“You said that before.” Ella blushed again, the color spreading beyond her face, down her throat and disappearing into the neckline of her gown.
Luke wondered exactly how far it had spread and that thought had him so hard, he tried to discreetly adjust the fit of his trousers.
But he wasn’t discreet enough.
Ella caught him in the act. Her eyes widened and she parted her lips as if she intended to ask many questions that he would never be able to answer with any hope of propriety, so he began kissing her again.
It wasn’t long before they were both breathless. He tore his mouth on hers, nuzzling her neck and feeling the frantic pulse beat in the base of her throat.
At that moment, he would’ve agreed to anything, would have said anything that she wished if only she would agree to let him claim her now, rather than waiting. As much as she had complained about his effect on her, it was clear that he was under her spell as well.
It was almost a madness, a sensation more intense than he ever felt before with any woman. Part instinct, part feeling. Both sides of him wanted her. The human side and the animal within.
He couldn’t make sense of this and knew that if he stayed any longer, he might do something that he would regret.
So instead, he forced himself to walk away, but not before stealing one final kiss…
Chapter Six
“Don’t tell me you’re wearing that for the wedding.”
Ella stiffened at the sound of her stepmother’s voice. She had counted on being alone these last few minutes before the ceremony, as Catherine was busy with her own preparations. She would be Ella’s only bridesmaid. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s tradition for the bride’s mother to give her some advice for marriage, before the ceremony.”
“You’re not my mother.”
“In the eyes of the law, I’m the closest thing you have.” Lady Isabelle smiled, but it was a cold and almost icy expression. She looked Ella up and down again. “I’m surprised the prince didn’t buy you something new for your wedding, rather than making you wear that old-fashioned monstrosity.”
“This was my choice.” A seamstress had been brought in to create the rest of the clothing she would need for her new life, but Ella had only been able to endure one session with her. Seeing the shocked look on the woman’s face, when she saw the scars on her back, had made her too self-conscious to endure her scrutiny again. Besides, this dress had long been reserved for and particular purpose. “This was my mother’s wedding gown.”
Her stepmother flinched and her hands curled into claw-like shapes, as if she wanted to tear the garment in question into shreds with her nails. She turned away for a moment and took several visible breaths before facing Ella again with a plastered-on expression of complete complacency. “Of course it was. It is a shame she isn’t here to do her duty.”
She hated the implication in those words. As if her mother had chosen to die. “I don’t have time for this right now. The ceremony will be starting soon.”
“They won’t be able to begin without you anyway,” Lady Isabelle said. “Despite everything that has happened between us, I feel that I must warn you of what you are to expect tonight.”
“Warn me?”
Her stepmother launched into a detailed explanation of how much it hurt when a man took his wife to bed. Going on and about the agony of being split open in a way that Ella couldn’t even imagine.
Part of her didn’t want to believe it. She had understood enough about what happened between a man and wife to know that the kisses she had exchanged with Luke were part of the lead up to the final act. How could something that felt so amazing turn into the type of torment that her stepmother was describing?
She was half-tempted to find one of the older maids that served her, who was herself a married woman, in order to get a second opinion. But then everything began to happen at once and she was hustled downstairs and into the royal carriage.
Though the family had a private chapel on their castle grounds, it was hardly large enough to contain the number of guests expected to attend the wedding of the heir to the throne. They would be married in the great cathedral near the outskirts of the city. Catherine alone rode with her, with her stepmother and Daphne transported in a separate carriage.
A large crowd had gathered outside of the church. Ella was self-conscious and worried with her skirt, nearly tripping over the fabric as she descended down the stairs, thanks to the addition of a veil and train to her ensemble. Then Catherine picked up the weight of the extra material, helping her keep some of her dignity as she crossed the short distance up the stairs and into the church.
Organ music swelled and dominated the air. In short order, Ella found herself walking down the aisle alone, with only Catherine following behind to keep her train in proper position.
There was a flurry of whispers at her appearance, though whether it was prompted by how she looked, or the surprise that she was alone, she didn’t know. She assumed most people had known about her father, at least among the wedding guests. The engagement announcements that had been posted all through the kingdom would have outlined her family ties, including the fact that she was now an orphan.
Luke was waiting for her near the altar. She kept her gaze locked on him, thought it made her knees weak to see how handsome he looked. He was dressed in a military-style uniform. The coat was cobalt blue, trimmed with gold braid and a variety of metals and ribbons.
To her surprise, he was wearing his sword. She supposed it might have been just a ceremonial blade, blunt and not useful for anything, but it’s presence startled her all the same. She would’ve thought that anything resembling a weapon would be forbidden in this holy place.
Adrian was dressed in an almost identical ensemble, though for some reason, minus the sword. It was all so very odd.
Ella had spent much of the last three weeks learning the different ways and customs of the royal family, and it was more than enough to make her head spin. It was somewhat like what she had been taught as a child, but more complex. Every rule seemed to have at least one or two others that directly contradicted it and if she was lucky, the servants who were with her would know which was the older and which was the newer. That helped to determine which to follow, but at the same time, she was sure she had committed several gaffes.
Much to the amusement of the nobles who came to visit, as well as the palace staff.
Some of them were giggling behind their hands at her now.
Ella raised her chin and ignored them as best as she could. There was nothing she could do to appease them; nothing she could do to stop them from laughing. What she found much more difficult to bear were the pitying looks that several people shot in Luke’s direction. Likely due to her family’s impoverished state.
There was also a good chance that the seamstress had not been able to keep secrets, and the scars on her body were now public knowledge. She was very certain that was the case when she overheard someone speculating about why the prince would marry such “damaged goods.”
She tried to focus on her groom instead, to keep her attention locked on his handsome face. His gaze was full of appreciation as he looked at her, his bright blue eyes darkening to a shade that nearly matched the cobalt of his uniform.
Ella was already beginning to understand that look for what it was: desire. And that brought to mind all of her stepmother’s words about the upcoming wedding night, and renewing her doubts about what she would need to endure.
First, if it was so horrible for a woman to be with an ordinary man, then what would it be like to share a bed with one who changed into a beast? Luke had said that the transformation only took place on the full moon, but it was close enough to that night that the animal in him could already be very close to the surface.
And if that were the case…
The actual wedding ceremony itself passed by in a blur, though she supposed she must have made the correct answers at the right
time, for they were soon declared man and wife. Luke leaned in, giving her a surprisingly chaste kiss on the cheek once it was over.
They returned to the palace together, but they were hardly alone. Catherine and Adrian rode along with them in the carriage, along with one of the king’s officials.
There was more ceremony and pageantry upon their arrival, and they were ushered into one of the many large dining rooms within the building. This part seemed to drag on forever, from the reception line, and greeting all of the guests, to the actual meal itself.
Luke would reach for her hand at several intervals, giving it a gentle squeeze, but he could not keep hold of her while they both tried to eat. There were a few attempts at conversation, but she was so nervous that her throat had locked up and she could hardly speak.
After multiple courses, they headed to the ballroom. Ella and Luke opened the first dance and she was again aware of everyone watching her. Thankfully, it was over soon enough. She did derive some amusement from watching her stepmother constantly pushing Daphne toward every available bachelor in attendance, especially Adrian. Her new brother-in-law wasn’t cooperating with Lady Isabelle’s ambitions, however, dancing and spending most of his time with Catherine instead.
His behavior caused even more gossip, and Ella overheard several people speculating on the fact that there might be another wedding soon. But she thought it unlikely. Even if she had not heard from some of the servants about the fact that the younger prince was currently nursing a broken heart, it was clear from the way he and Catherine behaved toward each other that they had become fast friends but nothing more.
She hoped, for Catherine’s sake, that Lady Isabelle did not learn the truth anytime soon. Ella’s stepmother would be annoyed enough that her plans to push her favorite daughter upon the younger prince were not going as she wished, but if she knew that Catherine was dancing with him as a friend and not as a potential bride, she would be even further agitated.
Ella stepsister was due to return to her mother’s home in the morning. Despite Luke’s promise to think about allowing her to stay, his secrets were still more important than Catherine’s safety. It also seemed that despite Adrian treating her as a friend, he was willing to risk her life as well.
Or perhaps Ella’s old friend didn’t know the truth about Lady Isabelle. But why would he have hidden such knowledge his younger brother? Was he afraid that Adrian would be able to convince him to do something that Ella had not?
There was some talk about where they would be going on their travels after their wedding, something Ella knew nothing about. Luke had vaguely mentioned something about it being a tradition, but had told her nothing more.
If that was the case—and the speed with which he had demanded the seamstresses attempt to finish her new wardrobe, along with the recent arrival of brand new luggage—seemed to indicate that they were going to do just that. She supposed that was at least part of the reason why Catherine couldn’t stay, because then she would be the unmarried lady living improperly among those who were not her relatives.
And yet, why couldn’t Luke have just told her that was the reason?
Ella wouldn’t have liked it, but there was certainly nothing she could say in argument against it. And it was a much less selfish cause.
As she was lost in these thoughts, she was pulled aside by several of the older servants. It was time to prepare for the wedding night.
They escorted her upstairs, to a bedchamber within the family’s private wing. She didn’t know if it was her new husband’s room. The decor was decidedly masculine, yet there was nothing personal about it to indicate who the space belonged to.
She was helped out of her mother’s gown, and into a nightgown made of fine cotton lawn. It covered her from her neck down to the floor, which East some of her nervousness about the fact that she would soon be appearing naked before someone for the first time.
Her hair was let loose and brushed again and again until it crackled. She half-expected them to tie it up again in some other arrangement, but they did not, and silently departed.
Ella crawled into the massive bed and pull the covers up to her chin, turning on her side so that she wouldn’t be facing the door. Most of the candles had been extinguished, but she was certain that there would be enough light for Luke to see the nervousness on her face.
And that was the last thing she wanted.
After a time, which felt both incredibly long and far too short, she heard a distinct and heavy set of footprints outside of the chamber door. It opened and closed, and then she heard someone approaching the bed.
It could only be one person. Her husband.
Ella began to breathe very fast and tightened her grip on her blankets. She squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach began to twist and turn and she waited to see exactly what he was going to do to her.
There was a pause, followed by the whisper of fabric moving over skin. Was he getting undressed?
Seemed likely.
Though she’d caught a glimpse of him in the gardens, all those weeks ago, and her curiosity was high in regards to seeing all of him, she felt like she was frozen in place. Unable to move.
The covers lifted on the far side of the bed and she felt the mattress dip under his weight. Then there was the heat of his body, growing more intense as he drew closer. One of his hands landed lightly upon her shoulder, tugging at her to turn and look at him, but she would not.
She could not.
“You’re afraid of me now. Why?”
“I am afraid of what is to come.” She was a little surprised that her voice came out as evenly as it did, for she was shaking so badly, she felt like she could not control most of her body.
“I will be as gentle with you as I can.”
He meant those words to be reassuring, she was certain, but they hardly made Ella feel any better. Her mind was running wild with a mix of the memories of his kisses and the warnings of her stepmother, and as much as she was determined to discredit the latter, she could not push them out of her thoughts completely. “Must we do this?”
Instead of answering, he pulled at the blanket, but could not dislodge her grip upon the cloth. She tightened into a little ball beneath the shield, and waited for what had to be the inevitable: his anger. For she knew what she was doing was wrong. That she was denying him what was rightfully his, yet she couldn’t seem to make herself give in as she should.
His body covered hers, but his weight did not settle upon her. She realized he was bracing himself on his hands as he remained on his knees above her.
Then he brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and kissed her there.
Ella gasped.
It was just a brief touch of his lips, yet somehow more intense than the many prolonged embraces they had shared before. He did it again and again, working his way from the base of her skull down to her shoulders and back up again.
Her breathing deepened, quickened.
She uncurled ever so slightly, turning her head toward him in an almost-unconscious invitation. She wanted him to kiss her mouth, to make her continue to forget her fears, yet at the moment, her new husband seemed intent upon kissing her everywhere but there. Her cheeks, her forehead, the line of her jaw.
“Luke, please.”
He reared back slightly and she saw the surprise as well as desire in his eyes. It was the first time she’d dared to call him by name, but not intentionally. It had simply slipped out, teased out of her by the warming sensations that were spreading throughout her body.
“Ella,” he whispered huskily, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it before.
And she realized that she had done this to him, she had changed him somehow. Or his need for her had changed him.
She wasn’t sure which it was, yet it made her feel incredibly powerful.
He kissed her lips. Softly. Tenderly. Coaxing them to open to his, then sliding his tongue into her mouth. She touched her tongue to his, the familiar flames growing
hotter as they melded their mouths together.
She straightened her legs and turned more fully toward him, but wasn’t quite ready to release the blankets.
Nor did he try to take them from her.
Instead, he continued kissing her, alternating between her mouth and her throat. He was so gentle.
It was not at all what she had expected.
She wanted more.
He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Let me see you.”
Hesitantly, she nodded. Keeping her eyes closed, she loosened her hold on the blankets, letting him draw them away from her body. Though she was still concealed by the nightgown, she already felt too exposed.
“Turn over, Ella.”
She was breathing very fast, and almost couldn’t hear him any longer over the frantic beating of her heart. He guided her to lie on her stomach, then began working the ribbons that held the thin lawn gown together all the way down her spin. He paused after each one was loosened, kissing the exposed bit of skin.
Ella tensed. She knew the latest lashes from her stepmother’s whip had healed, but if the past was any indication, her skin would still be raised into ugly ridges. They would neither be attractive, nor could they feel very good to the touch. They might repulse him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Not there.”
“Why not?”
Her throat closed up when she tried to answer, and she felt something surprisingly cool running down her heated cheek. It took her a moment before she realized she was crying.
Damn this weakness of hers, coming to haunt her at the worst of times.
What he must think of her…
“You think I won’t want you, because of what your stepmother did?”
She nodded. It sounded almost foolish, when he put it that way, yet she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Lady Isabelle had ridiculed her the whole time she was inflicting the wounds, taunting Ella with the fact that no decent man would want her as a wife if he knew she was scarred.
The Wolf Prince: The Cursed Princes, Book One Page 5