They rode in silence.
Gillian rested her head on his shoulder. She liked the clean, masculine scent of his shaving soap and tried to guess what it was as a way of taking her mind off how neatly she fit against his body.
She no longer doubted that he was as aware of her as she was of him. It seemed the coach echoed with the pounding beat of their hearts.
The coach leaned to one side as it rounded a corner, bringing her and Brian even closer.
He turned to her. She looked up. Their lips were mere inches apart.
“I was wrong,” he said.
“About what?”
“It isn’t possible for a man and a woman to be in close quarters and not kiss.”
“You are right,” she agreed and placing her hand over his heart, reached up and kissed him full on the mouth.
Chapter Nine
She was kissing him.
Brian could not believe his luck. He’d breeched Gillian’s defenses. He’d laid siege and in less time than he had anticipated she had surrendered.
And she was so sweet in his arms. So giving.
He blamed youth and his own misguided bullheadedness for not realizing years ago what a remarkable, precious woman Gillian was.
He would make up for that now. She was his. He’d never let her go. Not now that he had her.
But it wasn’t just how attractive she was or her intelligence that drew him to her. No, she made him feel good about himself. He’d never felt more alive in months, perhaps years, than he did being with Gillian.
Brian pulled her up into his lap so that he could kiss her properly…and she kissed him back. The frightened bride he had to be so careful of was gone and in her place was a woman who didn’t shy from his touch or his passion.
His fingers unbuttoned her jacket. The wool was soft beneath his touch. He kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck. “Sweet Gillian,” he whispered and felt her muscles stretch into a smile as she pressed her lips against his forehead, her fingers in his hair.
Making love in the coach had not been his intent. He’d wanted privacy with his wife. He’d imagined kisses, but had not let his mind wander to something more.
Now, he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside her. He wanted to claim her, to keep her.
He forced himself away from the sweet scent of her skin where her shoulder and neck met. Leaning his head back against the seat, he had to close his eyes against the sight of his wife smiling at him, her lips swollen and full from his kisses. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to say, “I think we’d best stop this.”
Dear God, the words hurt to speak.
There was a beat of silence. “Why?”
Brian opened his eyes. She was so beautiful to him. His Gillian had gone from being attractive to being the most graceful, lovely woman he’d ever met. He touched a lock of her hair the color of rich, golden ale. “Because if we keep this up, you will be ravaged.”
A look of such unholy delight came to her eyes, it robbed him of breath. “I believe that is what I want, Brian.”
His name had never sounded sweeter than when spoken from her lips. Her bold honesty set his senses afire.
“Well then, my lady, that is exactly what is going to happen,” he assured her before setting down to business.
He kissed her ear, her nose, her eyes, her forehead…her mouth. Gillian didn’t think she could ever have enough of his kisses or that she’d ever stop kissing him.
Time ceased to have meaning. Her world narrowed down to this coach, the leather seat, and this man. Her senses were alive with him.
His arousal strained his breeches. She remembered having him inside her. Remembered the alien feeling and the disquieting yearning for something she didn’t understand. She’d spent years thinking long and hard about their joining.
She lowered her hand, finding the buttons to his breeches. She undid one, then another—
“No. Not yet.” His hands came down to her wrists. Brian turned, bringing her down onto the leather seat. He looked into her eyes. “It has to mean more, Gillian,” he said. He braced an arm against the seat close to her head. “I want it to mean more.”
Gillian leaned back into the corner. One leg was still across his lap, the other bent against his hip. “You don’t want me?” Her mind was having trouble understanding.
“I want you,” he said fervently. “But I want us to start afresh. I don’t want to drag the past with us. We have the opportunity right now to change everything.”
“What do you want us to do?” she asked, uncertain.
“I want to repeat my vows. I didn’t mean them the first time, Gillian. I was too involved in my own life but I need you to trust and believe in me.”
“I do,” Gillian murmured, and it was true.
“Then let this be the first day of our marriage—a marriage built upon all that is fine and good.”
She reached out and placed her hand over his heart, deeply touched by his words. A new beginning. It sounded like heaven.
Brian took her left hand in his. His thumb stroked the back of her hand as he said somberly, “I, Brian Anthony Ranson, earl of Wright, take you Gillian—”
He paused, and she knew he didn’t know her full name. Instead of being offended, she offered quietly, “Bridie Hutchins.”
His brows came together. “I don’t deserve you.” He started to sit up, to pull away. She reached out, laid her left hand on the side of his jaw, and brought him back around to face her. “I don’t even know your name,” Brian said to her unspoken question, his eyes troubled. “You could do so much better, even with that Spaniard.”
“But you are the one who is my husband,” she replied. She drew breath and released it before confessing, “You are the only one I want to be my husband.”
He turned and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand. Where his lips touched, her skin burned. He lingered there, unmoving, his body tense with pent-up emotion.
“Brian?”
“I’m fine, Gillian,” he said, but when he looked at her, she saw the suspicious redness around his eyes. He’d been that moved by her words? It touched her deeply, banishing the last traces of doubt in her heart.
He reclaimed her left hand. This time when he spoke, there was no hesitation. “I, Brian, wilt take Gillian Bridie Hutchins to be my wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony. I promise I wilt love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and health; forsaking all others, keeping her only unto me, so long as we both shall live.”
“You remember the words,” she said, surprised.
“I’ve had time to think about them,” he answered. “I’ve reread them several times thinking about us and about what I’ve done wrong. I mean them this time, Gillian. I’m older and, hopefully, wiser. I want our marriage.”
There it was. Proof that he’d not come for her because she’d left him and his pride demanded obedience, but because he now valued what she’d always wanted—a marriage based upon mutual esteem, respect, and love.
Oh, he didn’t love her yet. She was not that naïve. But he would someday. The attraction between them was strong. They weren’t afraid of speaking their minds or locking horns…or listening when the other person was right.
And Jess was gone.
It was unkind to be thankful a woman was dead. Gillian had a second of contrition until she absolved herself with her own happiness. Brian was hers, not Jess’s or any other woman’s.
What was hers, she kept.
Her vows were easy to recite. She’d never forgotten them, even when she had made the decision to not honor them. “I, Gillian, take you Brian Anthony Ranson to be my wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony. I wilt love him, comfort him, obey him—”
He stopped her by pressing his fingers against her lips. “That list isn’t necessary, Gillian. I know you will honor it. All I ask is for your trust.”
“I do trust you,” she
protested.
Brian shook his head. “You shouldn’t. I haven’t earned it. But I’m going to ask it of you now. Please, Gillian, vow that you will trust me, even when you are angry or hurt or perhaps afraid.”
She leaned back in her corner. Was this because she’d left him? If so, he certainly was wise to ask it of her. She tightened her hold on their joined hands as she said, “I wilt love, honor, obey, and trust you; forsaking all others, keeping only you unto me so long as we both shall live.”
There, she’d made her vow. Andres rose in her conscience. She felt a stab of guilt but she would write him, would explain. As Aunt Agatha had pointed out, a wife belonged with her husband.
Brian leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. The fire that had burned between them quickly caught fire.
It had been an unconventional ceremony. Promises exchanged in a rolling coach with both bride and groom half undressed, but to Gillian it could not have been more sacred.
She put her arms around his neck pulling him closer. The seat was narrow, the space confined and yet they fit together perfectly.
“I have my ring,” she confessed. “I was going to throw it away, but I couldn’t.”
“The ring doesn’t matter, Gillian. I shall always be here for you. You must believe that.”
And she let herself believe.
This was the marriage she had once dreamed of. He was the man she wanted.
Their kisses deepened. Clothes were pulled off. They didn’t attempt to remove Brian’s boots. They were in too much of a hurry.
Brian entered her with one smooth stroke. It felt good to have him inside her.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “I haven’t hurt you—?”
She kissed him. “I’ve never been better.” She took a moment, allowing her body to heat his. “Now, make love to me, husband. I’ve been waiting years for you.”
He was happy to comply.
This joining was so different from the first. There was no pain, no tension. She let him take the lead. He seemed to know what she wanted better than she did. His strokes became longer, went deeper. Was it her imagination or did he seem to be taking longer with her than on her wedding night?
His whole purpose appeared to be seeing to her pleasure. He whispered her name, urging her on, kissing her, loving her, pleasing her…calling her “Wife.”
It was what she’d dreamed of hearing. What she’d wanted to be.
Had her husband known that when he’d come for her at Huntleigh? Or had something new and precious happened to their marriage? Had a change of heart occurred amidst the arguments and anger?
It no longer mattered. Gillian could forgive him anything as long as he held this way.
A yearning built inside her. A need she’d not known before. She could barely breathe, let alone think. Her blood beat in her veins, rushing to where they were joined.
“Brian?” she whispered, fearful.
He hushed her. “Relax into it. Let me take you there.”
And exactly where was “there”?
“With me,” he said, in answer to her unspoken question. “Come…with…me.”
Suddenly, exquisite, sharp pleasure seared through her. She touched it, pulled back, and felt it radiate through her whole being.
She cried out his name. He thrust hard, deep…once, twice and sought his own release. For one blessed span of time, their bodies melded into one.
Life suddenly made sense.
She’d been destined to be right here, right now. She held onto him. He was the anchor in the middle of a turbulent storm.
And at the same time, love welled in her heart for him. It filled to overflowing.
How could she ever have doubted him?
Slowly, the world came back into focus. Gillian lay in his arms, her body well used and pleasantly exhausted.
The world beyond came back into focus. The smell of leather and horses mixed with that of his shaving soap and their lovemaking. James and George’s muffled voices came through the coach walls. If they’d overheard any of what happened inside the coach, they gave no indication.
A chill went through the air, cooling her still-fevered skin.
He grabbed his greatcoat and rolled onto the seat so that she was on top, her head in the crook of his arm. He spread the coat over her. His arms banded around her as if he’d never let her go. He kissed the top of her head.
“You are wonderful,” he whispered.
Gillian looked up at him. “I am?”
His gaze met hers. “You are so sweet, so giving.”
“I liked you, too,” she admitted—and he laughed, holding her closer still.
“I have been such a fool,” he murmured. “You are a treasure. My precious, precious wife.”
She liked the sound of that. She prayed he’d say that every day of their lives together. She also wondered if he’d ever said such to Jess.
As if reading her mind, he whispered, “It’s never been like that before…with anyone.” And Gillian grinned with happiness.
Silence stretched between them. She thought about telling him that she loved him. That she’d always loved him from the moment they’d met. But there was a boldness to such a statement. Let him go first.
After he’d said it, she would make her confession. And they would laugh about how long it had taken her to speak her heart, but he would understand.
Right now, she believed he understood everything.
“Liverpool would be a fool not to give you an appointment on his staff,” she said, listening to the beat of his heart in his chest.
“He has no choice but to do so,” Brian agreed. “Look at the beautiful woman I married.”
Gillian lifted her head to see if he was joking. She’d not thought herself a beauty. She was attractive or as Aunt Agatha often said, “handsome enough.” But beautiful? Especially right now? She was certain she appeared a mess.
And then he smiled at her and what she saw in her lover’s eyes made her feel beautiful.
“I’ve hurt you so much in the past, Gillian. I understand that now. I’ve been selfish. I’m trying to change, but—” His voice broke off. “You are a gift. Please trust me, Gillian. Please trust me.”
She came up on one arm to look into his face. “Brian, is something the matter?”
Gently, he brought her head back down to his chest, combing her hair down her back with his fingers. The pins were long gone. She didn’t care.
“Nothing is wrong, Gillian,” he said. “In fact, if anything, all is right. It is as it should be.”
That nagging seed of doubt attempted to unsettle her happiness. Gillian wouldn’t let it. “Tell me about our house in London,” she whispered, wanting to change the subject.
“It’s small,” he said. “There wasn’t much available when I was looking, but it is in a good neighborhood. There are only two bedrooms upstairs and the furniture is not what I would choose. It came with the lease. We shall buy new. I’ll let you manage that. And we shall need to hire more servants.”
“What servants do you have?”
“Hammond, of course—”
She had to smile at the name of the always-present valet who went everywhere with Brian, even into the military. “I’m surprised he didn’t make this trip with you.”
“He’s overseeing matters at the house for me.”
“Why? Are you doing repairs?” she wondered.
“No,” he was quick to say. “There are just…” He paused, smiled at her. “Concerns he is handling while I’m gone.”
“Are they concerns I should know about?” she asked, curious.
Brian gathered her closer in his arms. “You don’t need to worry about them now.”
Gillian happily snuggled deeper against the warmth of his body. She yawned, feeling drowsy.
“Well, then,” she said, considering the matter. “We will need a housekeeper.”
“I did hire one. Mrs. Vickery. I also hired a cook but her services were unsatisfactory.
She’s no longer with us.”
She kissed his shoulder, liking the way he said “us.”
“Well, you needn’t worry about the staff any longer. I can manage all of that. I saw to those details in my parents’ household and, of course, I managed Huntleigh for Holburn. His new wife Fiona didn’t seem too upset with what I’ve done.”
“I knew you would know what to do,” he said. “Everything will be fine now. It will all be perfect.”
Gillian raised her head to look up at him. “You sound so relieved,” she said, half-teasing. “Have there been problems with the servants?”
“Gillian, I don’t know how to set up a household. It’s decidedly far more difficult than organizing an encampment for three thousand men.”
She laughed, pleased that she would play an important role in his life. “The first guest we must invite once the house is in order is Lord Liverpool. I’ll write my father for an introduction. He knows you, of course—”
Brian nodded.
“—but my father likes you and will be happy to write on your behalf.”
“Your father likes me. Even after you left me?”
“He was furious I did so. I will have to write him when we reach London. He’ll be pleased.”
“That’s good,” Brian whispered. “Very good.” He seemed to savor those thoughts before continuing, “We shall set ourselves up in society. We’ll go everywhere. Hostesses will clamor for our company, and soon we’ll be the talk of London.”
Gillian laughed. “No one knows me. If you are counting on my name to draw invitations, you may be disappointed.”
“They will want us,” he said with assurance. “My argument with my father has been great fuel for gossips. All it will take is a word in the right places and we shall have invitations pouring in our door from those who would like to see what happens when my parents and I are in the same room.”
“That doesn’t sound comfortable.”
“It will be.” He smiled down at her. “I have no doubt of it. You have the poise to carry anything off, Gillian.”
She prayed he was right. She had a tendency to be a homebody and had never truly felt comfortable amongst the ton. His mother, the marchioness, had been quite disdainful of Gillian’s social skills.
The Earl Claims His Wife Page 10