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“How I wish to kiss you, Bridget,” Joseph murmured in a voice that created a wild explosion somewhere in her lower abdomen, threatening to go even lower than that.
She wanted to tell him she wanted the same, but no words formed inside her mind. She had forgotten to breathe, to think, to exist. All she could do was get lost in the scorching heat of his touch. Longing, the likes of which she never experienced, washed over her.
“I want to marry you tomorrow,” he admitted. “Today. Right now.”
He made her chuckle. “Things need to be prepared first. Neither my mother nor yours would agree to a hasty wedding.”
He sighed. “I know, but I only need you as you are. No preparation.”
She chuckled again, her cheeks bathed in flames he awoke in her. Now, her entire body was aware of his presence, of his voice, of his touch. The most secretive place between her thighs tinged. How could she be so agonizingly aware of a man?
He was too close. He was touching her, and good heavens, she wanted to touch him back. She was barely restraining herself from doing it.
Then, suddenly, as if he were able to read her mind, he released her; a gaping hole was left in the place where he had touched her. Her skin yearned for him. Her heart, body and soul. All of her. Whatever time their mothers deemed necessary for the wedding preparations would be too long. Far too long.
“So, we are betrothed now?” she wondered, unable to resist giggling.
“Yes,” he sounded equally amused. “Did I do it right?”
“You did it perfectly,” she smiled back, allowing the warmth of the sun to wash over her. It was a perfect day to be in the garden, by the side of the man she loved, the man who would soon become her husband. It was a perfect day to start the rest of their lives together.
Chapter 28
Three long months of what seemed to be endless courting had passed. Bridget still enjoyed every moment of it, every stolen touch, every word that he addressed to her. They enjoyed chaperoned strolls, picnics, and tea parties, all the while sending each other heated glances, burning on the inside. The longing had become unbearable. Now that she knew what it felt like to have his lips upon hers, to have his hands on her trembling body, she could barely count the days until she would feel them again.
That afternoon, the families had gotten together at Sculthorpe Estate to make the final arrangements for the wedding that was to take place in exactly two weeks. For Bridget, the moment could not come fast enough. Her mother and her sister had seized every chance to speak of the upcoming wedding celebrations, the joyful tone almost palpable in their voices.
On that particular occasion, Bridget listened to their mothers make suggestions regarding the wedding breakfast and the rest of the menu. Bridget’s father and Oliver had excused themselves for urgent business, leaving the planning to the female part of the family. Bridget believed Joseph would find an excuse as well, but instead she found him joining the conversation and even giving his own ideas.
She fought her way through a crowd of servants and handymen who were to adjust the big dining table, the chandeliers, and a few other things to fit the large number of people that were to celebrate with them on the wedding day. Bridget sensed a thrill as she approached Joseph. The thought of becoming his wife was becoming reality. It all felt like a wonderful dream.
“I never thought you were the wedding planner type,” she teased, whispering in his ear.
“Actually,” he whispered back, “I am not here because of the wedding planning. I have a secret agenda.”
“Oh, really?” She heard him snicker. “What is it?”
“Just a moment…” he said, only to leave her.
Bridget could hear Sarah’s voice chatting away with one of the servants, regarding the wedding decorations while the Dowager Duchess and Bridget’s mother seemed to be out of the room. Yet, the place felt as if the entire London had come down to Sculthorpe Estate to plan her wedding.
She listened to Joseph say something, but she could not make out the exact words. Within minutes, he was back by her side, unmistakably himself, wearing the scent that drove her mad with desire.
“Come.”
That was the only word he said, grabbing her by the hand. She flew after him, her feet not even touching the ground. She passed by a few people, none of whom she knew, when he guided her down the hallway, only to swish her inside a room, closing the door behind them.
“What are you doing, Joseph?” she whispered, realizing that he was standing so close their noses were touching.
“I could not stand to look at you any longer without touching you,” he admitted as her chest pressed against his, rising and falling steadily. The only thing that stood between them was the fabric of their clothes, separating their two hearts.
“But, what if–”
“No one will see us,” he assured her, his lips touching her earlobe as he spoke. The touch felt as if a million tiny little ants started running up and down her body, losing their way. “We are in my study. The curtains are drawn. It’s as dark as a cave inside here. Even if someone does open the door, they won’t see us.”
This knowledge pacified her. She knew she was supposed to be out there, helping with the planning, but being here felt so right as she shivered in his arms. Then, a sudden realization hit her. It permeated her thoughts more now than ever.
“Joseph…” she sounded concerned. He heard it immediately.
