Getting off his knee, he took her into his arms and kissed her slower this time, but just as deep.
Now he would spend the rest of his life letting her know through his words and actions that she was and would always be first in his heart.
EPILOGUE
Catherine learned it was nearly impossible to plan a society wedding in six weeks. The bans had to be posted, the bridal gown had to be designed and sewn, invitations had to be sent, the honeymoon in Florence booked, and countless other things that needed to be dealt with.
But if one was determined—as Lucas was—and money was not an obstacle, it could be done. And it was.
There were certainly setbacks along the way. The day after Lucas had proposed to her, all of Europe had discovered America’s president Lincoln had been assassinated. The news caused much confusion in the markets and managed to shake the conviction of even those who supported the south in the war.
James and Alex had taken the news hard, but the assassination had devastated Lucas. Catherine had stayed especially close to him in the days that followed and their lovemaking had been gentler and healing in a way she couldn’t explain, yet just as passionate as always.
Now, with the wedding ceremony and breakfast behind them—the wedding breakfast had been held at Rutherford Manor—Lucas carried his bride across the front door of their new home, Hoffman Court.
Catherine giggled and buried her head in the crook of his neck. “Are you certain I’m not too heavy?” she asked. The traveling suit she was wearing was almost as heavy as her wedding gown and its accompanying accouterments. The veil alone must have weighed a quarter of a stone.
“Too heavy?” he said peering lovingly down at her. “You’re not heavy enough, my love. We’ll have to find inventive ways to fatten you up.”
To that, she smiled and planted a kiss on his smooth jaw. “You may put me down now. I can’t have you climbing those stairs with me in your arms.”
“Why?” he asked with a lift of an eyebrow. “You don’t trust that I won’t drop you?”
“Absolutely not. My reasons are purely selfish. I’m going to need you to save your strength for other activities,” she said, smiling coyly.
Lucas promptly set her on her feet, which had her laughing.
Catherine turned and glanced around the foyer. The decorators she’d hired had worked hard to get the house ready for their arrival. Lucas had insisted she have free rein to do with it what she wanted, although he’d made his preferences known for the strictly male domains like the study, the billiard room, and his master suite.
Grasping her hand in his, Lucas tugged her toward the staircase. “This is not the time to admire your handiwork. We shall explore the house tomorrow before we leave for our honeymoon. At present, what I want most is to make love to my wife.”
Catherine’s gaze snapped to his and the love and desire she saw in his hazel eyes could only mirror what was in hers. “But of course, my dear,” she murmured, quickening her pace as they hurried up the long, winding staircase. “I believe it’s our duty to consummate our union and I’m a stickler when it comes to adhering to customs.”
Lucas had given all the servants half the day off, so this was one of the rare occasions they’d have the house all to themselves.
At the top of the stairs, he swung her back up into his arms, whispering in her ear, “Don’t fret, I’ll have enough energy for all the activities you have in store for me.”
He kissed her before she could respond and when next she became aware of her surroundings, they were in the master suite, and he was lowering her onto the bed. He tried to break the kiss but she held him tight about his neck, and ran her tongue along the wet softness of his inner bottom lip before tangling it with his again. In a matter of seconds, he’d set her body on fire.
Groaning, he reluctantly pulled away and stared down at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth shiny from their kisses. “Let us first remove our clothes. I want to feel every inch of your flesh against mine when I make love to you tonight.”
In the weeks since he’d proposed to her, they’d made love many times and it had only been on five occasions that they hadn’t been able to wait to remove all of their clothes. But yes, she did love it best when there wasn’t a stitch of fabric between them, when they were flesh to flesh.
“Then hurry,” she said, breathing rapidly as she reached for the buttons on his trousers.
He quickly caught her hands and placed the firmly down by her side. “It will be best if I perform the honors for us both.” His voice sounded strained as his eyes greedily ate her up.
True to his word, he accomplished the task of divesting himself of his navy-blue traveling suit in less than one minute. But with her, he took his time, kissing her flesh as it was bared to him. By the time she was unclothed, she was moaning and writhing on top of the bed.
Lucas smiled wickedly and finally came down on top of her. The feel of him, the hard thrust of his erection between her thighs left her gasping and scraping her fingernails down his long, smooth back. She shifted and parted her legs further.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely before he lowered his head and sucked her left nipple into his mouth.
Catherine felt like a leaf at the mercy of the wind, being blown this way and that. He grunted and switched to her other breast when she grasped his hard buttocks with both hands. She thought she would expire when he brought her to climax with his mouth. Expire she did minutes later when he thrust heavily into her and brought her to another shattering release.
In the aftermath, Lucas tucked her flush against his warm, sweat-dampened body. Catherine emitted something that sounded suspiciously like a purr.
“I wonder if you have any idea how much I love you. I am so very fortunate that you came back for me,” she said softly, her head angled so she could look up into his beautiful face.
His eyes darkened and his arms tightened around her as he dropped a tender kiss on her mouth. “My love, I am the fortunate one. My biggest fear was that you had fallen in love with someone else while I was gone.”
Impossible.
“And if I had, what would you have done?” she teased.
A laugh rumbled under the hand she had splayed on his muscled chest. “I guess I would have had to prove that I was the better man for you.”
Catherine felt herself getting misty-eyed. “You have always been and shall always be the only man for me.”
“And I feel exactly the same about you,” he whispered and ran his hand slowly down her back to her hip. “Last month, when I watched you cut the ribbon at the school opening, I could not have been more proud of you. And today, you have made me the happiest man on earth.”
The school, which had been simply named Rutherford, had officially opened the month past in the midst of wedding preparations. Already there was a waiting list to attend. Currently, most of the students were girls.
“I have a very blessed life. It’s only right that I try to give back in whatever way I can,” she said smoothing her hand down the dark, prickly hairs on his chest.
Before she could blink, she was flat on her back and peering up at her husband.
“And you have—given back. You are forever giving and you deserve happiness and the ardent adoration of your husband. I shall do my best to give you whatever is in my power to give you, do you understand that?”
Emotion caused her throat to constrict. “I do and I know you will,” she choked out. Forgiving herself for the things she’d done in the past was not easy, but with Lucas beside her, it had become less arduous a task to believe she deserved to be this happy.
Lowering his head, he kissed the top of her cheekbone before trailing kisses down to the shell of her ear. Catherine felt him hardening against her hip, and her center grew moist readying her for his possession.
“Now let me fulfill my promise to you to fill our home with many children,” he murmured as he settled between her thighs.
Catherine let out
a whimper as he slid smoothly into her. “Yes, please do,” she managed to say before pleasure consumed her.
Two months later, they learned Lucas had indeed fulfilled that promise.
And don’t miss the book that introduced readers to Lucas,
AN HEIR OF DECEPTION
Now Available
A man devastated by love
After three years of carousing and debauchery, Alex Cartwright, heir to the Duke of Hastings, has put his life back in order. Having embraced sobriety for two years, he has no intention of revisiting the past or risking his heart again. But the return of the very woman who introduced him to the darkest side of hell brings not only the painful, haunting memories of bittersweet love and abandonment, but the son he never knew he had...
A woman silenced by secrets
Threatened by the revelation of a secret that could destroy her family’s place in society and forever tarnish a dukedom, Charlotte fled England on her wedding day five years ago. Now, although it appears that secret is safe, when Alex discovers her other secret—their son—Charlotte has an altogether different battle ahead. She must now fight one love to hold onto the other—the man whose touch still makes her burn, for the child who is her very world.
PROLOGUE
London, 4 May 1859
A hushed silence greeted Alex Cartwright, the Marquess of Avondale, as he arrived in the large antechamber in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Attired in navy frock coats, precisely knotted neckties, and light-blue trousers, the Viscounts Creswell and Armstrong, and Rutherford, the Earl of Windmere, were certainly suited up well enough for the occasion. At least in dress if not demeanor, for their faces held the grayish cast of men bound for the gallows. And Rutherford’s hair appeared as if it had been plowed more times than a seasoned whore.
Paused just inside the threshold, Alex let out a dry laugh. “Come now, gentlemen, it can’t be as bad as that,” he teased. “The occasion does not call for black dress or armbands. This isn’t a funeral you’re attending, but my wedding.”
Such a comment would have customarily elicited a wry smile—at the very least—but received not so much as a blink. Another silence the weight of a ship’s anchor descended upon the room, blanketing him in air as cold as London’s fog was thick.
Determined that whatever their affliction, it would not spoil the most important day thus far in his twenty-nine years, Alex quelled the sense of unease beginning to unfurl in his gut.
Under a domed celestial frieze of cherubs and angels, Alex advanced toward the trio standing motionless in front of a large marble-topped table, his footfalls muffled by the carpeted floor. He would have welcomed more noise, some sort of distraction from the somberness surrounding him, be it in human form or décor.
Located in the south transept of the church, the chamber boasted dark-burgundy drapes of some thick, expensive fabric, and surrounding the black marble fireplace were three chairs crafted with enough gild, scrollwork, and velvet to satisfy royalty. But then, with the sudden death of his brother the year before—the much beloved son and heir to the Hastings dukedom—wasn’t Alex now regarded as such? Despite his mother’s vehement opposition to the marriage, when Alex had made it clear he’d marry Charlotte with or without her approval, she thrown her considerable ducal weight into ensuring his wedding would be the most celebrated event in Society for at least the next decade to come.
Halting in front of his friends, he quirked a brow. “Surely you’re not commiserating over my nuptials?” Alex found light sarcasm served as a wonderful vehicle to lift a dour mood. “I would think not, as you all have walked—” he executed a mock bow “—I stand corrected gentlemen—vanquished this course years ago.”
And most assuredly they had, the three men happily married with nary a complaint regarding the oft-bemoaned rigors of the institution. Indeed, each had been passionate in its recommendation.
Armstrong shot Rutherford a look, one Alex instantly recognized. He’d seen it often enough over the course of an acquaintance numbering twenty-six years. In that instant, he knew something was terribly, perhaps tragically, wrong.
Panic bloomed and anxiety burned like acid in his throat. Alex’s gaze flew to Rutherford. “It’s Charlotte, isn’t it? Something has happened to Charlotte.”
The earl averted his gaze.
Alex grabbed Rutherford forcibly by the arms, bringing the two men practically nose to nose. Even if his friend’s delay had been infinitesimal, it measured what felt like an eternity too long.
Alex held his friend in a vise grip and gave him a teeth-jarring shake. “Tell me, damn it. What’s happened to Charlotte? Is she hurt? Where is she?”
Rutherford bent his imprisoned arm at the elbow. With obvious reluctance, he offered up the envelope. “She sent this for you,” Rutherford said, his voice strained and hoarse.
With a cautious step back, Alex dropped his hands to his sides. At first, he could only stare at the innocuous rectangular paper, uncomprehending. Slowly, the fog released its hold on his senses.
His gaze darted to the sheet of paper crushed in his friend’s other hand. She’d also written a letter to Rutherford and it was obvious he’d read his. Alex then recalled the footman hurrying down the hall. In that instant, he knew the man he’d passed with so little regard, so consumed with his own happiness, had been the bearer of the news that had sent his friends into such morbid melancholy. News that would assuredly send him someplace far worse.
Charlotte wasn’t hurt. The evidence stood before him in the form of her brother. Had she been injured or taken ill, a stable full of horses wouldn’t have been able to drag Rutherford from her side. But too swiftly on the heels of staggering relief nipped a growing fear, for penned in her signature slopes and curls was his name emblazoned across the front of the envelope. A letter from her on the day of their wedding could signify only one thing.
“She’s not coming, is she?” His cravat—silk mulberry that his valet had fussed into an elaborate knot—felt as if it had a stranglehold on his words.
“Cartwright—”
Alex’s head jerked violently in the direction of his friend, the set of his countenance effectively cutting Creswell off at the utterance of his name.
Armstrong sighed and ran his hand through a thatch of golden hair, regarding him with eyes filled with the kind of compassion no man should have to countenance on his wedding day. Sympathy was bad enough, but pity? Intolerable.
Directing his attention back to Rutherford, Alex stared at the envelope unclaimed in his friend’s hand, knowing its contents promised to deliver him the felling blow.
“What does she say?” he asked, his voice a hollow imitation of his former self.
“I did not read it,” Rutherford muttered gruffly, extending his arm so the tan paper touched the flesh exposed at Alex’s wrist.
The fires of perdition could not have singed his skin more at the contact and Alex retreated several steps as he surveyed it with abhorrence.
“What did she tell you?” he asked quietly, dragging his gaze up to Rutherford’s.
Three years ago when his friend had paced the halls outside his wife’s bedchamber awaiting the birth of their twins, he’d worn the same expression he did at present, a helpless sort of fright.
“What does she say!” Alex’s voice exploded like a cannon blast in graveyard silence. “Isn’t it in the letter she sent to you?”
Isn’t it in the letter she sent to you?
The echo transcended the room to storm the corridors of the prestigious church.
Rutherford appeared to be rallying his courage, swallowing and then drawing in a ragged breath before he said, “The footman brought the letters only moments before your arrival. I was coming—”
“God dammit, man, quit all your blasted blathering. Just tell me what she wrote!”
Rutherford made an uncomfortable sound in his throat before replying in graveled tones, “She wrote to beg my forgiveness for any scandal or shame her action
s may bring upon the family but…says she can’t marry you.”
A roar sounded in Alex’s ears as he grasped the back of a nearby chair, the coolness of the metal frame muted by his silk white gloves. He blinked rapidly in an effort to halt the stinging in his eyes and swallowed to douse the burning in his throat. And a numbness such as he’d never known assailed him, turning his limbs into leaden weights.
“Where is she?”
Stark pain and fear flashed in Rutherford’s pale blue eyes. “I do not know. She’s quit the Manor but gave no indication as to where she’s gone. She merely states she is safe and that we must not concern ourselves unduly over her.”
The weight on Alex’s chest threatened to crush every organ beneath it. But such destruction would do little to his heart, for it had already broken into a multitude of pieces.
Like that, with the flourish of a pen, she was gone.
Alex turned to the open door. Around him, he felt rather than saw his friends move in chorus toward him. He stopped abruptly, angled his head over his shoulder and met their gazes. “Let me be. I shall be fine.” But he wouldn’t lie to himself; he would never be fine.
The three men did not advance any farther.
Alex blindly put one foot in front of the other. With every step, he discarded a piece of the life he’d foolishly dreamt to have with her…until there were none.
He took his leave of the room, his leave of the church, to start his way back to a life obliterated to a pile of nothingness.
~~~
Table of Contents
Also by Beverley Kendall
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Twice the Temptation Page 33
