Chapter Four #2
She looked him over. He seemed earnest. Her greatest fear was that they’d have nothing to talk about with each other, but she imagined she could see the depths of Owen’s intelligence in his eyes.
He seemed passionate about his home and curious about her life.
So she said, “I do believe we will find things to speak about on our long journey to Wales.”
He let out a breath and took one of her hands. “I just hope you do not feel trapped in this situation.”
“Trapped? No. Do you?”
“No, not at all.” He looked up and met her gaze. “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. In our time together, you have always been friendly and witty. I cannot imagine being married to you would be in any way a hardship.”
“Good. I know this is not exactly what either of us wanted, but I think we…can make the most of it.”
Owen smiled. “My friend Fletcher—Baron Fowler—called this an opportunity.”
“And perhaps it is that.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I would like to talk more, but I have business to attend to this afternoon. I suppose we will have plenty of time on our journey out to Caernarfon.”
“I look forward to it,” she said.
*
Owen arrived at the church on the morning of his wedding still not quite believing this was happening.
He was frankly baffled by how traditional this was.
He knew so many gentlemen of the ton who had been caught in similar situations to his but had procured special licenses and rushed into weddings.
Owen had in the past wondered if he would fall for someone scandalous, an opera singer or a servant, someone he bedded in advance of his wedding and simply could not keep away from.
His sister had been reading those sentimental novels about dukes falling in love with their governesses and other such fiddle faddle, and maybe that had sunk into Owen’s brain.
And there was Hugh, who had fallen in love with his bride and practically dragged her to the altar.
Owen liked Grace, but did not know her well enough to love her, and, well, here he was, marrying a virginal lady, the daughter of a marquess, exactly the sort of woman his family wanted for him.
His mother was over the moon.
He peeked into the sanctuary and saw his mother sitting in the front row, already crying.
His sister and brother-in-law were seated beside her.
Hugh, Adele, Lark, and Anthony sat just behind them.
The rest of his side of the aisle was occupied by his various friends from Parliament, from Eton and Oxford, and the few of his Welsh cousins who could make the journey in time.
“You’re really doing this,” said Fletcher, who stood at his side.
“Yes. It will…it will be all right.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Remains to be seen.”
“I am the lone person in our circle without a mate, you know.” Fletcher leaned against the wall.
Owen was trying to talk himself into entering the sanctuary and taking his spot at the altar. He didn’t have time for whatever crisis Fletcher was having. “Lark isn’t married.”
“He has Beresford, as I continue to remind you. Even if they can’t marry, they have each other for…companionship.”
Owen grunted. His stomach kept flopping over. He could not explain why he was so nervous.
The priest walked over and told Owen it was time.
And so, a few minutes later, Owen waited at the altar for his bride, worried his heart would pound right out of his chest. And then suddenly, she was there.
Grace wore a pale blue gown and a crown of flowers around her head; her hair was braided and coiled into an elaborate twist. Her skin was creamy, her cheeks rosy, the expression in her eyes earnest. The gown itself was made of some gauzy fabric that seemed to float about her body, giving Owen a mere tantalizing hint of what might lay underneath. She smiled. Then she walked toward him.
The ceremony itself was over quickly, and Owen would not long remember what he said there, but he would always remember what Grace looked like as she stood before him.
She was radiant, her big blue eyes sparkling as she gazed back at him.
He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her.
The longer the ceremony went on, the more his mind wandered, mostly toward what they would do once he got her alone.
And then the priest pronounced them husband and wife, so Owen dipped his head and gave her a chaste kiss.
And then they were married.
There was an elaborate breakfast planned at the Midwood house, so Owen opted not to linger at the church and instead bundled his new bride into the waiting carriage and let out a breath as they slowly made their way to his new in-laws.
He looked at his wife now. His wife. This woman would be tethered to him one way or another for the rest of his life. He didn’t resent that at all, but he was struggling to truly comprehend it.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, because it was true.
She met his gaze. “I don’t know what makes a good marriage, but my friends assure me that the fact that I find you handsome and kind is enough.”
Owen chuckled. “Well, some of that remains to be seen.”
“Are you saying you are not handsome or kind?”
“I can’t speak for my relative handsomeness, but I am not always kind. I try to be, but I am not perfect. Besides, I thought this was a marriage mostly in name.”
“Yes, but we will need to spend some time together. This multi-day journey to Wales, if nothing else. And someday you may want an heir.”
Owen had the sense that Grace might not know entirely how heirs were conceived, and he did not relish showing her.
Well, he did, because he wanted to bed her more than he wanted to partake in the feast awaiting him at the Midwood home, but he’d always enjoyed sex more when both participants were enthusiastic.
Would a blushing virgin like Grace be the sensual partner he hoped she’d be, or would she grimly bear him, viewing the conception of heirs as a duty more than an opportunity for pleasure?
“What are you thinking?” she asked him.
He reached over and played with an errant lock of her hair. “My thoughts are…inappropriate.”
“That is all right. I want you to be honest with me. What is on your mind?”
“That you are a gorgeous woman and I am curious about what your body is like under these prim wedding clothes.”
She blushed furiously, which he found rewarding.
“My lord, I—”
“Owen. We are married now. Call me Owen.”
She seemed flustered, blowing out a breath and looking toward the front of the carriage. “My mother has explained about relations between men and women….”
Oh, his poor sweet virginal bride. Owen slipped an arm around her and pulled her to him. She stiffened.
“Relax,” he said. “I can promise you this. I would never hurt a woman, least of all my wife. I will not force you to do anything you don’t want to do.
I want you to feel safe with me.” And he found that was true.
Grace was his wife. He was responsible for her.
Something primal in him wanted to protect her.
She tentatively put a hand on his chest. She wore pristine white gloves that went past her elbows, and he had on his finest dress coat, a pale-yellow waistcoat, and two shirts, and yet he could feel the heat from her body passing right through all those layers of fabric.
She flattened her hand just below his shoulder.
Owen pressed his hand against hers gently.
Surely she could feel how his heart pounded now.
She looked up and met his gaze.
He kissed her.
He didn’t even think about it. One moment he was examining the deep blue of her eyes, the color of the Irish Sea on a sunny day.
He cupped her cheek in his hand. Then his lips were upon hers.
He had to taste her. This last month, he’d kept his distance because he didn’t think he’d be able to keep his hands off this beautiful woman, but now she was his, at least legally.
He’d been truthful when he said he’d never hurt her, but given the way she melted against him now, she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her.
He licked against the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. She let out a startled gasp when his tongue curled into her mouth, but she also put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He put his hands on her back and held her there. Warmth and arousal spread through his body.
Oh, yes. She was a blushing virgin, but there was something wild in her, an untapped sensuality that he couldn’t wait to unleash.
The carriage slowed. Owen pulled away with great reluctance and lifted the curtain on the window. They had stopped in front of the Midwood house. So he would not be exploring this with her now.
Tonight, though. They would have tonight.