Persuading Patience

by Emma V. Leech

The poor devil was quite determined that they should be chaste until the wedding night. But really, when you were marrying a man like August, Patience thought she may as well get the benefit of his experience. Why she had to wait when they had every intention of marrying the moment they got to Gretna Green, she really didn’t see.

  “Stay!” he repeated, and she raised an indignant eyebrow.

  “I’m not a pet dog,” she retorted as he gave a huff of amusement.

  “No,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “They’re better behaved.”

  Patience gave him a narrow look. “Oh, you didn’t just say that?” With a determined expression, she reached for the fastening on the light summer dress she wore. It was actually one of her older gowns, but a favourite as she felt it flattered her rather ample proportions. It was a pale green with tiny red spots, and had a placket front, which she intended to use to her advantage, providing she was brave enough. Yet with August’s eyes on her like he wanted to devour her in one bite, she didn’t seem to have a problem with being bold.

  She had never in her life before considered herself beautiful, not even pretty. Yet, when the handsome fellow in front of her stared with such hunger in his eyes, she felt like Cleopatra herself, with Marc Anthony at her feet.

  With a hand that trembled, just a little, she reached for the first hook and eye that held the bib front closed, and undid it. August’s eyes grew wider as he watched, giving her a vicarious thrill as she reached for the hook on the other side.

  “Patience,” he said, his voice husky all at once, a rather desperate look in his eyes. They had not long stopped for lunch, so she knew it would be hours before they stopped again, and they were in the heart of the countryside, so ... “Patience, you don’t know what you’re doing to me …”

  The bib front dropped open, though there was nothing indecent about it yet, so she reached for the ties that attached to the back of the dress at her waist. Before she could get any further, August moved, hauling her into his arms and kissing her hard.

  “You little devil,” he cursed against her lips. “You’re trying to kill me.”

  To her frustration, he moved away and snatched the ties back up, fastening them with rather deft fingers. Just how he’d become so adept with women’s clothing was a thought that did not sooth her irritation. Why should everyone else get they wanted from him and not her?

  “August,” she remonstrated as he secured the hook and eye fastenings, too, though she felt sure his hands weren’t quite so steady now. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

  He gave her a look of outrage and folded his arms, a determined glint in his eyes that boded ill. “I am not being a stick in the mud,” he retorted, looking really rather put out. “We have one more night to endure and we’re damn well going to do it. You are going to be a virgin on our wedding night if it bloody kills me, and if you keep this up, there’s a good chance it will,” he added.

  Patience rolled her eyes at him, mirroring his indignant posture and crossing her arms. “Why?” she demanded, rather aware that she sounded like a petulant child and not caring in the least. “Everyone will think you ruined me enroute, anyway.” She gave a huff of irritation. “If I have to put up with the scandal of it, I don’t see why I shouldn’t actually get the benefit.”

  August made a sound of exasperation. “Good God, woman, what will come out of your mouth next?” He gave her a scandalised look which Patience really thought rather funny. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Then, however, his brow furrowed and he looked rather serious. “I am sorry, Patience,” he said, the words weighted with guilt. “For the scandal, I mean.”

  Patience snorted and he gave her such an anxious glance that she shifted closer to him, linking their arms together. “I know you are, but there’s nothing to be done about it now, so I’m not going to worry about it. Who cares what people think anyway?” She shrugged and felt a glow of warmth in her chest at the smile he returned as he lifted her chin and kissed her.

  “You do,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate. “And don’t tell me you don’t because you’re a dreadful liar. But thank you for saying so.”

  She smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. No matter what happened, she was glad now. Glad that he had acted when she had prevaricated. She was committed to following her heart now, and she wouldn’t waste time on worrying about the future. For better or worse, she would take it one day at a time, and for today, she was happy.

  ***

  Patience sighed, roused from a pleasant dream as the carriage jolted her awake. “How long before we get there?” she asked, the words heavy with sleep as she lifted her head.

  “We’ve just crossed the river Sark,” August replied, something in his voice that made her look up at him. “Welcome to Scotland, love,” he said, and she saw trepidation in his eyes now. “We’re almost there.”

  Patience sighed as butterflies danced in her stomach, though it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Looking at August, however, she felt a qualm of unease, as he looked nervous. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts?” she demanded, fully awake as a pang of anxiety stabbed at her heart at the idea.

  “Of course not!” he retorted, looking affronted at the idea, though he still looked all on edge. “It’s … it’s just …”

  “Just?” she squeaked in alarm, good God, five days of travelling and now he had cold feet?

  He gave a huff, glaring at her. “I’m not having second thoughts, not even close,” he said again, his voice stern as he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “It’s just that I … I’ve never been responsible for anyone but myself before. Good heaven’s, Patience, I never even had a dog before.”

  “That’s not very flattering,” Patience remarked, her tone dry.

  August grinned at her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just …” He took her hand and kissed it before pressing it to his chest, against his heart. “I’m nervous.”

  Patience beamed at him. There was nothing he could have said that would have put her more at ease. “I’m glad,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m nervous, too.”

  He gave a snort, shaking his head. “That, my love, is how it should be,” he murmured as she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Not just for that, you devil,” she said, scolding him. “We are to be married. It’s a big commitment, August. If you weren’t nervous, I should be anxious that you didn’t take it seriously.”

  He looked at her then, those lovely green eyes warm as they settled on her. “I’ve never before been more serious in my life.”

  ***

  The infamous blacksmith’s shop at Gretna Green was nothing more than a tiny whitewashed cottage. August watched with amusement while Patience stared at it with interest as they made their way to the inn next door. The little village had profited very nicely from its romantic and scandalous reputation. There were plenty of inns and hostelries to welcome those who had decided to circumvent English marriage laws and elope, running to cross the border before angry fathers or brothers caught up with them.

  “My word, August,” Patience murmured as they crossed the threshold. “An anvil wedding.”

  August winked at her. “You always knew I was trouble, sweetheart,” he murmured, simply relieved to be here, and to discover his bride-to-be no longer hated him.

  They were received at the inn by a jovial old man who introduced himself as Joseph Paisley. He seemed delighted to discover that they were an eloping couple and assured them that a bed was ready for them. Apparently they always kept one “hot” just in case. The old fellow laughed heartily at his own joke and August wondered how many times it had been trotted out before. As far as August could discover, as he fought to translate the man’s impenetrable Scottish accent, it was the fellow’s nephew, a Mr Lang, that would marry them that afternoon. This was followed by a rather colourful story about a recent bride and groom who had been so desperate to cement their relationship before the bride’s angry father arri
ved that they hadn’t made the bedroom. Apparently there was a stable round the back if they felt the need.

  “What did he say?” Patience whispered, as the old fellow looked between them with a rather hopeful grin and a wink. He leaned in towards August and added in an undertone that no ceremony was legal until it was consummated.

  August cleared his throat and shook his head. “Haven’t the foggiest,” he lied, deciding such talk wasn’t fit for a young lady’s ear. Thanking Mr Paisley for his accommodation and dashing the fellow’s hopes by refusing the use of the stable, August bore Patience off in the direction of the Blacksmith’s shop.

  Mr Lang was a big, broad Scotsman with large features and an amiable expression much like his elderly uncle’s. He introduced himself with a rather self-important tone as Bishop Lang, but August forgave him this as he was very kind to Patience, putting her at her ease with a kindly if incomprehensible welcome. He was dressed in clerical robes, which August had not anticipated, seeing as he was really a blacksmith. He could only assume someone had tipped him the wink and he’d run to get changed the moment the carriage had pulled up. As soon as the financial side of the arrangement had been dealt with, the idea that this really was a family business was reinforced by the arrival of Mr Paisley, who beamed at them and introduced his daughter, Heather. Apparently these were their witnesses.

  “Hae ye a ring for the lassie?” Mr Lang demanded, a hopeful glint in his eyes. August eyed the box of gold bands that the man was about to wave under his nose and felt relieved at his forethought in having bought one before leaving. He didn’t doubt the bishop was fully prepared to fleece him.

  “I do,” August replied with a smile, retrieving it from his pocket. Happily he’d also remembered to remove it from Patience’s finger earlier that day, to spare her blushes. Mr Lang glowered a little, but he seemed a good-hearted sort and was soon all smiles again as he got down to business.

  August gripped Patience’s hand, glancing down at her, and was stunned to find her perfectly calm, her face placid and her lovely hazel eyes shining with happiness. He himself felt far from calm. His palms were sweaty, his heart thudding in his chest, and the sensation only increased as the fellow spoke the words of their marriage vows.

  “Will thou have this woman to thy wedded wife …”

  August sucked in a breath as the enormity of what he was doing settled upon his shoulders. He would have to change his ways now, though he discovered there was little to regret in that. He wondered how he could have been so blind for so long, not have noticed how unhappy he’d been. But he would have to provide for his wife, no more existing on his mother’s hand-outs and whatever he won on the horses or at cards. He had to be responsible and take control of his life. A squeeze of his fingers drew his attention back to Patience, who was smiling at him.

  “ … and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  There was a flicker of something in her eyes as those words were spoken, just the faintest glimmer of doubt, of fear, and August determined that he should never see it there again.

  “I will,” he said, holding her gaze, the words firm and powerful and full of honesty. She let out a breath and August felt his heart expand.

  August wasn’t sure if there had been a lifetime between the beginning of the ceremony and the moment they stepped into the bedroom as man and wife, or if perhaps it had been the work of mere moments. Either seemed equally possible. It was all something of a blur, a strangely unreal quality to the moment that gave it a dreamlike feel.

  Patience was standing by the bed, staring at the gold band on her finger with a rather dazed look on her face. He wondered what she was feeling now. Had it really sunk in now? Was she regretting it? For all that he knew, she desired him, that she liked his company and enjoyed being with him, he also knew that it was against her better judgement. He had given her his word and he’d meant it, forsaking all others. She’d seemed reassured by that, but he realised, in all the times they’d been together, she had never told him that she loved him. She wanted him, certainly, but now they were actually married, had it occurred to her that this might not be enough?

  “You’re stuck with me now, love,” he said, finding he was only half joking.

  She looked up at him and felt reassured by the look in her eyes, she looked happy.

  “I’m glad of it,” she said, smiling at him.

  He walked closer to her, feeling unaccountably nervous. “Honestly?” he asked her, pulling her into his arms. “Tell me truthfully, Patience,” he said, reaching to push a dark curl behind her ear. “I want you to know that you can always be honest with me, don’t … don’t ever say something because you think it’s what I want to hear. I don’t want that.”

  Her smile faltered a little and he felt his heart kick in his chest. “I am glad we are married,” she said, her voice firm and the smile returning to her eyes. “But of course I am nervous, worried for the future. This will be a big change for you and …” He waited, knowing that he’d invited the truth, now he had to endure it. “And I’m not the kind of woman I think you imagined yourself marrying.”

  August snorted at that. “Well, that’s true,” he retorted, shaking his head at her. “As I never saw myself marrying at all, if I could possibly help it.”

  She nodded, her face grave, and August cursed himself. He’d meant that to be reassuring, to show her that no one else had the power to bring him here, to this moment. Pulling her closer, her rested his forehead against hers. “I’m here because you showed me who I really am, Patience. You made me realise what it meant to have someone who was your friend as well as your lover. You made me fall in love with you. I can’t imagine anyone else being here with me, I promise you that.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, determined that she should be made to understand exactly how he felt, and he fully intended to show her in detail.

  Chapter 19

  “Wherein Patience is rewarded.”

  Patience shivered with anticipation as August pulled her closer. All at once, she was glad he’d insisted on waiting, glad that this was to be their first time. That it was really happening at all still seemed somewhat improbable. If someone had told her before she’d left home for Bath with her family, that in a very short space of time she would be married to Lord Marchmain, of all people, she’d either have laughed in their face or slapped them.

  He drew back a little, looking down at her, and the feeling of unreality persisted. Good Lord, but he was beautiful, and he was hers. It was too extraordinary to be true.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, the words breathed against her mouth.

  She didn’t need another invitation. Linking her hands behind his neck, she tugged him lower as she raised up on her toes. Pleasure and desire ignited, coiling in her belly, all molten, liquefied heat, and all at once she was impatient. Reaching for his lapels, she forced the tightly fitting fabric from his broad shoulders, smiling as she kissed him and he helped her wriggle his arms free. His coat fell to the floor in a heap and she reached for his buttons, finding her fingers stupid and clumsy in their haste to strip him of his finery. The waistcoat joined his coat in a tumble of elegant silk as she tugged at his shirt, pulling it free of the waistband. August broke the kiss for long enough to tug the voluminous thing over his head and throw it upon the growing pile before returning his mouth to hers. Patience caught her breath as she put her hands on him for the first time, finding his skin soft and warm, and yet the hair at his chest coarse and wiry. She ran her fingers through it, over the hard lines of his chest, intrigued as she followed the trail that led down a flat, toned belly and then disappeared. Her hands were as impatient to discover more as her eyes, and she fumbled at the buttons on the fall of his trousers as she struggled to undo them with more haste than speed.

  “I never met a woman more inappropriately named,” he murmured in her ear. Patience glanced up and found him smirking at her.

  “Stop looking so smug and help
me take these blasted things off,” she cursed, earning herself a bark of amused laughter.

  August sat on the edge of the bed and lifted one foot. “Help me with these first, then, you diabolical creature. I hadn’t realised what a bold little hussy I’d married.”

  “You knew full well,” Patience retorted, bending to grasp the shiny boot and pull. She stumbled back a few feet before dropping the boot and returning to help with the other. “You certainly knew when we met in the grotto,” she added, her tone rather triumphant now as she marked the darkening of this eyes.

  “My God, yes,” he said, his voice lower and somewhat husky now. “The sight of you in that cave … I thought I’d go mad for wanting you.” He stood then, pulling her to him again, his hands reaching for the fastenings of her dress, but Patience wriggled away.

  “Oh no,” she said, her tone tart. “You had your chance and rejected it. You insisted I wait and I did. So now it’s my turn, and I intend to unwrap my prize.”

  “Isn’t that my line?” August replied, an uncertain look on his face and sounding a little put out.

  “I have no idea, and I don’t care if it is.” Patience gestured at his remaining clothes and made a hurry up motion before folding her arms and waiting. She was thoroughly enjoying herself now. “Come along, then,” she instructed, chivvying him up.

  August huffed at her, but did as she commanded. Patience watched, with heat and desire growing hotter, her skin alive and over-sensitive as her mouth grew dry. He flung the remaining items on the heap in the middle of the floor and turned back to her, holding his arms out and turning in a full circle.

  “Well, wife?” he said, a glittering look in his eyes that suggested he knew full well what he looked like and the effect it was having on her. “Does everything meet with your satisfaction?”

  Patience took in the broad shoulders and muscular arms, the way his torso narrowed and that golden hair trailed down. She knew damn well she was blushing, but there was nothing to be done. He was perfection, and he was hers, and she wanted to take a moment to admire him.