Now standing before the Bishop, she glanced across at her two-bridesmaids, Caitlin and Sabine. They both had tears in their eyes as Henry spoke out his confident, ‘I do’, and his groomsmen, Marcus and Harlow, looked a bit choked too, gazing adoringly at their wives positioned across from them.
In no time at all they reached her favorite part of the service. “I know pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride”. She turned towards her husband a quivering mass of besotted emotion.
The profound look of happiness shinning upon her husband’s gorgeous face stunned her. As he lowered his lips to hers he whispered, “Thank you, my beautiful girl. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.” Then he pressed a simple, devotion-filled kiss to her lips.
Amy never one to be satisfied with simple, threw her arms around her husband’s neck and proceeded to cause the congregation to burst out cheering and clapping as she kissed him heartily.
Marcus and Harlow stepped forward to rescue him, pulling him away to clap him on his back hard enough to almost knock him off his feet. Leaving the ladies to twitter over the beautiful ceremony, the men walked over to where little Cameron lay in his bassinette. Harlow couldn’t resist picking up his six-month old son, who immediately squealed in delight.
“Who would have ever believed our happiness hinged on such delectable creatures?” Harlow said as he gazed proudly at his wife. “She’s my world, you know. Caitlin and Cameron, and our children to come.”
Marcus nodded his agreement. “I hope our children become as firm friends as we are. However, if Sabine delivers me a daughter, I’ll not be letting young Cameron anywhere near her without a chaperon,” glared Marcus at his friend.
Henry laughed. “I look forward to making my first child. And if you’ll excuse me gentleman, I’d like to start trying immediately.” He smiled at his two dear friends. “I have some catching up to do with you two in that department too. It still amazes me that you two rakes are ahead of me.”
Their laughter followed him as he made his way to his wife’s side. Wife. He’d found her. The woman he’d searched for since the age of twenty. And what a woman she was.
He remembered something Marcus told him two years ago. ‘You don’t find love, it finds you.’
He’d found it all right, in his very own garden, with a woman who’d been right under his nose all his life. His heart pounded in his chest, contentment coursing through his veins as she walked toward him across the grass. The depth of her beauty could have brought him to his knees, but it was the light of trust in her eyes that stole his soul.
Amy reached out and took his hand in hers. They twined their fingers together just as solidly as their lives were now entwined—his forever. “I want you.”
Her eyes told him she wanted him too, and always would.
Slipping away from the guests Henry carried her up the stairs and into his bedchamber, placing her in the middle of his huge bed.
He stood looking at perfection before reaching under the bed. “I have a present for you, my sweet.” He pulled a rather large box out from under his bed. “Something I seem to remember you once lost.” He gently put the box down in front of her and it moved. She gave a shriek.
“It won’t bite, I promise.”
She noted the cheeky glint in his eye. “What are you up to?” Gingerly she lifted the lid and her mouth dropped open before she fell back dissolving in a fit of giggles. “You bought me a guinea pig.”
“Meet Tinkles.”
She couldn’t stop laughing. “You should have seen yourself on hands and knees crawling through the garden looking for an imaginary Tinkles.”
“Wicked woman. I was upset thinking you’d lost something precious in my garden.”
“I did. I lost my heart,” she promptly replied.
“And I’m so glad you did. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
He put Tinkles back in his cage and pulled her into his arms for a drugging kiss. She broke away from him and scurrying to the other side of the bed on her knees she pulled a scroll tied with a ribbon out from under her pillow.
Shyly she looked at him. “I have a present for you too.” She handed him the document.
With avid curiosity he opened the scroll and his eyes widened as he read it.
“I hope you’re not angry, but when father signed over my dowry, I wanted to do something special for you and I hoped this would make you happy.”
Tears welled in his eyes and for a moment Amy worried she’d done the wrong thing. “I know you’ll always care for her, that’s the kind of man you are, and why I love you. I wanted you to know I understand, and I wanted to help her too…” Her words died as she saw the profound love shining within his eyes.
“Thank you. You humble me. Thank you.” And he hugged her tightly. He didn’t let her go. She could barely catch her breath.
“Do you think she’ll like it, the cottage I mean? I wasn’t sure but there is more than enough money if she’d like to live anywhere else.”
He couldn’t believe it. Amy had signed over a very large portion of her dowry to Millicent, along with her mother’s cottage on the Westerly estate.
Henry couldn’t move. His arms simply tightened around his wife. The most precious person in his life. He couldn’t speak. His throat too thick, his heart too full. He felt love for her so strong it burned with every breath. A happiness so intense it was almost painful.
“Henry,” she asked her voice full of uncertainty.
Working his throat he finally answered. “It was the most wonderful gift you could have given me. I knew you were special when I first meet you but this…I’m lost for words.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Amy. More than I can ever say or show or prove.”
“I know.”
Just two simple words but powerful enough to fill his heart to overflowing.
“Will you come with me to give her the present?”
She nodded. “If you want me there.”
“I do.” He linked her hand with his. “Tomorrow we shall go and give her the present together. I’m sure she’ll be happy to make your acquaintance.”
She rose and kissed his lips. “Now, there is one more present I want to unwrap. A present I’ve longed for all my life. You.”
As he tumbled her down on the bed, and unwrapped her soft curves, he knew life couldn’t get any better.
Nine months later he had to eat his words when his first son was born.
It could get better. Much better.
THE END
READ on for the first chapter of Bronwen’s Award Winning Regency romance, INVITATION TO RUIN.
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If you enjoyed To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood, you might like book 1 and 2 in the Wicked Wagers trilogy. To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield is Harlow and Caitlin’s story, while To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone is Marcus and Sabine’s story.
To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield
Let the Wicked Wagers Begin...
Lady Caitlin Southall’s temper has finally got the better of her. She’s challenged Harlow Tel
ford, the Duke of Dangerfield, the most notorious rake in all of England, to a wager. She wants her house back. The one her destitute father lost to Dangerfield in a card game. But if she doesn’t win their bet, she not only loses her home, she loses her dignity and pride and damn it all, maybe her heart... For the handsome Duke has decreed, when he wins, she must spend the night in his bed.
Harlow Telford is amused by his hellion neighbor, Caitlin, or Cate to her friends, who seem to encompass everyone on earth except him. When she bursts into one of his private gatherings, he mistakes her for the entertainment. Her slap across his face sets him straight and raises the absurd desire to seduce the unconventional beauty into his bed. When she issues her daft challenge to win back her father’s pile of rubble, the terms are set. And he’ll do anything to win—except fall in love...
Now for a BONUSRead the first chapter of my
award winning Regency romance
INVITATION TO RUIN
WINNER 2012 RomCon READERS CROWN for Best Historical
Was nominated in the RT Reviewers' Choice Awards for BEST FIRST HISTORICAL 2011
One Good Lady is About to Go Bad...
The only thing Miss Melissa Goodly has ever wanted out of a marriage is love. But any hope of that dissolves one wild night, when she loses herself in the arms of the most irresistible-and unobtainable-man in all of England. For when they are discovered in a position as compromising as it is pleasurable, she has no choice but to accept his proposal.
Avowed bachelor Anthony Craven, Earl of Wickham, never meant to seduce an innocent like Melissa. Yet now that the damage is done, it does seem like she'd make a very convenient wife. After all, she is so naive he won't have to worry about ever being tempted. Or so he thinks, until the vows are spoken and they are left alone-and his new bride reveals a streak just as brazen and unrestrained as his own...
Excerpt...
Chapter One
London, 1808
The rogue society dubbed “The Lord of Wicked” lurked in the dimly lit recesses of Lady Sudbury’s ballroom. To most people the room was the epitome of warmth, with its blaze of candles and displayed finery, but for Anthony James Craven, the fifth Earl of Wickham, it held absolutely no appeal.
He was here to partake in his favorite pastime –sin and vice. Appetites a notorious rake craved drew him like a malefactor summoned to hell. Thanks to his father, he was full of sin. Sin he could never atone for. Instead, he chose to lose himself in pleasure. Pleasure, at least temporarily, helped him block the memories he would give his very soul to forget.
He kept to the shadows, hiding from the sycophantic throng, while he searched for the one woman who’d enticed him into breaking all his own rules and attending the event of the Season.
His lips curved in anticipation of the night’s forthcoming liaison. He raised a glass of burgundy to his mouth in mock salute, letting the alcohol take the sting out of the unenviable position of having to hide from mothers of young unmarried daughters.
In the concealing darkness he felt the primitive stirrings of the hunter. His eyes had begun seeking their prey as soon as searching for the flesh-and-blood goddess he intended to seduce.
Lady Cassandra Sudbury, a curvaceous young widow with a taste for the erotic would be his by the end of the night. Anthony stirred from his position propped against the ballroom wall and observed his quarry’s bold approach.
With each dainty step she took towards him, his amusement grew. She worked her way through the masses with an air of innocence reborn, yet if tales were to be believed, Cassandra could corrupt a nunnery.
The blazing draft-buffeted wall candles cast flickers over her burnt-orange silk dress, which indecently hugged her every curve. The gleaming Sudbury diamonds, attracting as much attention as her cleavage, emphasized her pale slender neck. Like an opium pipe to an addict, the exposed skin called out for him to lick, suck, and taste.
Moist pink lips parted in an inviting smile. Cassandra moved behind him using one delicate hand to cup his left buttock, while the other slid under his evening jacket and up his back.
Her soft-form molded itself against him, her person hidden from the crowds in the ballroom by his height and size.
“Lord Wickham, is there a reason you’re lurking in the shadows?”
Her husky voice caressed him more than the insistent fingers stroking his backside through his tight, and ever tightening, black breeches. Both tactics achieved their desired outcome. His member instantly stood to attention and Anthony smiled to himself. Lady Cassie, as he preferred to call her, was just out of mourning, and she was playing with fire.
Anthony let his silence hang expectantly before murmuring, “I knew if I ignored the most beautiful woman in the room she’d come to me.”
Light laughter mocked his senses as she moved to stand directly in front of him. “You know me so well.” She trailed her hand over his hip to rub the most intimate part of him, her body shielding her actions from the pomp and ceremony in front of them. “Something’s hard…,” Her hand moved more purposely. “Speaking of coming...”
Anthony soaked in the beauty of the woman bold enough to service him in full view of her guests. Very soon she would be his mistress; this very night, in fact. He’d waited long enough.
He did not move, nor give any sign of the sparks searing through his body at the practiced fingers stroking him. “If you do not still your hand I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
She gave a throaty laugh. “In view of the guests? I don’t think so.”
Gritting his teeth, he flashed Lady Cassie a taut smile. “Take a peek over my shoulder, sweetheart.” His jaw tightened as he struggled to control his body. “Where do you think that door leads? If you don’t behave, I’ll pull you into the billiard room, lock the door and ravish you on the table until you can no longer walk.” He lifted her free hand and kissed the air above her glove. “Guests or no guests.”
At his promise she moaned softly and he felt her fingers tremble with desire. Cassie stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Come to my bed tonight and we shall see who wears out whom.”
If she thought he’d not accept the challenge, she was sorely mistaken. Cassandra thrived on games of flirtation. Anthony thrived on challenge.
He inwardly smiled as she peeped up at him from beneath incredibly long lashes and rubbed her hand longingly one more time, caressing his erection to the point of pain, before she set him free. “Tonight?” she whispered.
Anthony’s pulse ratcheted up a notch as Lady Cassie moved close, pressing her plump white breasts against his waistcoat.
“Do not keep me waiting,” she almost pleaded, tapping his chest with her fan before drifting off to converse with her other guests.
He watched her swaying hips. She wouldn’t have to wait.
Lady Cassie’s beauty had driven Anthony to the point of madness over the past week. He felt like a thoroughbred racehorse that hadn’t been run in over a month. Now he’d been given his head, he wanted Lady Cassie - rumored to be the most beautiful woman in all England - with a need verging on desperation.
She had jet black tresses, almost a midnight blue in the candlelight, framing creamy milk skin that made you want to lick from toe to breast and back again. He almost lost himself in her exotically framed feline eyes, their color such a vibrant green they appeared to be made of emeralds. Lady Cassandra Sudbury came packaged in a body so curvaceous, so soft; it would drive a saint to sin.
And Lord knew Anthony was no saint.
Finally Cassandra had let him know she was ripe for plucking and here he stood, a starving man, his eagerness to appease his appetite almost making him grovel.
He shook his head. Anthony James Craven did not grovel. He did not prostrate himself at women’s feet, quite the opposite in fact. Women were usually fighting over him, the Earl of Wickham. Referred to as the Lord of Wicked by ladies who counted themselves among the ranks of those he’d seduced, and there were many. His ‘Wicked Club’ as th
e ladies penned it, was most likely the largest female-members-only club in all of England, if not the continent.
Women were his biggest vice. Not his worst vice, but pretty close. He loved women. All women, but in particular women whose beauty could start a war, or those he would have to fight tooth and nail for. His childhood had been starved of beauty and as an adult he could not help but gravitate towards it.
“What have we here? The mighty Earl of Wickham hiding behind a potted palm?”
Anthony’s shoulders automatically tightened and he turned to scowl at his twin brother. “A man of my standing – a wealthy, titled bachelor – has an excuse to hide.” He paused and raised an eyebrow, “Who are you hiding from?”
Richard John Craven, younger by only thirty minutes, had the grace to blush. “Mother, of course.” Richard shrugged. “If you would hurry up and do what the head of the family is required to do, marry and produce an heir, Mother would not be bothering me.”
Anthony cursed. “What a difference half-an-hour makes.”
Richard slapped him on the shoulder. “Duty, Anthony. With the title come responsibilities. It is time you did yours and saved me from mother’s constant attentions. There should be no pressure for the second son to bear fruit. I should be free to enjoy all the world has to offer. Seeing Lady Cassandra across the room, I am reminded that there is a lot to enjoy.”
Anthony growled low in his throat. “Can’t you find a woman of your own for a change?”
“Tut tut, can’t handle the competition, eh? She is obviously immune to your charms. I have already given you three nights’ head start, only because you spotted her first. You have not bedded her, nor made her your mistress, so I feel free to step in and claim what you have been unable to procure.”
Anthony looked at his twin with a cynical smirk. Richard was correct about one thing; Cassie had made him work harder than any other woman.
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