by Merry Farmer
“You would really have me?” Alice asked, blinking rapidly and glancing between Maeve and Avery. “And Ryan?” she added in a quieter voice, peeking around. “You wouldn’t mind both of us?”
“Not at all,” Maeve answered quickly and joyfully. “Of course Ryan could come with you.”
Only after giving her enthusiastic approval did Maeve think to check with Avery. But as she’d hoped, Avery was all smiles.
“I think that is only fitting,” Avery said with a nod. “We’ll find the right situation for both of you, I swear.”
Alice’s worry and the tremulous hope that had filled her expression burst into a wide smile, and she blinked back tears. “Thank you,” she said, nearly sobbing with joy. “You cannot know what this means to me. This is…this is the difference between life and death for me.”
“So you’ll come with us?” Maeve asked, just to be sure. “You’ll come away on Tuesday, when we pack all of our things and leave for the season?”
Alice nodded quickly and passionately before she could form the words to say, “Yes. Yes, I will. Gratefully. Happily.”
To Maeve’s surprise, the people who had stayed behind after Avery threw the detractors out broke into applause. Someone even shouted, “Bravo,” above the sudden din. It was enough to have Maeve blushing with joy on Alice’s behalf.
“And now,” Avery said, raising his voice a bit to settle the crowd, “I believe we have a wedding to celebrate. And afterwards, a reception at my family’s estate.”
“We most certainly do,” Mr. Feeney—who was standing closest to Avery—said, thumping him on the back, then steering him toward the front of the church to take his place for the ceremony.
Maeve was overjoyed that things could continue as they should have, with Avery standing up at the front of the church, Lord Rothbury acting as his groomsman and standing with him. The congregation—who must have all felt as though they’d seen a show worthy of tickets at Covent Garden—resumed their seats and settled into a state that was at least slightly reverent.
That left Maeve to take up her position at the back of the church, Alice by her side. What she hadn’t counted on, however, was that even though she knew they likely shared the beliefs of everyone who had just been tossed out of the church, her parents were still there. They stood at the back of the church, looking stunned.
“This is all highly irregular,” her father fussed and grumbled, his moustache twitching in agitation as everyone else seemed to move on smoothly. “I am no longer certain I wish to give you away to a man who would flout social convention so boldly.”
“Maeve, darling,” her mother added, her face pinched, “are you certain you will be entirely happy with a gentleman who holds such strange and revolutionary views of morality?” She wrung her hands in front of her and glanced around, as though waiting for someone to toss her out as well.
“Yes, Mama,” Maeve said with absolute confidence, emboldened by Avery’s strength and righteousness. “I am absolutely certain that I will be perfectly happy with Avery. He is brave and understanding. He is unusual and unconventional, yes, but in the very best of ways.”
“He seems rather dangerous to me,” her father said, sending Avery a glare as he waited at the front of the church.
Avery wore a look of concern that made Maeve wonder if he would march to the back of the church to see what was going on.
“He is everything I have always wanted in a man,” Maeve contradicted her father. “He understands that there are more things in life than rules and his own concerns. He is a champion not only for me, but for my friend.” She looped her arm through Alice’s and held her close. “Nothing is more important than a man who would risk his own comfort to provide for the happiness of others.”
“Still,” her father argued, crossing his arms and looking as though he would grow roots to keep him to his spot, “I am not sure I wish to give you away to him, even if he is an earl.”
“Then you will not have to,” Maeve said, breaking into a smile. “My friend will give me away.” She turned to Alice with a giddy lift in her heart.
“I most certainly will,” Alice said, standing tall and hugging Maeve’s arm. “Because I know I am giving you away to the very best of men.”
Without waiting to hear what Maeve’s parents thought of that, the two of them turned and started down the aisle.
Avery smiled in approval at their boldness—though a few of the people watching from the pews looked downright stunned at the turn of events—and when they reached the front of the church, he nodded respectfully to Alice.
“Thank you for taking care of my bride, and for giving her over to me,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” Alice said, winking, then stepping aside.
Maeve’s heart flipped in her chest as Avery turned to smile at her and to walk the last few steps onto the chancel, where the stunned vicar was waiting to perform the ceremony. Given some of the weddings that had happened over the summer, it wasn’t the strangest ceremony the poor man had officiated.
Once the formal ceremony itself began, though, there was nothing at all unusual about it. All of the usual words were spoken, the familiar prayers were offered up to a god that Maeve was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt was benevolent and who loved all of his creations, no matter how naughty they were, and after the standard vows were exchanged, the vicar pronounced her and Avery to be husband and wife.
Maeve had never been so happy as that moment when she kissed Avery for the first time as Lady Carnlough, as his wife and his own. The moment was made even better when the members of the congregation who had stayed applauded for them, even though that, too, was highly unusual. Everything about the ceremony was strange and exciting, but the results were the most thrilling thing of all.
“Welcome to our scandalous family,” Lady Marie Kilrea said with a tight hug as she and the rest of the family took their turns greeting the bride and groom at the reception later that morning. “I am very pleased to see that you have lived up to the horrible reputations we have all given ourselves right from the beginning.”
Her sister Colleen, Lady Stamford, was standing with them and laughed out loud. “I don’t believe any of us set out to give the family such a wicked reputation in County Antrim, but we all managed it somehow.”
“I’m just sorry that there wasn’t enough time for Chloe and Deane—that is, the Duchess and Duke of Blackburn,” Marie said, affecting a snooty tone, “to come over for the wedding.”
“We received a telegram that they will pay a call on us in London,” Avery announced, coming up behind Maeve, resting a hand on the small of her back, and joining the ladies’ conversation. “And from what I know of my cousin Chloe, she will simply adore Miss Woodmont and will aid us in our mission to find her and her son just the right place in society.”
Marie and Colleen quieted just a bit as they shifted to watch Alice across the room, where she was engaged in conversation with an old school friend of Avery’s, Mr. Samuel Rathborne-Paxton, who just happened to be in Ireland and had been able to attend the wedding on short notice.
“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Marie asked, genuine concern knitting her brow. “I cannot believe she managed to conceal her son for over two years.”
“It was quite a difficult feat to accomplish,” Maeve said with a sigh.
“Is the boy safe?” Colleen asked, blinking as though the idea had just come to her. “Mr. and Mrs. Woodmont wouldn’t set the baby out on the front stoop and abandon him to the elements, would they?”
“The boy, Ryan, is being fostered by a Mrs. Horner,” Avery informed them. “I have met the woman, and I am confident that she will keep him safe until Miss Woodmont is able to pack his things and bring him away to London with us.”
“So all really has ended well for Miss Woodmont,” Marie said. “Or, at least, as well as could be expected.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Maeve said, smiling when Alice glanced in their d
irection and lifted her hand in a wave.
Mr. Rathborne-Paxton had just turned away from their conversation, and Alice made an impressed face, gestured to the man, and mouthed the words, “Yes, please.”
Marie burst into laughter and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Yes,” Maeve said. “I have a feeling my dear friend will land on her feet.”
The rest of the reception passed with more joy and pleasantries, but Maeve was surprised by how happy she was once their guests left and she and Avery were able to retire to their bedchamber. The fact that it was their bedchamber made her happy beyond her wildest expectations.
“My mother took me aside to give me a certain talk about what is expected of me as a new bride,” she told Avery, sending him a sly grin over her shoulder as he undid the buttons of her bodice. “It was surprisingly edifying.”
Avery jerked away slightly, breaking into a snorting laugh. “I was under the impression both of your parents had ascertained what happened between us the night of the storm.”
“I’m certain they had,” Maeve said with a laugh, “but Mama pretended as though I was as virginal as ever as she instructed me that it was my duty to lie peacefully on my back with my legs spread to the sides, and to hum hymns to myself if I became too distraught.”
Avery laughed as well, but the sound had a decidedly delicious and predatory rumble to it as he loosened her bodice and slipped it from her shoulders. Because of the way her wedding gown was designed, a few more tugs on the drawstrings of her petticoat and the entire gown slithered down her body to the floor.
She still had quite a few underthings to remove before she was undressed, but that didn’t stop Avery from scooting closer, kissing her shoulder and neck, staring down the front of her corset and chemise, and singing, “How wonderous are the works of God” as he ogled her breasts.
Maeve giggled at his irreverence, but those giggles quickly turned to gasps and sighs as he unhooked her corset, let it drop, and peeled her out of her chemise. He hummed appreciatively as he stroked his hands up her sides to cup her breasts, kneading them slightly and rubbing her nipples into hard points—all while still standing behind her and resting his chin against her shoulder. It was ever so slightly ridiculous, but the way his touch felt as he deliberately aroused her had Maeve itching to get on with things.
“You have gorgeous breasts, my dear,” he told her in a growl, settling them in his hands in such a way that sizzles of pleasure shot through her, making her sex throb. “I think I could spend all night making love to them alone.”
“Is that so?” Maeve managed in a breathless voice.
“Oh, yes,” Avery answered.
As if to prove his point, he lifted her out of the pile of her wedding dress and carried her to the bed, lying her across the already turned-down sheets. Even though she still had her stockings and drawers on—and even though Avery was still dressed in his shirt and trousers—she followed her mother’s sage advice and spread her legs so that he could settle between them.
Instead of callously thrusting into her, as her mother must have thought a groom would do on his wedding night, Avery bent over her, bringing his mouth to first one breast, then the other, trading off kissing the two of them in a way that both inflamed her and left her entirely unsatisfied.
“I cannot decide which one I like best,” he said, bending down to lick one of her nipples, then repeating the gesture with the other. “They both taste delicious,” he said, then dipped down again. He took his time drawing each nipple into his mouth and sucking with just enough force to have her writing under him, then moving on to the other side. “They both feel perfectly divine.”
“Is one expected to have a favorite breast?” she asked breathlessly, reaching to undo the buttons of Avery’s shirt, which could only happen clumsily as he continued to move.
“Of course,” he said with mock seriousness, lifting above her so he could look down. “One must always have a favorite.”
Maeve laughed, racing through his buttons as quickly as she could while he was in the right position, pulling the hem of his shirt out of his trousers, then yanking it off over his head. He moved his arms and helped her discard it entirely, and when his chest was bare, she raked her hands over his warm flesh and chest hair, catching his nipples in her fingers. She played with them the way he’d played with her, frowning in mock concentration at one side, then the other.
“I think I prefer this one,” she said with almost academic dryness, toying with his right nipple.
“Are you quite certain?” he asked gravely.
She answered by meeting his eyes with an impish smile, then pinching his right nipple hard.
Avery let out a shout that turned into a laugh. “You minx!”
He shifted to balance on one arm and raised a hand as if he would pinch one of her nipples as well, but Maeve twisted and laughed, wriggled under him and pretended to try to get away, but all to no avail.
Somehow in their wrestling match, Avery had managed to divest himself of his trousers and Maeve of her drawers, although he left her silk stockings on. Maeve pretended to struggle as best she could, but within a few, absolutely glorious minutes, Avery had managed to pin her hands above her head and had somehow spread her hips even wider. She realized with panting breaths of expectation that he had somehow maneuvered her into an utterly helpless, completely delicious position under him.
“Oh, dear,” she panted, her body on fire with arousal and her heart overflowing within her. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, my lord. Whatever are you planning to do to me?”
The only warning she had was Avery’s devilish grin before he brought himself to her entrance and thrust inside of her. He wasn’t gentle or sweet about the way he took her, but considering how filled and stretched and loved she felt with his powerful gesture of possession, she wouldn’t have wanted him to be. God help her, but she loved the definitive way he claimed her, thrusting with single-minded passion while she cried out in time to his thrusts.
“I love you, Maeve,” he grunted as he thrust, shifting from pinning her hands above her head to gripping her thighs and opening her wider to him. Maeve kept her hands right where they were, giving herself to him gladly. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you,” she gasped in return, though she didn’t know where she found the words.
He paused to adjust their position, lifting her hips so that he could pound into her from a different angle. Everything about the way he made love was brutal and aggressive, and Maeve adored it. The way he used her body for his own pleasure sent her towering to heights of pleasure that she’d never known before. She wasn’t even certain when her orgasm started, but it roared through her with a declaration of ecstatic victory that filled every fiber of her being.
“Avery! Yes!” she cried out, arching into the pleasure and rolling her eyes back with abandon.
Avery let out a strangled cry that didn’t quite form into words and thrust hard into her a few more times before he, too, came apart with a roar that could have shaken the windows from their casements. Maeve loved the way his body went rock hard as his life spilled into her, then the way it softened into a hot, sated mass as he sank over her with a groan. She even loved the way his weight nearly crushed her. It made her feel as though the two of them were one on every level.
“That was magnificent,” she panted a few moments later, as Avery rolled them to the side—though he stayed lodged within her. “Simply brilliant.”
Avery peeked at her with a somewhat guilty look. “It wasn’t too…much?” he asked, then rushed to add, “I don’t usually turn into a ravening beast, intent on claiming what is his, like that.”
Maeve laughed deep in her throat, undulating her body against his. “I loved it,” she hummed, leaning into kiss him. “I love it because it is you. I love you just as you are, rough edges and all.”
“And I love you,” he said with an exhausted smile, shifting the way he held her so that it was all t
enderness and care. “You are the making of me, Maeve O’Shea. I am a better man a thousand times over for knowing you.”
“And we shall both spend every day of the rest of our lives making each other better and better as we go,” Maeve replied with a kiss. She knew it was true.
Epilogue
Alice shifted Ryan in her arms, hugging him close as they waited their turn to board the ferry that would take them across the Irish Sea to England. Maeve and Lord Carnlough stood just in front of her, but they were so wrapped up in each other and surrounded by the glow of love that they barely saw her. Alice didn’t mind at all, though. She had her own sort of love to guide her and keep her warm.
“Look at the boat, Ryan,” she said, pointing up at the large ferry. “Isn’t it a pretty boat?”
“Boat!” Ryan repeated, clapping his hands excitedly.
“Yes,” Alice told him. “We’re going on a boat, and we’re going to start a whole new life in a whole new place.”
The line they were waiting in moved forward. Alice picked up the old suitcase she’d used some of her meager pin money to buy off of Mrs. Horner and moved forward with it. Everything she owned that belonged to both her and Ryan was in that suitcase, although bystanders who looked at her would never dream that she was destitute. She wore one of Maeve’s fine dresses, and Lord Carnlough had purchased a traveling coat and pretty hat for her just that morning. But they were the only nice things she had to her name at the moment.
True to their word, her parents hadn’t let her back in their house after the wedding. They’d refused to give any of Alice’s things to her either, saying that they were the ones who had purchased them, therefore they were the ones that owned them. It was a hard blow, but one that was softened, since Alice had a place to stay with Maeve and Lord Carnlough. They had sworn that they would provide her with clothing and shoes and everything else she might need as well.
