by Dayna Quince
Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh…”
“My father was the greatest man I’ve ever known, and he will be absent for the greatest moments of my life.” His words sounded choked.
Anabelle was glad she couldn’t see his face. If she did, she would fall apart. He missed his father. He wanted his father to be here. Her heart ached for him.
“I’m sorry,” she uttered. She turned in his hold and hugged him, burying her head in his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, too. I had no intention of hurting you, but as I was standing there, I couldn’t stop thinking of him, couldn’t stop picturing him beside my mother smiling. I had to leave and then I couldn’t find the courage to come back.”
Anabelle squeezed him tightly. “I understand. It’s fine now.” She tilted her head up to look at him. She still couldn’t see all his features, but she could feel his eyes on her. They were both silent for a long time.
“You look like a moonlight angel again. Tempting me to sin.”
“I believe it was you who was tempting me.”
He dipped his head and brushed her lips with his.
There was a knock on the door.
“Time has run out,” Hazel said in a loud whisper.
“Damn it to hell,” Draven grumbled.
Anabelle smiled and pulled away. She held out her hand. “We can go back together.”
He took her hand, and together they left the study.
Chapter 24
The morning was perfect. Mist hovered over the lawn as the sun breached the line of trees, and the chirping of birds woke Anabelle. She opened her eyes slowly, the light weak and rosy. She smiled and rolled to her side to face her window. The lacy curtains billowed softly, the air cool and fresh but not so cold to keep one in bed. It beckoned her to rise, to breathe deeply of the morning air and welcome the day. This day would be unlike any other day.
This day was her wedding day.
Lady Draven and his sisters had arrived yesterday. Draven would be arriving this morning. Most of the preparations were done. Garland of flowers decorated the stairs, servants likely already awake and bustling about. With excitement, Anabelle rose from the bed and slipped into her dressing gown. Her mother had a tight schedule running this morning, beginning with breakfast. Anabelle would stay in her room to break her fast, and Hazel would be joining her. Anabelle thought it would be nice if Mary and Felicity did, too.
There was a knock on the door. Her maid entered to be sure she was up and dressed before allowing two footmen to bring in a table and chairs. Hazel followed shortly, carrying two mugs of chocolate. Mary and Felicity arrived shortly after, escorted by their nanny. Anabelle shooed her away and insisted the girls would be adequately supervised.
They were pink-cheeked with excitement, happy to be included in Anabelle’s special day. Anabelle made sure they had a special place in the ceremony, Mary wearing a beautiful gown becoming of her age and holding Anabelle’s train. Felicity would go before them sprinkling flower petals. Anabelle wanted them to like her. She wasn’t taking their brother away, she was becoming another member of their family. Yesterday, after Lady Draven had arrived and settled in, she and Anabelle had gone for an evening walk in the garden. Janet, as she insisted Anabelle now call her, told her stories of Draven as a boy, causing an awful raucous for the household and how his father encouraged him. Anabelle laughed at her vision of Draven as a boy and secretly hoped she would give him a son just like him.
The four giggled their way through a breakfast of hot chocolate, eggs and toast, fresh fruit, and bacon. The nanny returned to fetch the girls to get them ready, and Hazel departed just long enough for her own bath before returning to Anabelle. Together, they had their hair done, dressed, and waited for their mother to fetch them when the carriage was ready. The morning had flown by for Anabelle, and it was already time to drive to the church. Her stomach bubbled nervously, but she was excited and anxious to be on her way. Anabelle was in love with her dress. She had chosen it from an older print of the modesty they faithfully attended.
The overdress was white satin, short-waisted, and open down the entire length of the front. The elbow length sleeves were trimmed with folds of georgette crêpe caught with circlets of pearls. The dress was full in the back and sewn into narrow pleats that caught to the high waist line, hanging free to form a train. The petticoat was embroidered with metallic thread and seed pearls in a flowery design from the high waist to the hem. Baby’s breath and white rose buds were pinned into her coiffure.
Anabelle and Hazel wanted something that had a definite meaning, but their mother would not relent in her choice. Anabelle did include certain fauna in her wedding bouquet and arrangements known only to her and Hazel, Lucy, and Thea. Sadly, they were the only attendee’s from their new Ivy Society. Her mother questioned why Anabelle would want such a common plant like Ivy leaves in her bouquet and in the other arrangements, but Anabelle insisted. The other flowers were an assortment of pale pink, lavender, and white roses.
Hazel and Anabelle met their small party in the front hall and filed into the carriage. The excitement hovered in the air. Anabelle was nervous, but it was a good sort that accompanied something joyful about to happen. It was only a short ride to the church in the village proper. There were cheers as she exited the carriage and waited for her turn to enter the church.
Hazel kissed her cheek before entering, followed by little Felicity who had yet to stop smiling.
It was now Anabelle’s turn. She smiled at Mary, who had tears glistening in her eyes. She looked up at her father, astonished to see his eyes also looked bright with emotion.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Papa.”
A footman held the door and the sound of the church organ grew louder. They stepped inside and at first, Anabelle was anxious about the many faces looking her way. She focused on the aisle before her, now strewn with pink petals, and she looked all the way to its end.
She saw him, looking stern and elegant in his blacks with a grey waistcoat and cravat. He was looking at Felicity, who was depositing the last of the petals about the alter with excruciating slowness. Anabelle almost laughed.
He looked up then as the music changed. Their eyes met and she began the slow procession forward. His entire demeanor changed. His eyes widened slightly, they lightened and crinkled about the corners as if he were resisting the urge to smile. His lips moved slightly.
She wanted to hurry to him, but the going was slow. As she stared at him, she remembered their conversation the day of Heather’s wedding. His abrasive cynicism had galled her. It was almost comical that she was walking towards him now. That, of all the gentlemen that she had tried to research and organize into a list, it was he, the very one who she tried to avoid, who she was now marrying.
He was the man who had proven himself to be exactly what she was looking for. Her heart swelled. It could only mean one thing. She loved him. Despite how she tried to control her heart and the fate of her hand, she was lead to him by both. He was complex and engaging. Not afraid to voice his opinion and the desires of his heart. He had wanted her, he had sought her, and Anabelle thanked God that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t resist him. He was her future now. She wanted to run to it—to run to him.
At last, they reached the alter, and her knees and hands were shaking when her father gave her away. She felt the burn of tears and dampness in her lashes. She took a fortifying swallow as she met his eyes, so bright and silvery. They faced forward and the Vicar began to speak.
After what seemed a lifetime, Draven and Anabelle burst from the church into the mid-morning sunshine. There were cheers from the villagers outside. Draven handed her into the open carriage, liberally draped with garlands of ivy and roses. Children chased the carriage until it crested the hill, leaving the village and passing out of sight.
Draven held her hands and turned to her. “I’ve been waiting an eternity for this.” His mouth clamped over hers.
&nb
sp; Anabelle could do naught but lean back against the seat and accept his kiss. She kissed him back. Eager and relieved that the ceremony was complete and they only had to suffer the celebratory madness a little while longer before escaping. All she wanted was to be alone with him, to be wrapped in his arms with no fear of interruption.
She was still a little scared of the unknown she had yet to experience, but she knew that, with Draven and the passion they shared, tonight would be more wonderful than anything she had experienced before.
They pulled apart to breathe and Anabelle blushed. She had completely forgotten the presence of the coachman. He smiled at her. “He doesn’t mind, I promise you. It’s to be expected.”
“I know. It’s just… not something I’m used to.”
“We still have a while yet before we will get our chance to be alone. I couldn’t resist. It’s not as though I will be able to steal you away in the middle of our wedding breakfast. Our family will certainly notice though there isn’t much they can say about it now.” He chuckled.
Anabelle laughed. He was being so lighthearted. All the normally hard angles and lines of his face were softened. He even looked younger. He looked happy. She held his hand as they pulled into the circular drive. They entered the house and were greeted by the servants. It was only a moment before other carriages began to arrive and they were soon surrounded by family and friends again.
There was barely a moment for Anabelle to stop and breathe as she spoke with family and friends and thanked everyone for attending. There was a luncheon and dancing, cake and champagne and endless well wishes. She was so grateful for it all, and truly moved by the warmth and love she felt surrounding her, but she wished time would move faster. The large grandfather clock in the hall ticked by slowly every time she passed.
At half past three, she begged her mother for a reprieve and went to her room to change. Her wedding dress was heavy. Putting on a pale lavender muslin dress felt like wearing almost nothing at all in comparison. All the rest of her things had already been packed and moved downstairs for her short trip to Draven’s home. She was about to return downstairs when her mother intercepted her outside her door.
“I’m glad I caught you. I can tell you are anxious to begin this new and exciting part of your life. May we talk a moment?”
“Of course, Mother.” Anabelle held the door and her mother entered her room and sat on the foot of her bed.
Anabelle sat in the chair at her vanity after turning it to face her mother. “Is something amiss?” Her mother looked a tad despondent.
“It has been a joy to raise such beautiful and intelligent daughters. I am thankful I only have to give away one at a time. I knew you would find a man worthy of you, a man with honor, a man who cares for his family.”
Anabelle swallowed and took a breath. If her mother was going to get sentimental, Anabelle would not be able to hold back her own tears.
Her mother sighed. “I didn’t come up here to turn us to water pots. I came because... well… you may have questions.”
Anabelle blinked. “Questions?”
Now her mother looked supremely uncomfortable. “About the duties of a wife and the—ah, marriage bed.”
Anabelle flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, dear.”
“Come sit beside me.” Her mother patted the bed.
Anabelle did and her mother took one of her hands.
“When you feel a great fondness for your husband, it will ease things. Trust him and be open to his attentions without fear. There is a great deal of pleasure to be had between a husband and wife when they care for each other. I believe you and Lord Draven care for each other. It may take time, but you will discover all the joys in your own way.”
Anabelle nodded, praying this would be the extent of their conversation. Her mother patted her hand.
“Good. Come say farewell to everyone and we will see you off.”
Anabelle nodded gratefully and stood. She looked around her room one last time and committed it to memory, and then she followed her mother downstairs.
Chapter 25
It was almost dark by the time they reached Draven Park. Anabelle could barely keep her eyes open as they emerged from the carriage to the lineup of servants. Draven introduced her and she did her best to smile and remember names. Once inside, Draven gave orders to Duncan, the butler, and ushered her upstairs. Exhaustion had won out over anxiety. The moment she set eyes on the bed in the master bedroom, all she wanted to do was climb into it and close her eyes. Her trunks had arrived ahead of them and stacked against one wall partially unpacked. A clever maid had already set out a sheer nightgown and equally as sheer matching dressing gown.
“We can have dinner here, and not have to move another inch if you wish.”
“Please,” Anabelle begged as she first sat daintily and then toppled back onto the bed. She threw her arms over her head and exhaled as she closed her eyes. She was startled awake when she felt warm hands on her calves.
“Draven!” she squeaked and sat up.
“It’s Ethan now, especially when we are in our bedroom, of which we will always share. None of this his and hers suites. You are my viscountess now.” His agile hands quickly divested her of her boots and slid higher up her legs. “We will sleep in this bed, make love in this bed, and God willing, I will die in this bed an old, old man.”
Anabelle frowned. “An ancient old man. The oldest man to ever live.”
“As you wish.” He smiled as he untied the first garter and then the next.
There was a knock on the door. Draven chuckled as Anabelle kicked him away and jumped off the bed. He waited by the door until she composed herself and took a seat in one of the chairs by the fireplace. He opened the door and trays of food were brought in and set down on a table ensconced in a large bay window.
“My parents have dined here many times as you can see,” he winked at her.
She pointedly looked away from him until all the servants had left. Alone again, she ventured to the table and he removed the covers. Roasted duck and potatoes, rolls, asparagus, and a bottle of wine. Anabelle licked her lips. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until now.
“Have a seat. The night is ours now. We won’t be disturbed.”
Anabelle sat in the chair he held for her and bit her lip as he filled a plate for her. He was being so kind and attentive. She knew instinctively that she could always trust him to meet her needs.
She ate with gusto and told Draven of the events leading up to the wedding while they were apart. Not scintillating conversation, but he listened regardless. He told her about the new horse for Mary, and how Raven wouldn’t leave the chickens alone, forcing them to rebuild the fence.
Before she knew it, she was pleasantly full and her lips were tingling from the wine Draven kept filling her glass with. It was time now and she was ready. She stood from her chair and slipped into his lap. All he was wearing now was his shirt and breeches. His arms came around her and he nuzzled her neck. Anabelle turned her mouth to his, taking the lead with a kiss. He let her lead the way, remaining patient as she took her time exploring his mouth and lips. Anabelle sighed as she pulled away and looped her arms around his neck.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
“Not with you. I know you will take care of me.”
She felt him swallow.
“I’m scared,” he confessed.
Anabelle’s eyes widened and she laughed softly. “Of what?”
“This is my wedding night too, you know. It means so much more to me than anything I’ve ever done. You mean more to me. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to fail you.”
Anabelle felt tears spring to life. “You won’t hurt me, Ethan. You couldn’t. Not in this.”
“But it still terrifies me. I’ve never cared so much.” His voice grew rough. “I love you.”
Anabelle felt her heart flutter like a bird set free. “Ethan…” she swallowed. So much emotion welled within her she wasn’t sur
e she could speak, but she had to, she had to tell him. “I love you, too.”
He looked startled at first. “Anabelle…”
“I truly mean it. I searched so hard for something I couldn’t even name, and then resisted it when you were the only one who made me feel anything at all. But I don’t want to fight it. I want to revel in it. I love you, Ethan. I love you and every time I say it, I am more sure. I was looking for you all along.”
“Oh, God, Anabelle,” he buried his face in her hair and stood with her in his arms. He carried her to the bed, settling her down gently and leaning over her to catch her lips. She opened her mouth readily, twining her arms behind his neck and holding him tightly. He ran his hands down the side of her body, reversing direction once he reached her knees and sliding her dress up her thighs. He left it bunched at her thighs, still keeping her covered and moved to her bodice. He cupped her breasts through the light muslin fabric and she arched against his hands. Pulling at the ribbon that laced up her bodice, he slowly unraveled the bow and pulled the laces loose.
Anabelle sat up and slipped her shoulders and arms out from the sleeves of the dress and chemise. She wasn’t bold enough to look at him as she pulled the bodice down to her waist, baring herself completely. She leaned back again and his hands returned to her breasts. His palms were hot against her skin, the pads of his fingers a little roughened. He touched her reverently. She felt as though she were being worshiped. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his hands, caring little for her modesty as he stripped away her dress. She didn’t open her eyes when he moved away. She heard the rustling of clothing and then he joined her on the bed, his body bare and burning where it touched her along her side.
She opened her eyes and he was looking down at her smiling. “What?” she said sheepishly.
“You are beautiful,” he said.