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Chapter 15
The ceremony was swift and businesslike. Sam and John said their vows, signed the register, and proceeded out of the church and to the breakfast table. And that was it; Sam officially became Lady Samantha Godfrey, the Baroness of Ashbury.
The only memorable moment from her wedding ceremony was when the priest asked for the rings and John took out identical bands, simple in their design. Hers had an engraving at the back. John showed it to her before putting it on her finger. It read:My Angel.
Sam looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. It was the most beautiful ring she could have ever wished for. No diamond or other shiny stone could compare to the words engraved on her simple wedding band. He’d had the rings specially made for the ceremony, carefully choosing the words engraved. The thought filled her with warmth. The fact that it said Angel also made her feel like Ben was present during the ceremony as well, and that he always would be close to her heart. John’s ring also had an engraving. It was the date of the ceremony and a sideways 8, the symbol for eternity.
Now, sitting in the carriage, Sam was able to study the ring closer, twisting it on her finger, looking at it from every angle. Her husband was riding outside, next to the carriage. They’d ridden out right after the wedding breakfast concluded, an hour before noon. John wanted to get an early start, but it took a while to load all her luggage into the carriages and say their goodbyes.
According to her husband, the travel to his estate would take about twelve hours, so they planned to stop at an inn halfway, rest, dine, and have a good night’s sleep. The cook had packed some sandwiches for their luncheon, so they stopped only to change the horses, stretch their legs, and use the privy. John bought her a cup of hot broth or tea at every stop and was generally very courteous toward her. But other than a few polite words, they didn’t talk.
By the time they reached their destination, Sam had spent about seven hours in a rocking carriage with her silent embroidering maid. She couldn’t read in the poor light, since the sky was dark, and the carriage light was constantly shaking and rocking. She wondered how Gina was able to work with the needle and escape unscathed in such circumstances.
Sam was tired, and her stomach was churning from the travels. They stopped in a small village, at a tiny inn with a wooden sign readingQuacks and Ducksabove the door. John helped her out of the carriage and slowly walked her to the inn door. He looked at her with worry in his eyes, so she wondered if she looked as bad as she felt.
Soon after John talked to the innkeeper, he walked her up the stairs and toward one of the bedrooms. He opened the door for her and waited until she proceeded into the room.
The room was small, with one narrow bed across from the window and a washbasin to the left of the door.
“I hope this room is nice enough for you. I know it is not what you are used to, but we shall be home tomorrow afternoon.” He smiled slightly. “It won’t be much nicer, mind you. But after this inn, it won’t look too terrible either.”
Sam just stood looking over the room. She didn’t much care about the size of the room or even the stained linens on the bed. The truth was, she was too weary to care; she just wanted a wash and a good night’s rest.
“I’ve ordered a bath for you,” John continued, as if reading her thoughts. “Supper will be served in the common dining room downstairs. At seven. I’ll see you there.” With these words, he exited the room.
Sam frowned, wondering where he was going. A moment later, she was even more puzzled when her travel valise was brought up, but his trunks were mysteriously absent. Was he not spending the night with her? Was she going to spend her wedding night alone? At that moment, a bath was brought in and several maids rushed in pouring hot water.
She would worry about her wedding night later, she decided. For now, she resolved to enjoy a nice hot bath.
* * *
John sat at the supper table, waiting for his wife to grace him with her presence. He was tired from a long day’s journey. Considering he hadn’t slept much in the past several nights, he was in a foul and irritable mood. Add to that the knowledge that he’d have to wait one more night to bed his wife, and he was a raging beast. He’d felt on edge and impatient ever since that blasted day in the garden. But it wasn’t like he could take her in the dirty old inn either.
He regretted that he’d stopped coming to her a few days before the wedding. But he couldn’t endure the temptation anymore. It was getting more difficult, painful even, to keep his hands—and more importantly another organ—off of her.
He didn’t want to take her virginity in her garden, or on the floor of her library, or in a closet. She deserved better. And in order to safeguard her from himself, he had to cut his visits. His dreams of her were bad enough; he couldn’t endure the real thing. Just this morning, he’d woken up tangled in his sheets, drenched in hot sweat, his sheets sticky with his seed. He was as randy as an adolescent.
He looked around the inn impatiently. Where was Sam? Why was it taking her so long to come downstairs? He shouldn’t have left her alone in the room. They were married; he should have stayed with her.
We are married.The thought made him smile. Finally, his long-time dream had come true. He couldn’t wait to start sharing his life with her. His Angel.
Sharing his life? John scoffed. He had nothing to share with her except for a crumbling manor and his broken body and spirit. What was he doing taking a brilliant young girl from the bosom of her family into a monster’s den? His estate was in a horrible condition. He hadn’t had the time for proper renovations yet. They would have to live in a half-ruined old manor for a good part of the year before it would start to resemble a comfortable home. Maybe not even then.
John had no idea how to make a home cozy. He’d never had one. He could only hope Sam would know. He was putting way too much hope on her fragile shoulders. How would she be able to cope with his beastly nature, his injured soul, the failing estate, starved tenants, and crumbling manor all at the same time? This should have been bothering him all these weeks, not his randy cock.
He couldn’t worry about that right now either. He ran a hand through his hair and gave a long-suffering sigh. Then he looked up and saw her. And his earlier thoughts and all his problems disappeared at once.
She was wearing a simple blue day gown with tiny flowers on the hem of the skirt and lining her bodice. Her hair was swept up, and a smile lingered on her lips. She looked pale and her smile was strained, but she looked enchanting, nonetheless.
He stood and drew out her chair, relishing her scent as she swept past him, her hair brushing over his arm as she sat. John lingered a few moments longer behind her, not willing to let go of her closeness yet. She turned to him in question, and he had to reluctantly move to his place across from her.
They ate in silence. Sam was obviously famished because her social niceties had abandoned her, which meant that John had to be the one to carry the conversation. He didn’t know how to do that, but he wanted Sam to feel at ease with him.
“Was your journey comfortable?” he asked and grimaced. Nice conversation starter.
Sam nodded. “It was all right.”
John chewed, thinking what could he possibly talk about. “Ashbury Manor,” he finally said. “I don’t want you to have your hopes up concerning it. It hasn’t been lived in properly for quite some time. My father was always in London, and I… Well, let’s just say I haven’t exactly nestled there. To be honest, I find it difficult to feel at home anywhere after the war. I spent way too much time in makeshift tents and on the road. I don’t know what a home should look like.”
