Page 35 of Against the Wind

Chapter 12

It was their wedding night, and Martin wondered what he would find as he ascended the stairs to the chamber he would share with his bride. His wife. How strange that word sounded after so many years. He hadn’t planned to marry again, hadn’t wanted to risk taking another wife with his life as it was. But then he’d made love to a bewitching auburn-haired woman who seemed not of this world, and somehow he couldn’t let her go. Now, though strangers still, they were wed.

With feelings of both trepidation and anticipation, he walked to the door behind which she’d disappeared several minutes earlier. He supposed he should have given her more time to ready herself, especially since he’d agreed to her absurd demand that they have a pause before consummating their marriage. But then again, he might find her undressing, and that pleasant thought caused him to turn the handle and enter without knocking.

A young maid was helping Kit undress as he stepped into the bedchamber. “I’ll take over from here. You may go.”

The maid blushed and scurried out, obviously grateful to leave the newly wedded couple alone.

Kit had her back to him, only partially undressed. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat. “Did you forget our arrangement?”

“No, I did not forget,” he said, quietly moving to place his hands on her warm, bare shoulders. Her gown would have fallen to the floor had she not clutched it to her breasts. “Still, this is our wedding night, Kitten, and I would be with you. It would seem strange, would it not, if the groom were to find more joy with his guests than his bride?”

Her long auburn hair hung in waves down her back, bared to his view by the unfastened gown and corset. Her pale skin glowed like a rich pearl providing the perfect contrast to those fiery tresses and, despite his resolve, his body responded. He wanted to touch her, to slide his hands under that loose gown and cup her warm, full breasts. He grew hard just thinking about the prospect.

“Ah, Kitten.” He pressed a kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Can I help you finish undressing?” The scent of roses mixed with her own scent, sweet and exotic, swirling around his head as he nuzzled her neck with his mouth. “You smell wonderful.”

“I can finish, myself. Just give me a moment.” She pulled away, but not before he heard a soft moan. He was not alone in having trouble with the arrangement they’d reached. He took some pleasure in that.

It was obvious she wanted privacy, but he had no intention of leaving or rendering this forced distance easy when what he really desired was to make love to her. “I’ll just turn around, shall I?”

He did so. Behind him, Martin heard the sound of her clothing falling to the floor. His mind conjured a picture of her naked, clothed only in moonlight. He had a vague fear he would be walking around in a perpetual state of arousal as long as this introductory phase lasted. It had best be short.

He turned to face her. Dressed in a sheer nightgown that did nothing to disguise her curves, she reached for a silk wrapper. Martin took a deep breath and forced his gaze back to her eyes, but it seemed as if he glided toward her, no longer feeling the floor beneath his feet. He gave her the gentlest of kisses and his hand cupped her shoulder, afraid if he put his hand anywhere else their agreement would come to an abrupt end.

A quick intake of her breath confirmed she was not indifferent to his touch. “You gave your word.”

“Oh, all right. So you are serious about this—?”

“I am.” Her insistent blue eyes and a raised brow told him she wouldn’t change her mind, not even when she had to deny her own desire, at least not tonight.

“Then let us have a toast to our marriage,” Martin said, resigned.

“But we’ve had many toasts.”

“None by ourselves.”

Taking off his coat, he reached for the champagne he’d had delivered to their room. Pouring the sparkling wine into two glasses, he handed one to her. “To us,” he said, raising his glass, “and to a strange beginning come right.”

“To us,” his wife echoed, and she took a sip, a faint smile on her lips, those luscious lips.

The memory of another night and a toast long ago crept unbidden into his mind, the night he’d lost Elise. But he was able to shake it off. Ignoring the brief feeling of foreboding, he focused his gaze on the woman before him. Somehow he would get through this night. And he would be patient with his lovely wife, though he could not be patient for long.

Kit stretched and yawned as sunlight streamed into the room from the two tall windows. She twisted her head to see the empty pillow next to her. Martin was gone.

How had he managed to wake so early? He had insisted on sleeping next to her, though he’d kept his promise and not exercised his husbandly rights. For that she was grateful, though it had been torture lying so close to his warmth and being unable to reach out and touch him. At one point she had awakened to find her head nestled against his shoulder. She had moved away quickly, but his arm had snaked out and pulled her back.

“No, Kitten. I like you close,” he’d whispered in a gravelly voice. For a long time she had lain awake, trying to still her restless heart. Finally she’d fallen back to sleep.

She’d best rise and dress. He had told her last night it would be a busy day.

At breakfast, over warm, crusty rolls and coffee, Mary told her Martin was attending to an errand at the docks, something to do with his family’s business, and would return by noon. Last night he’d informed her they would leave this afternoon for Derbyshire in the Midlands. Why, Kit wondered? It was certainly no wedding trip. She asked Mary, but the marchioness was vague, explaining only that Martin’s work required him to be there and that he would not leave his new bride behind.

“You look happy if tired, Kit. I told you all would be well.”

Kit fought a blush and knew she lost when Mary smiled. “That good, was it?”

She did not want to admit to her friend that the marriage was not yet consummated, but she could speak a truth that would satisfy her hostess. “We seem to be well matched in one way, at least.”