Leaving Willa alone at the long, empty dining table. There was nothing to do but go to bed—in her very own room. Alone. “Which is as it should be,” she reminded herself again. She was not his wife. He was not her husband.
Of course, he’d never truly wanted to be. She’d bagged him like a rabbit, just as he’d teased her. Unwilling prey.
Note his withdrawal from her today. Nathaniel was a hero now. His name had been cleared. His future was as open as it had previously been closed. He didn’t need her support any longer. She was no longer the safe harbor from his isolation.
Sitting in the silent, luxurious room, Willa looked at all the opulence surrounding her. Nathaniel was going to marry her, make her his lady, mistress of all of this plenty. So why did it feel as though something was missing?
Oh yes. That’s right.
“He doesn’t love me.” Her whisper was very loud in the silence.
He had never said so, never even suggested such a thing. She’d told him she loved him. He seemed to like hearing it, very much. He had never said it to her.
His matter-of-fact, utilitarian proposals—both of them—only proved the fact. Honor debt only. Oh, he liked making love, but Willa was aware of the fact that most men liked making love a great deal, often, with just about any woman who would hold still.
Willa planted her elbows on the table in best taproom fashion and dropped her head into her hands. “Well, this is simply bloody depressing,” she muttered.
There came a great supercilious sniff. Willa looked up to see Hammil examining her distastefully, as if she’d smeared on his shoe. “If you’re finished with your … private conversation, Miss Trent, the staff would like to clear.”
Private conversation—translation: madhouse ramblings.
The last person Willa wished to see at that moment was Hammil. Hammil, who was always about, always sneering—
And always listening.
Willa gazed at the butler for a long, thoughtful moment. “Hammil, it is you who has been carrying tales about me,” she stated with certainty.
Hammil started guiltily, then sputtered, but it seemed her accusation had caught him without a ready reply.
Willa closed her eyes briefly, then stood with a cheerful smile. If she was going to be Lady Reardon, willing slave to unrequited love, there must be a few perquisites.
“When I marry His Lordship, Hammil, you are entirely, completely, unequivocally … fired.”
The winding stair had never seemed more endless. When she approached her chamber, she heard something behind the door next to hers. Nathaniel’s door. She was surprised that he would have retired this early.
In her room, she found Lily waiting, but nothing else. Her new wardrobe was gone from the room, and the books and tea towel were missing from the shelves and vanity. “Have I been moved again?”
Lily nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
Willa felt hollow. “I see. Where am I now?”
“Oh, you needn’t worry about it now, ma’am. I’ve your nightgown here. His Lordship asked for you to join him, please, my lady.”
Well, at least he still wanted her. Listlessly, she allowed Lily to dress her in the wispy lawn nightgown that Moira had given her, covered by her wrapper.
When Lily had taken down her hair, Willa stood and went down the hall to Nathaniel’s room. His sitting room was dark, so Willa passed through it to the closed door of his bedchamber. Think about a child, she told herself. Think about a happy life. Wish it to be so.
Closing her eyes, she wished it, and opened the door.
When she opened her eyes, Nathaniel’s room was gone. Gone was the masculine severity. Gone were the dark bed draperies and counterpane. In their place was a pagan fertility bower.
Sheer white panels fell around the bed, framing the silken ivory bedcoverings from her old room. Candles burned in ornate porcelain candlesticks, and a pretty garden-patterned rug lay before the crackling fire.
Were those—?
Willa stepped closer. Yes, those were rose petals heaped over the counterpane and sprinkled on the floor around the bed. Her eyes wide, Willa spun in disbelief. Her wardrobe stood in one corner, and Moira’s tea towel brightened the washstand.
What was all this?
“‘The flowers’ leaves’,” Nathaniel’s deep voice quoted from the shadows, “‘serve as bridal beds which the Creator has so gloriously arranged, adorned with such noble bed curtains, and perfumed with so many soft scents that the bridegroom with his bride might there celebrate their nuptials with so much the greater solemnity’.”
Willa’s throat closed. “Linnaeus,” she whispered.
Willa searched the shadows until she spotted Nathaniel behind the door through which she had just entered. She blinked at him, and he laughed.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“What is it?”
Nathaniel smiled. He came to her and tipped her chin up with one finger. “It’s our new room.”
Willa had to blink very fast right then. “Ours?”
“Ours.”
Then he went down on one knee before her and took her hand.
“Willa, you told me that you loved me, and renewed my existence. Will you please do me the great honor of becoming my wife? A huge wedding, a ridiculously costly honeymoon—as soon as convention permits?”
Her knees began to shake. She could only nod, very fast.
“Oh, I forgot something.” Nathaniel went to the other side of the bed and took an item from a drawer. Then he stood and smiled at her across the bed of rose petals.
“Willa Trent, will you, this day before God, take me to be your wedded husband?”
Willa nodded again, her throat too tight to speak.
“Will you promise to love, honor, and continue to defy me, all the days of your life?”
She nodded again. The tears were starting in earnest now.
Nathaniel stared. “Willa, you’re crying. You never cry.”
She sputtered through her tears, “Nathaniel, I swear to you, if you stop now …”
“Oh, wildflower.” He started to climb across the bed to her.
She held up her hand. “Don’t. Stop.”
He tilted his head and smiled gently at her. “You haven’t answered yet.”
“Oh.” She nodded vigorously, then climbed onto the bed facing him, the width of the bed still between them. “I will.”
“Now, it’s my turn. I, Nathaniel …” He walked one step forward on his knees. “I, Nathaniel Stonewell, Lord Reardon, on this day before God, will take thee, Willa, as my wedded wife.” He stepped closer still, and she matched him. “I will give you my name and everything I have. I will promise to love, honor, and cherish thee, all the days of my life.” He smiled. “It isn’t much of a bargain but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”
He opened his hand to reveal the Reardon family crest ring in his palm. The setting had been filled with a fine aquamarine, colored like the deepest twilight. “I chose it because it matches your eyes,” he said softly. He slid it onto her finger. It was huge and ridiculous and meant everything to him.
Willa broke down and sobbed into her hands. Nathaniel pulled her into his arms.
“Wildflower, what is it?”
She said something, but he couldn’t understand through her sobs and hiccups. “What?”
She visibly fought for a hold on her emotions, trembling in his arms. “You … you love me?”
“Of course I love you, wildflower. You knew that.”
She shook her head. “I… I knew you liked me and … and you liked to co … copulate with me, but I thought it was just a … a passing fancy.”
“Oh, wildflower.” Nathaniel pulled her tightly to him and rocked her from side to side. “I should have said the words. I promise to always say the words. Every day.”
“Twice,” demanded Willa, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
“Thrice,” promised Nathaniel. Then he pulled her down onto the rose petals
and examined her in the candlelight. The glow turned her gown transparent, just as he’d hoped it would. Rosy nipples showed clearly, as did the shadow between her round thighs.
“God, I love that nightgown,” he muttered fervently.
Willa smiled, her face still wet with tears. “Moira told me you would.”
“You look like an angel, rolling in roses.”
She snorted. “What a silly notion. I’m simply Willa.”
“Precisely.”
He kissed her. “I love you.” He kissed her again, a bit longer this time. “I love you.” Then he kissed her breathless. “I love you.”
“Mmm.” She nuzzled the hand that cupped her cheek. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear that last one.”
His lips quirked. He took both her hands and gently pressed them down on either side of her head. “To get your complete attention,” he explained. Then he kissed her until she went limp and soft beneath him.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
“As I love you,” she whispered back, and gave a blissful sigh. Then she wriggled. “You woke up my animal.”
He chuckled, although his own animal was fighting the leash. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’ve got you trapped. We wouldn’t want to ruin this pretty room by letting your animal loose in here.”
“Mmm.” She managed to focus on her surroundings. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable in here? Isn’t it a little … unmanly?”
“So, you think I should bring back the boar’s head?”
“Please, don’t.”
“Well, there’s no need to worry about me. I have everything I need.” He released her with a soft bite to her neck that made her shiver, then stood. He moved to the fireplace, and Willa noticed something near the hearth that was draped with a cloth.
“We have unfinished business.” With a flourish, Nathaniel pulled aside the cloth and revealed …
The chair from the library.
“Oh no.” Willa eyed the leather throne and chewed her lip.
“What is it?” Nathaniel couldn’t wait to find out.
Willa crawled on all fours to the edge of the bed. It did wonders for the sheer gown. Nathaniel wondered if he needed to wipe his chin.
She sat back on her heels and tilted her head. “Do you think…?” She hesitated, looking at him a little sheepishly. “Would it be too terribly depraved to …?”
“Willa, you are killing me.”
“… to spend our wedding night in a chair?”
In answer, Nathaniel rushed to the bed, grabbed great handfuls of rose petals, and flung them to fall over the leather seat.
“Good enough?” God, he was panting already.
She smiled. “Perfect.”
And it was.
Epilogue
“Nathaniel?” Willa snuggled deeper onto Nathaniel’s lap on the bedroom chair. After weeks of planning, and cheerfully nominal chaperoning by Myrtle, the small, private wedding of their dreams was tomorrow and Willa had decided to keep custom in at least one instance, so she was going to stay at Kitty’s house the night before the wedding.
Consequently, Willa and Nathaniel were making love in the afternoon, so as not to miss a day.
“Hmm?” He pulled her closer and nuzzled her ear.
“Is Lord Liverpool ever going to give me back my grandfather’s diary?”
Nathaniel murmured something that told her quite clearly that he wasn’t listening as his lips moved to her neck. Then he froze. “Your what?”
“My grandfather’s diary. The one full of the Quatre Royale.” She offered him her other ear, but he didn’t take it. Leaning her head back to look into his face, she saw him gaping at her in shock.
“Willa, that diary was written by the Duke of Camberlake.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Your grandfather was the Duke of Camberlake?”
“And my father, too, of course. He was the last of his line.” She wiggled hopefully on his lap, but things beneath her seemed distracted as well.
He leaned away from her, blinking. “You’re Lady Willa Trent?”
“—the daughter of the Duke of Camberlake, yes. We’ve covered that. Are you going to take me now or not?”
He held up one finger. “Wait—I just realized something.” He grinned. “I’m marrying up!”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You always were,” she purred. “Witness my superiority even now!” She bit his earlobe.
“Well, to be honest, it’s a relief. For a time, I thought you might be a royal bastard.”
She rolled her eyes. “What a ridiculous notion.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said primly. “The royal bastard was my mother.”
Oh, hell. Nathaniel shuddered. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
She blinked at him. “Very well,” she said slowly. “It isn’t true?”
“Good!” he said vehemently. “Let’s keep it that way.”
She moved to kiss him again.
“Wait!” He held up a finger again. “I just realized something else.”
She sighed. “Yes?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I’m marrying the granddaughter of the greatest Cobra in the history of the Royal Four!”
“Why is that so funny?”
He tilted his head and smiled at her. “You know, I think I just might tell you.”
Tired of waiting, Willa dived her mouth down on his.
“Later,” he said, the words muffled by her passion. “I’ll tell you later.”
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 01] Page 31