This Marquess of Mine: (Romancing the Rogue Book 2)

Epilogue

There were no trips to Gunter’s Tea Shop in the weeks leading up to their wedding, but Griffin courted his lady with the ardent and faithful devotion of a man besotted beyond reason, and Olivia soaked up every moment of it like it was her due. Which, of course, it was.

Standing in the entrance hall at Keswick House with their friends and family gathered all around, Griffin watched his new bride as she laughed and chatted, looking happy and utterly gorgeous in her pink silk wedding gown.

As promised, he’d taken her out on the picnics she’d asked for—not three, but five, just to prove how serious he was—and it was on their fifth picnic that their wedding date was finally set.

A satisfied smile touched his lips. He’d wooed her with wine and cheese and several long, languorous kisses beneath the warm autumn sun, employing every persuasive tactic he could think of to finally convince her to marry him as soon as the banns were read.

And now, finally, she was his. As she was always meant to be.

“It was a lovely ceremony,” Lady Keswick said quietly as she drew up beside him, her words for his ears only. “I’m so happy for you, darling. I’m so happy you’re happy.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Mother.” He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I owe so much of this to you. I am who I am because of you.”

Her eyes misted and she gave him a watery smile. “And your father, too,” she said softly. “You knew him for such a short time, but I see so much of him in you. And that is the highest compliment I could ever pay.” She squeezed his forearm. “He would be proud of you. Just as I am.”

Emotion thickened Griff’s throat and he cleared it away. “You were always there to prod me down the right path and talk sense into me when I needed it. Thank you for that.”

Lady Keswick shrugged. “Any mother with an injured ankle and an unusually clever mind would have done the same.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and Griffin blinked at her. “You faked your ankle sprain?”

She shot him an offended look. “Don’t be absurd. I did not fake anything. Although...I might have exaggerated it a bit.”

Griffin laughed. “And you call me incorrigible.”

“I’m a mother,” she said with another elegant shrug. “There is nothing I will not do for my children.”

She had the grace to look mildly sheepish but made no apology for her actions. Not that he wanted one. He might not be here now, married to the finest woman in England, if it wasn’t for his mother’s machinations.

“I’ll have to think of a new scheme for your sister, of course,” Lady Keswick said, her gaze trained on Emmy’s smiling face. “I was willing to confine myself to my bed once for my children, but I cannot bear it a second time.”

Griffin grinned. Poor Emmy. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said before leaning down to buss his mother’s cheek. “Thank you again for everything. And for looking after Artemis while we’re away.”

She smiled at him and patted his cheek. “It is my pleasure, darling,” she said. “Now, you and your bride had best be off. I hope you two have a marvelous wedding trip and do remember to write, hm?”

After giving his mother his assurance that he would do just that, he whisked Olivia through the front door, and the two dashed down the steps toward their awaiting carriage, dodging flying rice and satin slippers on the way.

Breathless and laughing, they tumbled into the carriage and then Griffin rapped his knuckles on the roof and with a jolt the carriage set off down the street.

“Goodness,” Olivia said as she fell back against the black velvet squabs, pink-cheeked and gorgeous. “I’m glad that is over with. I’m exhausted.”

Griffin edged closer to her on the seat, only satisfied when their hips were touching. “Exhausted?” he teased. “But the day has only just begun.”

She sighed. “For you, perhaps. I’ve been awake since dawn.”

“So have I, but I’m not tired at all.” He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her gloved knuckles, his smile full of mischief. “I’ve finally got you all to myself. I spent all morning thinking about this moment, about you and me, alone in this carriage.” He lowered his voice. “About an afternoon of utter debauchery.”

Olivia’s head dipped to his shoulder, and she let out a noisy yawn. “Can the debauchery not wait until after I’ve had a nap?”

Griffin shot her a look of exaggerated disapproval. “First I discover my new bride’s middle name is Ursuline of all things, and now this. Falling asleep only moments after the wedding.” He shook his head. “Not a very auspicious beginning to our marriage, petal.”

Olivia’s head came up and she peered down her nose at him. “Ursuline was my grandmother’s name,” she said with a haughty sniff. “And those who live in glass houses should not throw stones, Griffin Barnabas Keswick.”

“Barnabas is an excellent name. A powerful name.”

She arched her brows. “Well, if you like it so much, perhaps I shall call you Barnabas instead. Or Barnaby, maybe? No, no. Barney.” She gave Griffin’s nose a playful tweak. “Shall I start calling you Barney, husband?”

“Only if you wish never to see me again.”

She laughed, the sound merry and sweet to his ears. “All right,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll only call you Barney when I’m cross with you.”

Griffin frowned at her with faux displeasure.

His wife responded with an impudent smile. “Think of it as an added incentive to ensure I am always happy.”

Laughing, Griffin tugged her into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. “God, I love you,” he said and then he pulled back and gazed into her eyes, his smile sobering. “And I hope you will be happy, always. I will do everything in my power to make it so.”

She cupped his cheek, her eyes happy. “I know,” she whispered. “And you’re off to a very promising start, my lord. But there is one thing you can do that would make me even happier.”

He smiled. “What’s that?”

“Kiss me.”

She angled her head up, those dark blue eyes of hers drawing him in, drawing him under her spell. He dipped his head, capturing her lips in an ardent, reverent meeting of mouths that left them both breathless and wanting.

“I love you, husband-mine,” Olivia whispered against his lips. “And I’m not sleepy anymore.”

Grinning now, Griffin tugged off first his own gloves and then his wife’s before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her again, slowly working his lips down her throat until she was writhing against him, her hands clutching his shoulders.

“With my body, I thee worship,” he murmured into her deliciously soft skin, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine as he nipped her with his teeth. “I made a promise this morning, petal, and I mean to make good on it. Every day of my life if you’ll let me.”

Olivia’s breath hitched as he tugged her bodice down, freeing her breasts. “Griffin...”

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to one rosy nipple. “With my lips, I thee kiss...”

He flicked his tongue over the pebbled peak, drawing a gasp from deep in her throat. “With my tongue, I thee taste…” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she arched into him, groaning his name again, her hands threading into his hair as his own inched down her thighs.

He slipped a hand beneath her skirt. “With my fingers, I thee—”

“Griffin!”

He brought his head up, his expression all innocence. “Yes, petal?”

Hazy blue eyes scolded. “You talk too much.”

He grinned. “Forgive me, wife.”

And with that, the Marquess of Keswick went back to work, ensuring his marchioness was happy that day and all the days of his life.