by Ella Edon
“We are neither of us too young,” Cutler commented, “which means we don’t need to run out of the country for it.”
Raymonde nodded. She was desperately excited, though if she was honest, a small corner of her heart was a little sad that they needed to rush.
“So,” Cutler said, and she could hear that his voice was a little breathless. “I think we would do best to rest soon. We have much to do tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Raymonde replied softly. Her voice was almost a whisper. Her heart was so full of emotion, she could barely speak.
They both stood, and he held her in his arms.
He kissed her cheek, his lips moving tenderly to hers. Raymonde shivered. She shut her eyes and let herself melt into his arms. She was very aware of his body, lean and hard against hers. She shut her eyes, wishing that she could be less aware, that she could fight the sensations that were searing through her, filling her with desperate longing.
“I should go,” he said quietly. She guessed that he could feel it too, as he looked as desperate as she felt.
She nodded. “I will see you tomorrow,” she said softly.
“Tomorrow,” he said. He lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles.
She waited until he had gone, then leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Her heart was thudding so hard that she thought she might stop breathing. Her body was flooded with feelings that she didn’t understand.
She sighed and opened her eyes. She should go upstairs to rest – he was right— they would have so much to make ready.
She summoned the maid to help her undress, dismissing her as soon as she was ready for bed.
“Would you like me to fetch you anything, My Lady?” Seaforth asked. Since the interview, she had become more than a little friendly and helpful.
“No, thank you. That will be all.”
She slipped in under the covers and laid down, but sleep would not come to her. She kept on thinking about tomorrow. She had some vague idea of wedding nights, and what would happen. But she couldn’t help feeling a mix of excitement and dread. It was all so unknown!
“Go to sleep,” she told herself firmly.
But sleep would not come. She tossed and turned, eventually falling asleep. The last thing that crossed her mind as the darkness claimed her was the thought of the Lieutenant’s body pressed to hers, and the warm, playful shine in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A Wonderful Day
Cutler got out of bed with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was anticipation. He hadn’t felt this excited about anything in years.
“Cutler Wingate, calm yourself,” he told his reflection. All his face did was grin back at him. The more he tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind, the more excited he felt.
He got dressed hastily, stomach twisting. It wasn’t all excitement – some of what he felt was a deep tenderness, and some apprehension. It was his responsibility to ensure that Lady Raymonde’s first experience with a man was inspiring and joyous. He swallowed hard, gulping some water from the pitcher into his mouth. He was nervous in the extreme.
Come on, Cutler.
He sighed. He wished that he had some friends here. He could have asked for a better place than this house to spend his first night with Raymonde. But he had to admit it also had good points – it was quite far from everything, and quiet, and they had little chance of being disturbed. The house only had four active staff, and none of them were likely to walk in unexpectedly.
Once he was dressed, he hurried upstairs to breakfast. Lady Raymonde wasn’t there yet, which was a surprise – she usually woke early, and he thought that maybe she had also had trouble getting to sleep. Since she was away, he had an idea. Striding to the corner of the room, he pulled the bell-rope.
“Lewis?” he said, when the man appeared. “If you could send to Mrs. Purnell for me, I’d be very obliged. And give her the instructions to meet with me at ten of the clock, sharp, if you please. I have work for her.”
Lewis frowned at him and the cryptic instructions, but nodded. “As you wish, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He felt calmer after that. If there was one thing he could do, to make up for the ramshackle arrangements, it would be this.
“Lieutenant,” a voice said from the hallway. He looked up and found himself looking at Raymonde. He grinned.
“Raymonde. Please? Call me by my name again?”
She grinned. “Cutler,” she said. “I will never grow tired of it. It’s so new.”
He laughed. “I’m glad. You have no idea how frightened I was about using your name. It took more courage than I have left in me.”
She laughed. “You have more courage than you think.”
Cutler raised a brow. “I hope so,” he said, as he drew out her chair for her. “Because I think I have none left at all.”
She chuckled. “You have enough for both of us.”
“No,” he said in a fervent voice. “I will never have more courage than you.”
Raymonde went pink and looked at the table. When she looked up, he saw a strange mix of gladness and sorrow in her eyes. “I have had need of it,” she said softly.
Cutler nodded. “I guessed.”
He reached for a slice of toast, wishing that he knew her story. She had told him some of it, but he knew that there was much that lay behind the surface of those dark eyes.
During breakfast, his excitement grew. He couldn’t help little flickers of it surfacing in him. He drank his tea hastily, feeling a twist of nausea in his stomach. He stole a glance at her as she ate. She looked perfectly at ease, buttering a crumpet calmly, as if things like this happened every day. He couldn’t stop watching her – the sweet curve of her mouth, her creamy skin! He felt himself ache with longing and made himself look away.
“Shall we take a walk?” he asked a little hastily as they stood from breakfast. It was nine o’ clock, and he would have to be back by ten, but they could fit in a small turn in the gardens!
“I should write letters,” she said. Her brow went up and he smiled. “I need to make some arrangements.”
“I understand.”
Hastily, he pulled the bell to summon Lewis to clean the things away.
While she was busy writing letters, he kept himself busy with the accounts until ten. Then he hurried downstairs to meet his guest.
“That’ll be most satisfactory,” he said to himself, as he hurried back from the appointment. It was cutting things fine, but he was confident that all would be well.
He and Raymonde met again for lunch. It was hard to sit still opposite her. He felt like every move she made was torturing him, from the way she lifted her spoon to the way her glass was pressed by her lips.
“Could we meet at four o’ clock?” he asked her, forcing the words out. The wedding was due for six o’ clock, and he hoped she wouldn’t mind.
“But, isn’t the parson only ready at six?” she asked, one brow raised.
“Yes. But there is something I want you to see. It’ll only take a minute.”
“If you insist,” she said quietly. He thought she looked a little discomforted, and he could guess why – she would want to be getting ready at that time. Well, he thought, trying not to smile. It would only take a minute.
By the time it was ten minutes to four, Cutler felt like he might die of an attack of nerves. He was pacing in his bedchamber. Where was Mrs. Purnell? If she didn’t manage to arrive on time, then the whole idea would be ruined! Raymonde would be upset and he wouldn’t know how to make it better.
This was a terrible idea, he told himself harshly. You’re a real fool.
“Sir?” a voice called at the door.
“Lewis! Thank goodness!” He felt relief wash through him.
“Mrs. Purnell is downstairs.”
“Capital,” Cutler said, rushing down to meet her. He was half-dressed in his formal suit – the hose and breeches were of blue velvet, so dark as to b
e almost black. He ran down without the coat, hurrying to meet her. He didn’t care what a sight he must look.
He paid her for the parcel, feeling his heart soar. He was just seeing her out of the side door when he heard a voice in the hallway.
“You said we should meet at four?” she smiled. “Why are you half-dressed?”
“Raymonde!” He grinned, passing her the package. “I have a surprise for you!”
“Cutler?” she asked. “What is it? You didn’t need to buy me a …Oh!”
Cutler watched from the doorway, feeling his heart fill with warmth. Her reaction was even more wonderful than he had hoped. She shook out the contents of the bundle, holding it in front of her. Her eyes, when she turned around, were tear-soaked.
“Cutler! You didn’t tell me! Oh…it’s beautiful!”
He swallowed hard, feeling deeply moved by her joyful outburst. “It’s the least I could do,” he said.
Raymonde hurried upstairs, carrying the long white gown in her arms.
Cutler went up to his own room to get dressed, unable to stop wondering what it would look like on her.
He was more excited about the day than he could imagine.
Sympathy for Raymonde’s feeling about the dress grew in him as he checked his reflection over and again. He was wearing a navy-blue velvet suit, the jacket knee-length and simple, the breeches meeting good silk stockings just below the knee. He brushed his hair carefully, checking it in the mirror.
“Cutler Wingate… You look fine as you are.”
He sighed. He wanted everything to be just right.
He went downstairs and was met by the cook.
“The coach just left, sir.”
“Good,” Cutler affirmed. They were trying to honor tradition as far as they could – which meant that Raymonde was setting off for the chapel in the coach. He would ride and cut across country to get there first.
“Always assuming I can ride fast enough,” he grumbled as he headed across country to the church.
He felt like he was waiting for an age. He stood in the tiny chapel, every crunch of footsteps on the path outside making him jump. The parson let him wander about, keeping himself busy with the prayer-book or tending the candles.
You’re not here to get shot, Cutler Wingate, he told himself firmly.
Footsteps sounded on the gravel and he twisted around sharply. He stared.
Wearing a white gown that reached her feet, the skirt narrow and the sleeves full, caught here and there with silk ribbon in the Renaissance style, she was beautiful.
He gasped and Raymonde smiled. She had left her hair loose and it hung around her shoulders in soft waves. Her neck was encircled with a chain of pearls. She looked radiant and beautiful.
“Good afternoon!” Reverend Walford beamed. “Now that you’re here, we can begin the ceremony.” He coughed and cleared his throat. Cutler could feel Raymonde standing close beside him and smell the scent of her skin. He tried to focus on the words of the pastor, but his senses were swimming and he couldn’t think.
“Do you, Cutler Alexander Wingate, take thee Raymonde Germaine Marlena Maverly to be your lawful wedded wife?”
“I do,” Cutler answered. He smiled to himself. He didn’t know any of her other names before they were here. And it was odd enough to hear himself referred to by his full name. He had almost forgotten it.
“And do you,” he turned to Raymonde, “take thee Cutler Alexander Wingate to be your lawful wedded husband?”
“I do,” she murmured.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Cutler swallowed hard. He could barely believe it. He knew what happened now. He could barely fathom that it really was the moment when he could kiss Raymonde without anybody minding.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
She gasped, and he gently let his tongue lap across her lips. They were so soft and full, and they parted so tenderly for his tongue. He gasped, and his heart raced, and he felt desire flood through his body.
They walked out of the church into the light. He held her hand. His head was fizzing, and his blood was running through his veins like fire. He helped her up into the coach and leaned back, staring at her in amazement.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.
She smiled. “I can say the same for you.”
He blushed. “Maybe,” he allowed. “I can’t believe it!”
She smiled again, and he could see that it was as surreal for her as it seemed to him. “I know,” she said. “But it really has happened.”
They rode back towards the house.
* * *
Standing in the hallway, Raymonde felt her heart pounding. It was dark by now, the space around her filled with a filtered blueish light from the windows.
The stairs creaked and she turned to see Cutler. He was still wearing the velvet suit he’d worn earlier; his dark hair shining in the lamplight. She caught sight of a strange intensity in his eyes; a hungry expression mixed with wonderment. She blushed.
She was dressed in her bridal finery, her long hair glowing softly in the light from the windows. She had waited all day for the moment when they would be alone.
“Raymonde,” he whispered, then he kissed her lips. His voice shook with intensity. Her body melted into his, her loins feeling as if they were suffused with heat. It was the strangest feeling. It was both exciting and perplexing.
She sighed, and he pressed himself against her. His body was tense with excitement. She could hear his breath straining in his throat and she felt the tension fill her too, making her tingle with anticipation.
She noticed that they were right outside the bedroom that was earlier his. Her heart almost stopped, and she felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, her heart thrumming, her body melting.
“My Lady,” he whispered softly against her skin. “If I might carry you over the threshold?” He swallowed hard. “It’s supposed to be tradition.”
She giggled. “We can do that,” she replied, her voice a low whisper. “We should honor as many customs as we can.”
He nodded and bent down and lifted her and carefully swung her over the threshold into the bedroom. She shut her eyes, feeling his strong arms around her, her head against his heart.
She held her breath as he squeezed her close against him, his arms fastening on her waist. She could smell the scent of his hair and feel his heartbeat. Her own was wild and erratic, her breath tight in her throat.
He pressed his lips to hers and set her on her feet by the fireplace. Staring into her eyes, he brushed her hair out of her one eye with a tender hand.
“Raymonde,” he whispered. Excitement and nerves had made his voice husky, and the sound of it made her tingle with the same excitement. “If I frighten you,” he said softly. “You must tell me. Please.”
“I will.” Her voice wavered. His fear of harming her was touching, but it fueled her own uneasiness. This was a journey into utterly unchartered waters and she had no idea what to expect.
He stood back and looked at her. She took a breath, letting her eyes linger on his body. He was so strong, his muscles lean and hard and somehow strangely exciting. He took a deep breath and pushed his body against hers, his lips tasting her own. She shut her eyes as his tongue gently stroked the parting of her lips, seeking entry.
His tongue moved into her mouth and she shut her eyes, amazed by how it felt. It was so tender, so exciting! His tongue stroked the tip of her tongue and she unconsciously held him tighter, the excitement she felt flowing through her body and blossoming inside of her.
She gasped, and he pushed her backward, letting her land softly on the bed. His lips found hers as he climbed onto the bed and lay beside her. She was on her back and looked up at him with absolute trust. He let a hand gently stroke her shoulder, her soft skin where her hair revealed her neck. With a gentle hand, she stroked his cheek.
“I am not afraid,” she said softly. She meant it. The fact surprised
her, but she found her excitement utterly outweighed her fears.
He smiled.
“I will honor that,” he whispered into her ear, and kissed her neck.
She shut her eyes, feeling the sweet tickling sensation of his lips beside her ear. It was such an arousing feeling that she blushed, her body pressing to his where he leaned against her. She had expected to be afraid or even repelled, but to feel his lips on her skin was so wonderful, and her whole body longed for more of him, for something she didn’t really understand, but which was becoming more pressing each moment. He gently stroked her waist, his lips on hers. His other hand stroked down her neck. She sighed and moved closer and his body pressed against hers as he looked into her eyes. His fingers on her skin were tender, making her shiver.
