Michael reached out and stroked her cheek, his touch more comforting than desirous just then. “Come, pet. You knew this might happen when I took you in. We spoke of it from the first.”
“Yes, but knowing it might happen and it actually happening are two different things entirely!” Yet, strangely, now that she had thought about matters for a moment, Aria did not feel as panicked as she might have. Hadn’t she just been wishing for a way that she might stay here at Thornfield Grange? Marriage to Michael would certainly accomplish that.
Something in his eyes darkened at her hesitation and the shadows began creeping back into his eyes once more. “Is it so terrible of a fate, Aria? Being wed to Satan’s Physician. Is that the source of your fear?”
“Michael, no!” Aria leaned up to place a quick kiss on his lips, wanting to chase away every bit of his doubt. “You do not frighten me. You never have. You know that. But as I said, I’ve no wish to trap you.”
“And I’ve no wish to see you misused. Or worse.” He crossed his arms over his chest and paused. “Would a marriage between us truly be so terrible, pet? Be honest now.”
For a long moment, Aria looked up into Michael’s dark brown eyes. Could she see a future with him? Truly? Well, she could not see a future without him in it, that much was certain. This was not love and neither of them was claiming that it was. This was desire and perhaps the beginnings of a lasting, mutual friendship based on the trust they felt for each other. She was also practical enough to know that most Society marriages had been built on far less. That she liked and respected Michael as well as desired him? That was a promising start.
Reaching up, she boldly cupped his cheek, knowing that he enjoyed it when she touched him without hesitation. “No. Marriage to you would not be such a terrible thing, Michael. In fact, I can think of many benefits, actually, not just avoiding my cousin’s nefarious plans.” Then she lowered her eyes and allowed him time to follow her gaze to his already-straining erection. “In fact, I can see a benefit just now.”
Her beloved parents would be shocked at her language and appalled at her behavior but Aria didn’t care. They were gone. They had been for some time. She was still here. She was still alive. It was her life that would be affected, possibly even taken from her, unless she acted first. She needed to do what was best for her. Not what was best for their memory or whatever her Aunt Tilly apparently thought they might desire.
“So that is a yes, then?” Michael was clearly hesitant but also still hopeful, as if he could not quite believe that she had agreed to wed him.
Aria smiled at him as she caressed his face again. She could not help herself, for it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. “That is a yes. Yes, Michael, I will marry you. Though I have no idea how we will accomplish such a feat in the amount of time we have left. You are many things, but I doubt you are a miracle worker, whether it is the Christmas season or not.”
Michael brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Little do you know, pet.” He tucked her arm in his and led her out of the library. “I anticipated that you might say yes.”
“Rather arrogant of you, isn’t it?” she teased. However, Aria was not truly angry. After all, if he hadn’t been rather certain of her answer, he would not have admitted to anticipating her answer. Which likely meant that plans were already underway.
“It is hardly arrogant if you already know what the answer will be.” Except that the shadows that still haunted his eyes said that he was not quite as certain as he liked to pretend. “Once my men brought back the news of your aunt and her plans, I sent my land steward, Samuel, out to obtain a special license, as the archbishop is spending the holiday season not far from here.”
Aria frowned. “Is it even possible to procure a license that quickly?” She knew that these things could be rushed, certainly, but at Christmastide?
Michael nodded and continued to pull her along the corridor. “There are many powerful men who owe me favors, including the Bloody Duke. As I am Catholic, ah, there will be a great deal for the archbishop to overlook, but I have saved Prinny’s skin, both figuratively and literally, more times than the man can count, as he does not have nearly enough fingers and toes to accomplish the task. He owes me his very life at least five times over, easily. There will be no problem obtaining the documents and permissions we need to wed quickly.”
“And what of a vicar?” They had nearly arrived at the massive front hall when Michael pulled Aria to a stop. “Have you thought of that?”
Now arrogant, confident Michael was back. He graced her with a rather reproachful look. “I told you that I have thought of everything, pet. Do you truly believe I would not have a man of the cloth about? The license, once procured, will be brought directly back here, likely arriving in the middle of the night tonight. One of the members of my staff, Mr. Wells, was the vicar for our little rag-tag group while we were in Spain. He still serves Thornfield Grange in that capacity now.”
Aria nodded in understanding. “So when the license arrives, we can be wed immediately.”
Michael graced her with the wolf-like smile again. “Precisely. There is a chapel on the grounds and even now it, and the tunnel leading to it, is being cleaned and readied for our use. When we part in a few moments, as I fear we must this evening, I have instructed Agatha and some of my other female staff to help you prepare for our happy nuptials. Even now they are scouring my apparently limitless attics in a quest to find you the perfect gown for our wedding day. Or night, as the case may be. Upon the break of dawn, if we have not already slumbered, there shall be a bit of rest before Mrs. Adams presents us and the rest of the staff with a lavish wedding breakfast. If all goes to plan, that same breakfast should be ending just as your aunt, and quite possibly your cousin for I have no doubt his around here somewhere, arrive to darken my doorstep.”
“You truly have thought of everything, haven’t you?” Other than perhaps a ring, Aria could not think of a single detail Michael had missed. And she really didn’t need a ring.
Surprising her, Michael pulled her close before pressing a rather chaste kiss to the top of her head. “I am a physician, pet. My own personal devil is in the details. It always has been. If I make a mistake? The consequences could be grave. Thus, I always make certain the details are perfect. Or as perfect as they can be.” He sighed. “I would give you a lavish church wedding with all of the appropriate pomp and circumstance if I could, Aria, but I cannot. I hope you understand.”
Once more, she rose up to kiss him, this time giving him a rather mild peck on the cheek to match his more sedate kiss earlier. “Whatever you have planned, Michael, will be perfect. I am certain.” She held up her hand when he would have spoken. “And before you put words into my mouth as you accuse me of doing so often to you, I am under no illusion what sort of union this is or will be. I do not go into this with silly, little-girl dreams of white knights and fairy tale castles.”
Michael held her gaze with his for a long while. “I will be good to you, Aria. I will not stray from our marital bed, and you will not want for anything. Ever. Nor will I ever give you cause to fear me, no matter what lurks inside of me. I can control the anger. No matter what, I am not the devil.” Aria could hear the sincerity in his voice. “Never doubt that.”
“I know you will be the best husband possible. I have no doubt. None at all.” Aria truly didn’t. Yes, Michael had his secrets and his demons but so did she. What mattered in the end was that they were friends. That they liked each other and, yes, that they both enjoyed bed sport. The rest? Would come together in time.
He inclined his head. “Then you will marry me?”
“I already said yes, did I not?” She could see the worry in his eyes and wondered what sort of demons he battled just then. God willing, in time she would know.
“You did.” Michael gestured to the entrance hall where she could see members of the Thornfield staff beginning to assemble. Likely yet another surprise he had planned. �
��So. Shall we inform them of the happy news?”
Aria knew that if she were going to back out of her agreement with Michael, this would be the moment to do so. Once he made his announcement, her fate would be sealed. But hadn’t it already been sealed from the moment he found her half-dead and nearly frozen in his stables? She supposed it had been.
Then she glanced up and took in his handsome face and his muscular, war-hardened body. She saw the haunted look in his eyes and wondered once more about the lack of clocks at Thornfield Grange. Just then, none of that mattered. It never really had.
Only Michael mattered.
She needed this man. She might not love him. In fact, she dared say that she didn’t, this peculiar little twisting feeling in her stomach when she looked at him hardly equating to love. But she did need him.
She needed his strength and his courage. She needed his protection and his warmth, for as of late she was never warm unless she was with him. She needed his calm, rational mind, as well, since she could admit that she was given to flights of fancy on occasion and not truly thinking her plans through. Which was how she had ended up here in the first place.
More than that, she wanted him. She wanted his body and his mind. She wanted his friendship and his laughter. Again, that was not love, but it didn’t have to be. She might have dreamed of finding love with her husband, but that dream had died years ago. Now was the time to be practical, and marrying Michael was practical.
Setting her shoulders more firmly, Aria inclined her head to where more of Michael’s staff assembled by the moment. “Yes, we shall. In fact, it would be my pleasure.” Sliding her hand down to his, she laced their fingers together. “Let us do this, Michael. Let us be wed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Aria stood as still as she possibly could while Agatha, Mrs. Lambert, and several other maids dashed around in a mad frenzy while at her feet, a petite woman that Aria did not know knelt with a mouthful of pins, mumbling to herself about idiotic men as she pinned and stitched Aria’s gown. To Aria’s left, Mrs. Adams rattled off questions regarding the menu for the upcoming wedding breakfast but never allowed Aria the chance to respond, the woman either agreeing or disagreeing with herself before rushing on. It was just as well, Aria supposed, for she wasn’t capable of making any sort of decisions anyway.
After all, it was her wedding day.
She thought it was, at least. Given that she still could not find a clock in his house, she really had no idea if they had passed midnight yet or not and her father’s precious pocket watch was tucked away on her dresser, not pinned inside of her bodice as it usually was.
“Hair up or down?” Agatha asked, peering at Aria through the mirror.
“Why up, of course!” That came from yet another maid Aria had never met. “It’s her wedding day after all.”
Aria bit her lip. “Up, then. In truth, I’d never really given much thought to this day.”
That comment brought the entire room to a near stand still, save for the maid still busily pinning and stitching the hem of the scarlet gown.
“You never imagined your wedding day, my lady?” asked Mrs. Lambert, nearly incredulous. “But all young women do, especially those of the peerage.”
Shaking her head – which earned her a frown of reproach from Agatha – Aria offered them all a tiny smile. “You must remember that I was raised in the West Indies. There were not many eligible gentlemen for me to choose from there, so the idea of marriage to some nobleman was a vague thing at best. Then when I returned, I was quickly sent back almost immediately after I was presented at Court. I had no Season and no debut ball. When I returned to England again, my parents were already traveling across England to make the plantation more profitable, so there was no question but that I would go with them. When they passed away, and my cousin became my guardian? Then I had no wish to think of marriage.” She shrugged. “So, no, I have not thought much about the matter.”
That seemed to satisfy most of the women, and they went back to busily preparing for the upcoming nuptials. The only woman Aria’s comments did not seem to satisfy was Mrs. Lambert who put down the jewelry cases she had been holding and came to stand in front of Aria as Agatha continued her assault with a brush, comb, and curling tongs on Aria’s hair.
“So you are taking this marriage lightly, is that it?” the older woman asked rather crossly. “For Dr. Michael is a good man and he deserves better.”
“I agree,” Aria replied, seemingly shocking the woman whose eyebrows nearly shot up to her hairline. “He deserves to be able to choose a bride when he desires, not when he is forced to do so, and he has made it plain to me that he does not particularly want a wife. He also, I think, desires to marry for love and he does not love me.”
Mrs. Lambert narrowed her eyes. “Is that so?”
“It is.” Aria could not understand the older woman’s sudden hostility. She had been under the assumption that the housekeeper liked her.
“Do you love him?’ Suddenly, Mrs. Lambert was very serious.
But how was Aria to answer that question? Did she love Michael? In a way, she supposed. After all, he had saved her life and she was grateful to him for that but over the last few days? After the time they had spent as lovers, getting to know the intimacies of each other’s bodies and with that, a part of each other’s souls as well?
What Aria felt for Michael now was deeper and richer. This feeling was unlike any she had known before. Was it love? Aria did not know for certain. She had no idea what love was, really. She had never been in love before. What she did know was that Michael was quickly becoming the most important person in the world to her and not simply because she owed him her very life. If that was love, or at least a definition of it, then yes, she supposed she did love Dr. Michael Longford.
However what Aria felt or did not feel was really not any of Mrs. Lambert’s business. Or maybe it was, because it was clear that the older woman felt a great deal of affection for the physician, perhaps even loved him as a son. Did Aria have a right to dismiss the woman’s concerns? No, but the other woman did not need to be privy to all of the details of Aria’s intimate thoughts, either.
“As I do not know how to define love, I cannot say for certain,” Aria finally offered. “For me, love is a difficult concept. My parents, for instance, loved each other but did not love me as I had hoped. So I have little to judge by. But I do know that I care for Michael greatly and that is more than most people have when entering a marriage.”
“But is it enough?” Mrs. Lambert pressed. “For either of you?”
“Michael is a good man and he deserves every happiness. While I do not know all of his past, I know that he deserves to find a woman who will help him fight the demons he still keeps locked inside of himself. And do not tell me he does not have any for I have heard the moans that come from his chambers at night.” Aria nodded at the door that connected her room to Michael’s – a door that was usually always locked, save for late at night. “It is impossible not to hear them.”
The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you know why he calls out so?”
“No.” Now it was Aria’s turn to cross her arms over her chest which earned her a quick rebuke from the still pinning and sewing maid. She allowed her arms to dangle at her sides again. “I have no idea what plagues his dreams. We have not known each other that long. But I will know one day, hopefully soon, because I will be his wife. And I shall help him battle those demons if he wishes because as I said, I care for him deeply, even though we have not known each other long.”
“But you know him enough to wed him?” The housekeeper’s demeanor was softening.
Reaching out, Aria risked the seamstress’ ire by placing her hand on the other woman’s arm. “I know that he is a good man, a caring man. I know that he would sacrifice himself for others, for that is exactly what he is doing for me. I also know that I care for him, even though I have known him only a short time. And if in time he finds someon
e he loves? Truly loves to the exclusion of all others, including me? Then I shall step aside.” That earned a gasp from nearly every woman in the room. “I would not scandalize him with a divorce, but I would take myself off elsewhere, for I am not without my own resources, and he could live with the woman he loves as man and wife. I would never deny him happiness, even if it meant that I had to leave him and forgo my own. As I said, Michael deserves better from life. He deserves happiness, and he deserves love.”
For a long moment, it seemed as if Mrs. Lambert had no idea what to say. Finally, she sighed, a weary sound that seemed to encompass more than just her feelings on the wedding about to take place. “Perhaps Christmas is a time of miracles after all.”
Aria had no idea what that meant but the housekeeper seemed satisfied and did not press further, allowing Aria to turn her attention back to her reflection in the mirror.
And what a reflection it was.
She was so elegant in her scarlet and gold gown that she hardly recognized herself. She looked…beautiful, she supposed was the word she was searching for, and Aria had never once felt beautiful in her entire life. The scarlet gown that someone – likely Agatha – had discovered in one of the trunks in the attic fit as if it were made for her, the silken fabric clinging to curves Aria was unaware she possessed. Though she was still thinner than she had been before her flight across the countryside, Aria was also pleased to note that she had put some of her lost weight back on and her breasts appeared fuller than they had been when she first arrived.
Would Michael notice? Would he even care?
Strangely, Aria hoped that he did. She wanted him to think her beautiful. Yes, he was already bedding her but that did not mean anything more than simply the physical. She wanted him to look at her and find her enchanting. She wanted him to see her as more than simply a body he used to slake his physical desires.
Christmas With a Scoundrel Page 17
