Wedding of the Century

by Mary Jo Putney

  That's what she and Justin had been doing: cutting each other. Feeling a century older than she had the day before, Sunny gave a shaky smile. "Apparently I must learn to speak with American bluntness."

  "That's the spirit. But first, you might want to ask yourself what you want out of your marriage."

  "Love, companionship, children. I certainly don't want to withdraw entirely from society, but the fashionable world will never be the center of my life, the way it is for my mother." Her brow wrinkled. "Perhaps if my parents had been happier together, my father would not have worked so hard, and my mother would not have cared as much about society."

  "I've often suspected that many of the world's most dazzling achievements are a result of a miserable domestic situation." Katie considered. "You might want to wait until both you and Thornborough have had time to recover from what was obviously a distressing episode. You were about to take Alexandra to Paris, weren't you? In your place, I would carry on with my original plans. That will give you time to think and decide exactly how to proceed."

  "I'm going to need it." Sunny rose and hugged her godmother. "Thank you, Aunt Katie. What can I do to repay you?"

  "When you're old and wise like me, you can give worldly advice to other confused young ladies." Katie smiled reminiscently. "Which is exactly what I was told by an eccentric, sharp-tongued Westron aunt who sent me back to my husband when I was a bewildered bride."

  Sunny nodded gravely. "I promise to pass on whatever womanly wisdom I acquire."

  But before she was in a position to give good advice, she must fix her own frayed marriage. And that, she knew, would be easier said than done.

  Chapter Ten

  Alexandra looked eagerly from the carriage window. "Almost home! It's hard to believe that it's been only a month since we left Swindon. I feel years older."

  Sunny smiled, trying to conceal her frayed nerves. " Paris has that effect on people. You really have changed, too. You left as a girl and are returning as a young woman."

  "I hope so." Alexandra grinned. "But I'm going to go right up to my room and take off my wonderful Worth travel ensemble. Then I'll curl up in my window seat and read that new Rider Haggard novel I bought in London. Though Paris was wonderful, there's nothing quite like a good book."

  "You've earned the right to a little self-indulgence." Sunny gave her sister-in-law a fond smile. Petite and pretty, Alexandra would never be called the Gargoylette again, and the difference was more than mere clothing. Now that Alexandra was free of her mother's crushing influence, she was developing poise, confidence and a quiet charm that would surely win her whatever man she eventually honored with her heart.

  The carriage pulled up in front of the palace and a footman stepped forward to open the door and let down the steps. Even though Sunny had lived at Swindon for only a few months, and that interval had been far from happy, she felt a surprising sense of homecoming. It helped that the full glory of an English spring had arrived. All nature was in bloom, and the sun was almost as warm as high summer.

  As they entered the main hall, Sunny asked the butler, "Is my husband in the house or out on the estate?"

  She assumed the latter, for Justin was not expecting them to return until the next day. But the butler replied, "I believe that the duke is taking advantage of the fine weather by working in the Greek gazebo. Shall I inform him of your arrival?"

  Sunny's heart lurched. She had thought she would have several hours more before confronting her husband about the state of their marriage, but perhaps it would be better this way. "No, I shall freshen up and then surprise Mm."

  As she walked toward the stairs, a black-and-tan whirlwind darted across the hall and leapt against her, barking joyfully. "Daisy! Oh, darling, I missed you, too." Sunny knelt and hugged the slender little dog, feeling that such a warm welcome was a good omen.

  A moment later, the wolfhounds thundered up and greeted Alexandra eagerly, then escorted her upstairs. Canine snobs of the highest order, they could tell aristocratic British blood from that of an upstart American, and they reserved their raptures for Justin and his sisters.

  Sunny didn't mind. Her charming mongrel at her heels, she went to her room and changed from her traveling suit to her most flattering tea gown, a loose, flowing confection of figured green silk that brought out the green in her eyes.

  She chose the costume with care, and not just because it was comfortable. The free and easy design of a tea gown was considered rather daring because it hinted at free and easy morals. She hoped that Justin would see her garb as the subtle advance that it was.

  Because he always seemed to like her hair, she let it down and tied it back with a scarf. She needed all the help she could get, for she was terrified by the prospect of baring her heart to the man who could so easily break it. Apart from a brief note that she had written to inform Justin of their safe arrival in Paris, there had been no communication between them. For all she knew, he was still furious over Paul Curzon's kiss.

  Fortunately, she had news that should mollify any lingering anger. God willing, it would also bring them together.

  Chin high, she sailed out of the house and down the path toward the gardens.

  A breeze wafted through the miniature Greek temple, carrying exuberant scents of trees and spring flowers. Justin scarcely noticed. He was hardly more aware of the pile of correspondence that lay on the cushioned bench beside him, for thoughts of his wife dominated his mind. All of his grief, guilt and anguished love had been intensified by that night of heartbreaking passion, when he had briefly thought that their spirits and bodies were in total harmony.

  Sunny had sent him a single impersonal note from Paris. Though it gave no hint of her feelings, its civility implied that she was willing to go on as if nothing had happened.

  Yet he feared her return almost as much as he longed to see her. Having once found passion in her arms, it was going to be almost impossible for him not to try to invoke it again, whether she was willing or not.

  Absently he slit an envelope with the Italian dagger that he used as a letter opener. Before he could pull out the folded sheet inside, a soft voice said, "Good day, Justin."

  He looked up to see Sunny poised on the edge of the folly, her right hand resting on one of the Ionic columns that framed the entrance. She wore a flowing green tea gown that made her look like an exquisite tree nymph. The garment was distractingly similar to a nightgown, and the breeze molded the fluttering, translucent layers of fabric to her slim figure.

  For an instant all his tormented desire must have showed in his face. He wanted to cross the marble floor and draw her into his arms and never let her go. But he didn't. She looked ready to run if he made a move toward her, and it was unbearable to think that she might fear him.

  He set the pile of letters on the bench beside him and courteously got to his feet. "I hope you had a good journey. I wasn't expecting you and Alex until tomorrow."

  "Rather than spend another night in London, we decided to come home early."

  "I'm glad. The house has seemed empty without the two of you." Afraid to look at her because of what his expression would reveal, he turned the dagger over and over in his hands. The impact of her presence had driven away all of the eloquent, romantic speeches he had been rehearsing in his mind.

  After a strained silence, she said, "I have good news. I'm almost certain that… that I am with child."

  His first reaction was delight, but that was instantly shadowed by the implications. Augusta Vangelder had told him that once her daughter conceived, she was not to be troubled by husbandly lust. The fact that Sunny was brandishing the possibility of her pregnancy like a shield was clear proof that she welcomed the excuse to ban him from her bed.

  His fingers whitened around the handle of the dagger. If she bore a son, her obligation to the Aubrey name would be fulfilled, and their marriage would effectively be over. Driving the dagger into his belly would have hurt less than that thought.

  During t
he last lonely month, he had resolved to take advantage of the quiet intimacy of the marital bed to speak more openly to his wife. If she was willing, perhaps they could build a closer, warmer relationship. Now that hope was gone; any discussions between them must endure the harsh light of day.

  Knowing that the silence had been too long, he said, "Excellent. I hope you are feeling well?"

  She nodded.

  After another awkward pause, he said, "Good. We shall have to get a London physician here to make sure that your health is all it should be." He laid the dagger precisely on top of his correspondence so that the letters would not blow away in the wind. "You need not worry that I will continue to… force my attentions on you."

  "Very well." She bent her head, and a slight shiver passed through her. Relief, perhaps. "I'm a bit tired. I think that I'll skip dinner and have a tray in my room."

  Thinking that she looked pale, he said, "Of course. You must take good care of yourself."

  Back straight and head high, she turned and started down the grassy path. Every inch a lady, and as unapproachable as Queen Victoria herself.

  He watched her leave, very aware of what an effort it was to breathe. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He had been breathing all his life, yet never noticed before how difficult it was.

  There was a tearing sensation deep inside, as if his heart was literally breaking, and he knew that he could not let the deadly silence continue. He called out, "Sunny!"

  She halted, then turned slowly to face him. In the shadows cast by the tall boxwoods that lined the path, he could not see her face clearly.

  He stepped from the folly and moved toward her, then stopped when she tensed. "Sunny, I want to apologize for what I did at Cottenham. I am profoundly sorry for distressing you."

  "You were within your rights, and your anger was justified," she said expressionlessly.

  "Perhaps, but that doesn't make it right to mistreat you. It won't happen again."

  "Should I be grateful for that?" she said with sudden, chilling bitterness. "That night was upsetting, but it was also the one time in our marriage that you have shown any feelings about me. I have begun to think that even anger is better than indifference."

  The gay ribbons on her gown shivered as she bowed her head and pressed her fingertips to her brow. When she looked up, her eyes were bleak. "We can't continue to live together as strangers, Justin. I can't endure it any longer."

  Her words struck with the force of a blow, nearly destroying his fragile control. It seemed impossible that their marriage could be ending like this, on a day full of sunlight and promise. Yet he could not hold her against her will; somehow he must find the strength to let her go. "If you wish to be free of me," he said tightly, "I will set no barriers in your way."

  Her mouth twisted. "Is that what you want-to end our marriage now that you have your damned roof?"

  "I want you to be happy, Sunny." Hearing the anguish in his voice, he stopped until he could continue more steadily. "And I will do anything in my power that might make you so."

  The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with indefinable emotions. Then she said passionately, "What I want is to be a real wife! To be part of your life, not just another expensive bauble in Swindon Palace." Her hands clenched at her sides. "Or perhaps I should wish to be your mistress, since English lords seem to save their hearts for women who are not their wives."

  Stunned, he stammered, "I don't understand."

  "It's a simple matter, Justin. I want you to love me," she said softly. "Do you think that you ever could? Because I'm horribly afraid that I love you."

  He felt as if his heart had stopped. Her declaration was so unexpected that it seemed she must be mocking him. Yet it was impossible to doubt the transparent honesty in her eyes.

  Before he could find the words to answer, her face crumpled and she spun away from him. "Dear God, I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I? Like the brash, vulgar American that I am. Please-forget that I ever spoke."

  Justin's paralysis dissolved and he caught her arm and swung her around before she could dart down the path. To his horror, tears were coursing down her face. The sight delivered a final, shattering blow to his reserve. Crushing her in his arms, he said urgently, "Don't cry, Sunny. If you want my love, you already have it. You always have."

  Though her tears intensified, she did not pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in the angle between his throat and shoulder. She was all pliant warmth, honeyed hair and the promise of wild violets.

  He groped for the best way to tell her how much he loved her until he realized that words had always failed and divided them. Action would better demonstrate the depth of his caring. He raised her head and brushed back her silky hair, then kissed her with all of the hunger of his yearning spirit.

  Salty with tears, her lips clung to his, open and seeking.

  Subtle currents flowed between them-despair and comfort, wonder and promise, trust and surrender. In the stark honesty of desperation, there was no place for shame or doubt or misunderstanding. One by one, the barriers that had divided them crumbled away to reveal the shy grandeur of love.

  At first the sweetness of discovery was enough, but as the kiss deepened and lengthened, sweetness slowly blossomed into fire. Murmuring her name like a prayer, he kneaded the soft curves that lay unconstrained beneath her flowing gown. She pressed against him, breathless and eager, and he drew her down to the sun-warmed grass.

  They had had dutiful conjugal relations, and once they had come together with chaotic, disquieting passion. This time, they made love. She yielded herself utterly, for the awesome needs of her body no longer frightened her now that she knew she was loved.

  Rippling layers of green silk were easily brushed aside, buttons undone, ribbons untied. Then, too impatient to wait until they were fully disrobed, they joined in the dance of desire. Swift and fierce, their union was a potent act of mutual possession that bound them into one spirit and one flesh.

  Only afterward, as she lay languidly in the haven of his arms, did she realize the scandalousness of her behavior. The Duchess of Thornborough was lying half-naked in the garden, as bold as any dairymaid in a haystack. How strange. How shocking. How right.

  His head lay pillowed on her shoulder, and she slid her fingers into his tousled dark hair. "How is it possible for us to say so much to each other in ten minutes when we didn't speak a single word?" she asked dreamily.

  "Words are limiting. They can only hint at an emotion as powerful as love. Passion comes closer because it is itself all feeling." Justin rolled to his side and propped himself up on one elbow, his other arm draped over her waist to hold her close. Smiling into her eyes, he said, "For someone who seemed to hate being touched, you have developed a remarkable talent for physical intimacy."

  She blushed. "At first I was afraid of the unknown. It wasn't long until I began to look forward to your visits, but I was ashamed of my desire. And… and my mother said that a man would never respect an immodest woman who reveled in her lower nature."

  "In this area, your mother's understanding is sadly limited. There may be men like that, but for me, the knowledge that we can share our bodies with mutual pleasure is the greatest of all gifts." He leaned over and dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose.' 'Let us make a pact, my love-to pay no attention to what the world might say, and care only about what the two of us feel."

  With one hand, she unbuttoned the top of his shirt and slipped her fingers inside so she could caress his warm, bare skin. "I think that is a wonderful idea. I only wish that we had started sooner. I was so sure that you married me only because you needed my fortune."

  Expression serious, he said, "Don't ever doubt that I love you, Sunny. I have since the first time we met, when you were the Gilded Girl and I was an insignificant younger son who could never dare aspire to your hand."

  Her eyes widened. "We hardly even spoke that day."

  "On the contrary-we walked
through the gardens for the better part of an hour. I could take you along the exact route, and repeat everything you said. It was the most enchanting experience of my life." His mouth quirked up wryly. "And you don't remember it at all, do you?"

  "I do remember that I enjoyed your company, but I was meeting so many people then. You were simply a quiet, attractive man who didn't seem interested in me." She looked searchingly into his eyes. "If you loved me, why didn't you say so sooner?"

  "I tried, but you never wanted to hear." He began lazily stroking her bare arm. "Since it never occurred to me that you could love me, there was no reason to burden you with my foolish emotions, even if I had known how to do it."

  A vivid memory of his proposal flashed through her mind. He had said then that she had had his heart from the moment they met. There had been other occasions when he had haltingly tried to declare himself, plus a thousand small signs of caring, from his wedding orchids to the way he had risked his life to rescue a puppy for her. Yet because of her pain over Paul's betrayal and her conviction that Justin had married her only for money, she had spurned his hesitant words and gestures, convinced that they were polite lies. Dear heaven, no wonder he had preferred to conceal his feelings.

  "I'm the one who must apologize. Because I was hurting, I ended up hurting you as well." She laid her hand along his firm jaw, thinking how handsome he looked with that tender light in his eyes. "Yet you were always kind to me."

  He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. "We gargoyles are known for kindness."

  "I hate that nickname," she said vehemently. "How can people be so cruel? You are intelligent, amusing, considerate, and a gentleman in the best sense of the word."