“What are you doing?” she hissed, embarrassed at the rude way he’d been shoving dancers aside.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” John said in a loud voice, causing people around them to quiet, and then those beyond also to fall silent, which rippled outward until the entire room seemed to hush.
Maggie opened her mouth, mortified. What was he up to?
The musicians, perhaps startled by finally being able to hear themselves play after so many hours in the noisy room, hit a few loud notes and stopped.
The only sound was the duchess on the dais speaking animatedly to Queen Victoria. Or at least, Maggie assumed it was Her Grace’s voice she could hear over the loud beating of her heart.
And then, to her astonishment, the unmistakable voice of the queen.
“Lord Cambrey! What do you think you are doing, interrupting our lovely gathering?”
Gasps were heard throughout the room, and dancers moved aside until Maggie found herself in direct view of those on the dais.
Since Queen Victoria was looking in her direction, Maggie dropped into a low curtsey, and head bowed, she remained that way, gaze fixed upon the floor.
“Your Majesty,” she heard John say, “I apologize for the interruption. And to you, as well, Your Grace,” he added to the Duchess. “However, there was a time when noblemen could not marry without permission of the crown. Since you are here, Your Majesty, and since I love this woman you see before you, I thought it the perfect time to ask her to marry me and to gain your blessing.”
Don’t faint! Maggie counseled herself. Do not!
“Who is this lucky woman?” the queen asked. “Is she the one? That girl in blue?”
“This is Miss Margaret Blackwood,” John said loudly. “The middle daughter of the late Baron Lucien Blackwood and Lady Anne Blackwood.”
“Rise, Miss Blackwood,” Queen Victoria commanded, and Maggie thought she would be ill from nerves and disgrace herself.
Breathing deeply, she slowly raised her gaze to their queen and stood straight. At thirty-one years, Victoria had already mothered six children, but to Maggie, she still looked like a young lady.
In her mind, she recalled Philip Carruthers ridiculous words that the queen might remember her for slobbering upon her glove, and the notion relaxed her.
For a long few moments, the queen took Maggie’s measure in the silence of the ballroom. Somewhere, Maggie knew her sister was watching this spectacle.
Lord, but they would have something to tell their mother tonight.
“Do you love Lord Cambrey?” the queen’s voice rang out clearly.
Maggie glanced once at John, who stood beside her not looking at all nervous. His bemused expression gave her courage.
“Yes,” she began, but it came out in the mildest of whispers. Swallowing, she coughed lightly and then found her voice.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.”
“And why not?” Victoria said, causing a few to chuckle. “Fine gentleman that he is. We heard of your accident and are relieved to see you looking well.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I am quite mended.”
“Then ask her,” the queen prompted. “We are waiting. And mind you, do it properly.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Turning toward her, John took her hands, and at the same time, went down on bended knee.
Those close enough to see gave another collective gasp.
“I will not make this long so as not to further inconvenience either Her Majesty or Her Grace’s other guests. In any case, to tell you how greatly I admire you would last at least until dawn. Tonight, I will merely say, I love you.”
With his beloved hazel eyes, he gazed up at her. “And ask if you will do me the honor of marrying me and letting me give you my name.”
“Here, here,” some gentleman called out.
“Hush,” said Queen Victoria. “Let the lady answer.”
Maggie fought the tears and won. Time later to weep with happiness when it wouldn’t make her appear ugly and hysterical in front of the queen and half the ton.
“Yes, my lord,” was all she could manage.
“Huzzah!” called out another. “Bravo!”
“Wait,” John said as the crowd started to murmur and move.
Releasing her hands, he stood up and began digging in his pockets. After a moment, he pulled out a small black velvet bag, which was closed with a satin drawstring. Opening it, he turned it upside down, letting the contents fall onto his palm.
It was Maggie’s turn to gasp as she saw what he held.
“Remove your glove, please,” he asked her.
Never taking her gaze from his, she stripped the glove from her left hand, even while feeling as if she were undressing in public.
Holding the ring up a moment to catch the light, causing another wave of murmurs from the onlookers, John took her hand again and slipped the ring upon her finger.
There was a moment of silence.
“Now, you may cheer,” he told the crowd, and they did.
“Well done,” Maggie thought she heard Queen Victoria say, and then suddenly, Jenny was crashing into her. They hugged. Simon shook John’s hand, and then they made their way back to the table.
It took over an hour, what with people congratulating them and others exclaiming over John’s triumphant reappearance.
“Champagne is in order.” Simon said as he snagged an entire tray from a passing servant and placed it on their table.
“Champagne is always in order,” John said, “but I suppose especially tonight.” He winked at her, such a small gesture, but it filled her with joy.
“It was an excellent display,” Jenny said, raising her glass. “You did yourself proud, and you certainly did my wonderful sister justice. I am overjoyed for you both.”
Maggie still felt dazed at the rapid turn of events. Holding champagne in one hand, she glanced down at the ring on her other.
“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
John was staring at her. “Not even close, my love.”
*
No one minded when the Earl of Cambrey decided to hold a small, intimate wedding at the chapel adjacent to his property. After all, how could a London wedding, no matter how grand, top the very public and celebrated engagement attended by hundreds including Her Majesty?
With his bride’s family staying at his house, Cam hoped Margaret wouldn’t feel embarrassed when he whisked her upstairs early on their wedding night. Actually, he found he didn’t care much what his new in-laws thought. He’d waited long enough to claim his countess.
Her eyes were sparkling with the excitement of the day.
“Everything was perfect,” she said, as he started to undress her before the fireplace, which he’d ordered duly stoked to make the room warm enough for being naked.
“Yes,” he agreed, working on the pearl buttons down her back.
“The ceremony, the weather. My sisters were beautiful. Your mother made me cry with happiness with her toast. And the food. What a glorious meal.”
As she rambled on, he managed to divest her of her cream-colored gown, laced with blue ribbon, and started in on her corset.
“Oh, thank you,” she said as he loosened her stays and then dropped it on the ground. “I think Tilda tightened it a wee bit too much for the occasion. I could hardly breathe.”
“You seem to be breathing just fine.”
“What?” Then she laughed. “Oh, because I’m talking too much, is that it?”
“No. I love the sound of your voice.” He thought of how he’d called her a nag, a scold. Never again. “Your voice is lilting, like beautiful music. I never want a day to go by without hearing you speak.”
She turned in his arms, standing now in only her shift.
“I’m very glad to be back here in your room.”
“Our room,” he reminded her.
“Yes!”
As he reached for her, she danced out of his reach and, to his
amazement, she hurled herself into the center of the bed. Like a child. And yet, not at all like one.
True, she was eight-and-a-half-years younger than he, as he had learned, but she was all grown up. She had been wiser than him with her understanding of the addiction that had such a firm hold of him. If not for her …
“It is a most comfortable mattress,” she declared, sitting in the center of it. Her shift had fallen askew, baring one of her pale shoulders, and the sight alone inflamed him. Thank God he already knew her to be a passionate creature, or this night would go very differently.
He’d already removed his jacket. Hastily unfastening his collar, cuffs, and shirt, he tossed them all onto a nearby chair. When he looked at her again, she’d grown silent, staring at him, but her expression was one of anticipation, not fear.
Truly, her undone hair hanging wantonly across her shoulders, her nearly transparent shift, and her slightly parted lips caused a feeling of reverence to course through him, nearly as strong as his passion.
Radiating desire, she held her hands out to him, and he finished undressing swiftly.
“I’ve seen you bare before, Lord Cambrey, but never like this.”
“You mean standing?” he joked, enjoying her gaze wandering over his body and imagining her fingers doing the same.
She smiled. “You are magnificent, my husband. Whether lying or standing. Right now, I would like you to join me in our bed.”
Needing no further invitation, he walked toward her, knowing his yard was at full attention because even his sacks felt tight. It would be difficult to last long for their first time. But if he didn’t, he would make it up to her with many more times after that.
Crawling onto the bed, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, a long and thorough kiss which had him throbbing and her breathing heavily.
“May I remove your shift?”
In answer, she raised her arms and let him pull it over her head. When he chucked it behind him, she laughed.
“You’re not afraid.” Gently, he cupped her breasts, playing her nipples with his thumbs, watching with fascination as they hardened.
“Not even a little,” she vowed.
He looked her in the eyes while continuing to caress her. “It might hurt for a moment,” he told her.
Shrugging, she mimicked his movements, her fingers running over his chest, playing with his nipples in such a way as to drive him wild.
“A moment’s physical discomfort is nothing really,” she said.
She was right, and he would make sure she felt much more pleasure than pain.
To that end, he lowered her to the mattress, taking time to spread her hair out around her so it didn’t get caught under her back.
“How thoughtful of you,” she told him, taking hold of his erect staff.
“And now there isn’t a thought in my head,” he said, groaning as she clasped him tightly.
“Shall I stop?” She was grinning at him.
“God, no!”
While she stroked him, he traced his fingers across her smooth skin, marveling at the woman before him. He caressed the line of her collarbone, so elegant, then up and over the swell of each breast, then down her stomach and across her hip bones, causing her to shiver.
Through it all, they remained silent, simply looking at each other.
Finally, he stroked between her womanly folds, where she was sweetly damp and plainly ready for him.
She froze. “I can’t seem to focus on what I’m doing when you—”
He stroked her again.
“Yes, that.”
She said nothing else, and he didn’t even mind when her hand fell away from his shaft to grasp the sheets, her other hand doing the same.
Splayed before him, her eyes closed, head already arched back, legs spread, Margaret was the epitome of everything sensual. And by some miracle, she was his.
Fitting the head of his shaft to her opening, he leaned down to kiss her breasts, sucking a nipple as he inched inside her.
Before he even penetrated her barrier, she lifted her hips to take in more of him and breached it herself. “Oh,” she exclaimed.
He froze, feeling a slight sheen of perspiration break out on his skin.
“Margaret?”
“Yes?”
“I’m dying to thrust into you. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Her arms locked around him and her fingers pressed into his back.
Needing no further invitation, he drove himself slowly inside her. Then he drew back, and she made a noise of pure pleasure, which he could feel in his loins.
He could climax at any time, but looking down at her, vulnerable and utterly trusting, he controlled himself.
While fully seated inside her, feeling her body clamping around his, he paused. Resting on one elbow, he reached between them, twisting his hand until he had the angle he wanted, and then he proceeded to caress the bud of her desire.
Gasping, her eyes flew open. “John,” she said on a breath of wonder before closing her eyes again as he touched her.
Continuing his ministrations, he was determined their first time would be equally enjoyable for them both. Barely moving his hips, he continued to stroke her with his fingers before lightly brushing her nub with his thumb.
Cam felt her climax as it started. Arching higher, all Margaret’s muscles tightened under him and around him, sending him nearly into delirium.
“Ohh,” she moaned, and the sensual sound caused sweat to break out on his forehead.
When her own release seemed to peak and crest, he pulled back and surged into her, pumping with all the pent-up passion of having wanted this woman for an eternity. His body tightened, released, and he felt his seed spend inside her.
In the next moment, Cam desperately wanted to collapse. Instead, he rolled to the side, taking his wife with him.
They lay in silence for many minutes.
At last, she stirred, opening her eyes, brushing her fingers over the hairs of his chest as she sighed.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Very. John, I’m glad we waited until after being wed.” She stretched and made a soft humming sound of satisfaction. “If we’d done what just occurred,” she added, “and then had broken up … actually, I probably could not have left you at all.”
He chuckled, stroking the smooth skin of her back. “In which case, I rather wish we had done it earlier.”
“No,” she protested. “You know I’m right. If I hadn’t left, I fear you wouldn’t have stopped taking the laudanum.”
She was right. Damnit! Was she always going to be right? Then he smiled with his mouth against her hair and realized he didn’t mind at all.
“You were exactly right to leave me. And you were equally right to come back to me.”
She laughed softly, and the sound filled him with peace, far more than opium ever had.
Epilogue
They sat upon the veranda early the next morning before anyone was awake. Maggie knew this would be their special place, one where they had intimate conversations, possibly even arguments, where they would make up, too, before going upstairs to make up properly. Here, they would play chess, entertain friends, and watch their children run on the grass. Maybe John had already planted a child in her womb.
“I hope you’re smiling because of me.” He held her hand while they sipped tea.
“I am.” She was glad to be home. And it absolutely felt like her home. Having him drive her away with his unkind words had been among the worst moments of her life, along with finding out he’d been injured. Coming back had been the sweetest.
“I made it easy on you,” she told him, thinking of the hallway at Stafford House and how quickly she’d acquiesced.
Grinning, he nodded. “Because you love me as I love you.”
“Obviously. But if I had not been won over, what would you have said? I mean, if I had wished for you to grovel a little for being such a cad?”
“Cad?”
&n
bsp; She nodded.
“Hmm. I suppose I would have complimented you on your appearance. Yes, I would have said, ‘Margaret, you’re a diamond of the first water.’”
She twisted her mouth in disgust. “Then I am glad you didn’t. That phrase is so hackneyed as to be almost an insult.”
“Really?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully, where his overnight shadow of growth made him look terribly dashing and sensual. She might not let his valet remove it later.
“Then I suppose I would have told you how I admire your thoughts and your skill at chess?” His tone sounded as though he was asking a question.
She giggled. “Better, I suppose. It is a good thing the queen was there for you to make your grand gesture.”
“What queen?” he asked.
“Oh, that is good.” She loved how he teased her.
“I could see no woman there except you.”
“Even better, my lord.”
“If you hadn’t been won over by my surprise arrival and the return of my dashing good looks,” he grinned, then grew serious, “then I might have confessed to how bloody awful it was after you left.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It would have killed me to see you suffering that way.”
“I never knew one could want to live and die at the same time, but I did. Every time I reached over to the drawer where I had kept the bottle, I encountered Eleanor’s drawing of you. I put it right there to remind me why the hell I was in such agony.”
She put her hand to her mouth, shaking her head.
“It worked, you know. I must remember to thank your sister.” He sipped his tea and looked into the distance. His next words were so quiet, she almost missed them. “I still crave it sometimes.”
Fear, like a bolt of lightning, passed through her. Before she could say anything, Cam turned to her, holding her gaze with his.
“Don’t worry. I am telling you because I’ll never lie to you again. And I’ll never give into the craving, either.”
She entirely believed him. After all, he was the most fearless man she knew.
Leaning over, he kissed her. First her lips, which tingled delightfully, then he trailed warm kisses down her neck, causing her to arch into him.
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