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A true melding of her life and Dustin’s.
Smiling, Nicole recalled one of the highlig
hts of the festivities: the moment she and Dustin had taken Brackley and Poole aside to a secluded cluster of trees in order to tell them the truth.
Solemnly, Dustin had explained that, as Brackley and Poole were more family than servants, he’d wanted to personally introduce them to his bride. Both men had been deeply moved, and Brackley had begun by humbly thanking Lord Tyreham for inviting him to this momentous occasion.
“My lady,” he’d then stammered, bowing awkwardly to her. “I’m honored to meet you.”
“And I as well, Lady Tyreham,” Poole had echoed, with a more practiced bow.
“Meet me?” With feigned surprise, Nicole had inclined her head quizzically. “Why, you both act as if we’re strangers.” Seeing their baffled expressions, she’d leaned forward, purposely lowering her voice to become Stoddard’s. “At least Dagger had the good sense to recognize me.”
Would she ever forget the looks on their faces?
“Damn.” Brackley’s mouth had dropped open. “I mean … forgive my language, my lady. I mean …”
“I know what you mean.” Nicole had squeezed his arm, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “Now this must remain our secret. I have no intention of relinquishing my Derby victory.”
Poole had stored for a full minute before speaking. “All this time …”
“All this time,” Dustin had assured him cheerfully.
Somehow, Nicole doubted poor Poole would ever recover from the fact that he hadn’t guessed the truth.
The bride’s musings were interrupted by a quiet click from behind her.
Pivoting about, Nicole’s heartbeat accelerated at the sight of her husband leaning back against their connecting bedchamber door, studying her from beneath hooded lids. Clad only in his dressing robe, he surveyed her hotly, drinking her in from the crown of her dark, unbound hair to the soft curves of her body, visible through her thin lace-trimmed nightgown.
“At last,” he said huskily. “The ultimate wish fulfilled.”
Crossing over, he drew her away from the window and into his arms.
Nicole gripped the lapels of his robe, her palms opening over the smooth silk. “And what wish is that?” she asked softly.
“You.” Tenderly, his thumbs caressed her cheekbones. “Do you know how many times I’ve stood in that doorway, scrutinizing this room and wondering if I’d ever find a reason to cross its threshold, a woman to fill its emptiness—and mine?” His gaze fell to Nicole’s wishing locket, and he caught it in his palm. “Perhaps your locket’s magic has extended to me, as well.”
“I’m sure it has,” Nicole breathed. “Everything about tonight is magic.”
Dustin’s midnight eyes darkened, his fingers tunneling through her hair. “Did I allow you enough time to get ready?” he asked in a tone that clearly said he had no intentions of granting her even one second more.
“Oh, indeed you did, my lord.” Nicole gave him a radiant smile. “I’m beginning to see the benefits of a lady’s maid. It’s amazing how much faster one can dress and undress with the proper assistance.”
“Really? Well, I hope you haven’t become overly accustomed to your new maid. You won’t be seeing her for many, many days. Then again—” Dustin’s hand tightened on his wife’s nape, urged her forward to receive his kiss. “You won’t be dressing, either.”
Nicole’s eyes drifted shut as Dustin’s lips brushed hers, a brief, heated caress that made her body tremble, her breath expel in a rush.
“My beautiful bride,” he whispered, “I’ve nearly died dreaming of tonight.”
“I’ve nearly died waiting for it,” she confessed, twining her arms about his neck.
He kissed her again, this time more deeply, caressing the delicate line of her spine and exploring her mouth with tenderness, desire, and a carefully leashed restraint that Nicole wanted no part of.
“Dustin—” She drew back, searched his face. “It’s been forever.”
“Longer,” he corrected. “But I want our wedding night to be everything you ever wished for.”
“It already is. It became that the instant we were pronounced man and wife.”
