“Sweetheart,” her mother murmured as she gently took her arm. “Come and sit by the fire and have a drink. It will do you a world of good.”
“How can you be so calm!” she exploded.
“Well, I’ve had a few minutes to gather my wits—and you would, too, if you had a sip of sherry. Another, Anaïs?” her mother inquired of Lady Weatherby as she held up the crystal decanter.
“Please, Jane.”
How could they be sitting on the settee sipping away on sherry like nothing was happening? Dear heavens, there were guests in the house, and here was her mother and Jase’s mother hiding out in a private salon, drinking sherry!
“Dearest, your pacing is not going to make things go any faster. Your father, as you well know, will be finished with Lord Raeburn when he is good and ready and not a moment before.”
“What must he think of me?” she gasped as she collapsed into a chair.
“I should think that was obvious,” her mother murmured.
“Not Jase,” she snapped, “Papa.”
Her mother arched her brow and sipped her drink. “Two peas in a pod you are. I’ve heard that tone a time or two from your father.”
“Forgive me, Mama.”
Shaking her head her mother put her drink aside and captured Blossom’s gaze. “It is not as though your father is a stranger to scandal, my dear. Far from it.”
“I don’t want to lose his good opinion.” Or have him murder Jase, she silently added.
Reaching for her hand, her mother clutched her fingers. “I don’t believe that there is anything you could do that would turn your father away from you. Besides, your papa is the least of your worries. What of Lord Raeburn?”
Blossom cast her gaze toward the settee where the marchioness was busy looking every place but at them. She was making a grand show of appearing not to listen, but Blossom knew she had her ears wide open.
“Mama,” Blossom muttered, which turned to a warning when her mother smiled.
“Blossom, you worry too much. It is only us in the room, three women, nothing more than that. There is nothing you cannot tell us. Believe me, we might have entertained a scandalous kiss or two in our time.”
Swallowing hard, she glanced away, unable to speak her true feelings.
“I believe I’ll look for my husband,” the marchioness murmured. “Excuse me.”
Blossom watched Jase’s mother stroll from the salon. When she reached the door, she hesitated and turned back toward them. “I must speak on behalf of my son. I realize he isn’t like his brother, but he’s worthy, Blossom. He’d make you an excellent husband. I…I cannot condone his actions tonight, but…I can understand them. You’ll at least think on his offer, won’t you, and not dismiss it out of hand?” Nodding, Blossom grasped her mother’s hand. “Things have a way of looking much clearer after a good night’s rest,” Lady Weatherby reminded her.
And with that she closed the door, and Blossom promptly fell against her mother, hugging her.
What in the world was she to do now? She’d been caught in a most compromising position, by her father no less. Damn Jase and his seductions. She was no match for him. Could not defend against such machinations…
No. She could not play the wounded virgin now. She’d been willing. More than willing. She had encouraged him, had all but dared him. Deep inside she had known what he would do when she challenged him about passion, and whether or not they would have it.
She had thrown the gauntlet and he had picked it up.
It was not entirely Jase’s fault. But that said, she didn’t want to be married because of a scandal. What woman did?
“Shh,” her mother soothed, hugging her tightly, “all will be well. You’ll see.”
“I don’t want Papa to force him to marry me,” she gasped. “I…I don’t want that, Mama.”
“I know, darling. We’ll figure something out.”
The tears that she had allowed to fall fell faster, until she was sobbing. Her body wanted Jase. Her heart wanted him, too. That young, tender love she had once felt for him had needed little encouragement to grow and flourish. While her heart and body desired him, her mind warred with her. Could she trust him? Would he only break her heart with his rakish tendencies? Was his pursuit of her out of desire, or a misplaced sense of honor and obligation?
Was she merely convenient?
“There is nothing so dangerous as passions, Blossom,” her mother whispered as she smoothed her hair back. “They make us feel alive, fulfill us, and make us soar. But they confuse us. Make us frightened because it changes who we are.”
Pulling away, Blossom blinked back the tears and tried to listen.
“You’re just discovering that, I’m afraid. Nothing is easy when the heart and soul are engaged. Tonight, you followed where your heart led—and it led you to Jase.”
“But what if I’m just a convenient wife? What if he wishes to marry me because he desires to right a wrong he perceives his brother has done to me?”
“Do you truly believe that?”
“I don’t know. At first, yes. But then…I don’t know. What if, Mama, he took me to the salon and intended for us to be found?”
“I don’t believe that for a second. That is not the action of a gentleman, but a desperate man. If you think matters through, Blossom, you’ll soon realize that there is no real reason that Jase needs to marry you. None but one.”
One reason. Desire? Or love? Desire was all well and good, but what happened when it waned? What would be left to sustain a marriage?
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” a footman said from behind the closed door. “But His Grace is wishing to speak with Lady Blossom in his study.”
“Mama,” she whispered. Her lip was trembling and her hands were shaking. “Come with me.”
Her mother’s smile was full of love and acceptance. “Tell him what is in your heart, and everything will be well.”
She did not want to face her father. Or Jase. She wasn’t ready to bear witness to her father’s disappointment, and Jase’s satisfied smile. He had wanted to marry her. Claimed he would stop at nothing to have her, and here she was, ruined in the eyes of society—the only remedy to marry him.
“PAPA?” SHE MURMURED as she stepped around the study door. It was dark and gloomy; the only light was from the hearth. The embers were dying, but a spark flickered and illuminated the chair where her father sat, watching the flames.
“Come,” he ordered her.
She had never disappointed him. Had never given him cause to be ashamed of her. She had been his darling little girl and she felt sickened at the thought that she might lose not only his love, but his regard, as well.
Padding softly across the carpet, she stood before him, head bowed, hands folded demurely before her. He was looking at her. She could feel his cool, assessing gaze upon her. And then he reached for her hand, smoothed his thumb along her knuckles, forcing her gaze up from her slippers and into his face.
“You’ve been crying?”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. Her eyes were welling up once again and a small hiccup escaped her. So she nodded and bit her lip to quit it from quivering.
“Blossom—”
“Papa, I’m sorry,” she cried as she clutched his hand. “I don’t know what came over me. I mean…I don’t—”
“Shh,” he whispered. “There is no need. I understand completely. I am not so old that I cannot remember what it was like to desire someone so completely.”
“Mama.”
“Yes. Mama.” His smile was wistful, his eyes darkening like they always did when he spoke of her mother, or looked at her. “I want your happiness, Blossom. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You were minutes old when I held you and gazed upon you and swore that very thing to you. Tell me,” he asked as he squeezed her hand, “what will make you happy?”
“The sort of marriage that you and Mama have.”
“It has not been without pain, Blossom.”
“I
know.” And she did. When she was old enough, she had been told their story. Theirs was a love against all odds. After witnessing such love, after experiencing it firsthand, how could she not wish for the very same thing?
“Is he what you want, Blossom?”
Was he? She hardly knew anymore. From the moment she saw him again, her heart had opened to him. Her body warmed for him. Every waking thought was of him, and every dream was about them—and the way she felt when she was with him.
She thought of what it would be like to never see him again. To turn from him and walk away. She thought of him married to another. Him kissing and touching another woman the same way he had done to her tonight. Oh, God, the pain those thoughts evoked robbed her of breath.
“Well?” her father prodded. “Is he the sort of man you’ve always dreamed of marrying?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said through a fresh flush of tears. “It has always been Jase. I just made myself believe that I wanted something different—someone different.”
Her father held out his arms, and Blossom flew into his embrace. “He will be a good husband to you, and that is the only reason I will allow this. I don’t give a damn about gossip or tittle-tattle among the ton and the servants. What I care about is you. Your happiness. Your future.”
He hugged her tight, and kissed her cheek. “I wouldn’t part with you for anyone who I felt was unworthy, Blossom. You’re too special to just give away to any man.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
“How I love you,” he murmured softly. “And how I will make him suffer if he hurts you.”
“Papa.”
“One day, sweetheart, Raeburn will be the father of your children, and he will sit in his study and hold his beloved daughter in his arms and say the very same thing to her. It is one of the reasons that I’m allowing this union. He’s the sort of man I have always wanted for you—a man who will take care of his own. A man who risked your father’s wrath and a host of insolent questions just to have you.”
“Did he really? Papa, you were hard on him.”
“Hard? My darling, I was rather easy on the fellow. Besides, it was a test, to see just how much he wanted you for a wife. After all, in taking you, he gets me. A most daunting thought for any perspective bridegroom.”
Laughing, she hugged him tight. “You are the best father a girl could ever have.”
“I have tried my best. Now, if I could only bring Edward to heel.”
“That, Papa, will take a miracle.”
Smiling, her father tweaked her nose. “Now run along and send your mother in here, if you please.”
As if on cue, her mother was waiting outside the library. With a smile she breezed by her.
“Ah, Jane.” Blossom heard the deep rumble of her father’s voice. “Come and sit on my lap and hold me. I’ve just given our baby girl away.”
“Matthew,” her mother whispered, “is the pain so very bad?”
“Quite lethal, Jane. Make it go away.”
And then Blossom shut the door, allowing them their privacy. After all these years of marriage her parents were still so ardently, and passionately, in love.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IN THE END, BLOSSOM HAD seen very little of the man who was to be her husband. And when she did see him, their visit was supervised by her father or mother. Blossom was literally bursting to speak with him, and she could tell that Jase was just as eager. But her father demanded that they would not have a second alone until they departed for their honeymoon.
It took only two days for Jase to obtain a special license, and only one for her parents’ houseguests to depart. They fled back to London amid a brewing scandal. Her mother had worried the tiniest bit; her father had laughed and reminded her that it was not a proper Torrington house party if there was not a hint of scandal.
It was her wedding day, and despite Jase’s attempts to make it the wedding of her dreams, it did not happen that way. First was the rain. Second was the complete deluge that would not stop.
“I think it’s a sign from God,” she whispered as the carriage jolted forward. She waved at her mother and father, who were huddled beneath an umbrella, and then again at Lord and Lady Weatherby.
“Nonsense,” Jase muttered, “it’s good luck if it rains on your wedding day.”
“Not for the bride it’s not,” she said as she lifted her leg and showed him her muddied boots and soaked stockings.
“Then let me make you comfortable. We have a bit of a journey to the train station.”
“Where are we going, exactly?”
“To the Lakes. My friend the Duke of Trevere has a cottage there.”
“Oh.”
Jase reached for her foot and began unlacing her boots. “Will you like that, do you think?”
Nodding, Blossom continued to look out the window. She hadn’t expected to feel so awkward in his presence. It was as though they were strangers. He seemed to know it, because when he was done removing her boots, he slid himself to her bench and began to untie her bonnet. With a careless air he tossed it onto the now-empty bench and clutched her face in his palms.
“At last,” he whispered, “I can give my wife the proper kiss she deserves.”
Jase’s mouth was warm and soft, his tongue sheer pleasure. They kissed for a long while, until Blossom could hardly breathe, and when they broke it off, Jase did not leave her, but rested his forehead against hers.
“I’ve missed you. Your smiles. Your cheeky little taunts. But mostly I missed this, just being beside you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She smiled, the awkwardness slowly retreating. “A week ago I could never have dreamed I would be married to you.”
“I could say the same. Although, I’ve been fantasizing about our wedding night for what seems like years now.”
“You’re fibbing.”
“Blossom.” He reached for her hand and placed it over his heart. “I can tell you with utmost sincerity that I’ve wanted you in my bed for years. I would stand back and watch my brother with you and wish to strangle him. It’s the whole reason why I was gone so much. It shattered my soul to see you so happy with him, because, you see, I wanted you to be happy with me. Blossom?” He pressed her hand hard against his chest, and held steady on to her gaze. “I love you. I have loved you silently and secretly from afar for so many years. And this—the fact you’re now mine—is almost too surreal. When I look at you I’m afraid you’re going fade into the mist and I will wake up to the realization that this is only another dream.”
“Oh, Jase.”
He held a finger to her lips. “This isn’t the way I wished for it to happen. But it’s what transpired and I’m not sorry for it. But I promise you, Blossom, I will worship you with my body for the rest of my life, and one day you’ll realize that I’m not the man behind the reputation. One day, you’ll feel safe enough with me to give me your love. And I will wait patiently for it, I promise you.”
He kissed her again, and when he ended it, she felt how hard and fast his heart was beating beneath her thumb. “Sleep, my love. Because tonight when we get into our little cottage, I will be keeping you very much awake.”
BLOSSOM GLANCED UP FROM her book to see a pair of birds dip low in the sky, squawking and singing as they landed on a thick branch of a pine tree. Heedless of her position below them, they cocked their heads to one side and addressed each other with a high-pitched warble.
“That must be the female,” a deep voice resonated be hind her. “A right saucy wench, isn’t she?”
Jase. Her body tingled at the sound of his voice. She was a wife now, in every respect. Their first time had been magical, intimate. He had been very careful with her, and she had felt nothing more than a pinch and a burn. It had been a bit awkward and Blossom had been self-conscious. But that had been three nights ago. Now she was eager. Gaining confidence and experience. Now she wanted what her husband had purposely kept hidden inside him. She wanted his
passion—all that dark, beautiful rakish passion she knew he was hiding.
Shading her eyes, she looked up to see him standing before her, the sunlight acting as a halo, making his hair shine in the bright rays. His face was in shadow, but she could make out his lips, which were grinning wickedly. How she was coming to adore those lips. She could still feel them, soft and full as they covered her body, searching for her sensitive spots. She wanted that again. To feel him moving inside her. The deep connection of being together. She wanted his love—to hear him say it again. And God help her, she wanted to tell him of the love for him that was growing inside her.
“Come.” He motioned for her to follow him. “Let us get out of this heat. The cook at the pub has packed a bowl full of cream for the strawberries and she’ll be horrified if I let it spoil. Join me for lunch and allow me to enjoy your company.”
“And that is all?” she asked in a teasing voice as they stood on the threshold of the cottage that they were using for their honeymoon.
“That, and you must allow me to feed you at least one strawberry.”
“Only one?” she said, ducking her head as he picked her up and carried her into the sunlit cottage. “Very well, then, but we are only to discuss books and fashion and weather as any newly courting couple would.”
“Agreed.” He put her down so that the tip of her half boots touched the floor, but the rest of her body was tightly held in his arms. “Of course, I’m flexible. I shall not hold you to the agreed-upon agenda if, shall we say, the course of the afternoon takes a decidedly different turn.”
“It won’t,” she said in a husky voice. After all, it had been Jase’s idea to embark on a real courtship. Not hers.
“Well, then, here we are.” He stepped over the threshold and placed the basket atop a round table that sat before a blue brocade lounge, decorated in the airy Chinese style.
He released her wrist, only to capture her hand in his as he maneuvered her behind the lounge to where brocade curtains were drawn. He parted them, revealing brilliant sunlight filtering through the panes of a long bank of French doors, which he opened. A gust of rose-scented air washed over them, heavy and humid, tranquil and sensual. Below the cottage was a ha-ha, a valley that had been dammed and filled to resemble a lake. Beyond the dam lay sloping hills that reminded her of emerald velvet. The vista was a patchwork of squares, all symmetrical and outlined with stone walls or hedgerows winding down to the lake, and the mountain behind. Dotted on the green tapestry were sheep, cattle and horses all moving languidly in the midday heat, resembling tiny insects flickering on a felt cloth.
The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories Page 31