Page 40 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

Yet fear was not the only thing she felt, and that was what troubled her most. There was attraction too, fierce and inconvenient, along with an anticipation she refused to name. Pierce had been in her thoughts far too often since their first meeting, and now she was walking towards him as his bride. If he truly was cruel, Margaret decided, she would simply have to remain clever enough to keep him at a safe distance.

Her father gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing her. "Whatever happens," he murmured, his voice thick with affection, "you will always have a home with us, your family."

Margaret smiled. "I know."

Then she reached the altar.

Pierce turned fully towards her, and for one foolish moment Margaret forgot every sensible thought she had ever possessed. He looked devastating in his formal attire, the dark coat fitted across his broad shoulders, his silk cravat tied with immaculate precision. His black hair had been carefully arranged, though one unruly strand had fallen near his forehead, making him appear less severe than usual. He was very tall, athletic, and impossibly handsome, but it was his mismatched eyes that held her captive, one blue and the other green, both fixed upon her with such intensity that she nearly forgot to breathe.

A fine husband indeed.

She immediately scolded herself for thinking it.

Pierce extended his hand, and Margaret placed hers in it. His fingers closed around hers with quiet certainty, and the warmth of his touch travelled straight through her.

"Lady Margaret," the vicar began, "we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

Margaret listened as the familiar words were spoken, though they seemed strangely different this time. She had heard them once before while standing beside a man she despised. Now she stood beside a man she barely understood and somehow found herself more nervous than before.

Margaret leaned slightly towards Pierce and whispered, "This is the second wedding ceremony for both of us."

His eyes shifted towards her. "Yes."

"And I sincerely hope," she added, unable to resist, "that it goes better than the first."

Pierce's expression darkened. "It will certainly be my last."

Margaret's lips twitched. "What will you do if someone objects again?"

The look he gave her could have frozen a summer garden.

Margaret immediately straightened. "It was merely a jest."

"I do not find it amusing."

"I noticed."

The vicar cleared his throat discreetly, reminding them both that an entire ceremony was waiting upon their cooperation. "Your Grace."

The vicar turned towards Pierce. "Will you, Pierce Sterling, Duke of Ravenfield, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Pierce turned towards him. "I do."

He said it with such force and certainty that Margaret's breath caught. His voice had been deeper than she expected, and his gaze immediately returned to hers. The intensity in his mismatched eyes made her heart pound. He was not merely answering the vicar. He was looking directly at her as though the words were meant solely for her.

I do.

Margaret almost forgot her own name.

The vicar turned towards her. "And you, Lady Margaret Wilmore, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Margaret opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

Pierce leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "The vicar is waiting for you."

Margaret blinked and glared at him. "I am aware."

"Then answer him."