The feel of his hands around hers was oddly reassuring. Their gazes met, and something else, too. She didn’t know precisely what it was, but it made her heart stumble and her pulse hasten.
But the next instant she sighed wistfully. “I just wish my mother and father could be here. I doubt the letter has even reached them by now.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I know. And for that I’m sorry. But your uncle will brook no delays. He’ll have my head if we wait. Besides… I think I prefer it this way.”
Arabella frowned. “Why?” Oh, no doubt he feared that if they waited, he would reconsider. And then where would she be?
A smile began to dally about his lips. “It’s certainly easier to simply marry you than court you. Now, at least, I won’t have to fend off the horde of admirers surrounding you at every event.”
She wrinkled her nose. “This is the first time you’ve even called on me,” she said wryly.
“And after tomorrow, there’ll be no need. You’ll be right in my own house whenever I want you.”
Whenever I want you. Precisely what he meant by that, Arabella wasn’t certain. Nor, she decided shakily, was she prepared to speculate.
“I don’t even know where you live,” she murmured.
“I have a townhouse on Berkeley Square
. I think you’ll find it quite charming.” Out in the foyer, the longcase clock chimed the hour. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I must go. I’ve a business appointment soon.”
Arabella’s brows shot high. “You? A business appointment?”
He chuckled at her doubtful expression. “Actually, I’ve been quite successful. My most recent acquisition is a bank in Scotland. So you see, you’re marrying a stodgily respectable gentleman after all.”
Stodgy? That was the last word on earth she would use to describe Justin Sterling. Her lips quirked. “A pity,” she replied mildly, “for here I was, looking forward to taming a scoundrel!”
“Oh, there’s plenty of that left in me,” came his brash rejoinder. The wholly wicked light that appeared in his eyes should have served as warning. She should have known better than to challenge a man like him! Before she knew it, strong arms swept around her and dragged her onto his lap. One hand anchored firmly around her waist, and with the other he captured her chin. Her lips parted in sweet surprise as his mouth closed over hers. He proceeded to kiss her mouth with a thoroughness that made the world spin and drove the very air from her lungs.
Her head was still whirling when he rose and set her on her feet, so much so that she had to clutch at his forearms for support.
He righted her, his hands large and warm on her waist. “All right now?”
Arabella nodded and reluctantly opened her eyes.
To her shock, his easygoing smile had vanished. In its stead was an expression so intense, so fierce, she caught her breath. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking.”
“What?”
His gaze scoured her features, one by one, until at last it came to rest on her lips. “The next time I kiss you, you’ll be my wife.”
Fifteen
The ceremony began at precisely three o’clock the next afternoon at her aunt and uncle’s townhouse. Other than Georgiana, who was her maid of honor, and Georgiana’s parents, those present were limited to family — Sebastian, Devon, Julianna, the twins, Arabella’s aunt, her cousins and their respective families. The only exception was the Dowager Duchess of Carrington. Sebastian stood as Justin’s best man. Reverend Lynch, who had been a friend of her father’s for many years and whom Arabella had known since childhood, presided.
She entered the drawing room on Uncle Joseph’s arm. Her knees were quaking so badly she marveled that she could even walk. Her eyes widened when they paused at the threshold. Aunt Grace had decorated the room with dozens and dozens of fragrant red and white roses.
Yet in the very next heartbeat, her eyes strayed inevitably to Justin, looking very tall, very dark, splendidly attired in dark chocolate that made his light eyes blaze like emeralds. His carriage was proudly erect, but his expression was unreadable. He neither smiled nor frowned. His demeanor was solemnly intent, and she felt herself suddenly plunged into turmoil. They weren’t even wed…did he regret it already?
To spend a lifetime joined to someone who would never love her…oh, God, how could she do it? she thought desperately. How could she bear it? This was her wedding day. Her wedding day. From the time she’d been old enough to entertain the notion of her own marriage, she had always been so certain that should this day come to pass, she would be hopelessly, helplessly in love with her husband…and he with her. But this wasn’t the love match she’d wanted. Nothing had happened as it should have, and here she stood, mere inches away from the man who would be her husband for the rest of her days, teetering on the brink of the rest of her life…
A week ago she’d have sworn she most certainly did not love Justin Sterling, that she could never love a man such as he. But all at once she wasn’t so certain…Did she love him? Did she? A hand seemed to close about her heart and squeeze. Within her churned a mass of such quivering, jumbling emotions that in all truth, she wasn’t certain she knew up from down, right from left, the moon from the stars.
Yet one thing stood out above all. The thought that Justin might never love her caused a crushing pain in her chest. It hurt as nothing in the world ever had…as nothing ever would.
She had the most hysterical desire to turn and run screaming from the house.
Instead, three steps closed the distance between her and Justin. Three small steps and her life would be forever changed. They were at once the hardest — and the easiest — she’d ever taken.
Reverend Lynch cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved,” he intoned, “we are gathered here together in the sight of God…”
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. The next thing she knew, Reverend Lynch had turned to Justin.
“Wilt thou have this woman as thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others keep thee only unto her as long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.”
Quiet as his tone was, beneath was a note of such gravity, such clear, unfaltering conviction that Arabella was momentarily stunned. Reverend Lynch was speaking again, but she scarcely heard. Why, if one were not familiar with both the man and his reputation, it would be only too easy to believe he meant every word!
Reverend Lynch had paused.
Almost belatedly it occurred to her it was her turn. Her hands began to shake. The small bouquet of roses she held was quaking so that they were slipping and sliding against the silk of her gown…
The only sound in the room.
Arabella couldn’t help it. Her gaze sped straight to Justin. He regarded her, one dark brow cocked arrogantly aslant, a glint in his emerald eyes, as if in a silent dare.
Her chin came up. “I will,” she heard herself say all in a rush, then wondered madly if she sounded as tremulous and terrified and elated as she felt inside.
The next thing she knew, the reverend announced, “You may kiss the bride.”
It was done.
Justin turned to her. Her mind recorded a fleeting impression of burning green eyes, and then hard arms encircled her. His mouth captured hers in a kiss that stole her breath and her heart and made a thousand shivers play over her skin. Would it always be like this? she wondered achingly. She hoped so. She prayed so.
The world was still spinning when at last he lifted his mouth. She blinked up at him. “Oh, my,” she whispered unthinkingly.
He threw back his head and laughed, the rogue, for all to see and hear!
Arabella promptly fixed him with what she hoped was a suitably admonishing frown.
He was undaunted. To her shock, he proceeded to kiss her again — and just as rousingly.
This time
when she opened her eyes, it was to the sound of applause!
Arabella felt a fiery blush start at her neck and seep upward. “You are a scoundrel,” she accused without heat.
He slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Well, I did warn you, didn’t I?”
A celebratory dinner followed. Uncle Joseph’s stiff, formal manner toward Justin had thawed considerably by the time the main course was served, and for that, Arabella was glad. But almost before she knew it, dinner was over and it was time to go.
Near the door, the family gathered around to wish them well. It was a wild scene. The twins were squealing and darting everywhere, along with her cousins’ little ones. There was much laughing and jesting. Aunt Grace was the last to step forward. She was smiling, but her eyes were glistening. In her hand was a dainty handkerchief.
At the sight of her aunt’s tears, a hot ache filled her chest. Blindly Arabella reached out. She buried her face against Aunt Grace’s cap. “Aunt Grace,” she whispered on a watery half-sob, “I’m so sorry you didn’t get to plan a proper wedding.”
Grace hugged her fiercely. “It’s all right, dear,” she whispered back, the words meant for Arabella’s ears alone. “You can make up for it by allowing me to plan the christening of your firstborn.”
Justin had fallen back several steps to speak with Sebastian. He chose that exact moment to glance over at her. Over her aunt’s shoulder, their eyes met. His were bland, but Arabella was quite certain hers were huge. She swallowed and averted her gaze, her mouth dry as bone. She had hardly dared to think beyond the wedding, let alone to children. Would Justin even want children? Her mind skidded forward to the night ahead. For that matter, would he claim his husbandly rights?
Her breath wavered. The kiss they’d shared earlier blazed high in her mind. Her entire body went hot. Justin was an extremely healthy, virile man who was known for his sexual appetites. Unless she was mistaken, she decided cautiously, she was fairly certain he would…
The subject was still very much on her mind when the carriage rolled up before a brick-fronted home on Berkeley Square
a short time later.
Justin turned to her. “I thought we’d spend the night here,” he said in a casual, offhand manner. “Given the speedy nature of our wedding, I’m afraid there simply wasn’t time to plan a lengthy wedding trip. But if you like, I thought we might leave in the morning for a week or so in Bath. I hope that meets with your agreement.”
“Oh, I adore Bath,” Arabella said brightly. “It’s particularly lovely this time of year.”
No, Justin thought vaguely. What was particularly lovely was her…
A footman opened the carriage door.
He tore his gaze from her lips. “Come. Let me show you my —” He stopped short. “Your new home.”
An odd little thrill went through Arabella. Some of her apprehension fled.
Her fingers on his elbow, Justin introduced her to the staff, then led her through the house. It was utterly charming, roomier than she expected without being ostentatious, the furnishings comfortably elegant without being pretentious. She exclaimed her pleasure, and though Justin said nothing, she could tell he was pleased.
They ended in what he explained was his bedchamber, a large, masculine room done up in maroon and browns, dominated by an immense four-poster bed.
She tried not to stare at it, but she couldn’t stop herself, either.
“Are you hungry?”
She actually jumped. “Oh, no.” Her voice was high-pitched and strained. “I couldn’t eat a bite after that huge dinner.” Somehow she dragged her eyes from the bed.
She was nervous, Justin knew. He sensed it. He could hear it in her voice, see it in the way her gaze grazed his, only to flit immediately away. He wanted to laugh, but wasn’t quite sure he dared. Wedding night jitters were to be expected. He’d married a gently bred maid, after all, despite her claim that she knew very well how the act of procreation was done. Indeed, he wondered if that had been sneer bravado.
“Well, then, I expect you’d like some privacy. I’ll send Annie in.”
Arabella blinked. “Annie? Annie is here?”
He nodded. “I managed to persuade your aunt to allow her to enter my employment instead.”
“Thank you, Justin.” She paused, oddly touched by the gesture. “That was very kind of you.”
He inclined his head. “It was my pleasure.”
He left, and Annie came in to help her from her wedding gown. A small trunk containing some of her things had apparently been transferred earlier in the day. It was from there that Annie removed the nightgown and wrapper she would wear tonight. Her presence was comforting, but after brushing her hair, Annie promptly withdrew.
Alone, Arabella rose from the dressing table and began to pace, only to catch sight of herself in the cheval mirror sitting in the corner. Her jaw literally dropped open. She regarded herself in dismay. A stranger stared back at her, a stranger with burnished red waves tumbling about her shoulders and down her back. The nightgown she wore was but a wisp of sheer lace — and hardly worth the exorbitant price she knew Aunt Grace had paid. There were tiny little ties at the shoulders and at the waist. Her entire body was clearly visible, from the ivory sheen of her skin, the rouge of her nipples, to the downy triangle of reddish gold curls between her thighs.
It was a gown meant to entice. To tempt. To… Lord, but her mind almost refused to form the word…to titillate. She felt quite…oh, sweet mercy, quite scandalous! Fast on the heels of that thought came another.
Would Justin like it? She wanted him to, she realized with a pang. She wanted him to be entranced. Enthralled. She longed for it with an intensity that made her ache inside.
It was in the midst of that very thought that the door opened and closed.
Arabella turned. The urge to clamp her arms over herself was almost more than she could stand. Yet she didn’t shirk from Justin’s gaze. It slid over her from head to toe, leaving no part of her untouched. Holding her breath, she stood her ground, the hopes of a hundred prayers and dreams lifting her heart and the corners other lips.
Sixteen
Justin didn’t move. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even breathe. She looked like an angel in white, her eyes brilliant and blue and shining like heaven itself. The air of utter purity that surrounded her stabbed at him like the prick of a knife.
Oh, Christ. What had he done? She was his wife. His wife. And she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve a blackguard like him. Pain ripped through him like the slash of a blade. He was weak-kneed…weak-hearted. It was all he could do not to spin around and run, for he despised himself in that instant. He was black inside, as black as she was sweet and innocent. And though she might not see it tonight, she would someday. She would hate him if she knew what he was, what he’d done. Hate him, and he couldn’t stand the thought.
Through sheer dint of will, he dragged his gaze from the vision before him.
Arabella didn’t know what was wrong, only that something was. But she saw the way his eyes darkened, like a cloud across the sun, the way the muscles of his face seemed to freeze. Her smile wilted…along with her heart.
What folly had seized hold of her? Her new husband was the handsomest man in all England. And what was she but a graceless, awkward clod of a woman whom he would never have wed if Aunt Grace and Georgiana hadn’t caught them kissing? How could she have possibly deluded herself into believing he wanted her?
She felt as if a sick coil of dread were slowly strangling her. Clasping her hands in a white-knuckled grip before her, she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said wildly. “I just assumed that since it was our wedding night…But no one need know if you prefer that we are not…not…intimate.”
“Arabella —”
“I know a marriage is supposed to be consummated in order for it to be valid, but really, it’s no one else’s business but ours —”
Justin had gone very still. “Arabella, what the hell are you babbl
ing about?”
There was a stark, empty hole where her heart should have been. Her throat ached with the effort it took to hold back tears. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. She absolutely would not.
She plunged on. “I understand. Truly I do. I know that I’m not beautiful like your other women. I’m quite aware I cannot hope to compare with —”
His expression underwent a lightning transformation. “Damnation!” he swore.
“What nonsense is this?”
“I saw you, Justin. I saw! You looked at me as if you could not stand the sight of me!”
He made a sound low in his throat. “Come here,” he demanded.
“I will not.” Through some miracle, she managed to hold on to a shred of dignity. “Just…just tell me what to do. Where I should sleep…”
He crossed to her. Her hands were clenched like fists; he had to nearly pry them apart. Her skin was ice-cold, but he took her fingers firmly within his. Her expression was still painfully half-defiant, half-wounded.
This was all his fault, he realized tautly. How could he explain? He wasn’t sure he could find the right words. It wasn’t the thought of being with one woman that frightened him — it was fear of failing her. Arabella. He didn’t know how or when it had happened, but somehow she had become very precious to him. He was terrified that he would do something to drive her away.
If he was wise, he would let her go this instant. But he was who he was. A greedy, selfish bastard. And he knew, beyond anything, that there was no way he would allow her to leave this room.
He took a deep, unsteady breath, caught in the grip of some vast, powerful emotion he could not deny. He knew then. He knew why he had married her: This was what he wanted. What he’d wanted all along. This night. This moment. This woman.
“It wasn’t you,” he said quietly. “It isn’t you. It’s me. I walked in, and there you were, looking so much like an angel that…well, you know my past. You know my reputation. I’m a devil. Everyone knows it. You know it. And I know it wasn’t the wedding you dreamed of. I know I’m not the husband you dreamed of. But I would not — I will not — dishonor you.”
Perfect 2 - A Perfect Groom Page 17