And he almost smiled for the rest of the day.
“Tell me again.”
“Gemma, we will be there any minute.”
She glowered and poked her husband in the side. “Lucas Sinclair, you made me spend my wedding night in an inn. The least you can do is tell me more about the house where we will be staying for the next two weeks.”
He grabbed her hand and yanked it from his body, holding it tightly in his much larger hands, and giving her a mock severe look. “I didn’t make you do anything, Lady Blackmoor,” he said pointedly. “I remember distinctly asking if you wanted to push on to Thornacre and arrive around breakfast or if you wanted to stay at an inn for the night. You wanted the bed instead of the carriage, that is not my fault.”
She frowned at him and tried to pull her hand away, but he held it fast. “You were supposed to claim husbandly authority and tell me to shush and do as I’m told.”
He laughed once. “I’ll never tell you to shush and do as you’re told, and even if I did, you would never do as you were told.”
“That is beside the point.”
He pulled her hand to rest it on his chest, over his heart, and she stilled at the warm, steady cadence beneath his shirt. “You didn’t seem to mind,” he said softly, his eyes trained on her face, though her eyes were fixed on her hand. “I don’t remember hearing a single word of complaint.”
She flushed until she was sure her face was scarlet.
She hadn’t minded. Not in the least.
And she’d only slept in the same bed as her husband, curled against him. It wasn’t the typical wedding night, given what did not transpire, but her husband… it still sent odd shivers of delight and disbelief through her to call him that… insisted on taking her all the way to their estate before that took place. And she was grateful for the additional time to prepare herself.
But she could not deny that she had been a little… well, disappointed.
For all his saying she lacked nothing and was his ideal, she knew full well she was not particularly desirable. She only wished her husband, who viewed her with such intensity and depth, who kissed her so delightfully, had been different in that regard.
This morning had improved matters somewhat, as Lucas had been rather demonstrative in his attempts to wake her, and she could quite get used to mornings if the pattern was to be followed.
And the playful mood of her husband today as they travelled boded well for her this evening. Assuming it took place.
“You’re somewhere far away,” Lucas murmured, touching her chin. “Tell me.”
There was absolutely no way that she was going to tell him that she was thinking about the night before them, though the color of her cheeks probably did that for her.
“Gemma…”
She looked away, focusing her gaze out of the window. “It’s nothing.”
He replaced his fingers on her chin and turned her face back towards him, his expression serious. “No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t hide from me, tell me.”
“I just hope that I…” She broke off, biting down on her lip, then lowered her eyes in her embarrassment. “I hope that I can… please you. As your wife. That you won’t be disappointed with me. In anything I do.”
His hold on her chin was suddenly harder and he tilted her chin up more, his eyes suddenly blazing. “Is that what you think?” he asked. “That last night… That I wasn’t…” He could not seem to find the words and his evident distress both comforted and worried her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered with wince.
“Don’t be sorry!” he cried, releasing her chin and taking her arms. “Gemma, I…” He laughed breathlessly and shook her the smallest bit. “I am already beyond pleased with you as my wife. I could never be disappointed in you, and as for that… I was trying to make you comfortable and be understanding. I can assure you, I want you in every way that a man should want his wife, and when we get to Thornacre, you will understand exactly what that means.”
The promise in his words made her heart race and her cheeks heat and she giggled nervously. “Should I be nervous?” she asked between giggles.
He yanked her to him and kissed her hard, and quite thoroughly. “Yes,” he rasped against her lips. “You probably should. It will be a very short tour of the house.”
She reared back, eyes wide. “What, you mean… You mean not tonight?”
He slowly shook his head, a rather wicked smile forming. “Not tonight. Or rather… not waiting until tonight. My wife seems to doubt my affections, and I cannot have that.”
Gemma swallowed hastily and raised a hand to her cheek. “Remind me to keep my mouth shut more often, and to never, ever, provoke you.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms, enveloping her. “I like you just as you are, Gemma.” He kissed the top of her head, and let her feel the frantic pace of his heart. “And I rather liked sharing my bed with you last night.”
She snuggled into his chest, smiling and sighing. “It was rather nice, wasn’t it? We should do that more often.”
“Every night, I think.”
She gave a hard laugh and shook her head. “Not every night, surely.”
Lucas tightened his arms. “Every night,” he repeated firmly.
She glanced up at him curiously. “Married couples have separate bedchambers, Blackmoor.”
He returned her look. “We don’t. I have no desire to spend a night away from you.” He hesitated, then added, “Unless you truly want them.”
Her breath caught at the open, hungry expression, and she felt herself melting just a little at his uncertainty about her wishes. She arched up to cup his cheek and kiss him, which she could tell pleased him.
“Together, then,” she whispered, stroking his jaw. “Though we may scandalize everybody if it gets out.”
He flashed her a grin that nearly blinded her in its brilliance. “I already scandalize everybody. It will be nice to have some company from now on.”
That drew forth laughter and she nestled against him with a smile. “Tell me about Thornacre again. Why have I never heard of it?”
“Because no one ever comes there,” he replied as he slowly ran his hands up and down her back. “It has been in the family for centuries, and it has been a long time since anyone inhabiting was interested in company. Considering the reputations of the families, it was hardly a place anyone wished to see.”
“What reputations?” she asked, leaning her chin against him to look up. “I only know yours.”
His jaw tightened and he shook his head. “It is too involved to go into now, but we’ve not been a popular set for some time. However, the house is without blemish despite our best efforts.”
Gemma frowned at his dark tone, but he was studiously avoiding looking at her, and it went unmarked. She sighed with a bit of resignation and nudged him. “Go on, tell me about it. Is it very grand?”
He relaxed and one hand began tracing circles on her back and shoulders. “Yes, I’m afraid it is. And spacious. The grounds are some of the finest in Hampshire, if I may be permitted to admit it.”
“I think you may,” she quipped with a grin. “I’ve only seen Beverton House in Hampshire, and it’s very pretty, but slightly wild.”
Lucas grunted and glanced out of the window. “We are not so wild at Thornacre, but the tone is roughly the same. The house could not be more different from the stately edifice of Beverton House, but… Well, see for yourself.” He inclined his head towards the window and Gemma clambered over him excitedly, drawing a low chuckle from him.
She drew in a sharp breath at the sight that met her eyes.
The pale limestone glinted in the bright sunlight, and the massive building seemed to glow with it. It was the sort of place every girl dreamed of seeing, with tall windows and turrets and gables and columns as far as the eye could see. It seemed to be the perfect combination of ancient castle and romantic country estate. Queen Elizabeth herself might have lived i
n such a place, or any of the Tudors, should they have been so inclined.
The grounds were as breathtaking as the house, and the gardens she could see were immaculate and pristine, every detail exact and perfectly suited to the house. The house itself spread out before her as far as she could crane her neck as they pulled into the elegant circle drive, seeming out of place and time in its appearance and beauty.
And this was now to be hers?
“Well?” Lucas asked in a low, amused tone, nudging her with his knee.
She slowly turned to look at him, not bothering to hide her astonishment. “You live in a castle?”
He smiled at her, which did nothing for the anticipation swirling within her stomach. “We live in a castle. For now.”
Slowly, a wild grin spread across her face. “I think I rather like being married to you, Blackmoor.”
He threw his head back and laughed heartily, and her heart fairly sang with a grand orchestra of joy at the sight and sound. “I am delighted that thirty hours of marriage has given you such pleasure,” he said as his laughter subsided, shaking his head as the carriage stopped and a footman stepped forward to open the door.
Gemma glanced out of the now open door to see an army of servants streaming out and forming perfect lines. She looked back at Lucas a little agape. “It comes with people in it, too?”
Lucas snorted and tapped her nose. “Cheeky. You’ll have to get used to excesses, Lady Blackmoor. We may not be elaborate, but there is no scrimping here.”
“I think I can manage that,” she muttered as he disembarked and reached for her.
He helped her down and proudly led her to the staff, introducing her to the butler, a somber but pleasant looking man named Hardy, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Riggle, who had warm eyes and a kind smile. The rest of the servants were resolutely emotionless, but could not contain the curiosity from their gazes as they looked at her.
Lucas said a few brief words, then led Gemma into the house, and she very much feared she would injure her neck as she tried to catch everything.
Even the doors to the house were ancient, yet in perfect order. They could have very well been Queen Anne’s own doors, but far more masculine… King James, perhaps.
Lucas did not give her time to examine the door, however, as he tugged her along, her hand tight in his. Their hats and cloaks were taken and the servants began their duties, unloading carriages or returning to whatever they had been doing before. Gemma tried to take in the vestibule, a grand marble expanse that prompted soft voices and reverent tones, but she was soon tugged along once more.
“I want a tour!” she insisted, resisting the agitated pull of her husband.
He stopped and looked back at her. “A tour?” he asked.
She nodded firmly. “This place is magnificent, Lucas. Beyond imagination. I want to see it. And you promised.”
His brow furrowed and his mouth became a thin line. “Right.” He turned back and continued to pull her through the house. “The tour. Entrance hall.” He waved his hand as they entered a majestic and vast room with unconscionable ceiling height and dark wooden paneling.
“Hallway,” he said with the same faint gesture as they passed one. “Sitting room. Portraits. Stairs. And up the stairs…” He paused before the grand staircase and turned, quirking one brow at her.
She looked at him in disbelief, a wild urge to laugh forming within her. “Are you serious?”
His expression was serious and polite, but the smile that played at his lips was anything but. “The next floor is truly remarkable. You must see it.”
Gemma folded her arms, unable to resist smiling at him. “What are you doing?”
He raised his brows in mock surprise. “Being husbandly. I took vows. Love, honor, cherish, seduce…”
She let out a surprised and breathless laugh. “That is not one of them!”
He shrugged. “I think it’s implied.” He inclined his head towards the stairs, starting towards her. “You’d better start moving.”
Nervous and wild energy flooded her as she started backwards up the stairs, with him slowly pursuing her, a hunter stalking his prey. “I don’t know where I’m going!” she managed, giddy and quite sure she would stumble over her own feet if he kept this up.
He seemed to give that just a moment of thought, his eyes never once leaving hers. “This is true. In that case…”
Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way up the stairs, without any difficulty at all.
And she was laughing far too much to protest.
Chapter Nine
As it turned out, it was another day and a half before Gemma got the tour she had been hoping for. Not that she minded, for she had been quite pleasantly occupied during that time, and she was convinced without any trouble that married life quite suited her.
Or perhaps it was simply her husband.
Lucas had been transformed by their time here already, becoming playful and attentive, smiling and easy and warm. Yet he was still the same man who had courted her, the same one she had married. Now, it seemed, he was… more.
And she was reeling with delight at every revelation and insight into his soul.
He took her around Thornacre eventually, with her incessant prodding, and proved to be a very thorough and well-informed guide. He knew nearly every detail of the house, the restorations, the history, amusing stories… and what he didn’t know, Hardy did. Gemma felt almost like an outsider as she wandered along the grand rooms and halls, afraid to touch anything or behave improperly for fear of being dismissed.
Lucas seemed to know, and did everything in his power to put her at ease.
“I’ll be all right,” she had assured him with a loving pat to his chest. “It will only take some time to adjust. I’ve been living in a far different manner my entire life, and this is all… overwhelming.”
He hadn’t liked that, and invited her to rearrange the sitting room in which they had been in.
She’d tried to demur, saying it was perfectly arranged as it was, but he refused adamantly.
“I don’t want it to be perfect,” he’d informed her. “I want it to be yours. Then it will be perfect.”
That had earned him a sound kiss and a bit of distraction before she’d gone ahead with moving things around.
Since then, she’d been invited to rearrange anything she liked and even refurbish some of the more outdated rooms.
Mrs. Riggle had been pleased with that idea, as she had apparently wished for some updating, and they were to discuss ideas and suggestions whenever her husband decided to let her out of his sight.
It hadn’t happened yet.
But she was not about to complain about that either.
The only thing Gemma was not permitted to change were the gardens, and that was completely out of Lucas’s hands. The head gardener, a Mr. Chase, was fiercely protective of the gardens and grounds, and apparently lorded over them all. Not even his lord and master could exert authority over him where they were concerned. Suggestions were welcome, but could also easily be ignored.
Apparently one got used to this, but it seemed the oddest sort of arrangement.
But as the gardens and grounds were incomparable, no one was willing to argue the point.
Thornacre was perhaps even more magical than she had initially thought, Gemma considered as she wandered some of the house she had not seen yet. There were secrets here, and she was wild to uncover them. While the outside of the house seemed a mystical castle, the interiors were surprisingly modern in their tastes. Some of the details were older and there were some wonderful relics and tributes to years and family members past, but for the most part, it was not unlike other fine country estates she had seen.
Though none were of this caliber and high quality.
That caused a stirring of pride within her, and she glanced over at Lucas to tell him, only to find him staring at the one of the portraits in the gallery in which they were standing.
She followed his gaze to the portrait in question, and it was of a beautiful woman, her eyes and hair as dark as the night, her complexion nearly exotic in coloring. Gemma had never seen anyone as exquisitely arrayed with natural beauty in her entire life. And she bore a curious smile, as if she knew a joke that no one else did.
Lucas was fixated on her, his expression vacant but for the deep furrows between his brows.
Gemma looked between the two, and though she suspected she knew the identity of the woman, she was not at all tempted to ask about it. The look on his face was enough.
She wandered further down the gallery, and found a portrait of a very young Lucas. She knew it was him, as she had seen representations of his brother and the two hardly resembled each other. She smiled at the serious nature of her husband in the painting, even as a child.
She glanced down the gallery at Lucas, and he was still staring at the portrait. Gemma frowned, then laughed, clearing her throat. “Good heavens, Blackmoor, is this you?” she called.
That shook him from his reverie and his expression cleared as he came to her, looking at the painting. He winced, but took her hand and held it close to him. “Yes, unfortunately. Surly child, am I not?”
She laughed, half with relief that he was returned to her and half amusement at his words. “You are darling.”
He snorted, his thumb absently stroking her hand. “Hardly. I look like an old man.”
Gemma turned to face him and took his other hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. “Well, I hope that our sons look just like you,” she murmured, going up on her toes to capture his lips in a gentle, teasing kiss.
He hummed a little and followed her as she lowered herself, kissing her twice more, and taking his time to do so. “I hope all of the children look like you, love,” he replied, with the faintest of third kisses.
She shivered and pulled away just slightly, exhaling dramatically. “I don’t know that I will ever get used to that,” she mused, smiling up at him.
A Wager Worth Making (Arrangements, Book 7) Page 10