“Geoffrey, what will your family think of me?”
He smiled at her. “You are my countess, Becca. They’ll accept you.”
“I’ll try to be what you need in a wife.”
His eyes sparkled. “You are precisely what I need in a wife.”
She flushed and ran her hands over the skirt of her dress. She’d chosen the violet one with Mary’s assistance. “At least I look the part. Thank you again for the dresses.”
“It’s nothing, love.” He studied her for a moment. “When did you know that you loved me?”
She was struck by the vulnerability in his eyes. “I don’t know precisely. But I thought I might that morning in your room.”
“Ah …. When Mary found us?”
She shook her head. “No. The morning I came to your room when you were sleeping.”
Remembrance dawned on him, a sweet recollection of that first morning when she’d stolen into his room and stood hesitantly over his bed. He’d been afraid to breathe, certain she would vanish once he fully awoke. She hadn’t. No, she’d leaned over. She’d come closer.
“When you kissed me …,” he now leaned closer to her, “like this?”
He brushed her lips lightly, then crushed his mouth down on hers. He pressed her to him, moving his mouth to the side of her neck. He caressed her breasts through her dress and she arched toward him, straining for his touch.
“Husband?” she asked softly.
“Yes, love?” he answered, his breath hot on her skin.
“Forget yourself,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Don’t remove your boots. I can’t bear to wait.”
Grinning broadly, he happily honored his wife’s request.
* * * *
The carriage rolled on as they collected themselves and again sat on the cushioned seat. She brushed at the skirt of her new dress. “Look at these wrinkles! What will your family think?”
Geoffrey smiled. “Don’t worry. After a long trip in a carriage, wrinkles are to be expected.”
“They are?” she sounded skeptical.
“Speaking of dresses,” he added, changing the subject, “we shall have the dressmaker ready some gowns for you.”
“Gowns?”
“Yes, love. We’ll be expected to throw a ball celebrating our marriage.”
A ball? How would she host such an event? “I’ve never been to a ball, much less hosted one.”
“Surely Raven’s Inn hosted parties now and again,” he said.
“Yes,” she admitted, embarrassed once again by the menial role she’d played at the inn. Her father never allowed her to attend, let alone preside over such gatherings. He always told her it was for her own protection. To keep her safe from unwanted advances. But it made her feel as though he were ashamed of her.
“Don’t fret. My mother possesses vast experience at throwing the most wonderful bashes. I’m most certain she’d be very pleased to take over the task, tutoring you in the process.”
“Do you think so? I so want your mother to like me.”
He took her hands in his. “How could anyone not like you?”
She felt a flush creep over her cheeks and dipped her head. “Tell me about your mother.”
Geoffrey leaned back, still holding her hand. “Well, my father passed away two years ago, so her mourning period is over. Lady Margaret loved him dearly, but she’s enjoying getting out again,” he said. “You’ll like her, Becca. You’re a lot like her. You both have hearts as big as the ocean.” He paused, a half-smile on his lips. “I daresay she dotes on me shamelessly.”
Becca stroked his cheek. “Who could blame her?”
He kissed her hand and settled back against the seat.
“What of the rest of your family?” she asked.
“My brother, John, and his wife live at Kanewood, as well. John is one year younger than me, twenty-seven. They have a little girl, Ann. She’s three years old. John and Patricia are constantly out and about, at one function or another. They rarely see her.” He was quiet for a moment.
Becca could feel the tension in Geoffrey when he spoke of his brother and sister-in-law. She wondered what was behind it. “Will they be at Kanewood now?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “No. They’re in London for the Season. The child remains at Kanewood.”
“Well, I am definitely looking forward to meeting your mother and little Ann.” She beamed at him.
He turned to her and couldn’t help but return her smile. “They’re going to love you, just like I ….”
“Just like you … what, Geoffrey?” she asked hesitantly.
“Just like I know they will.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
She sensed his unease. For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her he loved her. After all, she had already declared her love for him. Perhaps it was too soon. She would be patient. For now.
“Will we join your brother and his wife in London, then?” she inquired, changing the subject.
“I doubt we’ll see them. But I’m looking forward to showing off my beautiful wife to the rest of the ton. The dressmaker had better get busy if you’re to have gowns befitting your beauty.”
Becca blushed at his ridiculous statement, but it served to turn the attention from the discussion of his brother and sister-in-law. If Geoffrey’s demeanor toward them was any indication, she was very pleased she wouldn’t have to make their acquaintence any time soon.
They stopped at an inn to rest and arrived at Kanewood the next afternoon. Becca stared out the window in awe as they approached the great house. It sat on the rise of a crest, overlooking lushly verdant grounds and neat little cottages. A long winding road led up to the wide cobblestone drive, directly in front of the estate. It was an impressive structure, of gray stone with a slate roof. The roof was peaked, and many gables protruded from the central structure. Becca couldn’t count all of the windows peeking out of the stone face of the building.
Geoffrey turned to her. “Welcome home, Becca.”
“My goodness.” She breathed. “It’s magnificent.”
He smiled at her and kissed her lightly. The carriage rolled to a stop and Geoffrey alighted. He assisted Becca down and escorted her to the wide carved door at the front entrance. He rapped sharply on the door and, as it was being opened, he swept Becca up into his arms.
“Geoffrey!” A gasp of laughter escaped her as she clutched his shoulders.
He carried her through the door and into the marble-tiled foyer, his deep laughter echoing through the cavernous space. His mother—Lady Margaret, Becca recalled—came out of the front parlor just as he set Becca on her feet.
“Geoffrey, I didn’t expect you today.” Lady Margaret eyed Becca with interest. “And whom do we have here?”
Geoffrey kissed his mother on the cheek and turned to take Becca’s hand. “Mother, this is Rebecca. My wife.”
Lady Margaret blinked in surprise but said nothing.
Becca curtsied to her in greeting. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Lady Margaret.”
Lady Margaret returned the greeting with a nod, a small smile on her face. Becca noticed a marked resemblance between Geoffrey and his mother, and felt drawn to the woman. Her eyes were the same brilliant blue as her son’s, and her hair was the same tawny shade, albeit streaked with gray. She had an elegant bearing, and Becca so wished to earn the woman’s favor. Without Mary to assist her, she’d chosen to wear her violet gown from yesterday’s travel and felt decidedly rumpled.
“And when did all this take place?” Lady Margaret asked.
“Yesterday afternoon, Mother. Reverend Grey performed the ceremony.”
Lady Margaret nodded at that news. “Rebecca, why don’t you go upstairs and refresh yourself? The butler will show you to Geoffrey’s rooms.”
Relief threatened to swamp Becca. “That would be lovely, Lady Margaret. Thank you.”
Geoffrey kissed Becca’s cheek and told her that he
’d see her personal effects sent up. Becca nodded to the two of them and started up the sweeping staircase.
“Was it a rough journey, dear?”
“Not particularly, Mother,” Becca heard him reply. “Why do you ask?”
“Your wife’s dress seems quite wrinkled.”
Becca froze, turning to fix a glare at her husband.
He returned her stare with a crooked smile. “Well, Mother. I suppose you could say the trip wasn’t without incident.”
Becca gasped and hurried up the stairs. His laughter followed her.
* * * *
“Geoffrey, do join me in the parlor?” his mother asked.
He nodded and waved her ahead of him into the elegant room just off the foyer. Geoffrey closed the paneled doors and crossed to one of two settees upholstered in gold damask. He took a seat opposite his mother and looked at her expectantly. “Isn’t Rebecca wonderful?”
Lady Margaret smiled. “Yes, she’s lovely. Though I am surprised at your announcement, to say the least.”
“It was quite unexpected, I’ll admit.”
“Who is she? Where is she from?”
“I trust you received my letter regarding my mishap enroute from London?”
At her nod, he continued, “Well, I met Rebecca at an inn nearby.”
“An inn?”
“It isn’t what you think, Mother. Rebecca’s father owns the Raven’s Inn, and it’s quite an elegant establishment.”
“But, Geoffrey, an innkeeper’s daughter?”
Geoffrey met her gaze evenly. “Rebecca’s grandfather was a baronet if that remote title pleases you. You’ll remember that the girl with whom I was last involved was from an excellent family with impeccable lineage. You undoubtedly recall how nasty that turned out.”
“I admit Patricia isn’t a favorite of mine.” She furrowed her brow. “But you’ve known this girl for such a short time.”
“And everything I know about her, I admire. Her father ….” He shook his head. It wouldn’t do for his mother to learn how Becca’s sire had treated her. His own father had been kind and loving, and there was no doubt she would find it appalling. “Becca is more than an innkeeper’s daughter to me.”
She smiled and leaned forward. “Tell me about your Rebecca, then.”
“Oh, Mother, she’s everything one could ever want in a wife. She’s beautiful, as you can plainly see. But she’s so much more than that. She’s sweet, and kind, and ….”
“And what?”
“She loves me.”
“And do you love her?”
He frowned over her question. “I care for her. More than I have ever cared for anyone,” he said. “Love? I thought I had loved Patricia and recall how that turned out.”
“Well, I can’t remember the last time you wore such a smile. If Rebecca put it there, I already love her for that.”
* * * *
That evening, Becca readied herself for bed. She’d unpacked her few belongings herself, hanging her treasured dresses in a wardrobe the servants had moved into a small room adjacent to Geoffrey’s sleeping chamber. Geoffrey had instructed them to move a mirror-topped vanity into the chamber and Becca now sat before it. The beautiful room she was to share with her new husband was reflected in the mirror’s oval surface.
The room was decorated in masculine colors—brown, green and burgundy. The furniture was heavy and large in proportion. A huge four-poster bed dominated the chamber, its thick draperies tied back. A large fireplace took up the wall opposite, flanked by two wing chairs. A dressing room separate from Becca’s held Geoffrey’s wardrobe. He walked out of this room and into the sleeping chamber, clad in only his breeches.
Becca slowly ran the brush through her curls. She wore a nightgown much like the one from London, with a matching wrapper. The thin material hugged her curves and she watched as his eyes darkened.
“Geoffrey.”
He crossed to her and bent his head to hers. “Come to bed, wife.”
“Wife,” she marveled aloud. She laid her brush on the vanity and turned to him. “Yes, husband. I’m quite tired.”
“How I love to hear you call me that.” He pulled her to her feet, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re not too tired, I hope?”
“Never.”
He placed his lips on hers, rubbing gently. Her fingers stole up behind his neck as he untied her wrapper and nudged it off her shoulders. She felt the heat of him through her thin gown and her nipples hardened. She rubbed against him and he moaned.
“Take me to bed, husband.” She breathed.
The softly spoken request spurred him on. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the big four-poster. He laid her in the middle of the bed and she felt she could get lost in it. He peeled off his breeches and climbed in beside her. He closed his mouth over her nipple through her gown as he’d done that night she’d helped him into bed.
“Oh, that makes me feel so—”
He lifted his head and grinned. “So—what, my darling?” He found her other nipple and nibbled at it.
“So—good!” She gasped as she felt him cup both her breasts, squeezing them gently.
He relieved her of the garment and bent his head once more. He teased her, running his open mouth over her breasts until she cried out for him to cease tormenting her.
With a sensual laugh, he came up and kissed her. He rolled over on the bed, taking her with him. She lay halfway across his chest and suddenly became the aggressor. She moved to place wet kisses on his throat, his chest.
Becca wanted to kiss him everywhere, as he’d kissed her. Her fingers moved down his belly to gently grasp his manhood. He groaned, telling her he liked what she was doing. Emboldened, she took him in her mouth and he nearly came off the bed.
“God, Becca!”
She licked him gently and felt him quiver. She closed her mouth over the tip, liking the salty taste of him. With a loud growl, he pulled her up and held her tightly.
“You don’t like that?” she asked.
He breathed out raggedly. “I like it too much.”
“Why, then?”
“If you went on, love, it would have been all over.”
She brought her lips to his and he kissed her with all the passion she’d aroused. She lay fully on him and rubbed against his arousal. He nudged her legs apart and his fingers moved between their bodies. He stroked her and she arched against him, craving more. She felt the tip of his arousal near her center.
“What are you—”
“Take me inside, love,” he gently instructed.
“I don’t know ….”
He lifted her gently. “Lean back.”
She did, and felt him enter her fully. She gasped. It felt wonderful!
He held on to her hips and thrust up into her. She threw her head back and rode him. The pressure was almost too much to bear. She climaxed, crying his name, as he found his release, shouting hers.
She collapsed against his chest and he gently stroked her back. “Tell me, Becca.”
She lifted her head and saw the need in his eyes, need that went beyond the one they’d just satisfied. “I love you, Geoffrey.”
He hugged her tight and they soon fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
Chapter 10
The next day, Lady Margaret took charge. She summoned the dressmaker to Kanewood and by late morning Becca stood perched on a stool in her and Geoffrey’s chamber. She wore her chemise, stays, and petticoat and held her arms straight out. As the dressmaker measured and pinched and pinned, draping fabric after fabric over her, Becca sighed and endured it until Lady Margaret finally waved the woman out of the room.
“I admit I was surprised to learn of your marriage,” the woman said.
Becca stiffened. What had Geoffrey told her? That she’d given herself to him before the wedding? Of the horrid plans her father had for her future before Geoffrey intervened?
“Geoffrey was persistent,” she said softly.
Lady Margaret tilted her head to the side. “He swept you off your feet,” she stated.
Becca nodded. “Yes. I didn’t know about his title, otherwise I would have insisted he reconsider.”
“Reconsider?” Lady Margaret smiled then. “I know my son, dear. He wanted to make you his wife and there would be no argument on the matter. I daresay he can be very convincing.”
Becca flushed as she recalled all the many ways he convinced her of his intent and passion. “Yes.”
She studied Becca for a long moment. What did she see? Could she tell Becca was in love with her very determined son?
A warmth stole into the lady’s eyes, and Becca felt it like an embrace. “He is very much like his father, you know.”
Becca knew then that his mother had loved the late earl very much. Her throat tight, she simply nodded at the disclosure.
“Well,” Lady Margaret said with a sharp nod. “You’ll need quite an extensive wardrobe, Rebecca, if you’re to attend the important gatherings in London.”
She didn’t begrudge the lady her generosity or her guidance. She saw another spark in her blue eyes, one of maternal concern, and her heart swelled. “Yes, Lady Margaret. I appreciate your assistance. I’m woefully unaware of the latest fashions, I fear.”
The older woman smiled. “You’ll look lovely in any gown, regardless of fashion.”
Becca blushed at the praise.
“I agree,” Geoffrey said from the doorway, startling them both. “You look perfect in what you’re wearing right now.”
“Geoffrey!” Becca exclaimed, covering herself with her arms.
He rounded his eyes in mock-innocence. “Am I intruding?”
To her credit, Lady Margaret held her composure until she left the room, but Becca had seen the hint of a smile on her face.
Geoffrey placed his hands on her waist and helped her down. “I have to ride the estate this afternoon, love.”
“May I accompany you?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not. There are a few repairs I need to see to. You would be terribly bored.”
“I could never be bored with you.”
He hugged her to him, kissing her lightly. “You would distract me from my duties, wife. I’ll be back much more quickly if I go alone. We’ll ride together soon so I can introduce the tenants to the new countess.”
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