Chapter Seventeen #2
Flaherty patted her on the back. “I’m not sure if I would have liked him, but faith, a round or three of bare-knuckle and emptying a flask between us would have settled the matter in his favor.”
“Thank you, Flaherty.” Millie turned around and rushed into the hallway. The crying stopped, and she returned with her babe in her arms, taking her place next to the baroness, Caro, and Prudence.
Flaherty brushed the tip of his finger to Pippa’s cheek and nodded. “Are ye ready to marry me, lass?”
Pippa’s heart skipped a beat before settling back down. “I am, Dillon.”
He nodded to the baron and strode back over to stand beside the vicar.
Pippa did not remember moving, but Flaherty was reaching for her hand, holding it firmly in his much larger one.
The vicar cleared his throat and began, “Dearly beloved…”
Thoughts of Flaherty’s callused hands touching her intimately had her heart beating double time. She clung to Millie’s wise advice and trusted that Dillon would not hurt her—he would do whatever it was that he could do to ensure the pain was minimal.
“Well?” Flaherty’s deep voice sounded close to her ear. “Do ye, lass?”
Garahan snickered, and O’Malley spoke up. “I’m thinking ’tis the lass’s nerves affecting her hearing, vicar. Best ask her again.”
“Ahem. Very well, but I would think you would be paying attention at an important moment like this, Miss Stanhope.”
“Forgive me, vicar.” Pippa’s gaze collided with Flaherty’s, and the knowing look in the depths of his blue eyes had her mind going off on another tangent. She heard mumbling, but her mind was half a mile away, in the cottage the baron spoke of.
“As me bride appears to be having trouble paying attention, I’ll answer for her.” Flaherty slipped his arm around Pippa’s waist and somehow pitched his voice to a raspy falsetto. “I, Phillipa Rose Stanhope, do promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey Dillon James Flaherty.”
Pippa stared into the bright-blue gaze of the man who would not let anything stop them from marrying this afternoon—not Tremayne’s interrogation, nor Millie’s babe, who’d demanded to attend and then promptly fallen asleep as soon as he was surrounded by the people who had come to mean the world to Pippa and Millie.
Flaherty’s high-pitched voice had everyone chuckling. She blinked back tears of joy. This man would cherish her, honor her, and love her… She slowly smiled as she realized neither one of them would easily acquiesce and obey. But they would try.
“Highly irregular, Flaherty,” the vicar grumbled. “But it is Miss Stanhope who must finish her vows—and not your imitation of her.”
Flaherty grinned at her. “Best get it said, and no letting yer mind wander where I know it has been.”
She gasped, and he laughed in her face, but she managed to finish saying her vows. “I promise to love, cherish, and honor Dillon James Flaherty until the Lord calls me home. And I promise to fill our home with as many babes as the Lord blesses us with.”
Flaherty kissed the breath out of her. “There’s a lass.”
“Ye’re supposed to wait for the vicar to declare ye man and wife, Flaherty,” Garahan reminded him.
“And well I know it, boy-o. I was just giving her a quick reminder of what’s in store for her…later.”
This time it was Tremayne who spoke up. “Best finish it, vicar, before Flaherty sweeps his bride off her feet and leaves.”
Flaherty turned to Pippa. “Would ye mind, lass?”
Warmth swept up from her toes, settling in her belly and then filling her heart. “Not at all—” Her words were cut off when her husband swept her into his arms.
She finally managed to draw in a breath as the vicar pronounced them man and wife, and then was breathless again from another mind-bending kiss from her husband. When their lips parted, she sighed deeply and rested her head beneath his chin. “We’re not staying for cake, are we?”
Flaherty was already crossing the threshold into the hallway. “I’ve asked Mrs. Green to set aside a big slice for us. She was preparing a basket of food for us to take with us in the carriage.”
She lifted her head to ask, “Carriage?”
“Aye.” He looked down into her eyes and smiled.
“No wife of mine is walking a mile and a half on her wedding day. Though I wouldn’t mind carrying ye the distance, lass.
Yer curves feel like Heaven in me arms.” He kissed her again and strode toward the butler.
“Timmons, I shall see ye on the morrow.”
“Congratulations, Flaherty, Miss Stanhope. I know you will be very happy.”
“Thank ye. Is the carriage ready?”
The butler nodded and opened the front door. Flaherty grunted in response to whatever else Timmons said. A footman was waiting to open the door to the coach. Flaherty nodded to the man and all but leapt into the carriage, never letting Pippa go.
She landed with a jolt on his lap on the seat. “You could have set me down, and avoided tossing me around like a sack of grain.”
He stared at her face without speaking.
“Well,” she grumbled, “you could have.”
“Ah, lass, but me arms weren’t ready to let ye go. I’ll try when we get to our cottage, but I’m warning ye, ye’d best prepare to be hauled out of the coach in a similar manner.”
The carriage slowed down more quickly than she’d imagined it would—mayhap due to the fact that Flaherty was currently leaving a trail of kisses along the line of her jaw.
“Dillon.”
“Save that thought, lass. We’ve arrived.” The door swung open and the footman’s cheeky look had Pippa’s face heating. She barely heard Flaherty thank the footman or the coachman as he stepped down out of the carriage. True to his word, he never set her down as he strode to the cottage door.
“Welcome to our home.” He took his time sipping from her lips, tasting her fully with his tongue until she felt lightheaded. “Open the door, Pippa-lass.”
She turned the knob and stared at the beautiful interior of their home.
There was a round table near the cooking stove with four straight-backed chairs.
Two upholstered chairs faced one another by the fireplace.
Across the room were three doors, two of which were closed.
Pippa looked in the open door and saw a bed, adorned with a quilt in shades of green and cream, a chest of drawers, and a chair.
“It’s lovely, Dillon. A generous gift from his lordship and her ladyship. ”
He closed the door to their cottage with his foot and stopped halfway to the bedroom. “I’m going to try to hold off talking ye to that bed, but I’m warning ye, it won’t be easy.”
Pippa slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. When he moaned, she mimicked what he’d done earlier with his tongue, earning a groan from Flaherty this time.
“If ye keep that up, I’ll not be able to wait more than five minutes.”
“It might take longer than that to do whatever it is Millie meant when she said you would do things to make it easier for me to bear the pain.”
Flaherty eased her to her feet and pulled her into his embrace. “Ah, lass. I’ll be as gentle as I can. All I ask is for ye to trust me.”
Pippa tilted her head back and stared up into the face of the man she’d come to count on for more than the safety of Millie, Roarke, and herself.
She’d leaned on his strength when the physician was sewing her wound closed, and listened to him speak of family, vows, and honor.
Everything she knew about Dillon Flaherty up to this moment had her sharing what was in her heart.
“I trust you with my heart and my body, Dillon.”
“I promise to take ye to the stars, lass—more than once.” He eased her out of his arms, removed his frockcoat, and set it on the chair by the bed. “Now then, the first thing we need to do is rid ourselves of these garments.”
Pippa’s mouth was still open by the time he’d shed his cravat, waistcoat, and cambric shirt.
Flaherty gently tapped beneath her chin until she closed her mouth. “Turn around so I can undo yer buttons.”
She couldn’t think of what to say, so she inclined her head and spun around. The feel of his hands on the back of her gown, opening one button at a time, had tingles shooting down her spine. His hands were warm on her shoulders as he turned her around to face him.
“Shall I help ye take off yer gown?”
Be brave, she told herself, and managed a strangled “Yes.”
His eyes never left hers as he slowly slipped her gown up and over her head. He carefully laid it over his clothing on the chair. “Before I help ye off with yer chemise, have a seat.”
“A seat?”
“Aye, I’ll help ye off with yer half boots, then I’ll remove me own.” When he removed her footwear, he sat on the edge of the bed and took off his boots and socks.
“If you turn your back, I’ll remove my stockings.”
She waited for him to do so, but he grinned instead. “I’m thinking ye should leave them on.”
Confused by his request, she muttered, “But I don’t sleep with my ribbon garters and stockings on.”
Flaherty pulled her onto his lap and watched her chemise slip off one shoulder. He nipped her shoulder, then kissed it. “Ah, lass, we won’t be sleeping.”