Chapter 27
The maid slid one final pin into Sophie’s braided chignon and fluffed one of the curls that framed her face. “Are you pleased with your hair, my lady?”
Sophie studied her reflection. The curls gave her an air of mischief, and the rest of the arrangement was perfectly done with every lock in place. It was clear that the maid had plenty of experience dressing hair for weddings.
Although, perhaps that ought to be a given, considering that she was employed by the Maxwell Arms Inn in Gretna Green.
“It’s lovely, thank you.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome, my lady. I’m glad you like it. Shall I help you into your shoes?”
Sophie lifted one of her feet and waited while the maid set about fastening her laces.
She and Nicholas had traveled for three days, and they had been long and hot. She’d been beyond grateful when they’d arrived last night, and she was eager for the ceremony they’d be undertaking shortly.
Nicholas was preparing elsewhere, and she’d asked to meet him in the private dining room they had booked for the ceremony and a small wedding breakfast.
While she didn’t have a formal wedding gown or the jewelry she’d have worn if they’d married in London, she’d still made an effort, choosing a gown that Kate had designed and she hadn’t yet worn.
It was a pale shade of green, and she’d paired it with white gloves and a white flower that the maid had woven into her hair.
As she gazed at herself in the mirror, her chest tightened.
Was this where Violet had gotten married?
Had her sister missed their family and wished they were present as much as Sophie did?
She blinked rapidly, staving off the tears.
You’re happy, she reminded herself. You get to marry Nicholas.
Yes, she was, and she did, but she still longed for her family. Emma would fuss over her, and her mother would no doubt have an awkward talk about her new duties as a wife. Perhaps Violet would say something thoughtless, but they would be here.
Weddings were supposed to be family affairs, and while this had been her idea, something in her was a little sad at missing out on that.
But at least she would have the husband she desired and wouldn’t be forced to spend a life with a man she didn’t truly care for, and she had a piece of Kate with her in the form of the dress.
When she had both shoes on, the maid departed, and Sophie ventured down the hall to the private dining room. A small table was laid out with dinner settings in one corner. Beside the other table, upon which rested their wedding papers and a vase of flowers, stood Nicholas.
Immediately, her melancholy receded.
Somehow, he’d anticipated her choice of attire and had dressed in an embroidered green waistcoat with tidy trousers and a white cravat. He held himself upright, his shoulders back, and his gaze burned into her as she crossed the room to join him.
“You look beautiful,” he said as the innkeeper and his two companions—witnesses to the marriage, she presumed—entered the room. “I knew you’d wear green. It’s your favorite.”
She laughed. “Am I that predictable?”
“Only to someone who knows you.” His dark eyes glinted, heavy with the promise that they would soon know each other even better.
While they had pleasured each other during their travels, they had never performed the full marital act.
Nicholas had said he wanted to wait until they were well-rested, with a comfortable bed, before fully experiencing each other.
It was sweet of him to think of her comfort, so Sophie hadn’t minded the delay.
“Is everyone ready to begin?” the innkeeper asked, crossing to the marriage papers with a quill in one hand and a small inkpot in the other.
“I am,” Nicholas said, without the tiniest hint of doubt showing in his expression.
Sophie smiled, the last of her nerves falling away. She hadn’t really thought that he would come this far and refuse to marry her, but considering how adamantly opposed to marriage he’d originally been, she hadn’t been able to release a niggling concern.
“All right.” The innkeeper motioned to them. “Please stand opposite each other. You may join hands, if you’d like.”
Nicholas held his hands out, palms up, so Sophie placed hers on them, the warmth soaking into her and filling her with a sense of safety she hadn’t experienced since her parents had delivered their ultimatum.
The innkeeper explained what would happen and walked them through the preliminaries, then had them repeat the traditional vows before asking them to exchange rings, if they had them.
Sophie opened her mouth to explain that they didn’t, but she promptly shut it when Nicholas released her hands, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a simple silver band.
“It isn’t anything fancy,” he said, a hint of pink on his cheeks. “We’ll arrange something permanent later, but I wanted us to have a symbol of our commitment today, so I visited the smith last night, and he made this.”
The back of Sophie’s throat tightened, and heat seared her eyes. “Thank you,” she choked out. “I love it.”
She wouldn’t care if they never replaced it with something “fancy” as Nicholas had suggested. This ring was the ideal symbol of how unexpected this entire adventure had been, and he’d had it made with her in mind, so how could she consider it anything other than perfect?
His gaze softened, and he slid the ring onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
“Actually, you don’t—”
Sophie shot the innkeeper a look.
“I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell,” he declared. “Please sign over here.”
With that anticlimactic ending, Sophie and Nicholas signed their lives over to each other and were guided to the table in the corner.
They lingered over a delicious breakfast, chatting about their travel so far and the return leg of the journey that was yet to come.
Through the window, the sky was blue, and the town of Gretna stretched around them, a mix of small, charming buildings and large, blocky ones. Sophie declared that they would need to explore later and was pleased when Nicholas didn’t protest.
After the wedding breakfast, they returned to the bedchamber Sophie was staying in. Nicholas’s bag had been shifted in from the smaller room that the innkeeper had allocated to him last night, and the bed was neatly turned down.
Nicholas closed the door behind them, and the click seemed unnaturally loud. She was suddenly all too aware that they were now alone in a private space and there was no longer anything preventing them from doing “the deed.”
She’d taken to calling it that internally because she wasn’t sure exactly what the proper terminology was. No doubt Nicholas would rectify that soon. He did love to make her blush.
“Would you like to go for that walk through town now?” he asked, coming up behind her, his chest a solid wall of muscle at her back. He radiated heat, and she relaxed against him, tilting her chin so she could see his face as his arms looped around her waist.
“No,” she whispered, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “I want you to make good on your promise.”
His arms tightened around her, and his lips skimmed over her temple and down the side of her face. She angled her head further to give him access to her neck and shivered as his facial hair rasped against the tender skin in delicious contrast to his soft lips.
“Well, I can’t disappoint my new wife,” he murmured, tickling her pulse point. “May I undress you?”
In answer, she pulled away and presented her back to him. His clever fingers made short work of the buttons down her spine, and she peeled off her gloves as he eased the dress down, the silk pooling on the ground around her feet.
He unlaced her undergarments, and they followed, her petticoats and stays joining her dress on the floor.
Before she could turn to face him, he closed the distance between them again and pressed the length of his body alongside hers from behind.
“Look in the mirror,” he ordered.
Startled, she instinctively did as he asked, her breath catching at the sight of herself, nude and on display while he stood fully dressed, his dark eyes burning into hers.
“Watch.”
He cupped her breasts and thumbed her pink nipples.
His hands looked so big and dark compared to her paleness, and the pads of his thumbs were slightly rough.
He repeated the motion, and a zing of pleasure zipped through her, starting at her nipples and dipping to the place at the vee of her thighs.
“Should I be doing something?” she asked breathily.
Surely it wasn’t as simple as just standing here.
He smiled and bent to nuzzle the crook of her neck, then teased kisses up its side. “All you need to do is feel and keep your eyes on us.”
“All right.”
She relaxed, allowing herself to revel in the heady sensation of having Nicholas’s full attention.
His hands and lips continued to tease her until her legs threatened to melt and he was the only thing holding her up.
Slowly, his hands ventured down her torso, mapping out her curves until one settled on her waist and the other slipped between her thighs and delved into the place that she’d learned was capable of bringing her great pleasure.
He stroked along her center while using that capable thumb to toy with the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She whimpered, glad for his support because otherwise she’d be a puddle, just like her dress.
When she had grown slick from his touch, he pushed one finger inside her and moved it slowly, shifting his hand so that the mound of his palm was pressing against her in a way that made her moan and clench around the intrusion.
Her hips jolted forward, and sensation rioted through her.
“Beautiful,” Nicholas murmured. “Ride my hand, love.”
Taking his words as the encouragement they were, she rocked her hips back and forth, which not only coiled something hot and tight inside her but also brought his finger deeper inside her.