Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She watched the sun rise out her bedroom window as she sat on the damask covered window seat built into the stunning oak paneling that lined the walls.
Today was her wedding day.
A week had passed since she’d come to stay with Wyatt. Priscilla reflected on just how much had changed.
Her mother was healing nicely.
Their days were filled with laughter and warmth, and her nights…
Well, mostly those were filled with frustration but that would be over soon enough. Much as she might have liked to repeat the experience in the carriage, Wyatt had mostly been a gentleman since.
A smile pulled at her mouth as her head dipped, excitement making her give a small shudder.
Wyatt had given her everything he’d promised. He’d obtained the special license, furnished marriage settlements she found more than satisfactory, and as promised, Eugene had been distinctly absent from their lives.
After today, he’d have no way he could touch her life ever again.
Not that this thought was her primary focus. In fact, as she’d spent the week with Wyatt, her soon-to-be husband had somehow filled nearly every corner of her mind.
From their quiet conversations to their stolen kisses, she found herself increasingly breathless to not just secure her future, but to be his wife.
In every sense of the word.
This wasn’t the part that was supposed to occupy her thoughts.
She ought to be making plans for expanding her father’s fortune. Her fortune. His legacy and the proof that she deserved that honor had been her goal all along. It was where she needed to focus.
But instead, she found herself daydreaming about the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, the way his muscles had flexed under her palm.
And when she wasn’t considering that…
She was thinking about how he filled her with breathless excitement. How his voice made her warm and his touch made her comfortable and…
She laid her head on her hands as she stared out at the glowing sun rising over the buildings of London.
Despite her best attempt not to, she was falling in love.
Was it really so bad to love one’s husband?
Her lips pressed together. Perhaps not. As long as those feelings didn’t compromise what she’d always meant to accomplish, they could both exist. Couldn’t they?
She rose, pulling on her dressing gown and making her way to her mother’s adjoining room.
She quietly opened the door so as not to wake her mother as she entered.
The countess had struggled to sleep, which the doctor assured them was actually a sign the ribs were healing.
But Priscilla didn’t wish to wake her now. Just watch her sleep.
She slipped into the large room, wrapping the dressing gown tighter about herself as she crossed the thickly carpeted floor to stoke the fire.
“You’re up early,” her mother called from the voluminous bed.
“So are you,” she said with a smile as she poked the embers and then added another log. “You should be asleep.”
“Please,” her mother waved her hand. “I’m fit as a fiddle and ready to face the day.”
Priscilla straightened, turning back to her mother. “If you’re angling to attend the wedding, you know you’re supposed to stay in bed.”
Her mother clucked her tongue. “I’m the mother here.”
Priscilla crossed to the bed, dropping a kiss on her mother’s cheek. She sat in the chair she’d left next to her mother’s side. “And I’m the daughter who knows her mother loves her and wishes to protect that mother by keeping her in bed as she recovers.”
Her mother slowly sat up straighter, gingerly moving. “Don’t be silly. I’m coming. Ralph will help me.”
Ralph had also visited her mother daily. Priscilla had even overheard him confess to her mother that his own mother had passed in childbirth.
And while she was surprised Ralph was so invested in her mother, Priscilla was glad to see them getting on so well. It felt almost as though they were forming a new family.
“Well, fortunately for you, Wyatt has arranged for the ceremony to take place in the garden so Ralph can, in fact, bring you down to celebrate with us.”
Her mother gave her a glowing smile. “Will all of Clara’s family be joining us as well?”
Her brows crinkled. “Clara’s family?”
“Isn’t Clara related to Viscount Ware?”
Priscilla’s eyes widened. She’d all but forgotten the lie. “No. Only Clara and a few of my other friends. It’s such short notice and we’ll have a small gathering to not overtax you.”
Her mother nodded as Priscilla inwardly cringed. She should tell her mother the truth about the ad. But perhaps now was not the time and besides, it had all worked out so well.
Two maids entered to help them ready for the day, her worries were set aside, once again replaced with her excitement over her coming nuptials.
And three hours later, she made her way out to the back garden, her arm laced through Brax’s.
The duke had volunteered to escort her down the aisle and Priscilla was so grateful, though she’d had a few moments where she missed her father. She’s always assumed he’d be the man to give her away and she felt his loss keenly in that moment.
Her fingers tightened on Brax’s arms as they waited for the music to begin, her cue to walk outside.
He gave her a side long glance. “A viscount, hey?”
She tucked her chin, smiling. “A viscount.”
“And you put an ad for him in the paper?”
She laughed. “That’s right. If Mona and Charlotte could both use the paper to find husbands I thought it might work for me too.”
He scratched his chin as he considered her words. “I supposed they both did, though neither of them were nearly as direct as you.”
Priscilla shrugged. “I’m not sure either of them were in quite such a desperate situation.”
Brax nodded. “Tenacity. That’s what I’ve always liked about all you ladies.”
“Thank you,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Is that why you married Mona? Her tenacity?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Among other things.”
“Let me ask you, did you ever consider her other accomplishments?”
“Such as?”
Priscilla thought back to the day she wrote her ad. “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps her ability to play the pianoforte or crochet?”
He cocked a brow. “That’s woman’s talk and in my estimation tools women use to rate each other. Men’s likes are far different. Beauty, kindness, a bit of fire.” He gave her a wink then. “Don’t be afraid to put your man in his place. He likes it when he’s done being angry.”
Priscilla laughed. A likely very different talk than her father might have given had he been here, but useful nonetheless. “I’ll take your advice to heart. Thank you, Brax.”
He nodded. “And don’t be afraid to ask me for help, Priscilla. Mona and I are always available if you need us.”
Her heart swelled with gratitude, but Priscilla didn’t ask more as the music started. Her hand on Brax’s arm, they entered the garden and started down the path that led to the trellis where the ceremony was to take place.
Her groom waited for her and she was more than ready to be his bride.
* * *
Wyatt watched Priscilla float toward him, the pale pink gown she wore highlighting her pearly skin and halo of dark hair.
He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
And when her hand slipped into his, Brax returning to his seat next to his wife, he reached for the other, sure he’d never let go.
This was where he belonged.
She smiled at him, her brown eyes dancing with little gold flecks as color flushed her cheeks.
She stole his breath.
The ceremony began, the words flowing over them as they repeated their vows of commitment to one another.
And when the clergyman presented them to the crowd and announced that Wyatt could kiss his bride, he’d never been more ready for any kiss in his life.
Their lips came together, their hands still clasped as he breathed in her gardenia scent. He had plans to plant an entire bed of them.
Her lips were soft and inviting under his, the feel of her overwhelming his senses. She was his wife. The woman who’d committed to stand by his side always. Surely, that meant something.
He’d strive to be worthy.
And when he finally lifted his head to stare down into her eyes, his heart nearly burst from his chest.
With his arm about her waist, he led the assembled party to the dining room.
For the next two hours, they entertained their guests with breakfast and company and then retired to the suite of rooms he’d had prepared for them. They’d not leave town now, not with her mother still recovering, and so they planned to spend a few days alone, getting to know one another.
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her over the threshold.
He hadn’t told her, but he’d moved her mother into the master’s room. His father’s old room, though it had been redecorated some time ago. He’d wanted her to be comfortable and for Priscilla to be in the connected mistress’s chamber right from the start.
He and Ralph agreed, having the kind and gentle countess in that room had been the exact change they’d both needed.
He’d moved himself into another bedchamber at the back of the house, which had the added benefit of being a great deal more private, which suited his nature and his nighttime activities.
As he kicked the door closed behind him, he noted that privacy was a benefit he greatly appreciated in this moment.
Priscilla’s hands were clasped about his neck, her lips eagerly seeking his as he stood still holding her in his arms.
They’d managed a few kisses over the course of the last week but he’d tried to keep his distance, wanting to save the real intimacy for their marriage bed.
He needed to do everything right for Priscilla. He wished for her to be happy and comfortable in his embrace.
But now, he needn’t wait any longer.
Not that he’d rush today. No. They had all the time in the world and he wished for her to enjoy every moment.
With that in mind, he eased back from their kiss, lightly setting her on her feet. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked up at him. “What happens next?”
He smiled down at her, just enjoying looking at her. He brought up a hand to trail down the silk of her cheek. “Shall I take off your slippers?”
Her eyes widened, a blush blooming in her cheeks even as she smiled. “Oh yes, that would be nice.”
She crossed to the bed, gingerly sitting as he knelt in front of her, unlacing the ribbon ties and gently removing the shoes from her feet.
He took off one, then the other, carefully setting them to the side, as he reached up her skirts to untie the garters at the top of stockings.
Her felt her shiver, her breath quickening as his hands trailed over her skin. “Are you nervous?” he asked, lightly running his fingers over her skin.
“A little,” she murmured. “Mostly excited.”
He grinned up at her. “Me too.”
He felt her jump under his touch. “Really?”
“Priscilla,” he breathed rolling a stocking down her leg. “From the first moment I saw you…”
“What?” she asked, leaning closer, her hand resting on his shoulder.
“I felt an attraction to you that I haven’t experienced in…” Forever. It had been such a long time he’d almost forgotten.
She gave him a shy smile. “Me too.”
The echo of his words and the admission made his hands still. Yes, she’d responded to his kisses, and of course she’d agreed to marry him. But to think of her as finding him attractive…
“I’m not exactly the vision of a romantic hero.”
Her smile widened. “Surely you jest.”
He didn’t and his expression must have given him away because as she leaned closer, her breath whispered across his cheek.
“I suppose your scar makes you appear a bit more dangerous. Besides the fact that you’re a London sensation, you do realize, you swept into my life, slayed my dragon, and whisked me off to a place where both myself and my mother are now safe and protected.
What woman doesn’t daydream about that?” She leaned in to kiss his mouth.
“I think you’re precisely a woman’s vision of a romantic hero. ”
As she leaned away, his fingers still at her ankle, her lifted brows dared him to disagree.
Hell if he would. He’d set about to keep this woman, and if she wished to think him the stuff of fantasies, he’d not dissuade her. In fact, he’d bring her the sort of pleasure that might continue to blind. And with that thought, he removed her first stocking and started on her second.
While he’d intended to strip her bare, he might have to settle for lifting her skirts and giving her pleasure first.
Wasn’t that what a hero did?