A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess (In War and Love #3)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

D iana barely remembered the exact moment everything changed. One moment she was dodging her brother’s sharp glares, trying to look presentable despite the scandalous path that had led her before him after spending a good part of the night in the Pemberton library, the next she was standing in the modiste’s atelier to be fitted for her wedding dress.

And then she was standing at the altar, in that dress, with James looking dashing by her side. The whole of the ton was there, whispering in shock and excitement. The jilted wallflower and the rake.

She barely remembered uttering her vows or hearing James speak his. But she would never forget how he looked upon her as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

The moment they were pronounced husband and wife, he had squeezed her hand and pulled her to him for one chaste kiss on her lips, which still looked too scandalous for the congregation’s eyes.

And here she was, in Pemberton House, her new home, as the Marchioness of Crawford. The wedding reception was exquisite—James had insisted on taking care of it all by himself. And he had given her a reception, a testament to his love for her, how he saw her. It was delicate and daring. So very him, so her, so them .

Everywhere Diana looked, she saw little traces of their story. Beautiful flower arrangements everywhere, all with Chinese magnolias in them. A naughty wink at their stolen moments. Above, a sea of wisteria cascaded from the tall ceiling, delicate blossoms in pale ivory and soft lavender twining down like silk ribbons, their scent a heady whisper in the air. A promise that he would never hurt her the way he did under that tree.

“You like it, My Lady?” he murmured.

She looked up, and her face lit up even more. He was so handsome, not because he had sharp features, the most piercing blue eyes, and the fullest lips. But because he was happy, free, himself, finally at ease with who he was and sure of the man he would become.

“I love it.”

“Then dance with me.” He took her hand.

“James, we are the hosts. We need?—”

“I only need you,” he whispered in her ear.

Diana stiffened, a sharp intake of breath betraying her. But before she could reprimand him, he was already leading her to the center of the ballroom. She was still not used to this, to the freedom to touch him, to be held by him so openly. But even knowing that, James’s grip on her was too bold, too daring, full of possessiveness and heat, as if he had already forgotten they had an audience.

“My Lord,” she warned softly.

He only grinned, leaning in. His gaze was that of a feral predator dressed in a gentleman’s clothes.

“I am barely holding back from kicking everyone out and taking you right here. I want to hear your screams echo through our halls.”

Diana whipped her head around, scandalized, suddenly very aware of the hundreds of guests around them.

“James!” she hissed.

He chuckled darkly, utterly unrepentant.

“You survived my brother during the engagement and the wedding ceremony. It would be a pity to lose my husband before my wedding night. You are pushing your luck,” she muttered, her cheeks scarlet red.

James hummed in agreement as he pulled her closer, pressing her against him in a way that was surely indecent.

“I have all the luck in the world, my flower.” He tilted her chin up with one finger, his lips hovering just above hers. “Because I have you.”

The dance ended, and as if conjured by their words, Stephen and Elizabeth materialized next to them.

The men were still fighting to find their balance, and Diana looked at Elizabeth, who smiled at the male need to assert power when they actually had none.

“James,” Stephen said coldly. “Do I have to say it?”

“I am sure it will be a warning that would include dismemberment.”

“I am glad we are in agreement.”

James nodded and looked down at Diana, who was still shocked to hear her overbearing brother speak to her husband like that. She was ready to give him a piece of her mind when James spoke softly.

“You don’t have to like me, but I vow…” He looked squarely into Stephen’s eyes. “I will cherish and protect her. Her happiness will be all that I will strive for. And if anyone hurts her…” His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped. “If anyone hurts her, I will need a hand in that dismemberment business.”

Stephen’s eyes darkened too. Did those two bond over tearing people’s limbs apart just now?

“How about we leave people’s limbs where they are meant to be?” Elizabeth cut through the tension.

Then, she pulled Diana into a tender hug that brought tears to her eyes.

“I will miss you,” she murmured.

“I think you will be occupied,” Diana said with a watery smile. “And we will be seeing each other all the time.”

“I am so happy.” Elizabeth pulled back and stroked her hair. “I am so proud you took the risk.”

“Thanks to you, I will truly live.”

They hugged, only to be interrupted by an invasion.

“I am here!” Selina announced, sweeping into the conversation like a queen claiming her throne. “I am ready for my thanks and a deep, sincere apology.”

Diana looked up. Richard was pulling James in a warm embrace, but her sister was regarding her with an open challenge.

“Thanks?” Diana narrowed her eyes at her.

“Oy, I want my dues too,” Herbert chimed in behind her.

“You are insufferable!” Diana huffed.

“I think you meant insightful,” Selina corrected. “Or is it brilliant?”

“How about perceptive?” Herbert offered.

“I would love to hear that we are simply ingenious for setting that auction up.”

“How about rash and irresponsible?” Diana retorted.

“I agree, but look at what our little scheme resulted in,” Herbert crowed.

“As if you knew this would happen!” Diana countered.

Selina took her sister’s hand and gave her a soft, loving smile. “I didn’t know. I just hoped.”

Diana’s irritation faded. Love swelled in her heart as she melted in her sister’s embrace. She closed her eyes in contentment.

“Do something like that again,” she said overly sweetly, “and I will strangle you.”

Selina and Herbert burst into raucous laughter.

“No, I am utterly serious!” Diana insisted.

Selina hurried into her husband’s arms, and Herbert pulled James in an earnest hug.

Diana thought that her heart would burst with happiness. The music shifted, settling into a quieter, sweeter melody. It was then that Solomon stepped forward, his eyes warm.

“A dance, Diana?”

No, her heart could definitely swell more. The man looked so touched and moved as he took her hand and kissed it.

James came to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I was ready to ask her the same thing,” he teased.

“I think I am due a dance with my daughter,” Solomon teased back.

Diana wanted to cry at seeing them so at ease with each other, putting in the effort to mend what was torn but not destroyed. Who knew that her threads would help others, too?

“Step away, boys.” Euphemia invaded their little circle. “She won’t dance with either of you. Not before I hug her.”

“Euphemia.” Diana embraced the elderly woman.

“You are a true blessing, Diana. You poured love into our home.”

“Love was there. I merely woke it up.”

“What a nice way to say that you kicked some sense in the men of this family.”

The four of them laughed, and Diana felt like she was living a dream.

“Fine.” James pretended to relent, placing her hand in his father’s.

But before she could walk away, he leaned into her ear and whispered, “Tonight, you are all mine, after all.”

“Follow me,” James said to her when the wedding reception was still in full swing, well into the night.

Diana let him guide her through the dimly lit halls, her fingers nestled in his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through her even now. Even after all they had been through. Even after all that was already hers.

At the entrance, a footman stood waiting, and he handed James a thick, fur-lined cloak. James draped it around Diana’s shoulders, his fingers lingering on her collarbone—a soft, lingering touch that made her shiver.

Outside, parked in the quiet glow of lantern light, was the same curricle from that fateful night. Only now, it was wrapped in garlands of flowers, the soft petals swaying in the cool night breeze.

Diana gasped, turning to James. “Where are we going?”

He helped her up, his hands firm and possessive on her waist, then climbed in beside her and grabbed the reins.

“I need you alone.” His voice was low, rough with need.

He turned to her with the same wicked gleam in his eyes that had ruined her long before marriage ever could.

“Let’s run off into the night again, Diana.”

Diana laughed, shaking her head as the curricle lurched forward. She loved her wicked rake so much.

“Only this time,” she mused, “I don’t have to climb out of some poor maid’s window.”

“Why not? The endeavor tore your skirt so delectably.”

“Not my wedding dress!” she gasped, scandalized.

He groaned dramatically, pressing a hot kiss to her neck. “I will do all I can not to tear it off you.”

She knew where they were going. That cute, little place they shared a night in. Now, she was going back as the lady of the house—a role she had never imagined she would have. Being completely his, not just for five promenades.

They entered the house, and it seemed as deserted as it was back then. James took her cloak and guided her once more into the familiar living room, which somehow already felt like home.

“We are again alone in here.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back against his front. “You can scream my name all you want.”

His hands roved over her, touching her everywhere.

“I know how you like to scream, Diana.”

Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip. “Only because you know how to make me.”

“God, yes!”

He didn’t even bother to take her somewhere appropriate for their first night as a married couple. He just lowered her onto the table, which was laden with her favorite pastries. He picked up one and lifted it to her mouth. She bit into it and then licked her lips slowly.

She, too, knew what she was doing.

“I may know how to make you scream, but you know how to make me beg, my flower.”

She took another bite from the pastry, and James smiled.

“Am I allowed to kiss you now, or do you want to finish your dessert?” he teased.

“It was a poor choice to give me a pastry at this moment, James.” She smirked.

“You mean to tell me that you prefer pastries to me?”

She shrugged and bit into the pastry once more.

“Hm,” James murmured as if deep in thought.

He dipped his finger in a chocolate mousse that was on the table and placed it on her lips. She opened her mouth and licked his finger clean. He moaned deeply, his body locking tightly, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

“Oh, I think we will find a way to compromise, My Lady,” he said darkly.

He stepped into her, his hips trapped between her legs. Then, he kissed her. And God, it was unlike any kiss they had shared before. This was not the kiss of a rake stealing a moment in secret. Not the desperate hunger of lovers lost in temptation. This was a vow, a promise more sacred than any spoken at the altar.

His mouth found hers in a slow, devastating kiss, his lips moving with a reverence that burned, a devotion that unraveled.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know. And I love you,” she said softly.

Their foreheads touched.

“Is this real?” Diana muttered, lost in bliss.

“It is, my love, my wallflower, my life,” James whispered.

“Well, according to Plato, reality—” Diana teased.

James interrupted all philosophical wanderings with another scorching kiss.

This was their life, their love. This was forever.

The End?