The lines around Evan’s eyes grew deeper along with his smile as he looked at her and said, “I will.”
The minister repeated the same question to Grace, and she exuberantly replied, “I will.”
Then he asked, “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
Papa had tears in his eyes as he answered, “I do,” and then he handed Grace off to Evan and took his seat on the pew next to Mama.
“Evan, repeat after me,” the minister said. “I, Evan, take thee, Grace, to be my wedded wife.”
Evan opened his mouth to repeat the phrase, but a sudden outburst from the congregation cut him off.
“Stop!” the female disrupter yelled, and both Grace and Evan jerked their heads in surprise to see who dared interrupt the ceremony.
It was, of course, the current Duchess of Somerset—the woman about to become Grace’s mother-in-law. This really did not bode well for their future relationship.
“I cannot allow this,” she said. “Somerset, you are a duke. She is a—”
“Mother,” Evan practically snarled. “I am warning you not to finish that sentence.”
But Grace didn’t need him to fight her battles. She put a hand up to quiet him, and met the duchess’s black eyes straight on. “What?” she asked. “A commoner? Poor relation? A nothing? A nobody? Go on…what is it? Or is it something worse that can’t be said in polite company?” The woman averted her eyes and shoved her nose even higher. “Whatever you say to me, it won’t be nearly as bad as what I’ve thought of my own self from time to time.” Grace looked up at Evan. “I will never be worthy of this man. Not because of my birth. Not because I am a commoner. And not because he is a duke. But because of the noble, honorable, wonderful man he is. Not to say he isn’t flawed,” she teased. “However, it is the overcoming of our flaws that builds our character, is it not?”
Grace turned back to the duchess. “You may object to our marriage, but you will not stop us from getting married.”
The church was silent. Everyone sat as still as possible in their pews, eyes wide with shock. But Grace felt triumphant. So triumphant that she quickly turned back toward the minister to hide her smile.
Evan grabbed her hand. “Well said, my love.”
And then they resumed the ceremony, ignoring the harrumphs from the front pew.
The service dragged on quite a bit longer, much to Grace’s frustration. They were through the vows, they’d exchanged their rings—how much more could the minister have to say?
Finally, they came to the prayer. It was almost over.
“For as much as Evan and Grace have consented together in holy Wedlock…” the minister went on…and on…and on…
When one prayer ended, a Bible verse began, followed by another, longer passage, and another, and then a passage about being fruitful in procreation, followed by the longest speech she’d ever heard pertaining to all those who were already married hearing the Gospel. Grace didn’t remember cousin Lizzie’s wedding to Lord Michael being so long, but then she’d been rather focused on the young earl who had sat in the pew in front of her. She’d obviously been having romantic daydreams through all this rigmarole.
“…even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord; whose daughters ye are as long as ye do well, and are not afraid with any amazement.” At this point, the minister closed his Bible and gestured for an altar boy to bring forth the communion.
Grace held out her hand for the bread first and then slipped it into her mouth. Then she gave a grateful sigh of relief as the wine hit her tongue and slid its way down her throat, burning as it went. She ought to have been focused on the blood of Jesus, and the indelible Oneness she was sharing with Evan and the Creator, but all she could think about was getting this service over with.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Evan beamed down at Grace, and in the next blessed moment, they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.
Seventeen
With Grace’s delicate hand in his, Evan led his bride down the nave, and out the front doors of the church, through the cheering crowd to where his crested town coach awaited them. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but thunder still roared overhead.
He looked to his blushing bride. “Should we have waited for the footman to bring an umbrella?” he asked as they descended the stairs.
She glanced backward as the mass of people headed toward them. “Definitely not.”
When they reached the bottom, Evan swept her into his arms so as to save the bottom of her dress from a muddy fate, and placed her onto the step of the carriage. The driver shut the door once Evan was seated and moments later they set off through the rain-soaked streets of Mayfair.
The wedding breakfast was to be at his home, and only for the closest family members, though he had a sneaking suspicion there’d be others trying to wheedle their way into Somerset House that morning. None of that mattered though. All that mattered was the woman sitting beside him, shaking like a leaf.
“My dear Grace,” he whispered, drawing her attention from the outside. Her lovely emerald eyes met his with a serene smile and he drew her to him, so grateful to feel her slight body pressed against his. It had been too long since she’d been in his arms, but she fit just as perfectly as he remembered. “Are you happy?” he wondered, praying her answer would be a resounding yes.
She gave a little chuckle as she nuzzled harder against his chest. “The happiest I’ve ever been,” she said, much to his relief.
They fell silent, enjoying the quiet moment before the breakfast would begin. However, Evan’s fingers were itching to pull her pins loose—to see her golden locks tumble about her shoulders. Before he knew what he was about, he began to tug at the pins.
“What are you doing?” she asked, slightly alarmed.
“Your lovely locks are being held hostage by all these damned pins.”
She frantically stayed his hand. Or tried to, at least. He would not be deterred. “Evan, we still have a wedding breakfast to go to! I can’t very well go with my hair tumbling about my shoulders.”
“Then I say we beg off,” he replied, nuzzling her neck with a low growl. Now that she was officially his wife, there would be no more rushed love making in other people’s libraries. He would make love to her properly, amongst satin sheets and beside a roaring fire, slowly and methodically, over and over throughout the night. “Damn.” He nibbled on her ear. “You’ll have to be the one to stop this, darling. I haven’t the will power.”
Grace giggled, and that made Evan even harder. She was so wanton and playful and…mine.
He let his hands roam over her waist, up the curve of her breast, stopping a moment to revel in the fullness before circling his finger around her nipple. He could feel it harden against his hand, even with the layers of fabric between them. She moaned and let her head lull back against the squabs, giving Evan access to milky white skin. He nipped and licked her neck, as he continued to tease her taught nipples.
“Evan,” she whispered. “Oh, God, stop. Please, stop.” Her begging was only half-hearted. “I’ll not be able to make it through this breakfast if you don’t.”
“What if I told the driver to go somewhere else? The Savoy, perhaps.”
Grace jolted her head up to look at him. “Could we?” she asked, all innocence and eagerness.
Evan laughed. He’d not expected her to be so amenable to the idea. What a lucky man he was to have such a willing wife. In truth, they couldn’t really. He tucked a piece of fallen hair behind her ear. “Wishful thinking, I’m afraid,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes so high, my love.”
She blinked a few times, clearly taken off guard by the endearment.
“My darling girl,” he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “What is it?”
“Do you…do you love me?” she asked, her voice choking on the word love.
A wide smile spread his lips apart. “I thought you kne
w,” he replied.
Grace shook her head. “I mean, I suspected, it’s just…you’ve never really said as much. Not in so many words, at least.”
He shifted on the seat to face her head-on, and grabbed her hands in his. “Then let me say, in no uncertain terms, that I, Evan Gilford, Duke of Somerset, love Grace Gilford, nee Clarke, with all my heart and everything that is within me, and I shall love her until the day I take my very last breath.” There was a bright twinkle in Grace’s eye as she smiled widely at him. “I love you, Grace,” he said, more seriously this time. “I think I knew it when I saw you bent over in your garden.”
At this, Grace’s face turned a rather bright shade of crimson and she collapsed against him in a fit of giggles. “You are the worst sort of rogue!”
“I think you mean the best sort,” Evan clarified. And then he stopped her laughter with a kiss. A kiss that held all the promise of what was to come later that evening, and for the rest of their lives.
But for now, they were going to have to face their families.
~*~
To say that her wedding breakfast wasn’t everything she had hoped for and dreamed of as a girl would have been an understatement. Oh, she still flitted about, accepting congratulations with warmth in her cheeks, but she did it while trying desperately to avoid looking her new mother-in-law in the eye.
The woman shot her daggers at every opportunity, clearly infuriated by what had taken place at St. George’s. What had Grace expected, though? The woman hadn’t even been able to tolerate her for tea, let alone as her daughter-in-law. Grace ought to have been saddened or intimidated or…something. However, all she could think was that she was married to Evan, and there wasn’t a thing his tyrant mother could do about it. The thought that it was more than likely eating her up inside made Grace want to crow with happiness.
Now, after two long hours, she wished everyone would go home and leave them be. She wanted nothing more than to burrow into her husband’s arms and fall fast asleep.
Grace looked up at Evan, and his smoldering eyes told her he wanted to do more than sleep. She couldn’t help but laugh. How had she ended up with such a rogue? She’d always imagined herself married to a nice, respectable man—not that Evan wasn’t those things, but he had an edge of danger to him. With his long, dark hair and shadow of a beard, well…he seemed more like a pirate than a gentleman, didn’t he?
“Might I ask what you’re grinning about?” he whispered in her ear as his mother upbraided Hannah about the state of her wardrobe and would she please go see a modiste post haste.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, nonchalantly, with a rapid bat of her eyelashes. “Just that, well, I was just thinking that you looked something like a pirate rather than a duke.”
His eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” she replied. “And I’ve always had this fantasy, you see, ever since I read a particular novel about a pirate and his…wench.”
Evan cleared his throat and shifted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken. Grace giggled beneath her hand, feeling naughty and rather wench-like herself.
When he turned back to her, he leaned in and said very quietly, “I would send them all away, but I’m afraid I can’t stand up.”
Grace leaned back slightly to see under the table. Heavens! His manhood bulged quite obviously inside his snug trousers, and her entire body heated with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.
“No, you certainly cannot,” she replied, trying to hide her satisfaction at having caused such a reaction in him merely by suggesting she might pretend to be a pirate’s wench. “Think of something pedantic. Or annoying. Your mother!”
They both started laughing at this, and the dowager duchess and Hannah turned to look at them.
Evan stood—apparently thinking of his mother had done the trick. He grabbed Grace by the hand. “I think it is time for us to take our leave. You’re all welcome to stay, if you wish, but we will no longer be here to entertain you, as we’d much prefer to entertain one another in our bedchamber.”
“Somerset!” The dowager yelled, a warning tone in her voice, as if he were a child who’d spoken out of turn.
Evan only gave her a patronizing smile and said, “Good day, Mother.” Then he hauled Grace out of her seat, nodded to the remaining family members still in his drawing room, and headed for the door. Grace flashed an apologetic smile to her own family and then waved goodbye. It seemed it was time to walk the proverbial plank.
~*~
Evan was most excited to get his wife into the bedchamber to consummate their marriage. It was a moment he’d been dreaming of ever since their clandestine library escapade. Truly, he’d started dreaming of it long before then—when he’d first caught her listening in on that naughty conversation—but he’d been reluctant to admit it, what with being betrothed to someone else and all.
But all that was behind them, and right now his wife was preparing herself in the washroom while Evan laid in wait in his massive four-poster bed. His cock already stood at attention, just as anxious for what was to come as he was. Damn. It took all his willpower not to barge through that door and drag her to the bed. What was taking so long?
Just when he thought he might not be able to stand it anymore, the door began to slide open and one dainty, naked ankle peeked out from behind it.
He smiled. So she meant to tease him, did she? Slowly, she pulled the door back more and more, inch-by-inch revealing part of her slender leg. And then, once the door was fully open, she drew her leg back behind the wall.
“Grace?” he called, drawing out her name. “Is everything all right, darling?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her voice was pitched high, as if she could barely squeak out those two syllables.
Evan slowly extricated himself from the bed. Clearly, she’d lost her nerve, so he would go to her. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No!” she yelled back. “I’m…fine, really. I’ll only be a moment.”
By this time, he had reached the door to the washroom. He peeked around the panel and found Grace, naked as the day she was born, with her back up against the wall and her eyes closed tightly. Damn, but she was beautiful. His cock twitched uncontrollably, eager to be inside her. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice low and soft, so as not to scare her.
It didn’t work, of course. Her eyes flew open and she let out a little screech as she whirled around to face the wall. Evan thought she might actually want to crawl inside the wall, if that were possible. The scene was quite humorous, but he refrained from laughing somehow. Instead, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently caressed down her arms. She was so soft, silky, he couldn’t wait to touch every inch of her satiny white skin. But he’d take it slowly for now. Even though they’d done this once before, they’d not been officially in the nude…or in broad daylight. Or in a bed, for that matter. Evan rather liked seeing her like this, though, with the sun streaming in through the washroom window, illuminating her beauty beyond words.
“Darling, are you frightened of me?” he asked. “You know I’m not really a pirate, don’t you?”
This disarmed her a bit, and Evan felt the giggle go through her body.
“Don’t make me laugh,” she said, even as she laughed.
“But I do so love the sound of your laughter.” He allowed his hands to slide further down her arms until he reached her fingers. He laced his with hers and then crossed her arms over her body, so he could hold her closer in his embrace.
He moaned as his cock pressed into her back and then leaned down to bury his face in her hair. She took in a deep breath and let it out on a little sigh. Her defenses were coming down, and fast. Thank God. Evan couldn’t wait another moment to bed his wife.
“Will you let me love you, my darling?” he whispered against her ear.
At her nod, Evan scooped her into his arms and carried her from the washroom to the bed. She was feather-light
, and so damned exquisite. Before he put her down, he descended upon her lips, eager to taste her—every inch of her. Their tongues mingled, all heat and wet and desire. He’d climax far too soon if he wasn’t careful, and he wanted to draw things out as long as he possibly could. He wanted to show her what lovemaking could be.
~*~
It wasn’t that Grace didn’t want to make love to her new husband. On the contrary, she was nearly bursting at the seams to experience what they’d shared—what he’d done to her—at the Rollesbrook Ball several weeks ago. It was just that she’d not expected to do it in broad daylight. Whenever she pictured herself—or anyone, for that matter—making love, they were always in the dark or at least dim candlelight. She really regretted eating that extra slice of plumb cake at the breakfast.
Well, perhaps not so much anymore. Evan had found her cowering in the washroom, shaking like a leaf. But somehow, as soon as he’d touched her, so gently and thoughtfully, her nerves had started to dissipate. By the time he picked her up and carried her to the bed, she wasn’t thinking about much of anything. It hardly registered when he placed her upon his plush mattress. She barely felt the cool, slippery satin beneath her. All she knew in that moment was the feel of his mouth upon hers, his tongue teasing her own tongue, with the promise of more. Grace knew exactly what that more was, too. It made her blush from her head all the way to the tips of her toes.
She moaned against his lips as he climbed into the bed. She dared to open her eyes for a brief second and nearly swooned at the sight of his sculpted chest hovering over her. Good heavens, she was going to burst just from having him so near, heating her body inside and out.
But then he pulled away and began a slow, seductive trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, over her breasts—stopping to tease her nipples, which nearly sent her over the edge right then—down the middle of her ribs to her navel, over the swell of her belly until he reached her—
Oh, la! She was going to die from embarrassment. Could she really let him go there? With his tongue?
The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance) Page 16
