The Temptation of Your Touch (38 page)

“Hammett.” Max greeted the young man with a nod and a smile as he descended from the carriage. “I hope your mother and sister are well.”

“Indeed they are, m’lord! Indeed they are!”

Max had no reason to doubt Hammett’s words, especially now that the young man’s mother and sister
were working in the Cadgwyck kitchens. There seemed to be no shortage of help at Cadgwyck these days. The generosity of its master and mistress toward their staff was becoming something of a legend around these parts. Just last December, they had hosted a Christmas ball for the servants featuring bowls of warm, spiced punch, individual flaming puddings, and a bonus of two pounds apiece. Each servant had also received a colorful wool muffler knit by Nana herself to ease them through the cold winter months.

Max handed his hat and walking stick to Hammett and turned toward the house, breathing deeply of the scent of the sea, which had come to mean home to him.

The front door of the manor came flying open.

He had once imagined returning home from a long journey only to have a loving wife run out to greet him, trailed by a moppet or two, all eager to leap into his arms and smother his face with kisses.

That face split into a huge grin as Angelica came running down the steps of the portico and across the courtyard, her lovely face alight with joy and her arms already outstretched toward him.

Dickon was right behind her. At fourteen, he was finally on the verge of growing into his lanky legs and arms. Pippa strolled behind her brother, twirling the parasol she carried everywhere to protect her fair skin from the sun. She was far too
dignified and elegant a young lady to be caught sprinting across a courtyard.

Max opened his arms and Angelica flew right into them, smothering his throat and jaw with eager kisses. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in hair that still smelled of freshly baked bread and cherishing the solid warmth of her in his arms. He supposed he would always secretly fear he might reach for her only to have her vanish into a wisp of jasmine-scented vapor.

She tipped back her head and he claimed her smiling lips for a tender kiss. He could feel the firm swell of her growing belly pressing against his groin. Soon he would have a moppet of his very own to run out and greet him when he returned from a journey. Not that he intended to make many more journeys without Angelica by his side.

For now he would have to content himself with Piddles, who capered around their merry little group on his stout legs, barking in staccato bursts designed solely for the purpose of piercing the human eardrum.

“We missed you so much!” Angelica exclaimed. “I can’t believe you let that nasty old Company drag you away from us again.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I told them I wouldn’t come back to the Court of Directors, but there was a very important matter that required my attention.”

She gave him a haughty look. “
I
am a very important matter that requires your attention.”

“And I can promise you now that I’m home, I have absolutely no intention of neglecting my duties.” He gave her a wicked leer, then seized her mouth for another long, fierce kiss that made Dickon groan and Pippa duck behind her parasol, rolling her eyes.

“How was your voyage?” Dickon asked, always eager to hear about adventure and exotic climes.

“Far too long,” Max replied.

“Did you bring me a present?” Pippa inquired, peering hopefully toward the coach.

“I most certainly did, poppet. But I couldn’t bring it with me. I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient until it arrives.” Max could hardly wait for her to meet the stout, balding, seventy-three-year-old artist who would be arriving within the fortnight to paint her portrait as a surprise for her eighteenth birthday.

Angelica patted the pocket of her apron. She still had a habit of wearing a plain white apron over the exquisite gowns Max had ordered from the finest modistes in London for her extensive wardrobe. “I received another letter from Clarinda while you were gone.”

Since he and Angelica had wed, she and Clarinda had struck up quite a correspondence, a rather unnerving prospect for any man who had ever loved two women at different times in his life.

“She and Ash are coming home in November for
a few months and she wants to know if they can bring Charlotte and spend Christmas here with us at Cadgwyck.”

Max heaved a long-suffering sigh. “If I’m never going to be rid of that ne’er-do-well brother of mine, I suppose I might as well get used to having him around. Perhaps I can drag out the toy soldiers and best him in a mock battle.”

“They’d also like to bring Farouk and Poppy and their brood. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Why would I mind? Wait a minute,” he added, warned by the mischievous sparkle dancing in her eyes. “Just how large is Farouk’s brood?”

She blinked up at him, all innocence. “At last count, I believe they had twenty children.”

“Twenty?”

“Well, they only have one son of their own so far, but Farouk did have a harem before he fell in love with Poppy.”

Max shook his head in dazed disbelief. “Dear God, and to think I was willing to be content with an even dozen.”

“Ha!” Angelica said, resting a hand on her belly. “You’ll be content with two if I have anything to say about it. Or maybe three, if you don’t scowl and growl at me too much.”

Max leaned down to nuzzle her throat, murmuring, “I thought you liked it when I growled.”

She giggled like a girl, then leaned away from him to peer into his face. “Was there any word this time?”

Max hesitated. Every time he’d been to London in the past two years to meet with his team of investigators—the finest money could hire, including Andrew Murray, the man who had ferreted out the truth about Laurence Timberlake—Max had returned to Angelica only to quench the hope in her beautiful hazel eyes.

“There was no word,” he said softly, watching her face fall. “But I did bring you something that might be of interest.”

Max crooked a finger toward the coach. A man slowly emerged from the shadows of the vehicle. If his tawny hair hadn’t been bleached pale gold by the sun and his freckles buried beneath a deep-bronze tan, it would have been like seeing an image of Dickon as he might look twenty years from now.

The man stood beside the carriage, clutching his hat in his hands and hanging back as if uncertain of his welcome.

“Theo?”
Angelica whispered, a mixture of wonder and disbelief dawning in her eyes.

“Annie?” The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed back a visible rush of emotion.

Max felt his own throat tighten as Angelica ran to her brother and flung her arms around his neck, a sob of pure joy spilling from her lips. When Pippa
and Dickon would have joined her, Max held them back, wanting to give Angelica and Theo time to savor their reunion. After a few minutes of laughing and crying and murmuring among themselves, Angelica beckoned Pippa and Dickon over to greet their half brother.

Dickon immediately began to tug Theo toward the house. “I want to hear all about Australia! Are there really little bears that live in trees and eat leaves and jackrabbits as tall as a man who can knock a bloke out with a single punch?”

Pippa followed, still twirling her parasol. “Are there lots of handsome convicts in Australia? Are very many of them looking for brides?”

Angelica linked her arm through Max’s, resting her head against his shoulder as they followed the others to the house. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

He patted the hand she’d wrapped around his arm. “I would do anything for you. Even fling myself off a cliff.”

“If you’ll meet me in the tower tonight after everyone else is abed, I’ll show you everything I would do for you.”

“Everything?” he echoed hopefully, cocking one eyebrow.

“Everything,” she promised, smiling up at him.

They climbed the stairs of the portico and entered the house to find the others had already headed for the
kitchen, no doubt following the irresistible aroma of the freshly baked bread Angelica had taken from the oven shortly before Max’s coach arrived. At first they thought the entrance hall was deserted, but then they heard a peculiar melody of clanging and cursing.

The door to the longcase clock at the foot of the stairs was standing open. Angelica’s papa had crawled half inside the thing. All that was visible of him was his black-clad rump.

“He spends most of his time dodging the nurses you’ve hired to take care of him,” Angelica whispered. “Since the clock will probably never work again anyway, we decided it wouldn’t do any harm to let him poke around in the works. It keeps him out of trouble.”

Her papa emerged from the clock, his snowy-white hair standing on end and his nose smudged with grease. “You there, lad,” he said, pointing a wooden wrench at Max. “Fetch me a cup of tea right away.”

As he disappeared back into the clock, Angelica explained apologetically, “He thinks he’s master of the house and you’re a footman.”

“Then I’d best fetch him some tea so he doesn’t sack me.”

Max was drawing her toward the kitchen when the first majestic bong echoed through the entrance hall. The two of them exchanged a disbelieving look as the clock continued to chime, finding its voice for the first time since the night of Angelica’s eighteenth
birthday ball. The clock didn’t fall silent until it had chimed exactly twelve times.

They turned as one to find Angelica’s papa triumphantly holding up a glowing ruby the size of his fist. “I thought it would be the safest place to hide it with all those fools traipsing through the house for your ball. How was I to know the damn thing would get stuck in the works?”

Max and Angelica exchanged a wondering look, then burst out laughing. Now that they no longer needed it, the Cadgwyck treasure had been found. They were wise enough now to know that the only true treasure lay in the love they had found in each other’s arms.

As Max swept Angelica off her feet, still laughing with delight, the girl she had been gazed down at them from the portrait on the landing, her cheek finally dimpling in the smile she’d been holding back for all those years. Max winked at her over his wife’s shoulder.

It seemed Maximillian Burke was a man who dreamed after all.

And she was the woman who had made all of his dreams come true.

A
LSO BY
T
ERESA
M
EDEIROS

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