"I am not always… but I am usually." Chuckling, he reached up and gently moved a curl away from her face then tucked it gently behind her ear. "I was right about you."
"Taking credit?"
"No, but I will be taking you… every last delicious inch of you… so if you'd please answer the question. I find I'm growing rather impatient." He growled as he kissed her once more, his hands pulling her in tightly, igniting a smoldering fire within.
"I'd answer if you'd simply ask." She pulled away just enough to speak before pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw, slightly prickly from his early shave.
"You're far too distracting for my good." He gently pushed her away. "Marry me," he whispered, searching her eyes, a wild gleam deep within his.
"I'd answer if you had asked…" Beatrix lifted an eyebrow, enjoying the moment, savoring it, committing every flash of his expression to memory.
He took a deep breath.
"Is it so hard to simply ask, Neville?" Lady Southridge's muffled voice came through the mostly shut door.
Beatrix bit back a bark of laughter at the shocked expression on Neville's face that transformed to irritated fury. With narrowed eyes toward the door, he spoke loudly, "Have you no self-respect?"
"No. And neither should you. Life's more fun that way. Also, you'll want to hurry it up. You've got less than thirty seconds before the duke barrels through this door. He has his pocket watch out…" She let the threat linger.
Neville glanced heavenward in much the same manner as the duke had when dealing with Lady Southridge.
"Beatrix—"
"On your knee, if you please," Beatrix cut in, grinning.
He lowered himself on to one knee and grasped her hand, his expression both amused and irritated. "Will you do me the profound honor of becoming my wife?"
"Yes," she responded immediately, her joy overflowing into a wide grin that made her cheeks ache.
Neville wasted no time but stood and pulled her into a tight embrace before sealing her affirmation with a kiss.
The squeak of a door alerted them that their time had ended, and the heavy footsteps of the duke preceded his voice. "Release her," he barked, but with no bite in his tone.
"I'm assuming this means we have a wedding to plan?" Lord Graham's voice asked in a joyful manner.
"Yes," Lady Southridge answered.
Beatrix glanced to her, shaking her head.
"What?" The woman held her hand to her chest innocently.
"No one is fooled by your theatrics, Dianna," Graham replied.
"Here, here!" the duke answered.
"So when is the wedding?" Bethanny asked, rushing up to her sister and pulling her into a hug.
"Tomorrow."
The room went silent. Beatrix turned to Neville, her gaze meeting his then quickly darting about the room, taking in the shocked and unamused expressions of her family.
"Tomorrow happens to be my favorite day," Beatrix replied.
"Tomorrow?" the duke roared, striding toward Neville.
"Have you a special license?" Lord Graham asked once he found his voice.
"I secured one as soon as I returned to London." Neville nodded, his gaze darting to Lord Graham then resting on Beatrix.
"You could have told me that information earlier," the duke bit out.
"Have you considered… the implication of your hasty marriage?" Carlotta asked, her tone concerned.
"I have, but I will leave the final decision to Beatrix." Neville tilted his head slightly.
"I understand the implications, but, in truth, the ton will talk regardless." Beatrix hitched a shoulder.
"And I can set the record straight." Lady Southridge stood. "After all, Neville did court you while you were staying at Breckridge House… and the arrangements were already made before you came to London." Lady Southridge winked.
"Then it's decided." Beatrix nodded.
"But… don't you want a grand affair, Beatrix?" Bethanny came over to her sister and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, studying her face.
"What I want… is him." Beatrix turned to Neville. "The sooner the better."
Neville's lips spread into a wide grin, his gaze dancing with delight and expectation.
"St. George's, tomorrow at noon. I am already on the docket." Neville brushed his coat slightly, almost nervously, as he cast a glance to the duke.
"By all means, make your plans without considering anyone else!" The duke glared.
"And what would have happened had I said no?" Beatrix placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head with amusement.
"I'd have reminded you that you are quite compro—"
Beatrix lunged forward and covered his mouth, glaring at him.
"What!" the duke roared.
"We already discussed this. It's like walking in circles with you two in the room!" Lady Southridge threw up her hands in exasperation. "Neville, you'll see your bride tomorrow at noon at St. George's. Till then, we have quite the amount of work to do, so if you'd please excuse us…" Lady Southridge grasped Beatrix's elbow softly, guiding her to the door.
"Please… wait." Neville's voice captured her attention, and she paused, curious at the almost pleading tone.
"I — that is — there is one more thing." Neville nodded, walking toward her. "I love you," he whispered. Leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss to her head. "I love you more than breath… and thank you that tomorrow you'll marry of all men… me." He murmured against her skin, his soft breath warm and inviting.
"I love you," she whispered back, eyes closed as she took in the heaven that was that moment.
"I should have said it earlier."
She glanced up and met his earnest gaze. "I know," she replied.
He grinned and took a step back, his expression both pleased and in wonderment.
"Perhaps it is a good thing you say vows tomorrow. I cannot imagine the hurdle of keeping you two apart for a long engagement," Lady Southridge remarked, her gaze warm.
"I'll drink to that, what say you, old man?" Graham turned to the duke, raising an eyebrow of inquiry.
"I believe I'll need more than one drink," the duke replied but without a bite, simply an accepting tone.
"You men drink your sorrows away. Ladies?" Lady Southridge called. The rustle of skirts accompanied Carlotta and Bethanny as they strode from the room with Beatrix and Lady Southridge.
"Beatrix? I'm sure you wish to know what happened with Sir Kirby?" Carlotta asked hesitantly.
"Yes…" Beatrix took a deep breath.
"If you wish, Neville or the duke will explain it tomorrow, but I rather thought you'd like to know now," Carlotta replied as they walked down the hallway.
"I would. I'm sure Neville will give me greater detail later, but I'd like to know the general idea." Beatrix considered Carlotta.
"Understandable." Carlotta nodded. "It is quite fantastical. You see, Kirby never was after you or your fortune," Carlotta explained.
"Pardon?" Beatrix turned swiftly to face Carlotta.
"It was about the duke… and revenge." Carlotta went on to explain the whole ordeal.
Yet, when she finished, as much as Beatrix was relieved to have everything over, she considered Carlotta. "And how are you dealing with such an accusation toward the duke? Obviously, it was before he knew you, but still…" Beatrix bit her lip then glanced to a wide-eyed Bethanny.
"As you said, it was far before our relationship and, as such, is the past. Girls, let me explain something." Carlotta took Beatrix's and Bethanny's hands, and Lady Southridge took a step back, watching with a warm maternal gaze. "Your husbands — or future husband—" She glanced to Beatrix. "—are human. As are you. Therefore, you'll all need forgiveness each day, and you'll need to accept it freely and give it freely. Sometimes choices from the past will affect your future. And you can grow angry, bitter and hateful, or you can use those circumstances to grow, to see where your husband, or you were… and how you've grown. I'm… I'm not who I once was. I'm brav
er, stronger, and smarter even. Why would I deny that same understanding of growth to my husband?" she asked.
Beatrix nodded, seeing her sister do the same from the corner of her eye.
"Now… since the past is behind us… let us look to an amazing future… starting with tomorrow, shall we?" Carlotta smoothed Beatrix's hair then squeezed her shoulder.
"And I have the best way to start," Bethanny chimed in. "Beatrix, come with me. I have the perfect gift for you." She tugged on her sister's hand and pulled them toward one of the vacant guest rooms.
"Now, if we make a few alterations, I do believe you'll have an ideal dress for your wedding tomorrow." Bethanny pushed open the door and strode to a large mahogany wardrobe. "I asked the duke to keep a few items from when I sorted through some of Mother's crates we still had stored." She searched the clothing and found a muslin gown in a buttery yellow. A matching soft white silk shawl with embroidered flowers complimented it.
"It was Mother's wedding dress," Bethanny spoke reverently as she laid the dress upon the bed. "You're of a similar size, I'd imagine. Shall we see?" Bethanny turned to face her sister, her eyes moist with unshed tears.
"Mother's dress? You found it." Beatrix reached out and fingered the soft fabric. "Thank you," she whispered, her throat thick with emotion.
In short order, Beatrix careful donned the garment.
"I cannot fathom how it fits so perfectly," Lady Southridge spoke with awe.
"Indeed. I doubt it needs any altering at all!" Carlotta chimed in, walking around Beatrix.
Beatrix studied her reflection, a thousand emotions swirling within.
"It's perfect, Beatrix… perfect," Bethanny spoke with reverence.
"It is," Beatrix replied.
"In every way."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NEVILLE RESISTED THE URGE TO PACE the front of St. George's as he awaited the moment when Beatrix would stride down the aisle and finally become his wife. He glanced to Curtis, who was standing up with him, his expression amused as he took in Neville's posture.
Narrowing his eyes, Neville glared at the man.
Unrepentant, Curtis bit back a chuckle.
"Someday…" Neville gestured slightly to his position, conveying that Curtis would someday be the one waiting.
Expecting a scoff or for Curtis to wave it off, Neville was shocked when Curtis's color heightened, as if blushing. His gaze darted away, as if trying to hide his reaction to Neville's implication.
The organ began playing, drawing his attention back to the present. Every other thought disappeared as movement captured his attention from the back of the sanctuary. The doors opened, and with a measured grace that simply stole his breath, Beatrix walked in. Her hair was softly pulled up with gentle curls highlighting her beautiful face. Her eyes, alive with anticipation, a secret delight, captivated and held him spellbound. She was glorious, beautiful, and breathtaking.
And in a few minutes… she'd be his.
Without delay, he grasped her hands, silently damning the gloves she wore, wishing for the warm touch of her skin.
Soon.
The priest cleared his throat and began the ceremony. Neville grinned as he watched Beatrix's gaze rest on him. Her golden brown eyes searched his, and he delighted the soft blush caused her cheeks to glow.
The priest cleared his throat.
Neville glanced to him.
"My lord?" The priest raised a white bushy eyebrow in expectation and a little impatience.
"Yes?" Neville asked, feeling slightly chagrined for not paying attention at his own wedding, but in his defense, his wife to be was alluringly distracting.
"I'll begin again." The priest sighed and recited the vows he expected Neville to have heard the first time.
Paying careful attention and ignoring the amused expression on Beatrix's beautiful face, he repeated after the priest, swearing that he'd adore his wife in sickness, in health, for wealth or for poverty… in all circumstances before God.
It was no small thing to pledge one's life, one's heart. And Neville wasn't simply repeating the words. They were his litany, his vow, as he lost himself in the warm gaze of the woman who had so utterly stolen his heart.
Beatrix solemnly promised the same vows, her gaze unflinching, warm and loving as she pledged her heart to him.
And, blessedly, the priest finished then announced the final words that Neville had waited so long to hear.
His wife.
And since she was finally, officially his, he didn't wait for the priest's invitation to kiss his bride.
Because when one is married, he may have kisses whenever he wishes, correct?
And he wanted to kiss his wife that very second, the moment it was official. Sealing it, possessing it, glorying in it.
So, before the priest could finish the declaration, he drew her in, sealing each promise he had made upon her lips.
Again…
And again.
Till the priest clapped the old book of common prayer shut. Loudly.
But even then, he simply withdrew far enough to gaze into her eyes, to read the love he could see she hid there for him.
Him alone.
"Impatient, aren't we?" she teased.
"For you? Always… now about the wedding breakfast. Must we—"
"Yes. And you'll enjoy every moment." Beatrix nudged him slightly, flirting.
"Not likely… but I'll pretend to," he baited, lacing his fingers through hers. "Which truly is further proof that for you, I'd do anything," he replied as he led them down the aisle.
"Because pretending to enjoy breakfast is harrowing," she flirted, poking him in the ribs.
"When I'd much rather be enjoying my wife, it's not just harrowing. I'll be doing the impossible." He tasted her kiss once more before helping her climb into the carriage that would convey them to the duke's residence for the intimate wedding breakfast.
"How long?" Neville asked his wife as he promptly picked her up and sat her on his lap.
Which was a brilliant and tortuous idea. So close yet so far away.
"At least a few hours." Beatrix hitched a shoulder as she raked her fingers through his hair.
Had she any idea how it drove him mad when she did such things? Already he was in no state for polite company, and she was only making it worse.
Or better, depending on one's perspective.
"You're a wicked minx."
"I do believe I'll pay for my many sins later," she whispered in his ear.
"Good Lord, woman, you can't say such things if you wish me to survive the wait." His heart quickened as she kissed his neck slowly, her warm mouth making his body catch fire.
"What things?" She feigned innocence as her hand tickled the outside of his leg.
The carriage halted, breaking the sensual haze surrounding him, blinding him to the knowledge that he was stuck in purgatory… heaven so close, yet not within reach.
Yet.
"You have ninety minutes," he ground out, "then you are mine. Over—" He tugged on her sleeve, exposing her shoulder. "—and over—" He nibbled on her warm flesh. "—and over again."
"What breakfast?" She sighed, leaning into him.
"Are you two quite done in there?" Lady Southridge called from outside the carriage. "Neville, she deserves more than to be seduced in the carriage!"
Neville shot a glare toward the carriage door. "Little does she know I'm the one being seduced." He shook his head.
"Over… and over… and over…" Beatrix teased, tugging on his hair once before standing and adjusting her dress from her exposed shoulder.
"You'll pay for that."
"I hope so." She winked and waited by the door, as if not understanding why he was still sitting down.
"Neville!"
Lady Southridge's voice had the effect of ice water, and he found he was ready to face his final torture far quicker than he had expected. As they ascended the stairs, Graham and the duke were waiting at the entrance, their faces fa
r too amused for his intolerant attitude.
Beatrix blew him a kiss and headed toward her sister, Lady Graham.
"Welcome to hell." Graham slapped him on the back.
"Indeed." Neville didn't remove his gaze from his wife but studied every curve.
"Hell, but remember… heaven is only a few hours away." Graham goaded.
"Ninety minutes," Neville corrected, making eye contact with Graham.
"Ah…" He nodded in understanding, a grin bending his lips.
"You really are in hell then." The duke laughed, entirely too pleased with himself.
"Pardon?"
"Bethanny only made it thirty minutes." Graham raised an eyebrow of challenge, of conquest.
"Damn you," Neville growled.
"I had a little longer to wait." The duke shrugged. "But not much. I do believe I find this form of punishment better than anything I could have conjured up for your… premature assertion of Beatrix's affection." The duke nodded once.
Neville had nothing to say, nothing to add. Rather, he glared at the men before him and cast his longing gaze toward his wife.
Ninety minutes.
In hell.
He could survive.
Because bliss waited just on the other side.
Just then, Beatrix turned and winked a seductive little invitation.
On the other hand, ninety minutes could potentially kill him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BEATRIX TRIED TO HOLD IN HER amusement at her husband's extreme ill humor. She knew the depth of his frustration — she felt it as well — yet it was endlessly amusing to watch him pace like a caged tiger.
The breakfast began, and she pushed her food around the plate, her stomach tight with butterflies of anticipation. By the time an hour chimed on the clock, she was finished.
Surely they could escape early? How long had she waited to have him to herself, to finally be free of every hurdle between them? Now the final barrier was simply time.
Surely that could be flexible, could it not?
So, with simply a wink to Bethanny, Beatrix walked around the room and found her husband brooding in the corner with his eyes on the clock. He had surely been a good sport, but it was time.
A Tempting Ruin (GreenFord Waters #3) Page 16