by Platt, Meara
“Yes, that sounds lovely.” She tried to appear jovial, but gave herself away by nibbling her lip. “I suppose they all know about our arrangement. I hope they don’t think I’m taking advantage of you.”
Her cheek brushed against his shoulder as he bent closer. “It doesn’t matter what they think now. In time, they’ll come to know your worth as I do.”
His words appeared to do little to reassure her, for she now gazed at him uncertainly. “Will you keep hold of my hand throughout the ceremony?”
He glanced at her hand still poised on his forearm and tensed. “Not if you don’t wish it.”
“You mistake my meaning. I want you to.” She let out a shaky breath. “You see, my hands are trembling.”
“Ah, I see. I won’t let go of you.” That he had no desire to ever let go of her was a problem he’d address at another time. It was his problem, after all. But not a consideration today. Sophie had agreed to behave like a young bride in love during the ceremony and wedding breakfast. His heart wished to take advantage, but his head warned that it was dangerous. He’d survived the war by thinking things through with intricate care and would survive this marriage arrangement similarly.
In any event, he dared not overdo it. No one would ever believe Sophie loved him.
Sophie was once again glancing at her slippered toes as they walked down the cathedral’s center aisle. His family and the Allworthys were seated in the front pews leaving the rest of the vast cathedral empty. Perhaps the ceremony ought to have taken place in the privacy of the bishop’s office or the rectory.
Too late now.
But it felt right to stand in front of the holy altar with Sophie.
James hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath throughout the ceremony until he released it when Sophie affirmed her vow with a quiet, but confident, “I do.”
He turned to face her and saw that she’d already tilted her head upward in expectation of his kiss. What was unexpected was the soft glow of happiness in her eyes and in her smile. He’d have to thank her for that thoughtful gesture afterward.
He leaned on his cane with one hand, but placed his other against Sophie’s cheek in order to better angle her lips to his. “Welcome to the family, Lady Exmoor.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, counted to three… counted very slowly to three, and then ended the kiss.
She took a moment to open her eyes, but smiled when she did. “Thank you, my lord.”
They were now married.
“Come, meet my family. They’re eager to know more about you.” Although his voice was even and matter of fact, he took a quick moment to give thanks to Sophie’s brother. Harry may have wanted to save Sophie from a dismal fate, but in doing so, Harry may have also saved him. Too soon to tell, of course.
Sophie held on to his arm while he introduced her first to his dowager aunts, Lady Agatha Westwood and Lady Miranda Grayfell. Lady Agatha had two married daughters who were unable to make it to London on such short notice, but Lady Miranda and her four sons resided in London and were present.
James grinned as Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise when his cousins rose and came forward to greet her. “Oh, goodness! You didn’t tell me they were the size of gladiators,” she said in an urgent whisper. “They’re as big as you.”
He introduced her to the eldest first and went down the line. Sophie nodded and repeated their names to better etch each one into her memory. “Viscount Grayfell,” she said, about to bow, but James held her back. “You outrank Tynan. He bows to you. As do the rest of these scoundrels.” But any attempt at formality quickly fell by the wayside as his cousins hugged him fiercely and in turn kissed Sophie on the cheek.
Introductions to his brother and sister were as informal, his sister, Gabrielle, rushing forward to hug Sophie, and his brother scooping her into his arms and twirling her around before setting her down and planting a wet kiss on her nose. “Enough, Rom. Sophie isn’t one of your pets.”
His brother, although not quite seventeen years old, was old enough to understand how to behave properly. “I know, but she’s such an improvement over–”
James growled softly. “Romulus! You’re not too big to have your ears boxed.” In time, he might tell Sophie about Lady Bella Whitby, daughter of the Duke of Weymouth, the beauty who had once claimed his heart, but this was not the moment.
No, today was Sophie’s day and he was quite proud of the way she’d handled herself up to now. His family could be intimidating, not only because of all the titles among them, but because of their imposing size. Even the women were tall.
Sophie, despite her average size, looked like the runt of the litter among them. A lovable runt, and it was no surprise that his entire family responded warmly to her. They would never have dared such familiarity with Lady Bella, for that proud beauty would have cut them at the knees with her cold stare.
That he’d once been in love with that Society jewel did not speak well of him, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. A time before he’d gone to fight Napoleon, a time before he’d engaged in desperate battles or faced biting cold, gut-gnawing hunger, and the foul stench of death. A time before he’d understood the importance of compassion and mercy, and the nobility in protecting the weak.
Yet, he’d still gone back to her upon his return from Waterloo. He wasn’t certain why. Perhaps because he’d once been as proud and arrogant as Lady Bella and thought he needed to return to that life even though he was a changed man.
The first deep cut to his cheek had altered his life forever, and over the years, he’d acquired more deep cuts and more injuries, the most recent being his leg wound. He’d almost lost his leg and may yet if it didn’t soon heal.
He shook out of his wayward thoughts. “Sophie,” he said as they rode alone in his carriage to his townhouse to celebrate their wedding breakfast, “as Lady Exmoor, your place will be at the opposite end of the dining table from mine. But not today. You’ll be seated next to me so that we may share our first meal together as husband and wife.”
She nodded.
He noticed her hands were clasped and tensely resting on her lap. “I hope my family didn’t offend you. They can be a bit much at times. My cousins and I are close as brothers, and they were obviously exuberant in my new found good fortune. It’s obvious they approve of you.”
She shook her head and laughed. “I’m not used to all this attention. They day is young and you may still live to regret your choice.”
He leaned forward and covered her hands with his. “No, my sweet. I’m well pleased with our bargain. It’s you I worry about.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
He didn’t need to say it. She had only to look at his unpleasant features to know the answer. His body was equally scarred, but she wasn’t likely ever to see more than the scars marring his face.
The soft curls at the nape of her neck bobbed as she shook her head and sighed. “Ah, you’re feeling sorry for yourself again, my lord.”
He released her hands and frowned. “I’m only thinking of you.”
“With all due respect, stop thinking so hard. Have I complained? Have I given you any reason to think I regret our marriage? I’ll speak up for myself if and when I ever do.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Very well, consider me duly chastened.”
Those big brown eyes of hers, the rich color of winter chestnuts, widened. “I didn’t mean to berate you. Please don’t take my words–”
“I’m not angry, Sophie. In truth, I have a hard time reconciling your outward softness with your inner strength. You look like an angel, even more so now that you’ve adorned your hair with little more than a garland of flowers. It falls like a soft halo upon your head.”
She touched a hand to her hair. “Oh, dear. Is it too much?”
“It’s perfect. And I’m beginning to think that you are perfect, too. You know how to stand your ground. Softness and strength. It’s a good combination.”
She eased back and laug
hed mirthfully. “I hope you remember this conversation the next time I irritate you.”
He grinned and nodded.
In truth, he knew he’d been given a gift in Sophie.
She was the one who’d gotten the lump of coal.
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST continued well into the evening, and Sophie could hardly keep her eyes open by the time the clock struck midnight. The guests were only now departing. Sophie hugged the Allworthys and the Exmoor aunts, Agatha and Miranda. She received warm kisses from his sister and young brother who’d imbibed too much champagne and was all giggles as she gave him a kiss on the cheek in return.
His gladiator cousins were the last to go and for a dreaded moment she feared they would settle into the study and drink the night away with her new husband. Had he asked them to stay? Well, she was having none of it.
Obviously, she and James were not going to share a traditional wedding night. But his family didn’t have to know it. “My lord,” she said, standing on the threshold of his study and staring at these five big men who proved her fears correct. They were indeed about to make themselves comfortable and drink themselves silly into the night. “I believe this is our night.”
His cousins looked sheepish, but James looked stunned. “They know, Sophie. No need to–”
“What? Exercise my wifely rights?” Oh, dear! At first, they all looked like magnificent stags caught unaware by firelight and too dazed to move. In the next moment, they looked as though they were all about to erupt in laughter. Perhaps she ought not to have phrased it quite that way. She wasn’t certain what those wifely rights entailed because her mother had died young and there had been no woman to explain such things to her. Lydia would have taken on the chore had she believed Sophie ever had a chance at a real marriage.
But these men knew what it meant even if she didn’t.
Lord Grayfell, no longer bothering to smother his grin, grabbed his two youngest brothers by the scruff of their necks and motioned to the third brother to follow. “Let’s go, gentlemen. You heard Lady Exmoor.”
Sophie stepped aside as he approached dragging his brothers. Grayfell shoved the three young men out the door, but paused a moment to inspect her. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I think you’re just the medicine my stubborn cousin needs.”
The front door had barely slammed behind her when James strode toward her with a scowl as dark as coal. “I will never interfere with you and any of your guests again,” she said in a rush. “But this is our wedding night and even if all of London believes that nothing will transpire, it is none of their business. I think it’s important for your sake that we keep them guessing.”
He still looked angry. “Important for me?”
She nodded. “Certainly not for me. No one cares about me. If not for you, I’d be out in the streets begging for my next meal.”
Her words seemed to startle him as though she’d slapped him. “Sophie,” he said with an ache to his softening voice, “you have me now. You’ll never want for anything.”
“I know, my lord.” She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“James.”
She nodded. “James. You kick yourself hard enough. You don’t need the rest of London kicking you as well. I give you my word of honor, I shall never interfere with your nightly engagements again.”
She eased as the anger seemed to drain out of him. “But one other thing… James.”
His emerald eyes began to darken once more. “What?”
“The thing is,” she said, now wringing her hands in consternation. “The day was so rushed and this house is so big. I had no time to explore it. So, the thing is… where is my room? I know my belongings were brought over earlier, but I have no idea where your staff has put them or where I’m supposed to be.”
CHAPTER 4
JAMES CURSED HIMSELF for an idiot. “Your rooms?”
“Do you mean I’m to have more than one?” Her lips were pink and lightly swollen, and there was a sensual slant to her eyes because she was fatigued. He yearned to take the pins from her lustrous hair and watch the silken mane slowly cascade over her shoulders in undulating waves. She let out her breath and he caught the scent of champagne and strawberries on her mouth.
He leaned closer, his big body almost pressing against her slight frame. “You’re my countess. You have an entire suite of rooms next to mine.” He cleared his throat. “There is no lock on our adjoining door, but I’ll have one installed if you wish. In any event, I’ll hold true to my word. I promised not to touch you.”
She ran her tongue along her slightly parted lips. “Unless I wish it?”
He nodded, fascinated by her mouth and desperate to claim her lips in a deep and urgent, grinding kiss. It took all his military discipline to hold to his promise, for he’d never ached so badly to have a woman, not even Bella.
What was it about Wilkinson’s little sister that so stirred him? She was his wife now. His outspoken and adorably tipsy wife. He wouldn’t risk facing her disappointment when she sobered in the morning. No, even though he ached to have her in his arms, yearned to explore her delectable body and take her, any intimacy between them would have to wait until she’d fully regained her senses.
Of course, then she would recoil in disgust at the notion of their coupling.
He drew away. “Come, Sophie. I’ll show you where they are.”
Climbing the stairs together felt surprisingly intimate. In truth, it helped to ease his agony, for this was something they could do together nightly. Also, there was something quite soothing in her manner and in her touch. He didn’t feel awkward struggling up the stairs on his injured leg while she was beside him, subtly assisting him and yet not making anything of the matter.
“You needn’t hold on to me,” he said once they’d climbed the stairs and were walking down the hall toward their rooms.
“I know.” She kept her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, little realizing the dangerous effect her nearness was having on him. “But it comforts me. I’m not doing this out of gratitude or pity, but out of joy. Yesterday, I was a nobody surviving on the generosity of friends. Today, I’m the wife of the Earl of Exmoor. Today, the world is full of possibilities. Most of all, today I will – hopefully – spend the rest of my days with you. I’m happy about that, even if you’re not.”
He was quickly losing patience with this upstart young woman. He didn’t want to be flattered or coddled. He just wanted to be left alone to sink into his bed alone and somehow manage to keep that beast growling inside of him from frightening the innocent girl with the force of his need for her. Once he was alone, he’d relieve that pent up need in the same hapless manner as every pimple-faced boy on the cusp of manhood managed to do. “You’re happy, are you? We’ll see how long that lasts.”
She stepped in front of him and scowled. “It could last forever if you’d let it. Why do you insist on being downcast and miserable?”
“Who said I was miserable?” Indeed, the girl had quite a mouth on her, something Wilkinson neglected to mention about his sister.
She rolled her eyes. “May I speak plainly?”
“You’re going to do it anyway, so please proceed.” She was a demanding bit of goods, and despite currently being a thorn in his side, he had to admit that he was enjoying her presence. She had a gentle but determined way of kicking his arse, and if he believed in such things, he’d think she had been born a Roman general in an earlier life.
“I like you, my lord. In truth, I was in danger of falling in love with you before I’d ever met you.”
He dismissed the notion at once. “What nonsense did your brother put in his letters?”
“It wasn’t nonsense. I think I could like you very much if you’d give our marriage a chance to blossom. I understand the deal we struck had…” She swallowed hard and blushed. “The terms were for us to maintain a business relationship.” She swallowed hard again and placed a hand on his chest. “But if it was for my benefit, what I mean to say…”
Yet another hard swallow. “I am not averse to… the other sort of relationship. That is, if you are not averse to it either.”
He understood the drift of her thoughts. He ached to bed her, wasn’t it obvious? But she’d imbibed too much champagne and it was good to know that she was amorous when drunk, but he wasn’t going to start off their marriage with regrets. He might take advantage of her amorous advances at another time, but not this evening. They hadn’t been married a full day yet.
As for those feelings she supposedly had for him after reading her brother’s letters, the harsh reality of what he was would soon sink in and wash away all hope of a love marriage.
He took her hand and led her into her elegant bedchamber, pleased when she emitted a soft gasp of delight. “This is yours, Sophie. The door on the left leads to your dressing room. The door on your right leads to my quarters.” He kissed her politely on the forehead. “Perhaps another time, but not tonight. There’s a bellpull beside your bed. Tug on it if you need anything and your maid will attend to it.”
“I see.” She stared at her toes as she nodded. “You needn’t worry. I won’t disturb you, my lord. No, indeed. You’ll be quite safe from me.”
He sighed. Was he making a mistake? By morning she would realize that what she felt was gratitude and nothing more. She’d be relieved not to awake in his arms, not to have to stare at his scarred face or look upon the rest of his scarred body. “Good night, Sophie. I usually take my breakfast at eight o’clock in the morning. You are most welcome to join me, but it isn’t required. Sleep in, if you wish.”
She shook her head. “I’m not one to laze in bed. I’ll join you for breakfast. That is, if you don’t mind.”
He tucked a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “I don’t mind at all. This is your home now. You may come and go as you please. I would enjoy your company in the morning.”