“Like it?” he asked, as he reached for the latch on the carriage door.
“It’s lovely, like something out of a fairy tale,” she whispered as she watched him stoop down to gather his dogs. It was obvious that they adored him, as he called each one by name and rubbed it behind its ears. How could anyone who loved animals like this be cruel to his wife, she wondered, momentarily allayed of some of her fears.
The Duke’s butler welcomed him home and asked for the honor of introducing his soon-to-be bride to the more elevated servants. The Duke simply nodded, and she was introduced to the housekeeper, the upstairs maid, her own lady’s maid and her assistants, the cook and the head groomsman. The others were pointed out in the groups they had been arranged in, and then she was following behind the Duke into the grand hall.
She had to bite her tongue in an effort to keep from gasping in awe, and clamp her reticule tight to her chest to keep from spinning around on the polished marble floor to look at the beautifully frescoed ceiling above the huge crystal chandelier. Surely, there was a bevy of servants whose only job was to light and extinguish the hundreds of candles it required each evening.
The Duke was led off to the left through a high archway, and she was quickly escorted up the huge curved staircase. She was a little winded by the time she made it down the long hallway to her room, where she was met by yet another maid. She was admiring the beautiful room when the Duke’s valet knocked on the door.
When he was bade to enter, he announced, “The marriage ceremony will be downstairs in the formal ballroom in two hours. The Duke has instructed the household staff to prepare your bath. He requests that Clarisse do your hair. He will arrive shortly with your gown.”
She nodded her acquiescence and followed her maid from the antechamber to the bedchamber and then to the bathing chamber.
Each room was grand, opulently decorated, with each designer touch complimenting the overall scheme. The bed was lavishly dressed in rich satin, the bright colors muted by fine lace edging. Everything matched: the shams, the rolled pillows, the tiered bed hangings and the wall hangings. It was sumptuously beautiful. She wanted to hug her arms and spin around in her glee, but the formal setting and the stiff and proper attendance of her servants stifled her.
“Come this way, Madam,” directed Clarisse. “Time is getting by us, we must hie, lots to do, lots to do,” she said fretfully. Julia soon became aware that there was a significant amount of tension between the maids, caused no doubt, by the fear of not being able to do the Duke’s bidding within the Duke’s time constraints.
While she was being undressed, the comments that were made confirmed that he definitely had that effect; all the servants lived to please the Duke. Or, more accurately, their aim was not to displease him.
She was naked and in a fragrant tub within minutes. She tried to relax and enjoy the silky hot water surrounding her, but her maids were too intent on their duties, bustling to and fro, to let her enjoy a thorough soak.
She was dried off, swathed in a thick, white robe, and led over to a dressing table, where two women worked on her hair. They trimmed her hair per the Duke’s instructions, sent up on a monogrammed note card, while she was bathing. Following his suggestion, Clarisse gave her bangs. It made a remarkable difference in her appearance, as it softened her face and took away the detracting look of her high forehead. The rest of her abundant mass of hair was curled with hot irons and pinned to her head, achieving an intricate coiffure such as she’d never seen before. When they were done with her hair, she looked remarkably different, quite lovely, in fact. Looking in the mirror that was slanted over the dressing table, she was amazed at the difference, and continued to stare at herself. Why, she was actually pretty, she thought.
The style they gave her was a work of art, and the crowning touch was, literally, a crown. A small diamond-studded tiara was tucked into the blonde curls at her temple. Gorgeous diamond earrings were attached to her ear lobes, and then a matching diamond necklace was fastened behind her neck. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. She could hardly wait to see the dress.
One of the maids left the room and a few minutes later the Duke accompanied her back. Over her arm she had a voluminous white gown, and Julia could see from where she stood that it was first quality. Made from yards of beautiful, smooth, brilliant white satin it had seed pearls sewn everywhere.
“Ohhh, it’s lovely,” she said as they entered the room.
The maid shook it out and draped it on the bed, the long, flowing skirt grazing the thick, lush carpet. That’s when she saw that it was slit up the middle of the skirt, all the way from the waist to the hem. The opening at the waist a good four inches wide at the top, cutaway to two feet or better at the bottom. Surely there was an under skirt for it, but she looked around and didn’t see any other pieces of fabric except for the tulle veiling for her tiara that Clarisse was holding in her arms.
“Where is the underskirt?” she asked as she looked over at the Duke.
“There is none,” he said. “The dress has been specially made to showcase your breasts and your womanhood.”
It was then that she looked up toward the bodice and saw that it was scooped out. There were wide satin straps for the shoulders, but there was no material between, until ruched satin resumed from the sides, as a wide empire waist joined to the material of the skirt. Surely her breasts would be completely exposed. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. He meant for her to wear this atrocious gown to her wedding! He meant for her to show his guests her breasts, her belly and her womanhood! All his odd comments came back to her: Display piece, showcase, men may look at you, your family will be so proud . . .
Garrett rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. Though there were about seventy pages left, that was enough for now. It was seven in the morning and now he felt as if he could finally get some sleep. His laptop was over heating from being in his lap on the bed, and it was covering the part of him that he needed to spend some time with.
He slid the laptop to the floor beside his bed. He contorted his body, so he could push it under the bed to make sure he wouldn’t step on it. Then he switched off his light, pushed off the covers, and dug into his nightstand drawer for the lubricant he had bought at CVS.
The vision of Laurel on her knees loving him with her mouth was the one that sent him off, but it was accompanied by many others. As he cleaned himself with a tissue, he wondered what her breasts looked like. When she was describing Julia’s, was she actually describing her own? His dick stirred as he recalled some of the passages dealing with Julia’s breasts. If not hers, maybe Callie’s? Callie was a brunette, so maybe she hadn’t patterned her after herself. Mallory was a blonde . . . hmmm. She was a hot one—with fine, pale public hair that Stewart kept getting stuck in his teeth. Garrett ran his tongue over his top lip.
He flicked at his rising dick in frustration and then rolled over onto it to flatten it. He’d read stories about what happened to men who kept jerking off by thrusting into their mattresses, so there was no temptation that he’d ever do that again! The thought of the pictures he’d seen of the malformed and surgically altered penises cooled his ardor. He reached for the water bottle he kept on the nightstand and downed a healthy swig.
He wondered if Laurel knew she had used the name Stewart twice as protagonists in her stories. He was definitely more Stewart Ravencross than Stewart Entitled-to-Everything-in-his-Dukedom-Thornhill, he thought.
No way would he take a woman, especially there, if she were unwilling. He thought of Laurel, naked on her hands and knees at the foot of his bed. But goddamn, he’d certainly do his best to make her willing.
Chapter Forty-three
Laurel had just finished tallying her scorecard when Tessa tapped her on her shoulder. “Hey stranger. I haven’t seen you all day. That’s the trouble with these tournamen
ts, sometimes we’re spread out all over the place!”
They hugged and Laurel told her to wait right there while she turned in her card, “We need to talk girlfriend,” she said as she spun away from her.
When Laurel came back, Tessa was talking with two members she didn’t know, so she waited for her at one of the buffet tables that had been set up for the event. Nibbling on some fruit slices and cheese squares, she looked out over the course and smiled. What a pretty day! To add to that, she’d played halfway decent she thought, as she took a glass of wine from a tray. Tessa came alongside and took one too.
“Let’s go sit on the veranda, I need some shade,” Tess said as she filled a small appetizer-sized plate with chocolate covered strawberries and pineapple florets. “Grab some napkins, would ya?”
They sat at a small table and Tessa hunched toward her, her head low. “So . . . tell me about the date, how’d it go? And I want all the highlights.”
Laurel told her about the Tuscan Rosemary bush Garret had brought her, how she’d never gotten to Market Common so fast before, adding that Garrett was an exceptional driver, just fast. And how, through the wonderful dinner, they always had something to talk and laugh about. Then she backtracked and told her about the amazing kiss in her study, adding that he had not bothered to capitalize on it when he had left her at her door . . . much to her chagrin. Both she and Tessa fake pouted.
“But then he did call me, just like he said he would, only a few hours later. He told me he couldn’t get me out of his head. He actually told me what he’d been thinking about—and it was some pretty heady stuff.” A long drawn out sigh escaped through her lips and she ducked her head to look at her empty plate.
Tessa patted the hand that was fidgeting with the folded napkin on the table. She didn’t know when she’d ever seen Laurel this happy—or this nervous. Something was bothering her. She could sense it.
“Well has he asked you out again?”
“Oh yeah. We’re going out Friday night. We’re going to the concert at Ocean Isle. If you guys are going to be there, I thought it would be nice if we could all sit together like we usually do.”
“Laurel, why are you so hesitant? Is there something wrong?”
“Yeah, I like him—too much. It scares me.”
Tessa laughed. “Really? That fast, huh?”
Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “How fast was it with you and Roman?”
Tessa sat back and Laurel saw the wistful look on her face as her friend remembered the day she had met Roman. She blinked, looked over at Laurel, and answered her question. “Pretty fast. As they say, ‘He had me at hello.’”
“Yeah, well . . . looking like he does, I’m not surprised.”
“It wasn’t so much his look as his manner,” Tessa said. “For some reason he set his sights on me, and he was going to have me, no matter what.”
“I have that same feeling about Garrett.”
“Well that’s good then. It’s nice to know that a man wants you. It’s empowering.”
“He said he meant to have me. We even talked about the time frame when that would happen.”
“Really?” She sounded both intrigued and piqued.
“Yeah,” Laurel blushed and stammered, “he said he couldn’t sleep, kept picturing himself . . . me . . . well it was one hot phone call, I’ll tell you that!”
Tessa laughed. “Hmmm . . . he going too fast for you?”
“I don’t know. We seem to have a connection and we both want to explore that.”
“He said that, or you?”
“We both said that. We both feel it. If you must know . . . we agreed we’re going to have sex—joked around about it, and even negotiated when. Now we just have to get there.”
“And where is that?”
Laurel sensed mothering instincts kicking in and wished she hadn’t revealed that last bit to Tess. “Date number four.”
There was a long silence where Tessa had to cover Laurel’s hand to keep her from shredding the napkin.
“Did you wait that long?” Laurel asked.
Tessa thought about the day she met Roman in St. Thomas, on the morning her cruise ship had docked, being talked into spending the day with him and then saying goodbye in the late afternoon.
She smiled as she remembered that Roman had finagled with the Captain of her ship to be seated alongside her at the Captain’s table that night. Then after dinner, after Roman had seen their ship safely out of the harbor, he’d knelt at her feet, lifted her gown and kissed her there before literally jumping off the ship and into the harbor pilot’s launch. The next day, while she had been sunbathing on deck, he had arrived by helicopter to take her off the ship.
“No, we didn’t wait long. Or I should say he didn’t wait long.”
“And look at you now.”
Tessa grinned broadly. “When you know what you want, it doesn’t make sense to wait. As long as you’re sure,” she admonished.
Carol came up to their table and smiled at Laurel, “You’re on Laurel. It’s time for the silent auction now.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
She turned back to Tessa. “You’ll be there Friday night? You’ll let me know what you think?”
“Oh, I’ll be there all right, we’ll all be there. But don’t let what any of us thinks influence you. Use your four dates wisely . . . get to know him, get to know how he thinks. How he treats women. With Matt, Philip and Roman, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about whether he’s genuine. If he’s not the real deal, they’ll know it in a heartbeat.”
“They’re not going to grill him are they?” There was panic in Laurel’s voice. She didn’t need three surrogate fathers.
“Not so he’d know,” Tessa said as she stood up. “Go. Do the auction. Don’t worry about this. Merlin’s got it. You just be your sweet, little adorable self.” Tessa kissed her on the cheek and left to go look at the auction bid sheets one final time before Laurel announced the winners.
Laurel walked to the microphone and announced that the silent auction would be closing in ten minutes. Walking over to admire some of the paintings displayed by the podium, she mentally began planning the evening ahead. After reading off the names of the winners, she’d gather her clubs, and go home. She’d take a nice hot shower and then attack her garden. The area around the mailbox could use some sprucing up, so could the roses on the side of the house—and she could use some therapy. She was nervous about the idea of having sex. It had been a long dry spell. Despite thinking about it all the time, and being distracted to the point of writing long descriptive passages, sex wasn’t actually part of her life. Never really had been, to the degree that she’d wanted it to be. She wondered if Garrett would be the man who could draw her out, make her experience what her heroines got to feel.
As the soft breeze coming off the course fanned her face, she turned and accepted the raft of papers Carol handed her. From the look of the filled up pages, the tournament had been a huge success. She quickly scanned through the sheets to see what the final bid was on her donated topiary. Donating one of her plants was like sending off one of her children—and hoping their new home was nurturing so they’d thrive. Seventy-five dollars. Not bad for something she had babied, watered, fed, and shaped for four years. She looked at the name of the winner. Oh, JoAnn. She grinned. At least she’d be able to go visit it whenever she wanted. JoAnn was a good friend.
Chapter Forty-four
That night she was sitting in her easy chair watching a rerun of Uncorked when she heard the doorbell ring. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she slowly unfolded from the chair and hit pause on the DVR remote. She couldn’t see anyone in either side glass panel as she approached the door. She flipped on the outside light and looked out. There didn’t ap
pear to be anyone there, but she could see that there was a package on the mat. She could even read the note taped on top. In a bold hand, it read: LAUREL.
She opened the door and looked down the driveway to the street. At the corner she thought she saw the back of Tessa’s car as it turned. Bringing the package inside, she closed and locked the door before putting the package on the dining room table. She tore the small envelope off. Inside was a note card, the message written in Tessa’s precise hand.
Roman sends this. He says it will drive your young man crazy Friday night. My thoughts are you should wear it with your blue paisley crepe cami over skintight jeans. We have money riding on this. Philip says your guy will last until date number 4, Roman says no way. But he wants to hedge his bet and ensure your cooperation.
Laurel smiled and tore at the wrapping. What were those crazy fools up to now? She probably shouldn’t have been so open with Tess today. Garrett might not like her telling everyone about their progressive “dating” plans. She opened the box and fished through the tissue until she pulled out a tiny lacy bra. She held it up by the straps. It was all straps. It had no cups. Absolutely none. What exactly was the point, she wondered as she walked with it swinging in front of her over to her bedroom.
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