“No.” She shook her head.
“If you decide not to marry me, I will honor your wish.” He started to let go of her hands, but she tightened her grip, holding him.
“Say it again.” The gold flecks in her eyes sparkled.
“Marry me, Olivia.”
She smirked. “Not that. Say the other thing.”
William rubbed his thumbs over her hands. “I shall say it as often as you wish.” He stepped closer. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The truth of her statement radiated from her and William’s heart soared. He pulled her into his arms, capturing her lips, pouring his soul into the kiss. Breathless, he pulled back enough to meet her eyes and asked, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my duchess?”
Olivia beamed up at him, her lips pulled into a radiant smile. “Yes, my love.” She pulled his mouth back to hers for a soul-shattering kiss.
It was as though she absorbed him as their tongues swirled together, and mouths slanted over one an others. William could no longer tell where he ended, and she began, nor did he care. All that mattered was Olivia. His love for her and her love for him. He prayed they would spend the rest of their lives as connected souls, deeply in love.
He pushed the loose tendrils of her silken hair from her cheek as he gazed at her, half in awe and half in admiration. “You have made me the happiest man in all of Christendom.”
“Not yet, I haven’t.” She gave a saucy grin. “Take me home before we miss our wedding.”
“Your wish is my command.” He scooped her into his arms then laughed at the little squeal she emitted.
“In that case,” she angled her chin, bringing her lips close to his. “I command you to kiss me.”
William had never been so happy to obey.
Chapter 13
Olivia smiled up at her father before taking his arm. He’d been furious with her when William returned her home. A pinch of regret tightened her chest. Mother had been beside herself as well. She’d nearly swooned sending the servants running for smelling salts when William declared his love for Olivia.
All was quickly forgiven when Olivia shared her love for the duke and announced that she wished for nothing more than to marry him.
The organ began to play, and she said, “I’m ready, Father.”
He patted her hand then led her through the parish arch before turning her down the aisle. Olivia sought her intendeds gaze then delighted in the love she saw reflected in his blue eyes. She could only imagine that his mirrored her own. What a fool she’d been.
Father brought her to a stop, then placed her hand in Williams. Olivia beamed at her father for a heartbeat before returning her attention to William.
The minister spoke, and Olivia and William did as well when they were called to do so, but Olivia scarcely paid attention. All of her focus, her love, her joy, rested with William.
“I now declare you husband and wife,” the minister’s voice boomed through the church.
William pulled Olivia against him, and she pressed her hands to his chest. Good heavens, he intended to kiss her—here—in front of everyone. It simply wasn’t done. She turned her face to glance out at their guests. “We can’t.”
“I am a duke, and you are a duchess.” He placed his hand on her cheek and guided her attention back to him. “We can do as we please.”
Olivia’s stomach fluttered as William brought his lips to hers. Her cheeks burned when their guests let out a round of claps and whistles. She should be ashamed, but despite her embarrassment, she clung to him, her passion matching his as they shared a soul-searing kiss.
Moments later, William was handing her into a carriage pulled by matching white stallions. Olivia gave him a saucy grin as she leaned in for another toe curling kiss. The ride to her parents’ estate would be short, and she did not wish to waste a moment of it.
They kissed and cuddled exchanging not a word along the way, and yet conveying so much. As she had predicted, they reached the estate in a matter of minutes. William swung her down from the carriage and led her into the house amidst a shower of rice. Olivia smiled unabashedly as she clung to her husband’s arm.
Without question, this was the happiest day of her life.
The wedding breakfast Mother planned was perfect just as the ceremony had been. A small affair that included only their closest friends and family members. Olivia and William took time to greet all of the guests and have a bit of food before William whisked Olivia away for their wedding trip.
Olivia mildly regretted that they did not attend for a few more hours for she would very much like to know his family better. Especially his delightful sisters. To think she had been so opposed to acting as a mother figure to them. Now she looked forward to launching the girls on society and hoped to call them friends.
Upon their return from the continent, Olivia would make it a point to become better acquainted with all of his siblings. But in the meantime, she fully intended to enjoy her honeymoon and the love she and William shared.
She rolled onto her side to study her sleeping husband. His muscled chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. His lips that she had come so fond of were slightly parted, and tousled locks of sandy blond hair framed his face giving him a boyish look.
The urge to touch him overtook her. Olivia snuggled close to William, tucking her head into the crook of his arm so that it rested on his naked shoulder. He stirred at the contact and pulled her closer.
“Good morning, Duchess.”
His sleepy voice warmed her soul. “Good morning, Husband.” She dropped a kiss to his bare skin.
William trailed his fingertips over her side where the sheet had slipped down, revealing her skin. She squirmed then laughed when he gently tickled the sensitive flesh.
He rolled to face her, a roguish smile stretching his lips. “Be still,” he said as he danced his fingertips over her skin again.
She fought the urge to wriggle but soon found herself squirming again. Her flesh rubbing against his hard warm body. “I can’t help it when you’re tickling me.”
“I’m doing no such thing.” He feigned innocence as he continued to play at her side.
She reached for his hand, stilling his roaming fingers. “You most certainly are.”
“Can I help it that I enjoy the sound of my wife’s laughter?” He tickled again, then pulled her flush against his hard body when she started to wiggle. “Not to mention the feel of your naked body wriggling against mine. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”
Olivia nibbled at the corner of her lips. “You like me flopping around like a fish out of water? Truly?”
“I love it.” He gave a wicked smile.
She pushed up on one elbow to stare into his smoldering gaze. “What else do you love?”
“Let me show you, darling.” He tumbled her back to the mattress and rose above her. “I love your kissable lips.” He brought his mouth to hers and demonstrated, giving her a passionate kiss full of longing and tenderness before pulling away.
Olivia batted her lashes, playfully. “What else?”
William brought his mouth close to her breast, then said, “I love your tender heart.” He dropped a kiss to the valley between them. “And I love these.” He pulled one hard peek into his mouth and suckled.
The heat of desire shot through Olivia and pooled between her thighs. She released a small moan as he licked and suckled one breast then the other.
He met her gaze, his eyes full of desire. “I love when you make little sounds of pleasure.”
“Oh?” Olivia stared at him as he moved lower over her body, bringing his head her stomach.
William trailed kisses across her abdomen and over to her thigh before he spoke again. “I love that you are mine,” He nudged her legs apart, “and I love the way your body reacts to my ministrations.”
Before Olivia could say anything, he brought his mouth to the sensitive nub between her legs, causing her to forget the game they’d
been playing. Her back arched, and she tangled her finger’s in his hair, craving every wicked suckle and flick of his tongue.
Lost in passion, Olivia clung to him as her body exploded in ecstasy. Every inch of her flesh tingled and her core pulsed with pleasure when he positioned himself between her thighs, then pressed deep within her taking his own pleasure.
He collapsed beside her, pulling her against him. They lay tangled together and breathless for long moments before William met her gaze again. He stroked one finger across her cheek and said, “I love everything about you. Olivia, my wife, you are my perfect match.”
She smiled, joy bursting within her. “And you are mine. The missing piece I didn’t know I’d lost. I love you, William. I always will.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You are my heart. My reason for breathing. My greatest joy. I will always love you, duchess of mine.”
Never had Olivia been so cherished—so in love and complete. Theirs was a true joining of the hearts. Fate and Folly had joined them. The same would see them through the rest of their years. Of that she had no doubt.
Excerpt
Keep reading for an excerpt from the book in the Fortune’s of Fate series by Sandra Sookoo, Lady Isabella’s Splendid Folly. And be sure to watch for my next installment in the Fated for a Rogue series where Emma, Juliet, Catherine, Elizabeth, and Louisa will all get their own happily ever afters.
Chapter 1
Late May, 1818
London, England
* * *
Lady Isabella Fortescue was celebrating her twenty-eighth birthday and she wished to do so with something fun, perhaps even slightly scandalous, for what was the point of attaining such an advanced age if one couldn’t do something gossip-worthy?
So, she and her two older sisters had taken themselves through London where they visited a fortune teller who was part of a gypsy camp operating in part of Hyde Park. It was the last day the caravan would linger there, for they were due to depart for the country, and since Isabella and her sisters would do the same soon, it was fortunate indeed that she caught them.
Very much into herself, Isabella didn’t take stock of her surroundings, for all she wanted was her fortune read and for her life to finally begin. Being eight and twenty, still living with her parents and sisters, was rather a bore and quite stifling, when all she wanted to do was cause a splash that would, perhaps, catch the eye of a dashing gentleman who’d whisk her away to adventure and love.
She stepped up to a gypsy’s colorful wagon and approached a woman clad in gay skirts. A bright orange scarf covered the woman’s dark hair. Golden spangles and sequins tossed back the brilliant early summer sun in tiny flashes. “Will you read my palm?”
“Of course.” The woman smiled at her and pointed to an embroidered red cushion that perched on top of a tree stump. “Sit.”
With a glance at her sisters, Isabella promptly sat and offered the requisite coins, which the gypsy then tucked away in a clever pocket sewn into her skirts. In short order, Madame Zeta took one of her hands and began tracing the lines of her palm. Seconds later, she uttered a short, generic fortune that had a frown pulling down the corners of Isabella’s mouth.
“Are you having me on?” She snatched her hand away from the gypsy, feeling foolish. “Is this folderol after all? Is that the best you can do?”
“What do you mean, child? You gave me two farthings and asked for a fortune. For the slight, that is what you get.” A faint smile curved the madam’s full, pretty lips.
“Ah.” Isabella narrowed her eyes. Then she tempered her ire. Gypsies must make a living the same as anyone else. She fished about in her reticule and this time offered the woman two half crowns, which would severely make a dent into her pin money. “Better?”
“Much.” The gypsy’s brown eyes flashed with amusement. “Give me your hand, miss.”
Again, Isabella offered her hand, palm upturned, and this time when the woman took it in hers, warmth ebbed over her skin, but she held her breath in anticipation. “Well?”
A sly look gathered over the fortune teller’s creamy mocha-hued face. “You are after love?”
Heat sank into her cheeks. “Perhaps. Else I’ll be firmly on the shelf. Many think I already am; my sisters do, certainly.” As if not marrying by now was such a crime.
“You have had chances with men?” The gypsy drew a forefinger along the lines of Isabella’s palm as she spoke.
“A few, but—”
“None of the men touched your heart, yes?” Her brown eyes sparkled.
“Yes.” It was wonderful to have someone finally understand. She wanted love or nothing at all, and if the man was titled and wealthy, all the better, for it would make her father—an earl—proud.
It was her parents’ fault, really. They were blissfully happy in their union, and were a good picture of what marriage—love—should be. Why shouldn’t she wish for that in her own life?
“Ah.” The gypsy tightened her hold on Isabella’s hand. “I do see something in your future,” she finally said.
“Oh?” She sat forward, breathless.
Madame Zeta nodded. “I foresee much joy in your life. Much hope, but there are plenty of paths for you to trod in order to find true love.” The gypsy fingered a golden pendant that sat at her collarbones. “So many paths. Which is the right one?” she asked, almost to herself, her eyes seeing something far away.
Isabella frowned. “How will I know which path is mine?”
The fortune teller gave herself a little shake and her eyes were once more clear like a cup of black coffee. “You will know here.” Madame Zeta touched her forehead. “And here.” She touched her stomach. “And here.” She touched her heart. “If these do not align, it is not the right path and you must try again.”
That sounded like an awful lot of work, but the fortune teller said no more. With a sigh, Isabella stood and thanked the gypsy. She left the caravan feeling… odd. Not quite hopeful yet not exactly worried.
In fact, she rather doubted she’d gotten her money’s worth at all.
Silly girl, you should know better than to glean romantic advice from a fortune teller. Life and love doesn’t work that way.
With the self-admonition chasing through her mind, Isabella’s joined her sisters for a bit of birthday shopping in Mayfair. They planned to enjoy an ice at Gunter’s, and when they did, Isabella vowed to give all attractive, passing gentlemen greater scrutiny. For truly, love could bloom anywhere and it would behoove her not to miss it.
Late May, 1818
Buckinghamshire, England
* * *
Another birthday rolled around, and once more, Lady Isabella Fortescue bickered with her sisters, for, like that time three years prior, she wanted to visit a gypsy caravan that had planted itself in Buckinghamshire for a couple of weeks.
“Why, for the love of everything wonderful, do you wish to visit the fortune teller again?” her oldest sister, Louisa asked with her eyes lifted to the heavens.
“I’m curious,” Isabella replied with a smile as they walked toward the gypsy fair that sprawled through a meadow beyond the village proper.
“But it’s so pointless,” her other sister, Mariana, complained with a huff.
All the Fortescue girls, as tradition dictated, had converged upon their father’s country estate to spend three months together in an effort to reconnect as a family. Ever since their mother had nearly died years before from a particularly nasty bout of pneumonia, they’d vowed to never take each other for granted. When their father was free of his duties in London, he would join them, as was also tradition. When Parliament and the Season reopened, they would all remove to their Mayfair townhouse once more, and in Louisa’s case, her own.
“Of course you’d say that, since you’ve had no end of suitors filling Father’s parlor these past weeks, even as the Season concluded.”
“As have you; the flowers given to you alone could fill a bower, but yet you insist on having you
r fortune read, as if there is some mysterious man still waiting undiscovered,” Louisa inserted. She fussed with a wrinkle on the bodice of her mint green frock and along the barely noticeable rounded bump of her belly. For in the past three years, perfect Louisa had married a viscount and was now enceinte with her first child. “I simply don’t have the time to waste loitering at this fair; Donald will arrive soon from London. Parliament is in turmoil this year and he’ll only have a week with me before having to return to Town for an extended session. No doubt Father will need to do the same.” A wistful sigh followed the announcement.
Isabella rolled her eyes and bit off the gagging sound she wished to make, for Louisa and her new husband were forever mooning about each other, holding hands and stealing kisses when they weren’t talking about plans for their nursery.
Love was quite disgusting when it happened to a member of one’s family.
So why am I so interested in it for myself?
Perhaps that was the exact problem. She alternately wanted a relationship but she didn’t want love. The knowledge she’d gleaned these past three years had told her it was too much… work. And that made it annoying. Having young bucks filling one’s parlor, each bearing some sort of tribute to their feelings was more than a bit stressful and… disappointing.
Why, though? Three years ago, she would have done anything for such attention. Now? Her dowry was large enough that any of those men would consider themselves set for life, but beyond that, none of them appealed.
Knowing her sisters waited upon an answer, she sighed. “I merely wish to know if my fortune from three years ago has changed.” For though the multiple paths promised in that last fortune had proved to be true and she’d had many suitors, none of those men had struck her fancy or tugged at her heart, much to the dismay of her sisters and her parents.
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