Living London
Page 15
His head descended and he brushed a light kiss across my lips, making me ache for more. He drew back slightly, and an amused grin drew up the corners of his mouth. "That, my love, is the most exquisite kind of anticipation. And I'll be counting down the days, hours and minutes till you're truly mine." He pressed a kiss to my jaw, and my eyes slanted closed in pleasure as I moaned softly.
He stiffened before continuing his sweet seduction. Even if he kissed me each hour of every day, I'd never tire of his ardent affection. "I love you," he whispered just before he kissed me gently, parting my lips and teasing my lower lip with his tongue. He drew back, and the loss of his touch created a physical pain. His intent gaze was flickering with restrained passion. "And mine you will be," he swore as he cupped the back of my neck in his powerful hand and pulled me into a fierce kiss that made me forget my name.
Over and over his mouth ravaged mine until the corners of my lips were tender, but I didn't care. I never wanted him to stop kissing me, to leave. The pain of loving and loss was nothing compared to the powerful sensation of being loved fully and being pursued as Morgan had pursued me, even when I had been rendered unapproachable. He broke the seal of our lips, gasping for air as he threaded his fingers through mine.
"I have to leave," he groaned.
"No," I begged, irrational fear hitting me. What if it had all been a dream?
"Yes." His eyes met mine, and I saw self-control warring against his desire. Part of me wanted to be reckless, but I knew that threatening his control and taking that step would be not only reckless, but also harmful. Both of us would regret it later, and I wanted nothing to hinder our love. Lust's passion could have full reign later, and reign it would.
"When will you be back?" I asked, tracing his features with my fingers, memorizing the texture of his rugged skin and the bristle of his evening shadow of a beard.
His eyes closed, and when he spoke, it was a in a low timbre. "Not nearly soon enough." He kissed me again, ardently. Then, pushing me away gently, he took a deep breath. "Tomorrow, love, tomorrow," he promised.
"Morning?" I asked, remembering the same response I had given him at Drury Lane Theater.
He grinned. "Morning. Always the morning, love." He took a step toward me and caressed my cheek before kissing it lightly and striding to the door.
Chapter Eighteen
After the emotional roller coaster of the day, I wandered into the library on my way upstairs. I walked over to the fire and held out my hands to its blazing warmth when I noticed Persuasion still sitting out on the side table. I picked it up and flipped through the pages, looking for Nanna's note. Once I found it, I did something I hadn't done since I'd been three. I gently tore the page from the book and walked over to the shelf where it belonged. I reread the note aloud. "If you wish, you may return. Simply put on the same gown that got you here. But if you wish to stay, replace the book and don't look back, because you won't get the opportunity. You must always look forward."
With care, I lifted the book to the small space where it had been. After gently replacing it, I waited, wondering if some sort of magical effect would take place. Nothing. Disappointed, I folded the piece of paper with Nanna's note, caressing the bold flourishes with my finger. Then I continued upstairs.
Before I got ready for bed I searched my wardrobe for the dress — the one that I had almost used to go back to my own time. I'd been so close the night before. Just a breath away from making such a huge mistake.
As I searched, I was amazed at how such a short amount of time could change everything so entirely. Only last night I had lost all hope and nearly given into the fear and run. Now, only a scant twenty-four hours later, I was walking on air, full of hope and love. I was loved. Irrevocably and fully loved.
I went through my dresses again, but I couldn't find it. Sighing, I made my way to the desk in the corner of the room. I placed Nanna's note in an old Bible and lovingly caressed the cover before heading to the bed.
As I blew out the candles, I grinned to myself. Now that I was here forever, I'd be saying goodbye to all the modern inventions I'd relied on for so much of my life, but it didn't matter. It was worth it. Love was always worth it. Soon I'd be sleeping next to Morgan, and the thought brought a smile to my face. I drifted into a soft sleep, thankful that I hadn't gotten my wish, that I had stayed here.
Knock, knock, knock…
Ugh. Was I never going to get to wake up without someone trying to pound down my door?
"Miss Westin!" Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton cried in unison.
"Oh, just come in already!" I grouched, wanting to go back to my dreams of Morgan.
They both barreled through the doorway, almost getting stuck as they tried to enter at the same time. "Jocelyn, look!" Mrs. Trimbleton's tone was joyous. "The presses must have run hot all night to get this out! Can you imagine?" She beamed, and I lost all my anger at being awoken.
"What does it say?" I asked, trying to swipe Libby's copy.
"Here!" Libby handed it to me. "Read this one! It's the best, but all of them say about the same thing."
I tumbled out of bed and hauled the paper over to the window for light. I began to read, my smile so wide it was painful.
Fig's Society Note, July 11, 1914
Imagine my humiliation when I was delivered not one, but two notes last night of the most shocking nature, both pertaining to the previously maligned Miss W. Yes, you read correctly — previously. As I have learned, gentle reader, Miss W. was indeed not, I repeat, not ruined by a Lord A., but rather was left in the care of her friends till he could return from a short trip to his country estate to notify his family of his impending marriage. A marriage to Miss W. I, for one, cannot imagine the shock of dear Lord A upon returning to London and discovering not only his beloved future fiancée's distress, but the smear upon his own name from a bit of juicy, but grossly false, gossip. My letters — one from Miss W. herself — demanded apology, and indeed one is warranted. I would imagine that most of the haute ton is thinking the very same thing, wondering desperately how they can garner once again the good graces of one of the ton's brightest stars. I don't doubt that many notes will be written after this column is read and a great army of footmen dispatched on errands that will take them to the southwest corner of Hyde Park. On behalf of myself, I offer a sincere apology to Miss W. It is a sad day indeed when a woman must defend herself against the lies of others, especially in the publishing world. Only two questions remain: why was the rumor spread, and who, gentle reader, did it?
Clutching the paper to my chest, I spun in a circle, thrilled to my core. It was better than I had hoped. The joyful faces of Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton reflected my own, and I rushed to them, wrapping them both in a big hug. Mrs. Trimbleton paused a moment before hugging back, but Libby squeezed me immediately. It was over.
****
As the news had predicted, I was inundated with an obscene amount of correspondence, invitations, and visits from people offering sincere apologies, along with some not-so-sincere apologies. However, one face I did not see was that of Arynna. I was curious as to what she thought of the whole situation, but my curiosity faded quickly. I spent the morning in Morgan's company as we went over wedding details and plans to have the banns read. The true highlight of the morning came when my voucher to Almack's was restored.
Amelia was there to grin with me as I accepted the prized paper from Wains. "Almack's." I sighed, reverence lacing my tone. Though I had to admit, it was more of the idea than the actual place that held my fancy.
After excusing myself from Amelia's and Morgan's company, I rushed upstairs and placed the voucher next to the letter from Nanna. Earlier that morning I had asked Libby if she had taken the dress to be pressed, the one I was missing. She said she hadn't, and I suspected I'd never find that dress again. That was all right with me. I knew I was where I belonged.
A fuzzy sensation began in my head as my fingers traced the letter once more. I sat down and waited for the dizzin
ess to pass. I blinked a few times, then shook my head and stood carefully. As I left the room I had a vague feeling of déjà vu. The hallway was more familiar, and flickers of memories flashed in my mind for brief seconds before they disappeared.
Odd, I thought as I walked into the parlor where Amelia sat sipping tea with Morgan. Seeing her face sent a rush of memories to the front of my mind; Amelia and I whispering behind a plant as we pointed to Lord Rake. Amelia's brother's wedding. Chasing her through the manor of her country estate when we'd been little girls. All these flooded my mind.
Gasping, I turned to Morgan and relived moments with him, too. Morgan smiling at me from across the room, making my cheeks heat. Morgan dancing with me and joking. Morgan as a young boy, his mother scolding him for staring at me and being impolite. His ears had glowed red. Everything from my childhood and adolescence that would have happened had I truly been born in this time filled my head, causing me to waver slightly on my feet.
Morgan was there in an instant, supporting me. "Jocelyn! Love, what is wrong? You nearly swooned!" I recognized his concerned expression as I had another memory of him carrying me when I had tripped in the park.
"You carried me when I was six, after I fell. Didn't you?" I asked.
His expression was first shocked, then it turned to wonder. "Yes, I did," he answered reverently. "That was the first time I saw you. You were so beautiful but stubborn. You didn't want my help."
I giggled as I remembered resenting his help but not for reasons he assumed. I'd been embarrassed to be carried by such a handsome boy. "I was embarrassed," I stated.
"Were you? That explains the lovely red color of your face. I thought you were merely hot. It was summer, after all." He snickered, and I realized he knew he had embarrassed me and had probably done it on purpose.
"If you knew, then why did you do it? Why didn't you just help me? You didn't need to carry me," I scolded playfully.
"And turn down the opportunity to hold you in my arms?" He grinned mischievously. "Never."
"Good answer." My eyes locked with his, and I saw myself reflected in their depths.
"Honest answer," he replied. After a moment his grin gave away to a questioning stare. "When did you begin to remember?"
"Only a few moments ago," I answered.
"Ahh, thus the swooning."
"Yes, thus the swooning."
"What about me? Do you remember me at all?" Amelia asked as she came over to us.
"Yes! Everything, even hiding behind that wretched plant so we could spy on Lord Heath." I giggled as Amelia blushed profusely.
"Yes, well…" she began before rolling her eyes in an unladylike fashion.
"Well at least now I won't have to constantly watch out for you at the parties," she remarked, baiting me.
"I was not that bad," I retorted cheekily.
"Yes. Yes, you were," she replied.
"Fine. I'm no longer your burden to bear." I stuck my nose in the air before I turned to Morgan. "I'm his." I pointed to his chest and pushed him slightly, teasing him. He grabbed my finger and pulled me closer to him, wrapping his hands around my waist as Amelia cleared her throat and glanced away.
"Yes, you most certainly are mine."
Chapter Nineteen
Weeks passed, and the banns were read, solidifying everything. By the day of my wedding, Arynna's vicious rumor had made Morgan and me the most sought-after couple in the ton. Invitations to our wedding had become more coveted than vouchers to Almack's. I sighed contentedly, twisting to see the long Grecian train that flowed from my empire waist. How I'd made it to my wedding day with virtue in tact was a mystery. Morgan had more than made up for his mistakes in kisses and sweet whispers that often made me blush.
"Jocelyn?" Amelia called as she knocked softly on the door.
"Come in!" I called to the new Lady Heath. Marriage had been good for her, even if it had only been a week so far. She and Lord Heath had chosen to remain in London for my own wedding before they left for Italy. I was thankful to have her there. Her presence settled my nerves, since she'd gone through the very same ceremony only shortly before.
"You look beautiful!" She gasped, clapping her hands as she walked around me. "I cannot wait to see Morgan's face when he sees you!"
"I'm so nervous… all those people staring at me," I confided, just wanting the whole ceremony over and done with so that I would officially belong to Morgan.
"Oh, the anticipation is far worse than the actual walk down the aisle." She spoke comfortingly. "As soon as you see your husband-to-be, everyone else will fade away."
"I love the way that sounds." Here I was, only a few minutes from heading to the church and walking down the aisle. It felt like a lifetime ago that I'd walked through the halls of the nursing home, checking on Nanna and saying goodbye to my last family tie. Now, here I was surrounded by friends, belonging to a new family and about to create my own. The thought overwhelmed me. Looking up, I sent up a prayer and asked God to thank Nanna for me. She'd known what she'd been talking about, though how, only God knew.
"It's time," Amelia said with a joyful expression.
"It truly is," I whispered, walking toward my future.
****
The wedding was grand, and Amelia's words proved true. As soon as I caught sight of my husband I was unaware of anyone else in the room. His eyes sparkled with fire and disbelief as I walked toward him. I had no one to escort me, so we broke tradition and he met me halfway, causing a stir within the crowd. I didn't mind. I'd been through far worse and survived.
Upon reaching me, he took my hand ever so gently and kissed it, never once breaking eye contact. "How I utterly adore you, Jocelyn," he whispered, only loud enough for me to hear.
"I'm quite fond of you too." I tried to tease, but the dark look he gave me left me incapable of carrying it out.
"Brilliant," he remarked, a rakish grin taking over his features as he quickly leaned down to kiss me soundly on the lips.
"Now," he crooned, "you're ruined." He smiled, turned, and escorted me down the aisle with titters and whispers overcoming the music. But all I could do was smile.
The wedding went flawlessly, besides the improper display of affection. It had scandalized the dowagers, but thankfully it was forgiven because they said it was owed after what had transpired in the not-so-distant past. Amelia couldn't wipe the grin off her face when she told me. She didn't stay for the wedding breakfast, and based on the hungry glances her new husband gave her, I figured I knew why.
Arynna was one of the only people not present. I had learned through Amelia that she had retired to the country early, creating gossip over why such a promising debutante would flee the London scene. Why indeed?
Morgan excused himself for a moment, and I walked about the room, nodding to each guest. The whisper of my gown as I walked added to the fairy-tale emotional charge to the atmosphere. The music hummed in the background and was accented by the many conversations taking place at the same time. I glanced about for Morgan but didn't see him. A strange urgency pounded through my body, and my heart sped up its tempo as I scanned the crowd. The sea of humanity parted enough for me to have a glimpse of Morgan's black suit and profile but Lord Dannberry stepped in front of me to offer congratulations.
"Splendid! Splendid indeed! Many blessings to you both!"
"Thank you, Lord Dannberry." I nodded and glanced behind him in an effort to see Morgan, but he was gone. As Lord Dannberry raised his hand to catch another gentleman's attention I began to turn to continue my search. A warm hand covered my eyes and a familiar and alluring voice tickled my ear.
"Surprise, Jocelyn. Were you looking for me, love?"
A warm smile tilted my lips, and I turned only to have my husband pull me into a waltz as the music began a crescendo.
"Yes, indeed I was looking for you."
Morgan grinned, and I gasped. My dream! Astounding wonder filled my mind as I realized that this was the dream I had experienced just before I was d
rawn back into Regency London.
"Are you distressed, Jocelyn? Are you well?" Morgan's expression was concerned as he scrutinized my expression. I nodded then swallowed, blinking back tears of wonder and joy.
"Yes, I'm absolutely wonderful."
After our waltz Morgan offered me a glass of champagne, which I sipped delicately.
"How long must we stay?" I asked Morgan discreetly as I lifted my glass.
"Every minute is torture, I assure you. I do not want to be here any longer than absolutely necessary," he whispered back, giving my body a rakish glance.
"Will they forgive us if we leave now?" I asked with a suggestive grin.
"Do you care if they don't?" His gaze smoldered.
"No," I answered.
"Good. Neither do I."
And with that, we snuck out of our own party and startled Morgan's footman as we raced up to the carriage.
Once inside, my laughter at the startled expression and feminine squeal of the footman died on my lips. The expression on Morgan's face silenced me.
"Jocelyn."
I closed my eyes, savoring my name on his lips. "Mmm," I sighed. When I opened my eyes again his intense stare held me captive.
"Jocelyn Ansley," he whispered.
The tension crackled between us as he reached across the carriage and trailed a soft caress down my arm before lacing his fingers within my own. Not a moment later, he came across the carriage and sat beside me, pulling me close into his frame.
"Say it again, please."
"Jocelyn Ansley. My wife." He spoke the words as if they tasted like honey.
"Morgan Ansley." I spoke, tilting my head to whisper the next words just a breath from his lips. "My husband."
With an ardent growl, he kissed me — nipping, pulling, and devouring. "I swear you are the sweetest torture, but the blasted minutes till we reach our home are going to drive me mad," he whispered hoarsely, pausing only a moment before continuing his passionate attentions.
Gasping, I leaned closer and ran my fingers up his chest, unbuttoning his vest. The thin fabric of his shirt prevented me from caressing his bare skin. A frustrated sound strangled from his throat as my fingers teased his skin, so close yet far away.