At that moment, Brynn would have gladly exchanged places with any one of them. She listened with growing dismay to the vicar intoning words that were ancient and binding. She was being joined in holy matrimony to a stranger.
Brynn winced as Lord Wycliff slipped a gold band onto her finger, yet the enormity of their vows didn’t truly sink in until her new husband lightly brushed her mouth with a kiss. His lips were cool, restrained, yet somehow scalding, and they drove home the finality of their union like a blow.
She had bound herself to this man forever, for better or worse. And it was very likely to be worse.
Unnerved, Brynn turned away, almost stumbling.
Wycliff’s hand reached out to support her elbow, and for a moment her gaze locked with his. To her dismay, the burning look in his eyes held possessiveness, triumph.
With deliberate care, she extricated her arm from his grasp. “I truly hope,” she whispered in a hoarse voice, “that you don’t come to regret this day.”
“I don’t intend to,” his lordship replied tranquilly, showing none of the inner turmoil she felt.
Her hand trembled as she signed the church register, cementing the marriage. Then, chastising herself for her cowardice, Brynn straightened her spine and plastered a smile on her lips as she accepted the seemingly endless good wishes of the guests.
The Duke of Hennessy’s barouche carried the wedding party to Caldwell House, where a feast had been laid out on the terrace by the duke’s vast army of servants. The wedding breakfast was torment for Brynn, for it seemed to last for hours. The July afternoon turned so warm, she felt light-headed, despite the cooling salt breeze that blew off the sea. It took all her willpower to serenely endure the countless toasts drunk in the bridal couple’s honor, beginning with the aging duke’s salute to his good friend Wycliff. The expensive champagne, along with everything else she managed to swallow, tasted like dust.
It was the night ahead, however, that loomed threateningly in her mind. When the guests began to trickle away, Brynn felt her panic rising at the thought of the obligatory bedding.
As a rule, she didn’t consider herself a coward, but she had to acknowledge that she feared the physical aspect of marriage. The concept of surrendering her body to a man-even her husband-felt alien to her. Indeed, she’d spent so much of her life avoiding men, resistance was second nature to her.
Wycliff could so easily become carried away. And what if she couldn’t resist him? His mere touch affected her more than anyone else’s had ever done. She could be a terrible danger to him if she fell for his practiced seduction.
The sun was low on the horizon when the duke and duchess took their leave, signaling the end of the festivities. Shortly, Brynn found herself sitting at the bridal table alone except for her new husband and her oldest brother. Theo had long since grown bored with the proceedings and escaped to his laboratory.
When Grayson rose to embrace her, Brynn had to fight against the ache of tears, knowing this might be one of the last times she would see him in a great while. She clung to him for an extra moment, drawing on his strength.
Gray kissed her cheek, then stepped back, his gaze fixed on Wycliff, his expression intent. “You will take care of my sister?” he asked, his tone solemn to the point of grimness.
“I won’t harm her, I promise you,” Wycliff answered easily.
Grayson shifted his gaze to Brynn, who stood awkwardly beside her new husband. “If you need me, you have only to call.”
She forced a smile. “I shall keep that in mind.”
Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, Gray pressed another kiss on her temple and took his leave.
“Your brother is quite protective of you,” Wycliff remarked when they were alone.
“For good reason.”
“I have no intention of ravishing you, Brynn.”
“So you say,” she muttered in a low voice. “I only hope you can remember your honorable intentions when the time comes.”
Wycliff didn’t respond to her obvious concern. Instead, to her surprise, he motioned to the manservant who was hovering at the terrace doors.
“Thank you, Pendry,” he said when the servant presented him with a slim, flat box.
He waited until they were alone again before handing the box to Brynn. “For you, my lady. A wedding gift,” he said in response to her quizzical glance.
Brynn accepted the box warily and nearly gasped when she opened it. Inside was an exquisite array of emerald jewelry set in gold-necklace, bracelet, and ear bobs.
“Emeralds to match your beautiful eyes,” Wycliff said softly.
She schooled her expression to indifference. If he thought he could breach her defenses by showering her with flattery and jewels, he was much mistaken.
“I do not want your bribes, my lord,” she said stiffly, setting his gift on the table.
“My name is Lucian,” he merely reminded her.
He glanced beyond the terrace toward the vast ocean sparkling golden in the distance. “It is a lovely evening, and much too early to retire. Why don’t you go inside and put on a more comfortable gown? Something older that you don’t mind getting soiled.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“I fancy taking a stroll along the shore.”
Brynn considered asking if he’d taken leave of his senses, but she was more than willing to postpone the moment of reckoning as long as possible.
She did as she was bid, taking a great while to change out of her gown. She couldn’t help noticing that her nightdress was laid out on the bed where she had slept for all of her twenty-four years. Brynn shivered, not wanting to think of the night to come.
When she made her way downstairs, her husband was waiting for her on the lower landing, holding a basket and what looked like several woolen blankets draped over his arm.
“Strawberries and champagne,” he replied to her unspoken question.
“You mean to hold a picnic at this time of day?” she asked, her brows arching in astonishment.
“Something of the sort. I thought a private celebration was in order. And I hoped perhaps we might call a truce for the evening.”
Brynn was uncertain quite how to respond. She didn’t want a truce. Didn’t want to let down her guard. Yet she made no protest when he took her hand and led her back to the terrace and across the lawn, toward the cliffs.
Beyond them, the sun was a red ball on the horizon, sheening the sea before them with golden fire. At the cliff’s edge, Lucian paused for a moment, drinking in the sight. Brynn couldn’t fault him for being spellbound; the view was magnificent.
They negotiated the narrow path down to the rocky shore. He was headed for her own private cove, she realized, not knowing whether to be more alarmed or dismayed. When he took her arm, offering unnecessary assistance, Brynn uneasily drew her arm away, although she refrained from pointing out that she could find her way blindfolded.
Near the rock pool where they’d met, he found a short stretch of sand, where he spread one of the blankets. When Brynn was seated, he fished in the basket and held up the bottle of champagne. “Would you care for a glass?”
“Yes, please,” she replied, needing any courage spirits could give her to get through this evening.
He poured two glasses, then settled himself beside her on the blanket, stretching on his side, supported by his elbow. Defensively Brynn drew her knees up and sipped her wine in silence.
At least the setting was spectacular. The breeze had died to a gentle caress, while the timeless rhythm of the waves washing up on the rocky shore helped soothe her frayed nerves.
Lucian was the first to speak. “The warmth of the climate here never fails to surprise me.”
“Yes,” Brynn replied grudgingly. “This stretch of Cornwall is one of the most temperate in all of England. Palm trees grow here, and roses bloom even in December.”
“I can testify that the most beautiful roses can be found here. I was fortunate to have discovered one.”
He was looking directly up at her, Brynn realized, slanting him a glance. “Flattery will have no effect on me, my lord. I have no intention of falling for your practiced seduction, or becoming another of your legendary conquests.”
“I don’t think of you as a conquest, siren.”
“No?”
“No. I think of you as my incredibly lovely bride.”
Brynn winced. “Must I remind you, we agreed to a marriage of convenience? There is no need for you to try to charm me. I am willing to uphold my end of the bargain. As long as you provide for my brother’s education, I am prepared to do my wifely duty.”
His mouth curved in a slight smile. “I trust you will find our marriage bed a great deal more pleasant than mere duty.”
Brynn pressed her own lips together, clamping down on the urge to retort, determined to hold herself aloof. When he offered a dish of strawberries, she declined.
Choosing one for himself, Lucian bit into the juicy fruit. “You seem willing to sacrifice a great deal for Theodore.”
Her beloved brother was a subject she couldn’t resist. “I would do anything for him,” Brynn said fervently.
“There appears to be quite a gap in your ages.”
She looked down at her glass. “My mother had difficulty after Reese was born. She was enceinte several times-” Brynn faltered, realizing the subject was too personal, and too immodest as well. “She died giving birth to Theo,” she finished quietly.
“And you raised him? You could not have been much more than a child yourself.”
“I was twelve. Old enough to care for him.”
“Theo is fortunate to have you.” When she didn’t answer, Lucian’s voice seemed to soften. “I always wanted a brother or sister. I was an only child.”
Brynn deliberately hardened her heart. She didn’t want to hear about her new husband’s childhood, or anything else that would increase their intimacy. She couldn’t allow her emotions to soften toward him. “You are laboring under the serious misapprehension, my lord, that I care to know anything about you.”
He only responded mildly to her ungracious reply. “I did not bring you here to fight, sweeting.”
“Why did you bring me here, then?”
“I thought you would feel more comfortable in your kingdom.”
“More comfortable?”
“You’ve been ill at ease with me all day. Perhaps here, in a familiar setting, you will be less nervous about consummating our union.”
Giving a start, Brynn turned her head to stare down at him. “You intend to consummate our marriage here?”
“Can you think of a better place?”
“Certainly I can! A bridal chamber is the usual setting for a consummation.”
“But then our marriage is not exactly usual, is it? In fact, I would call it rather unique.”
She drew a steadying breath, grasping for arguments to throw in his path. “Do you have any notion the scandal it would cause if we were seen? Or do you simply not care?”
“No one will see us. I intend to wait until it grows dark, of course.”
It was nearly dusk now. Brynn took a deep gulp of champagne, hoping the sparkling wine would quell her agitation. “It will still be scandalous,” she murmured.
“Not much more so than your swimming nearly nude in this very location.”
She shook her head, feeling a bit desperate. It was one thing to swim here in privacy. It was quite another to purposely hold one’s wedding night on a rocky beach. “Surely you do not expect me to undress here?”
“Why not? I’ve already seen a good deal of your body.”
“It will be much too cold,” she said lamely.
“I brought several blankets. And I will do my best to keep you warm.”
He set the dish of strawberries aside and sat up, making Brynn tense. “I thought you would be more adventuresome than this, my sweet.”
“I am not as adventuresome as all that.”
A faint smile curved his mouth at her indignation. “I am your husband now, Brynn. Married women are permitted more freedom than young misses.”
He paused. “Do you know what is supposed to happen between us?”
“I am not completely green. My closest friends are married, and one of them told me… generally what to expect.”
“Then you know that carnal relations are necessary to conceiving a child.”
She wondered why a child was so important to him, but she didn’t dare ask and give him an opening for even more intimate confessions. “I am well aware of it, my lord.”
“Lucian,” he murmured. “Say my name, love.”
“Lucian,” she repeated reluctantly.
“That’s better. Would you like more champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
She was drinking too much, she knew, but she was not about to stop; she needed the courage if Wycliff meant to go through with his plan.
He refilled her glass, then proceeded to untie his cravat. “You have no cause for worry,” he said, catching her look of dismay. “I have every intention of making your first experience pleasurable.”
“Certainly I have cause for worry. You may not believe in the curse, but I have no doubt your obsession will only grow worse once we…”
“Become lovers?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve always held the opinion that a curse has power only if you give it credence.”
“Well then, you might consider my feelings. You obviously have a vast deal of experience, so you cannot understand my anxiety.”
“Your virginal trepidation.”
She bit her lip, knowing she was blushing. “Yes.”
His compelling eyes held sympathy, tenderness, as did his low voice. “I don’t expect I could fully understand, since I’ve never been a woman. But I promise you, the consummation won’t be as disagreeable as you fear.”
Stiffening, Brynn deliberately looked away. She would have no protection against Lucian whatever if she allowed him to seduce her with tenderness. “I am not interested in your promises, my lord. I agreed to share your bed, nothing more.”
“Forgive me, love, but you agreed to be my wife.”
She had no reply for that, for she had indeed agreed to be his wife. And to bear him a son. Which entailed sexual intimacy…
When Lucian shrugged out of his jacket, Brynn stiffened. His shirt followed, giving her a warm jolt of disturbing awareness. In the fading half-light, his torso was unexpectedly muscular, and made her surprisingly breathless.
“Could we not… put off the consummation for the time being? I scarcely know you.”
His glance held disarming gentleness. “The sooner you put it behind you, the sooner you’ll realize there is nothing to fear.”
“I am not afraid, precisely. I simply don’t want to be intimate with you.”
“Why not? Is there something physical about me that you find disagreeable?”
“You know there is not. Not… physical.”
“What, then?”
You make me feel far too vulnerable, she thought to herself. “Your insufferable arrogance. You think all women should fall at your feet.”
“I assure you, I don’t think that at all.” His voice was low, vibrant, stroking her like rich velvet.
When she didn’t reply, he reached up to touch a curling tendril of hair that had escaped its severe knot. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about the pleasures to be found in lovemaking? What it means to be fully a woman?”
“No, not in the least,” she lied.
As if to disprove her claim, he shifted his hand to caress the shell of her ear with a fingertip. Brynn nearly flinched.
“Has your blood never turned hot at a man’s touch?”
Only yours, she thought, biting her lower lip as his finger slowly trailed down the back of her neck.
“You won’t find lovemaking unpleasant, I’ll vow. At least not after the initial time. I think I can safely promise you will enjo
y the physical side of marriage.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. And yet it was difficult to remain aloof when his fingertips were moving over her skin with such delectable pressure.
His hand continued caressing her nape. “May I take down your hair, Brynn? Please?”
She hesitated, vaguely disarmed by that “please.” She would have liked to refuse him, but as her husband, he had that right. “If you wish.”
“I wish very much.” Rising partway, he knelt behind her and began to remove the pins from her hair. Brynn held her breath at his tender ministrations. She could smell the warm, clean, musky scent of his skin, feel the heat of his hard, elegant body at her back as he freed the heavy mass and let it fall. When his fingers curled slowly, possessively in her hair, she felt a dangerous softening inside her. His touch was so gentle, so incredibly arousing.
Then, wordlessly, he brushed her hair aside, smoothing the thick tresses over her shoulder, and began unfastening the buttons of her gown. Brynn went rigid. Moments later, she felt the hot, moist tip of his tongue trace the high curve of her spine, and she shivered. He was nuzzling her neck, his teeth strangely arousing against her flesh.
She remained frozen, aware of a disquieting pleasure that uncurled low in her stomach. His soft, persuasive lips continued to kiss her nape as he slid the neckline of her gown down over her shoulders to expose her corset. She could feel him loosening the hooks, feel the restrictive pressure ease. When he lowered the bodice of her chemise, her breasts spilled out.
“Lucian…” she protested.
“I like the sound of my name on your lips.”
His hands slid around to cup her breasts, and she drew a sharp breath.
“There is no need for shyness between us, my lovely Brynn. Your body likes me touching you. See how your pulse has quickened… your nipples are taut…”
His fingers closed around the tight buds, sending hot arrows of pleasure streaking through her, making her arch against the tormenting ache. “Do you like how that feels, Brynn? You will like the feel of my mouth even better. Let me taste your sweetness…”
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