by Meara Platt
“Yes, I’ll never leave your side again.”
“That’s quite an ardent statement. Romantic, really. Are you hiding a secretly poetic soul?” She smiled at him, wanting to tell him how wonderful he looked.
He had changed out of his evening clothes. She knew he’d gotten her blood all over them, and now had on buff breeches and a white shirt of softest lawn that clung to his muscled arms and broad chest. He must have recently washed and shaved, for she caught the scent of lather on his jaw as he drew closer and his hair was damp and curling at the nape of his neck.
“Romantic?” He chuckled. “Perhaps. My heart is still lodged in my throat. I wish I could have taken your pain. I hated to see you suffer.”
“Was I a hideous, whining infant? Did I shout and scream and cry? I wanted to be brave, like one of your soldiers on the battlefield, but I must have failed miserably.” She could not hide her disappointment. “I’ve gained infinite respect for you and all those who were injured during the war. I had the finest doctor. I had you by my side to hold and comfort me. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave.”
“Goose, you were as stoic as a Spartan warrior.” He sat beside her on the bed and leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. When he drew away, he had a wry smile on his own lips. “I was the one who cried and whined, if you must know.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she laughed when she realized he was teasing her. “Oh, Beast. Don’t make me laugh. My chest feels so tight, like someone is stepping on it.”
“Are you in a lot of pain? Do you want some laudanum?”
“No, I’ll let you know when it becomes unbearable. I don’t think it will, not while you’re beside me.” She looked down at herself, afraid she’d find more blood on her nightgown and bed sheets, but there was none. Still, the color of dark crimson flashed before her eyes. “My ballgown…”
“Matilda and I brought you back here last night after Dr. Farthingale finished tending to you. Poppy and Penelope helped our maids get you out of your gown and prepare you for bed.” He groaned in anguish. “They carefully washed off the blood. There was so much of it, Goose. It terrified me when I first saw you. I believed the bastard had stabbed you and I could do nothing to save you.”
“Where are Lord Gosling and Lord Marston now?”
“Prinny has them in custody. Lord Marston will be heavily fined as well as confined to his estate for the remainder of his life. If he steps foot off it, he’ll serve out the rest of his punishment rotting in a debtor’s prison. Lord Gosling has agreed to forfeit his title in exchange for living out his life in the country home he resided in before inheriting. But he has also been forbidden to step foot off the property unless he wishes to rot in prison to the end of his days.”
“What will happen to my father’s title?”
“I spoke to Prinny briefly about it. He stopped by earlier this morning. The title won’t perish. It will be given to our second son. I thought it only fair since our first son will inherit the Hartford dukedom.”
“And nothing for our daughters?”
He groaned again. “We will provide for them generously, of course. I can’t take on another battle right now, Goose. Just let me marry you before Prinny has a change of heart. We’ll fight to overturn the laws of primogeniture afterward.”
“Very well, no crusades for now.” She’d had enough excitement to last her for a good long while. In any event, she’d be able to accomplish much more as the wife of a powerful duke. “But I’m curious, who were Lord Gosling’s accomplices?”
“Scoundrels. Wastrel sons of aristocrats. Their punishment has been left up to me. I can have them imprisoned. However, their fathers have offered to purchase them commissions in the navy and have them shipped out of England as quickly as possible.”
“Which will you choose?”
He arched an eyebrow as he cast her a wry smile. “Which do you want me to choose?”
She hadn’t expected the question and regarded him in surprise. But she liked that he was confiding in her. They were alone, speaking quietly together and he cared about her opinion. “I know what they did was vile and reprehensible. But they refused to cooperate with Lord Gosling when they realized I might be physically harmed.”
“Refused to cooperate? Those bastards ran off and left you defenseless.”
“Yes, well. I don’t mean to excuse their actions, but I think a commission might serve them better than years of confinement.”
He did not look pleased, but after a moment, he nodded. “So be it. They’ll be sent to the navy. Their fathers will be eternally grateful to you. Hopefully, those scoundrels will appreciate your generosity. I’d like to run both of them through with my saber.”
“But you won’t.” She reached out and placed her hand against his cheek. “Because you know how I feel. You care about how I feel. That’s why you gave me the choice.”
He kissed her palm and placed soft kisses along her wrist, grinning when he felt the tingle run up her arm. His smile turned wicked. “Nathaniel suggested we return to Sherbourne Manor. He thinks we ought to hold our wedding in Wellesford. Vicar Carstairs is willing to officiate the ceremony. Penelope and Poppy thought it a good idea. They said you’d want to invite the villagers. Lavinia and Matilda will return to Sherbourne with us, of course. Those dowagers would risk Hannibal’s trek across the Alps to attend our wedding.”
“I adore them,” she said with a genuinely mirthful laugh.
He nodded. “Or we could marry here today. Simple and quick.”
“Will Prinny allow you to have a quiet wedding here? Won’t all of London Society be up in arms if we marry in town and they aren’t invited?” She gazed at him and laughed again. “But you don’t care what anyone thinks. You want to do what makes me happy.”
“Are you surprised?”
“I shouldn’t be. It seems my war hero does have an utterly romantic soul. Or perhaps it is just The Book of Love working its magic on you. And don’t say it was me who worked the magic. I didn’t. I was just the little nuisance who used to visit Penelope over the summers.”
“Perhaps the book merely helped me to understand the treasure before my very eyes. Even if I only have one functioning eye.”
“I think your vision is perfect. You see me as no one else ever could, for you look at me with your heart.” Nor would she ever tire of looking at him, this proud, beast-of-a-man with his eyepatch and formidable frown. “I love you, Beast. Are you giving me the choice of where and when we marry?”
He nodded again. “I don’t care about the details, but you’ve had an opinion on this ever since you were a little girl. Sentiment means everything to you.”
She shook her head in denial. “You mean everything to me.”
“I know. But this will be your wedding day. What’s your preference?”
Chapter Twenty
Olivia’s preference was to marry Beast quietly at his townhouse that very day even though she had yet to recover from her injury. But the wedding she’d dreamed of ever since she was a little girl had to be held in the town of Wellesford. “I suppose it would be a mistake to be married in my nightgown, barely able to stand on my own two feet while under the influence of laudanum. That would be a juicy courtroom confession if ever the legitimacy of our marriage was challenged.”
“Who would dare challenge it?” But he gave no argument despite his obvious frustration which matched her own. “Then Sherbourne Manor it is. I’ll let Penelope and Nathaniel know.”
“Waiting another week is the right decision.” She needed to convince herself as much as Beast, but her stitches were still tugging on her chest and her wound still felt raw and painful.
No bride wished for that memory on her wedding day.
The days passed in a blur of activity, not that she had much to do other than make herself available to Madame de Bressard who came by every day to fit her for new clothes. There were also decisions to be made about restoring Gosling Hall now that it was properly put in
her hands by her father’s solicitor, Sir Winston Aubrey. “I’m so glad you and your family are safe,” she said, sincerely relieved he looked none the worse for wear.
“I thought it best for the safety of my family to settle them in Ipswich while I returned to London to take on your guardian in the courts. But His Grace’s Bow Street runner found me first. I must say, I was vastly relieved to know you had a powerful friend fighting on your side.”
She invited him and his family to their wedding. “We’re to be married in Wellesford at the end of the week.”
Now she and Beast stood in front of the altar at Saint Mary’s Church in Wellesford. The pews were already filled to overflowing with villagers who’d come for the ceremony. Matilda and all four Sherbournes were seated in the front row.
Pip cast her an impish grin.
“Bollocks,” Beast muttered, suddenly frowning at the boy. “He has that look.”
“What look?” Olivia asked.
“He’s planning to launch a spider at you during the ceremony.” He turned once more to Pip. “You’d better not be hiding any eight-legged creatures in your pocket.”
“I’ll search him,” Nathaniel said, casting a sideways glance at his young cousin.
Goose laughed. “Don’t be silly. He’d never… would you, Pip? Not at my wedding.”
Thad and Poppy were seated in the pew behind them along with Sir Winston. Thad clamped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Open your fist, lad. Hand it over.”
Pip sighed. “I wasn’t going to release it during the ceremony.”
Goose’s eyes rounded in horror, but in the next moment, she was laughing again. She took Beast’s hand as Vicar Carstairs cleared his throat to signal the ceremony was about to begin. “All is perfect,” she whispered. “All is just as it should be… even Pip and his spider.”
“Indeed, perfect. But without the spider.” Beast recited his vows, unable to take his gaze off Goose as she recited hers.
Nor could she take her gaze off him.
“You look as radiant as an angel,” he whispered.
She supposed her happiness showed. Indeed, she was probably glowing with it.
Since beasts did not smile or glow, Beast stood there in all his ducal severity. But she knew that warmth flooded his heart. When the ceremony ended, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Little Goose, you are now mine and I will love you forever.”
When the wedding breakfast finally ended late into the night and the villagers had all returned to their homes, Beast took her hand as they made their way across the meadow to Gosling Hall. He’d hired half the village to work on the house to prepare it for them in time for their wedding day.
He’d surprised her by hiring most of the old staff, much to her delight.
“Beast, this is perfect. I’m going to turn into a watering pot.” Every beautiful memory rushed forward as they strolled past the deer and rabbits quietly grazing upon the low-lying shrubs. “These were my happiest days, tearing across this meadow every morning and skipping back home to my parents in the early evening. And now you and I will make our own memories here. Beautiful ones.”
“Starting tonight. We have a second son to create who will inherit this house.”
She laughed and put her arms around his neck as he lifted her into his arms to carry her over the threshold. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
Her old butler, Milford, opened the door to them before he could respond.
If the poor man was surprised to find her in Beast’s arms, he did not betray it. “Good evening, Lady Olivia. Or should I say, Your Grace?”
She cast him a sincere smile. “Good evening, Milford. It’s good to have you back with us.”
“It’s good to be back.”
Her smile broadened. “This is my husband, the Duke of Hartford. Have you met him yet? Isn’t he the handsomest man in all the realm?”
Her butler could not contain his chuckle. “I have met him, Your Grace. It shall be my greatest pleasure to serve you both.”
“Milford, my wife and I are not to be disturbed this evening.”
“I’ll advise your maid and valet.” He began to close up the house as Beast carried her upstairs to the old viscount’s quarters that had been freshened and upgraded with a new bed and damask silk drapes to replace the moth-eaten ones that had been hanging in disrepair for the past few years.
Her heart beat a little faster as he shut the door behind them before setting her down in the center of the room. A lone lamp cast a golden glow about their chamber and caught the brilliant warmth of his smile.
He looked big and powerful, and she could not believe he was now hers to love forever.
“How do you feel, my love?” They were alone now, the world around them shut out for the night. The only sounds to be heard were the soft rustle of the wind outside their open window and their own breaths, his calm and even while hers were short and erratic with excitement.
“Happy, Beast.”
They may as well have been the only two people left in England, for nothing and no one else mattered to her at the moment.
“How is your injury?” He reached out to caress her shoulder, no doubt afraid to move his hand lower for fear he’d hurt her. Madame de Bressard had fashioned her wedding gown so the scoop of her neckline fell just a little above her breasts to hide her stitches which had not yet been removed and would not be until next week.
Her smile faded a little. “It was a long day for me, but I’m not in pain.”
“We can wait–”
“No… that is, unless you’d rather wait.”
He gave a pained laugh. “Me? Are you jesting? I’ve waited all week to finally get you into my bed.”
“I’m eager, too. But I’m not certain what I’m supposed to do.”
He caressed her cheek, his smile appealingly wicked. “Obviously, you have not read the book you acquired from Miss Billings yesterday, the one you thought I did not see.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “You know about that book? How?”
“Goose, you have the most expressive face. It hides nothing of your feelings. Besides, I saw you come out of her bookshop with a package under your arm that you were doing your best to hide. I knew at once what it was.” His smile became an affectionate smirk. “You won’t need it. Not tonight.”
“I won’t?”
He shook his head. “Love is not about body positions.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “My eyes crossed when I glanced at the illustrations on the pages. I don’t think my body can contort the way…” She sighed again. “You’re about to burst out laughing.”
“I’d never laugh at you.” But his lips twitched and then slowly curled up in a delicious grin that was sinfully wicked and tender all in one. “Forget that book. Love is about the senses.”
“Described in The Book of Love?” She wished she had listened more closely to Penelope’s aunt, Lavinia, when the kindly dowager had tried to talk to her about the wedding night. But the talk had come too soon, Lavinia sitting her down while back in London, and she had been too foggy from the laudanum she’d taken to ease her pain.
She hadn’t taken any laudanum for the past few days, and perhaps she ought to have asked Lavinia to talk to her again instead of sneaking out to buy the naughty book. Hopefully, something would be salvaged from it. She hated to waste good coin on something useless.
“Yes, the senses described in The Book of Love,” he said in a velvet rumble, running his thumb along the line of her jaw and then lightly across her lower lip. “It’s about the way I touch you.”
She closed her eyes to better absorb the excitement of his fingers upon her skin. His hands were those of a warrior, calloused from the rigors of battle.
“And the way I taste you.” He bent his head and kissed her on the lips, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close as he dipped his tongue into her mouth to probe and tease it.
“You taste of wine and honey cake,” she said in a
breathless whisper when he ended the kiss but kept her pressed up against his body. “I like the feel of your lips on mine.”
She also loved the hardness of his body as he still held her in his embrace. Surprisingly, they seemed to fit perfectly, like a glove to a hand or like two halves of a broken locket that fell into place seamlessly when slid together.
“And the scent of your body. The hint of lavender on your warm, silken skin.”
“Your scent is sandalwood.” It was an arousing scent when mixed with his male heat. She felt herself responding to it like a wild creature desperate to mate. This hungry need for him came from a place deep within her soul and the power of this feeling frightened her a little.
But she trusted Beast and knew she was safe with him.
She closed her eyes and moaned softly when he began to undress her, his fingers deftly unfastening her laces and buttons. “Done,” he whispered as the tea rose silk slid down her body, leaving her clad only in her thin camisole and wedding slippers.
Still holding her, he bent and gently trailed his hand down her right leg to remove her slipper. He did the same with her left leg, the soft caress of his fingers leaving her in fiery torment by the time he removed that slipper.
He set aside the gown that was a pool of silk around her feet.
His arm had remained around her waist all the while, but when he’d bent to attend to her slippers and gown, his lips were at the level of the junction between her thighs. She felt his warm breath against her most intimate spot and it did shocking things to her body.
Her legs had turned to butter and would not have held her up were it not for his support. Her blood was thick and molten.
Was he going to touch her there?
Mother in heaven. Was he going to touch her with his mouth?
He slowly rose to his full height with a knowing smile and a gleam in his eye that held promise of what was to come.
He said nothing, just placed his hands on either side of her hips and slowly lifted the camisole off her body so she was standing before him naked. Wordlessly, he unpinned her hair so it fell in waves down her back. “You look beautiful, Olivia.”