The gathering tears in her eyes spilled over and streaked down her cheeks. Her bottom lip started to tremble, and the sound she emitted was a broken sob of emotion.
Caleb tightened his hold on her hand and smiled up into her beautiful face. She nodded ever so slightly, and then with increasing vigor. Caleb's heart began to unfurl as the panic receded. He rose and she was suddenly in his arms.
“Yes.” The word spilled from her lips and trembled like raindrops clinging to leaves in the wake of a downpour.
Her mouth met his, and a burst of applause accompanied cheers as he hugged her close. Kissing her deeply, he conveyed all the love he felt in his heart and the resounding wish he had to spend every moment of every day with her by his side.
Mary's wedding day dawned to the bright, pristine splendor of new fallen snow. The clouds that had hovered over London since the previous evening had disappeared, receding like waves abandoning shore at low tide.
Rising, Mary went to the window and looked out at the garden below. A robin there hopping from branch to brand with something in its beak made her smile.
As for the day itself...
Her smile widened as she turned to look at the gown she would wear. Freshly pressed, it hung over her wardrobe door, a creamy silk creation trimmed with pale green ribbon to match the accompanying velvet pelisse.
A knock at the door sounded, and Mary granted entry to her mother, who swept into the room with a brilliant smile. “I have brought Fiona to help you prepare,” she said as her maid trailed in behind her. “This is all so exciting, and oh, have you seen the weather? It is absolutely glorious.”
Her mother and Caleb's had both tried to push for a traditional wedding with three weeks of banns, but Caleb had insisted on marrying sooner, as long as Mary agreed. They'd eventually compromised by waiting a week and a half, allowing the time both mothers had requested to make preparations and order a gown. It had also allowed Mary and Caleb to enjoy a brief engagement. He’d shown her his architectural drawings and the articles praising his skills in France. Although she’d known he was a talented man, she’d been quite impressed and even more determined to support his desire to continue with this profession if he wished.
“Do you know,” her mother added, “this will be the first society wedding this year.” She clapped her hands and practically bounced up and down.
Fiona helped Mary with her toilette. She completed the task by adding a dab of lilac water to each of her wrists.
“Don't forget the bosom,” Mrs. Clemens said. “We want it smelling sweet and—”
“Mama!” Mary clasped her hands over her chemise-covered breasts. “Perhaps you should go and see if Cassandra and Emily need anything.”
“But—”
“I will be down when I am ready.”
“But, Mary.” Her mother's voice was firm. “We have not discussed your wedding night yet.” Fiona helped Mary on with her stays, which only distracted her a little. “As your mother it is my duty to explain the mechanics.”
“You are making it sound like an engineering project, Mama.”
“And in many ways it is,” Mrs. Clemens said with a lighter tone. “I can show you the diagram your grandmother gave to me when—”
“Mama,” Mary said, stepping into her wedding gown. “I know you mean well, but I think I am well apprised of the subject already. Cassandra explained everything.” She left out the part about when she had done so.
Mrs. Clemens expelled a deep breath, and it occurred to Mary that she was relieved to hear this. “Well then,” she said while Mary pushed her arms through the sleeves of her gown, “I shall wait downstairs for you, then. Just don't be too long. We must depart within the hour.”
Mary's heart fluttered. In another two hours she would be Caleb's wife. The thought caused her to smile while Fiona did up the buttons at the back of her gown. The maid dressed Mary’s hair next, styling it in a simple chignon held in place by diamond-tipped pins.
When her parents had gifted them to her, she'd wanted to refuse, but they'd insisted she look the part of a high society bride. Seeing how much it meant to them, Mary had relented. She was now forced to admit that they did flatter her overall appearance.
Standing in front of the cheval glass, Mary thanked Fiona for her assistance, smoothed the skirt of her gown one last time, and exited her bedchamber. With a deep inhale, she turned onto the landing and started down the stairs.
Her mother gasped and her father stared.
“You look incredible,” Emily said.
“Like a princess,” Cassandra agreed.
“So you think he’ll approve?” Mary asked.
“If he doesn’t, there’s something wrong with him, and I’ll protest the nuptials myself when the vicar allows it,” her father said.
Mary grinned. “There will be no need for that, Papa. I am confident Camberly will be pleased with Fiona’s work.”
She was right. Caleb’s eyes brightened with deep appreciation when she entered the church half an hour later and made her progress up the aisle. Griffin, who stood at his side, whispered something in his ear, but there was no indication that Caleb heard him. His entire focus was on her.
“A diamond of the first water,” he murmured when she reached him. “So stunning I can scarcely believe I get to take you home with me.”
Modesty clutched at her heart while the hint of desire clinging to his words swept through her like surging floodwater. “How fitting that I am to marry you then,” she whispered right back, “for there is no handsomer gentleman about, and none I would rather go home with.”
His chest expanded and when she accepted his arm, she could feel the tightly honed muscles contracting beneath her touch. Starting forward, he kissed her cheek as they went to face the vicar. “I love you, Mary. With all my heart.”
“And I love you, my unconventional duke.”
19
It took an eternity for the ceremony to end, or at least that was how Caleb perceived it. Ever since Mary walked into the church, he’d been entranced, and when she’d said there was no one else she’d rather go home with, his mind had filled with every wonderful detail of what that entailed. But it wasn’t just the wedding itself that stopped him from getting on with the part of married life he looked most forward to at the moment. There was also the wedding breakfast hosted by Mary’s parents. To announce they would not be attending would be badly done after all the effort, but when the cake still hadn’t been cut three hours later, he felt it his right to suggest they did so quickly.
“I think there was a deliberate effort to see how long I would last before simply hauling you off like a marauding pirate,” he said to Mary when they were finally alone in his carriage. They were on their way to the Clarendon Hotel where they would spend the next couple of nights before heading off to Montvale Manor, the estate where they planned to open their orphanage and build their cottage.
She laughed. “Yes. This entire day was designed to test our patience, but I am glad of it, you know. At least for the sake of our friends and families, who were all so excited to be in attendance.”
“I am sure we’ll also look back on it with fondness one day and savor the memory. After we have had a chance to consummate our union in at least a dozen different ways.” His arm wound around her waist when she gasped and blushed in response to his words. He was being wicked, he knew, but she was his wife now which meant he could say such things without any apology. But there was one thing he ought to consider… “Are you nervous?”
“A little, I must admit.” She dropped her gaze and studied her lap where her hand was holding his. “It would be strange if I weren’t, I should think.”
“It will be a new experience for you,” he told her slowly while stroking the back of her hand in tiny movements intended to soothe. “But I have every intention of making it as pleasurable as possible for you. After all, I don’t want to frighten you off after one attempt, or we’ll never manage the dozen different ways of mak
ing love I just mentioned or produce the five children you have asked me to give you.”
Her cheeks turned from pink to scarlet, but she laughed, then smiled with girlish bashfulness in the most endearing way imaginable. “I think you may secretly be a rake,” she teased.
“Only when I am with you and we are alone,” he assured her.
They arrived at the hotel moments later. A footman lowered the steps and opened the door so Caleb could help his wife down, while another took care of their bags. Caleb was pleased to see that the room in which they would stay had been prepared exactly as he had demanded. Roses stood in full bouquets on every available surface, along with recently lighted candles, a bowl of fruit, a tray of sweetmeats, and a bottle of perfectly chilled champagne.
The footman who’d helped with their bags pointed out the bell pull in one corner and departed. Exhaling slowly, Caleb locked the door and turned to face his wife who was busy untying the green satin ribbon of her bonnet.
“Here,” he said, removing his gloves and tossing them aside. “Allow me.”
His fingers grasped the slippery fabric and pulled on it gently. The plump bow loosened and sagged as the ribbons slid smoothly apart. Reaching up, Caleb lifted the bonnet from Mary’s head and set it aside before turning to her once more. Desperate to touch her, he raised his hand to her cheek and scraped her soft skin with his thumb.
“Enchanting,” he murmured and pressed his lips to hers in a brief caress that allowed him to maintain control. “Would you like something to eat or drink?” he asked with every intention of easing her into the intimacies that would follow. This had to be perfect, so he refused to rush her.
“Honestly, I feel as though I’ve been eating and drinking all day,” she said, surprising him with her answer. “I don’t want anything else right now. Except you, Caleb. I have wanted you since the moment I saw you, so please—”
He kissed her again, with greater insistence and far less restraint. If this was what she wanted, then by God, so did he, with a desperation unlike any he’d ever known before. Hell, he was beyond ready. So he wound his arms tightly around her and crushed her to him. The sweetness of rich vanilla and chocolate still lingered on her tongue from their cake.
She moaned and he took advantage, deepening the kiss. Her hands were on his back, around his neck, in his hair, exploring and caressing with frenzied movements that made him mad for more.
“We have to slow down,” he heard himself say with a detached voice even as his fingers unfastened the long row of buttons along her spine.
“Not now,” she gasped while arching in to him, offering herself as her gown fell away. “I need you too much.”
He needed her too, her throaty murmurs and eager touch, her mouth kissing its way along his jaw. Helping him, she shoved her gown down in a flurry of movement so he could undo her stays. His cravat seemed to loosen; he felt her fingertips on his skin and then the long length of fine cotton slipping away. Her mouth sought his neck, and a ripping sound cut through the air. Christ, he’d torn her chemise. His hands clutched the translucent fabric, and for one split second he froze, unsure if this elemental behavior was the proper way to attend to his innocent wife.
But then her hands crept under his jacket to work on the fastenings of his waistcoat, and all such concern fled. After all, she seemed to be enjoying herself with equal fervor, so who was he to deny her? He drew the remnants of her chemise away from her body and spread his palm wide at the small of her back. Returning to her mouth, he kissed her again, this time with explicit imitation of what he craved. Matching his efforts, she pushed back his jacket and waistcoat in one swift movement and pulled his shirt out of his trousers.
When her hand snuck beneath to explore his skin, Caleb almost forgot himself completely. A fierce need to possess her hardened his body to the brink of pure agony, forcing him to step back for a moment and catch his breath.
“Christ, Mary.” He looked at her for the first time since taking her clothes off and shuddered with pleasure. “You are my every dream come true.” He gazed at her with abandon, deliberately lingering on the parts of her body he knew she’d soon beg him to touch.
“So are you,” she said, her voice a little rougher than usual.
He smiled with wicked intent and took off his shoes. “I’m pleased to hear that.” Straightening, he unfastened the placket of his trousers and slid the garment down over his hips as if he had all the time in the world to undress. His hose followed while Mary watched with unfeigned interest. His smalls came off last, revealing the part that seemed to have her enthralled, for she stared at it as if it possessed the power to make her the happiest woman in the world.
Satisfied with her wide-eyed response, Caleb closed the distance between them and pulled her back into his arms. It was different now. Better. Skin against skin. Her soft rounded curves against his firm contours.
“Yes,” she breathed as she arched against him, connecting with him in a way that had him lifting her onto the bad and settling her gently against the pillows. He climbed beside her, kissing and stroking until she writhed and clasped the sheets and begged for something she could not name.
Meeting her need, he gave her the pleasure she sought, savoring her body’s response to each touch. She was beautiful in every way, and Caleb told her this as he settled between her thighs and joined his body with hers, distracting her from the small discomfort with loving kisses and tender caresses.
Straining against his own instinct, he waited for her to adjust to his presence, the effort forcing a hiss of relief between his clenched teeth when she finally said she was ready to move.
Showing her what to do, he taught her the timeless rhythm that would carry them both up toward the stars. His eyes met hers in the heat of their passion, and his heart beat fast against his chest.
“You’re mine,” he said as he reached for the peak, climbing toward it with her by his side. They arrived there together in a burst of pleasure that reminded them both of the love they shared.
Cradled in Caleb's embrace, Mary stared at the ornately painted ceiling and savored the languor. Who knew a man and a woman could come together in such perfect harmony? A smile tugged at her lips. It made her wonder why anyone would be reluctant to marry when the benefit was so undeniably good.
“I am so glad I married you,” she said. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his chest while smoothing her hand across his stomach. A muscle flexed beneath her fingers, and his arm tightened around her shoulders.
“Me too.” He rolled onto his side and pulled his arm from under her so he could shift his weight onto his forearm and elbow. A large hand smoothed over her hip. It trailed down her thigh and to the back of her knee. “We can now do this as much as we like. Without the risk of scandal.” He raised her leg and hooked it over his waist before pulling her in for more deliberate contact.
“Which is just as well since there are eleven more positions to go.”
His eyes darkened. “I see you are keeping count.”
“How can I not when there is so much to look forward to?” She pulled his mouth to hers and allowed him to sweep her away on the second of a dozen earth-shattering experiences that night and toward countless others to come.
Epilogue
Mary sat on the bench in front of her cottage and inhaled deeply. Her sight wasn't what it had once been, and unfortunately, the spectacles Caleb had bought her a few years ago no longer seemed to help. But she could still enjoy the vibrant scents from her garden: the climbing roses flanking the front door, peonies bordering the path toward the gate, a hint of honeysuckle carried on the breeze along with lavender, mint, and thyme.
She heard the cottage door open and close, then the slow, careful tread of Caleb's feet as he came toward her. “I brought your shawl,” he said and placed the soft cashmere around her shoulders. Lowering himself to the bench beside her, he took her hand in his and leaned in to kiss her wrinkled cheek.
“Can you believe it has been
forty years since you knocked on the door at Clearview?” She settled her head against his shoulder and drew in his scent. It was still the same after all this time. Bergamot, sandalwood, and pine.
“Feels like yesterday, my darling.” He smoothed his callused thumb across her hand.
“Like the blink of an eye,” she whispered as the afternoon sun cast a ray of warmth upon her face.
“We did well though, I think. My life could not have been better, Mary.”
“Nor mine, Caleb.”
They'd had their five children just as they'd planned. Amanda, Richard, William, Susan and Wendy. And they had provided Caleb and Mary with eighteen lovely grandchildren.
Amanda, who'd taken over the running of the orphanage ten years earlier with her husband, loved the children she cared for as much as Mary loved Peter, Eliot, Penelope, Daphne and Beatrice.
Richard, who had no more desire to inherit a title than his father once did, had been encouraged by Caleb and Mary to find a balance between responsibility toward the title and whatever made him happy. So he'd studied medicine and opened a clinic, which was how he'd met his wife, who'd applied to be his assistant.
William had followed in his father's footsteps and to everyone's surprise, so had Wendy. Of course there were many who disapproved when a woman showed up to fix their roof, but her attention to detail and her masonry capabilities rarely went unnoticed and usually resulted in earning respect.
No Ordinary Duke: The Crawfords Page 22
