Sexual Hunger. Melissa MacNeal
got their quirks, they do!”
“We’ll be teaching those pastors a bit about laying, too!” Violet added with a snicker. “Let’s pack, girls! Nothing like a trip to the shore to lift a girl’s spirits. And her skirts.”
5
“Never, never have you looked so lovely, Maria! Even more beautiful than last time I saw you—”
“Mere hours ago,” she quipped quietly.
“—which is nothing short of a miracle! My brother will be stunned.” Jude fluttered her voluminous ivory skirts to display their layers of beaded lace to full advantage, and then stepped back for a final assessment. At his request, she wore her veil draped back over her shoulders, to better reveal her exquisite smile, the face he could gaze at forever. He adjusted the butterfly pendant for the excuse it gave him to touch her warm skin. “Relax, now, and hold those happy thoughts. No bride has ever been captured for posterity with such poise, such grace—”
“Better get your shots taken. Lady Darington is spinning like a crazed top.” Rubio Palladino entered the small parlor and then stopped in his tracks, visibly affected by the sight of his sister. “But then, it’s Maria’s day, is it not?”
“So true. Mum will just have to adjust.” Grinning, Jude ducked beneath the black cape of his camera and took hold of the shutter bulb. “Steady now…tilt your chin up just a bit, love, as though you’re telling Jason who’s really in charge—perfect!” He squeezed the bulb, confident he’d captured Maria at her charming, challenging best. “And while you’re here, Rubio, perhaps you’d like to pose with your sister? We so seldom have these occasions in our lives—”
“What a fine idea! I feel so—so obvious—standing here all alone!” Maria replied. Then she smiled wistfully at her younger brother. “You’re all I have left for family, Rubio. And although I adore Jason, I’ll treasure this likeness of us…my last moments before I take on the Darington name.”
“And all the privilege that entails,” Jude remarked with a chuckle. He watched brother and sister position themselves. No mistaking their Italian heritage: the planes of their faces beneath well-placed cheekbones, the coquettish angle of their eyes, and their luxurious hair. Maria’s waves were swept up into a high Psyche knot beneath her veil, with two flirtatious tendrils curling on either side of her face, while her brother’s mane swelled out around his temples and brushed his shoulders in a way that defied the current trend. Together, the two of them made a timeless statement: the lovely bride and the proud brother who would escort her up the aisle to her new husband.
Jude sighed to himself. What he wouldn’t give to trade places with Rubio…to stand in as the groom, just this once—
But he didn’t dare. While most people couldn’t distinguish between him and his twin, such behavior would be tempting fate: his mother had been able to tell them apart since the day they were born.
“All right, you two, we’re not at a wake!” he teased. And as the sparkle leaped into their dark eyes, as they instinctively leaned in toward each other, he snapped the shot.
“And now me, Jude! Make my portrait, too! Please? Please?”
Jude closed his eyes, pausing, so he wouldn’t tell Jemma what a royal pain in the arse she was. Into the parlor she flounced, her blond curls a-flutter around her flushed face. At sixteen, his sister fancied herself the belle of every ball—and she was a bud developing into an exquisite rose, if one could avoid the thorns of her tongue and her temperament. Her gown of cerise silk faille complemented her pale complexion, almost to the point where she looked like a young woman rather than the brat he knew her to be.
“Mummy wants to see you,” she informed Maria pertly. She lifted a speculative eyebrow. “And where are the pearls I loaned you? When Mummy sees that—that vulgar piece of paste, she’ll—”
“What will she do?” a voice demanded from the doorway. And to make the scene complete, their mother entered the parlor with a decisive swish of her taffeta gown. A stunning, one-of-a-kind gown from LeChaud Soeurs, it shimmered in ever-changing shades of periwinkle and aubergine. Although its cut was more form fitted and sophisticated than most women’s gowns, Dora’s presence made the parlor feel even smaller and more confining.
Jude stood taller, waiting. His mother, Lady Darington, would spare no one as she spoke her mind about the butterfly pendant.
She stepped in front of Maria, taking the jeweled piece between her fingers to study it: because she was too vain to wear spectacles, only close family knew how poor her vision had become. “Hmmmm…”
Why was he holding his breath? It wasn’t as if his mother’s opinion would change anything—except perhaps poor Maria’s high hopes for a perfect wedding day.
“Highly unusual,” she remarked. “We agreed upon Jemma’s pearls, however. In keeping with the bridal tradition of—”
“Jude made it! As a wedding gift, which Jason gave me to wear today!” Maria blurted. Bless her, she stood her ground, her eyes aglow with dark fire. “And now that it’s in my bridal portrait, we can hardly remove it, can we?”
Clever girl! Invoking Jason’s name had helped, but she’d also acknowledged his contribution to her wedding day. Jude exchanged a quick glance with Rubio, who stood poised next to Maria to prevent Jemma and his overbearing mother from injecting any more venom.
His mother’s breath escaped with a hiss. “Far be it from me to criticize Jude’s talent or taste. But if Jason approves—”
“Oh, he was proud to give it to me! Even Mrs. Booth remarked on its unusual beauty!” Maria pressed on. “And don’t you look lovely, too? Camille and Colette outdid themselves, flattering you with such an exquisite fit and color, Dora!”
His mother took the bait, focusing on this flowery praise rather than her disdain for Maria’s habit of using first names. “Well, I—thank you, Maria. And for what I paid them, the LeChaud sisters should well have transformed me into a goddess!”
“And they made my gown, too!” Jemma chimed in. She plucked her skirt between her fingertips and twirled like a little girl—until she grabbed her bodice under the gown’s short cape, which seemed to be…squirming. “Willie! Willie, stop it!” she whispered tersely.
“You did not bring that damn ferret—”
“He’s my best boy, Mummy. Queen Elizabeth’s ferret was an albino, too!”
“—to church? To a wedding?” Dora gasped. “My God, Jemma, what were you thinking? If that infernal pest gets loose—”
“I have him perfectly trained! Wilbert has impeccable manners!” the girl replied shrilly. She coaxed the slender white creature out through her scalloped neckline, to cradle him against her chest. “And I will have my portrait made with him! Jude has already agreed!”
Jude stood rooted beside his camera. Pitting mother against daughter was a losing proposition, but at least the ferret had relieved poor Maria of being the target for the negative attention his pendant had created. She, too, stood absolutely still; remained outside the running tantrum that erupted between the Darington females several times each day.
“This is not the time nor the place for such foolishness, Jemma.” Their mother squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, silently announcing that the matter was settled. “Enough distractions! I came here looking for Jason, as it seems no one has seen him today. We’ve a mere twenty minutes before the wedding is to begin!”
The bottom dropped out of Jude’s stomach. As his brother’s best man, he was ultimately responsible for the groom…and he could not confess where he’d been during Jason’s bachelor party last night. His gaze met Maria’s. She, too, was forcing an expression that camouflaged their secret, but she couldn’t keep quiet.
“He was fine when I saw him yesterday! When he gave me this pendant!” The words