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Aurora's heart was pounding so wildly she could scarcely breathe, her gaze darting about the small pillared chapel, from Mr. Scollard's proud expression to Courtney's loving smile to Vicar Rawlins who stood ready to perform the ceremony.
Coming to rest upon the sinfully handsome man to whom she would soon be joined.
Clad in a formal dark cutaway coat and breeches, Julian turned toward her, his topaz eyes glittering more brilliantly than all the room's candles combined. As promised, he was the essence of protocol, his snow white cravat starched and crisply tied, his double-breasted waistcoat cut just so. Even his black hair had been trimmed, although it still hung longer at the nape than was fashionable, just brushing the collar of his frilled white shirt. Conventionally dressed or not, he still looked dangerous, formidable, like a reckless pirate in gentleman's attire.
He was devastating.
His bold stare met Aurora's, then swept her from head to toe, thorough, possessive, blazing with unmistakable approval and undisguised hunger.
She and Slayde stopped before him, and Aurora felt her brother hesitate, clearly questioning what he was about to do.
Julian sensed it, too, although the only overt sign he gave was the slight tensing of his body, the ever-so-subtle narrowing of his gaze. He stepped forward and held out his hand, addressing Slayde even as he waited for Aurora to place her fingers in his. "She belongs with me, Slayde."
From the corner of her eye, Aurora saw Slayde glance at Courtney, saw her friend's reassuring nod.
Slayde released his sister, stood by as she placed her hand in Julian's. "Be good to her," Slayde commanded quietly. "Make her happy."
"I intend to."
The very words, the fierce promise they contained, made Aurora's mouth go dry. She moved to stand beside her bridegroom, walked the remaining distance with him to the altar, wondering if her nerves—and her knees—would hold out to the ceremony's end.
"You're breathtaking, soleil," Julian murmured, a whisper of sound that flooded her body with heat. She didn't dare reply, didn't dare so much as look at him. If she did, whatever semblance of control she had left would shatter.
The vicar began speaking the timeless words, asking the age-old questions that would forever transform Aurora's life.
As if in a dream, she heard Julian speak his vows, heard herself utter her own. Julian turned to her, his hand steady as he slid the delicate gold band upon her trembling finger, the metal cool against her overheated skin.
The ring reached its destination and Julian lingered, his thumb caressing her palm in a motion that both soothed and inflamed.
"…I now pronounce you man and wife."
The finality of the proclamation, suspended in the air, permeated the chapel with its significance. The unthinkable had just occurred. After four generations of relentless hatred, the Huntleys and the Bencrofts had been irrevocably joined.
With a gentleness that surprised her, Julian tipped Aurora's chin up, brushed her lips with his. "Hold on a little longer," he urged in a husky, teasing voice. "At least until there's a secluded spot for me to carry you to. Then you can collapse."
Despite the swooning sensation induced by his vow, Aurora smiled. "That's quite an incentive, Your Grace," she whispered back. "Why, I'm feeling steadier on my feet already."
Julian sucked in his breath, golden sparks igniting his eyes. "Careful, soleil. Else we'll miss the party you wanted so badly." With that he straightened, gripping Aurora's elbow and guiding her to the congratulations that awaited them.
The midday breakfast at Pembourne was perfect. Laid out in the spacious green salon, it boasted a buffet of delicacies ranging from potted salmon and lobster to turkey and ham in jelly, to pastry sandwiches with all different types of jams and marmalade, to a magnificent brides-cake adorned with a rainbow of wildflowers. Most of all, it encompassed all the people Aurora loved, from Courtney and Slayde to Mr. Scollard, to the servants who had raised her.
It was everything a bride could dream of.
Still, throughout the entire splendid event Aurora was acutely attuned to Julian's presence beside her—a fact that he was not only aware of, but hell-bent on intensifying. His glances were frequent, seductive, his movements orchestrated to ensure as much physical contact with his bride as possible—his fingers brushing her, his breath ruffling her hair, his arm anchoring her waist. By midafternoon, Aurora's head was swimming, the tension inside her having escalated to the point where she felt as if she were dangling at the edge of a tantalizing precipice.
She wondered how much more she could endure. "Shall we?"
She was standing at the window clutching her wineglass and watching the sun shift to the west when Julian's deep voice resounded behind her, asking the long-awaited question.
Nearly dropping the glass, she whirled about to face him. "Shall we what?" she blurted, sounding like a bloody ninny.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "And here I thought you were eager for tonight to begin."
"I am." She drew a calming breath. "Does this mean you're ready to leave?"
r /> "I was ready before the party began. I simply tried to give you as much time as you needed to fulfill your dream. Have I?"
"Yes." There was no point in lying. She wanted to be alone with Julian as much as he wanted to be alone with her.
