropped a casual kiss on his head, then resumed her conversation with Miss Martin and Simon.
After witnessing Simon’s interest in various women over the years, Mal found it interesting to see the difference in his pursuit of Miss Martin. There was an attentiveness wrapped in respect that Simon hadn’t ever shown before. It was as if Miss Martin was a puzzle to endlessly fascinate him. Malachi glanced at Emma. He recognized the feeling.
Leaning back on his elbows, Malachi let conversation flow around him while he slipped one hand under Emma’s hem. The sturdy walking boots she wore ended at her ankle, so he let his fingers rest right above where the leather transitioned to silky stocking. Strawberry lips or no, he wasn’t going to disrespect her by groping her in front of her family and friends. But he wanted to touch her. And here, under the cover of her skirts, he could do exactly that.
The tiny point of contact—the tips of his fingers against her stocking-covered lower leg, soothed the lingering emotion from the threat of Roxbury. And it was soothing. Calming, instead of arousing. Malachi shot her a glance and caught her smiling at him.
This affair was supposed to be physical. Nothing more complex than enjoying how well their bodies clicked together and the general sense of fun Emma brought to every situation. That’s all this could be if they were to return to their normal lives in a few weeks as planned. Under a warm blue sky, lounging on a quilt spread over green grass, the Athena seemed worlds away.
But then, if they were determined to limit this to a sexual liaison and nothing more, they might be doing it wrong. Friends surrounded them as they sat side by side in full view of the entire Ballymore picnic. Not only that, Emma’s brother had just declared Malachi a friend before they rescued children from her swine of an ex-lover.
No, this wasn’t merely sexual. Even with his hand under her skirt, knowing he’d tumble her into bed later, his body wanted to relax in the sun with Emma. This was potentially messy.
Simon said something, and everyone laughed, pulling Malachi from his woolgathering.
Alton scooted from Emma’s lap, carefully holding his plate in front of him, into the narrow space between Emma and Malachi, then resumed eating. Wordlessly, the little boy offered a blueberry, and Malachi took it with a smile. Emma ruffled her son’s hair in a casual caress, then brushed that same hand over Malachi’s cheek, smoothing her fingers along his beard.
The blueberry burst, warm and sweet on his tongue, and he sighed.
This might turn messy soon, but at the moment, it felt…right.
Chapter Fifteen
You won’t lie to me, will you, love? You’ll be honest and loyal. Kind. Generous with your laughter. I’ll enjoy you, and you’ll enjoy me. I’d like to believe that’s in my future. Maybe.
—Journal entry, August 1, 1824
For you, guv.” A child of indeterminate gender or age, covered in filth, shoved a piece of paper into his hand, then darted between a cart and a woman pushing a pram. Tracking the child’s progress was fruitless as he or she seemed to have disappeared entirely.
The outside of the folded paper was grimy, but Malachi’s fingers were darkly tanned against the clean white of the inside. One word in bold black letters sprawled over the page.
Consequences.
What the hell? Even though he knew it was useless, he glanced around for the child messenger.
Consequences of what? Who would send such an obscure and vague note? Maybe it wasn’t meant for him. Malachi searched the street, but no one lingered nearby, signaling malicious intent with helpful clues like a sinister leer or heavy hooded cloak in the middle of the day.
There wasn’t time for this nonsense. He crumpled the note in his fist and shoved it in his pocket before flagging down a hack. This day wouldn’t get easier by avoiding it, and he had a group of men waiting to help him complete an unsavory task.
A half hour later, he paid the hack driver and joined Ethan, Calvin, and Simon at the gate of the cemetery. Headstones dotted the ground, with the occasional family crypt standing as a stone edifice showing off wealth in this area where material things no longer mattered.
“I imagined doing this in the dark.” Calvin squinted at the sun, high overhead, as if disappointed at its presence.
“Me too,” Simon said.
Ethan raised a brow at the lot of them and asked, “Is there an optimal time of day tae steal from the dead?”
