Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(56)
Her mouth twisted. “Is that what you want? To end our marriage now that you have your damned roof?”
“I want you to be happy, Sunny.” Hearing the anguish in his voice, he stopped until he could continue more steadily. “And I will do anything in my power that might make you so.”
The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with indefinable emotions. She broke the silence when she said passionately, “What I want is to be a real wife! To be part of your life, not just another expensive bauble in Swindon Palace.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Or perhaps I should wish to be your mistress, since English lords seem to save their hearts for women who are not their wives.”
Stunned, he stammered, “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a simple matter, Justin. I want you to love me,” she said softly. “Do you think that you ever could? Because I’m horribly afraid that I love you.”
He felt as if his heart had stopped. Her declaration was so unexpected that it seemed she must be mocking him. Yet it was impossible to doubt the transparent honesty in her eyes.
Before he could find the words to answer, her face crumpled and she spun away from him. “Dear God, I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I? Like the brash, vulgar American that I am. Please forget that I ever spoke.”
Justin’s paralysis dissolved and he caught her arm and swung her around before she could dart down the path. To his horror, tears were coursing down her face. The sight delivered a final, shattering blow to his reserve.
Crushing her in his arms, he said urgently, “Don’t cry, Sunny! If you want my love, you already have it. You always have.”
Though her tears intensified, she did not pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in the angle between his throat and shoulder. She was all pliant warmth, honeyed hair and the promise of wild violets.
He groped for the best way to tell her how much he loved her until he realized that words had always failed and divided them. Action would better demonstrate the depth of his caring. He raised her head and brushed back her silky hair, then kissed her with all of the hunger of his yearning spirit.
Salty with tears, her lips clung to his, open and seeking. Subtle currents flowed between them. Despair and comfort, wonder and promise, trust and surrender. In the stark honesty of desperation, there was no place for shame or doubt or misunderstanding. One by one, the barriers that had divided them crumbled away to reveal the shy grandeur of love.
At first the sweetness of discovery was enough, but as the kiss deepened and lengthened, sweetness slowly blossomed into fire. Murmuring her name like a prayer, he kneaded the soft curves that lay unconstrained beneath her flowing gown. She pressed against him, breathless and eager, and he drew her down to the sun-warmed grass.
They had had dutiful conjugal relations, and once they had come together with chaotic, disquieting passion. This time, they made love.
She yielded herself utterly, for the awesome needs of her body no longer frightened her now that she knew she was loved. Rippling layers of green silk were easily brushed aside, buttons undone, ribbons untied.
Too impatient to wait until they were fully disrobed, they joined in the dance of desire. Swift and fierce, their union was a potent act of mutual possession that bound them into one spirit and one flesh.
Only afterward, as she lay languidly in the haven of his arms, did she realize the scandalousness of her behavior. The Duchess of Thornborough was lying half-naked in the garden, as bold as any dairymaid in a haystack.
How strange. How shocking. How right.
His head lay pillowed on her shoulder, and she slid her fingers into his tousled dark hair. “How is it possible for us to say so much to each other in ten minutes when we didn’t speak a single word?” she asked dreamily.
“Words are limiting. They can only hint at an emotion as powerful as love. Passion comes closer because it is itself all feeling.” Justin rolled to his side and propped himself up on one elbow, his other arm draped over her waist to hold her close. Smiling into her eyes, he said, “For someone who seemed to hate being touched, you have developed a remarkable talent for physical intimacy.”
She blushed. “At first I was afraid of the unknown. It wasn’t long until I began to look forward to your visits, but I was ashamed of my desire. My mother said that a man would never respect an immodest woman who reveled in her lower nature.”
“In this area, your mother’s understanding is sadly limited. There may be men like that but for me, the knowledge that we can share our bodies with mutual pleasure is the greatest of all gifts.” He leaned over and dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose. “Let us make a pact, my love. We'll pay no attention to what the world might say, and care only about what the two of us feel.”
With one hand, she unbuttoned the top of his shirt and slipped her fingers inside so she could caress his warm, bare skin. “I think that is a wonderful idea. I only wish that we had started sooner. I was so sure that you married me only because you needed my fortune.”
Expression serious, he said, “Don’t ever doubt that I love you, Sunny. I have since the first time we met, when you were the Gilded Girl and I was an insignificant younger son who could never dare aspire to your hand.”
Her eyes widened. “We hardly even spoke that day.”
“On the contrary. We walked through the gardens for the better part of an hour. I could take you along the exact route, and repeat everything you said. It was the most enchanting experience of my life.” His mouth quirked up wryly. “And you don’t remember it at all, do you?”