"To you."
Chapter Fifteen
Cecy's eyes widened. Her face went ashen and then a rosy red. Rather like the color Philippe hoped her arse would be one day.
"To…oo me?" Her voice rose.
Philippe nodded. "To you." He confirmed. "As it is impossible for us three to all marry, and equally as unfeasible for us to live openly together, 'tis the answer. Also once you become Caleb's wife you will be safe and protected. No one would dare harm you."
"Am I truly in danger? Who from and why?" Comprehension filled her eyes. "Aha, because of Randall and his work. But why will marriage to Caleb negate this danger? Surely not just because he is a magistrate?"
"That helps." Philippe said. "However it is known that anyone who messes with Caleb or his own, will have to answer to me. We know, Randall and a select few others also know of my double life. Those who don't are aware of me only a facilitator for the local smugglers, with connections in high places. Therefore to cross me is to their detriment. No one will dare."
"Cecy?" Caleb lifted her chin so she faced him. "It will be more than just a marriage to me. As we stand in front of the vicar, we make our vows to God. Once we return home, we make our vows to Philippe. The service is a formality our promises to each other are the important ones. So?"
She wriggled off the bed, and stood in front of Philippe. He smelled her unique essence, the hint of roses and citrus he always associated with her. I would know it was her even if I was blindfolded.
"Well?" she demanded.
He was at a loss. Behind her Caleb shrugged.
"Er, well?"
Cecy stamped her foot. On to his. He was thankful she was barefoot, or he suspected he'd be walking with a limp for a sennight or so.
"So.He." She waved her arm at Caleb, "has yet to ask me to be his wife. You have yet to ask me to be your, your whatever."
He kept his face straight with difficulty. She looked like an annoyed scrubby cherub as her hair rioted around her face.
"Cecy will you do the honor of being my.." he paused long enough for her eyes to widen and sparkle with temper. "My other lover. The one who completes my life and fills the hole in my heart?"
She sighed and the soft sheen of tears appeared on her lashes.
"Ah, Philippe, how lovely. It would be my pleasure." The sincerity in her voice gave him goose bumps. It was what he had wanted to hear for so long, and had never thought it possible.
Caleb left the bed and stood beside Philippe. He went down on one knee, and took both her hand and Philippe's. "Cecilia my love, will you marry me? And as Philippe says complete our lives and complete our circle?"
She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her other hand. "Oh yes."
Then to Philippe's amazement she took his free hand.
"Now we are three. I think we should say our vows now, before church. For as you say church is but a formality. This is what matters. Therefore...." She cleared her throat. "I Cecilia Rose Gretton, do take you Philippe De Caen and Caleb Jefferies as my partners in life and love for ever more. In sickness and in health; for richer and poorer, and in love and trust. Oh and definitely forsaking all others as long as we shall live." As she kissed Caleb, Philippe's heart swelled. This was his life and lovers. As her lips met his, he stopped thinking and just felt. The softness of her mouth, the gentle swirl of her tongue on his, and her soft breasts as they brushed his chest.
"Now." She stepped back. "Do you both take me and each other in the same manner?"
"I do." Philippe's vow was echoed by Caleb.
"Good, I now pronounce us partners. Lovers and a family." Cecy gasped. "Oh Lord. Children?" She stared at them, and her lips trembled. Caleb could feel the waves of worry that emanated from her.
"I hope so." Caleb hurried to reassure her. "We are all young, fit and healthy. I see no reason why not."
"No, that's not what I meant. I meant would it matter that we don't know who sires them? It makes no difference to me, but as my body is both of yours, well…" she blushed.
"Ah love, nor to us. Do you think we haven't hoped for this moment for an age?" Philippe rushed to reassure her. "Any children will be ours, of us three, even though they will bear Caleb's name. I will settle money on all of them as well as for all of us. My coffers are healthy."
"It's not the money." She sounded indignant. "It was the heritage. But if you are fine, there is nothing more to worry over. Except what do I wear for this wedding? I have no woman's clothes and I refuse to be married in a pair of Caleb's old breeches."
"It's all sorted," Philippe said. "Now shall we be traditional? Cecy come with me, I am to play ladies' maid, and Caleb will stay here. It is considered bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other until the wedding." He took her hand. It was clammy.
"What?" Her voice wobbled. "And when is the wedding?"
Philippe lifted his pocket watch from the top of a tallboy. "In an hour or so. It wants but a few minutes to midnight, so now we leave Caleb to pretty himself."
Cecy sniggered. "I don't want a pretty man. I want my men as you are."
Philippe looked from his erect cock to Caleb's and smiled. "That's good, because this seems to be the state of affairs when we're with you. But I think Reverend Ashburton would have something to say if the groom and best man attended the wedding in their birthday suits with their cocks primed and ready for action. So shall we?" He raised one eyebrow.
Cecy kissed Caleb on the cheek. "I am the luckiest woman in Christendom. Let's hurry for we have a wedding to attend."
****
"So what am I to wear?" Cecy asked as they walked along the corridor toward another wooden door. "Have you conjured up a stash of ladies' wear?"
"Nothing so dramatic I'm afraid. I arranged for a few of your gowns to be...er, shall we say, purloined. I particularly like you in green." He opened the door and stood back to let her precede him into the room. Hanging from the wardrobe door was a pale green gown that shimmered in the lamplight. Philippe wondered if she realized it was the dress she wore when the three of them were first together.
"Ah, you remembered." It seemed she did. "This has long been my favorite gown. I associate it with you both. I will be delighted to wed in it."
"Then let's dress you." He lifted the gown from its hanger and slid it over her head. "No chemise with it, just as you were on that night."
Cecy smoothed the silk over her hips as Philippe tied the bows under her breasts.
"I fear my hair will not be sophisticated and smooth as befits a bride. But then sophisticated and smooth were never words associated with me, nor do I ever think they will." She picked up a brush and with quick deft strokes ran it through the curls that covered her head. "There, that is me. Now you?"
Philippe grinned. "Are you to play valet?"
Cecy shook her head and the curls she had tried to tame sprang out once more. "Oh no, I'm going to be voyeur."
Would she ever cease to surprise him? He hoped not. Philippe opened the wardrobe and took out pantaloons, shirt and jacket. "Perhaps not as formal as it should be, but it will have to do." He dressed swiftly, conscious of her gaze on him. "Will we do?"
Cecy smiled and her eyes sparkled. "We will." Her expression sobered.
"Philippe, truly are you happy with this? I belong to you both; you know that, but a wedding where you have to stand to one side? Will it work for you?"
He gathered her close and rubbed her arms. They were chilly. "Damn," he castigated himself. "You need a shawl. One moment." Philippe walked across the room and pulled out a draw. "This will work." He walked back to Cecy and wrapped the long lacy material around her bare shoulders. "Better?"
She nodded. "This lace does scratch, though." She wrinkled her nose. "It is somewhat annoying not to remember who said that to me."
He kissed her on the appendage she was screwing up. "Don't think about it, it will come. Think about your wedding. For we three know both your vows include me, and I will echo them under my breath. Ready?"
> She smiled, a smile so full of love and promise it almost took his breath away. He body tensed with an expectation of something so overwhelming, he wanted to cry. Instead he swallowed rapidly. "Cecy, you do know how much I love you?" Philippe asked urgently.
She stoked his cheek, and her soft touch sent spirals of excitement coursing through him. "Of course, and I you. Both of you or I would not be here. One moment, I have a thought. And yes before you open your mouth, another one." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Philippe chuckled.
"How well you know me, my love. So, your thought?"
"Well, if you are to be best man, who will give me away?"
"I will."
The voice from the doorway sent her whirling around. The tall man standing there winked at Philippe. "The bridegroom is already in the church. You best go to him. We'll be there in five minutes."
Cecy stood as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Randall?"
"Well, of course. Yes, it should be Papa or Perry, but they are not on hand and I am. Will I do?"
She flew across the room and clung to her brother. Satisfied, Philippe left them.
"Shall we?" Randall asked as he took Cecy's arm and they followed in Philippe's wake. "I am so pleased you have your chance of happiness," he said. "'tis nigh on time."
"Ah Randall, your turn will come soon." They walked and walked swiftly down the stairs and out of the house toward the tiny chapel a few yards away to where the others were waiting.
"I rather think it has," Randall said, and pointed in front of them.
Standing outside the chapel door examining the ivy was a tall, handsome man who twisted round and smiled. In his hand he held a single rose which he presented to Cecy with a bow.
"Hello, my lady. 'Tis but a small thing but in lieu of anything else to carry, I would be honored?" With his free hand he tugged on the ivy in a nervous gesture. It remained fast to the wall.
"Jason?" she said in disbelief as she took the rose and held it to her face to sniff the exquisite perfume. "Are you checking for escape routes?"
He chuckled. "Old habits die hard."
"Hmmm well, I trust you will not need to escape from my wedding." She ran the rosebud across her cheek and felt its silky softness kiss her skin. "Oh, this is perfect. I thank you." She looked from his smiling face to that of her brother. Cecy had never seen such love and contentment there. "Oh Randall is all well? Truly?"
Randall kissed her cheek. "All is perfect, love. Now let's get you wed, and I will have no worries."
She squeezed his arm. "I'm ready."
****
"Ahh all is well?" Caleb asked, echoing her words and unable to keep the worry from his voice as Philippe walked up the aisle to stand by Caleb's side.
"Of course," Philippe reassured him. "She was pleased to see Randall, and Jason and they are on their way."
"The bride is not annoyed at the time you have chosen for this wedding?" the vicar asked. "It's as well I know you my lord, for I will have to ignore the true time and change am to pm for the marriage to be legal." He sighed. "But I trust you have a reason for this so I will acquiesce."
"It is appreciated," Caleb assured him. "And the need for secrecy and haste is as I explained. To keep her safe."
The door to the church opened with a creak, and all three men looked in its direction. Cecy walked toward them her face radiant. It was but a few steps to meet them. She held on to her brother's arm. Jason walked one step behind, like, as he had said with a smile, a bride's maid. Philippe decided if Jason couldn't keep his eyes off Randall's arse, who could blame him? By the way Randall kept sneaking looks at Jason, he felt the same.
As the bridal party reached the alter Philippe saw Cecy squeeze Randall's arm and mouth the words 'thank you'.
As we are here, let's begin." Reverend Ashburton cleared his throat, and began to recite the well-known words of the wedding service.
To Philippe, standing next to Caleb in the shadowy chapel and listening as his lovers took their vows, it was a moment of mystery and magic. He could hear his own voice inside his head repeating each vow, and it was as if both Caleb and Cecelia added his name to each of the others. Beside Cecy, Randall stood quiet, though Philippe fancied a cloud of sadness crossed his face more than once. He wondered if the rumors he'd heard about Randall's preferences were true. If so it would account for his demeanor. Philippe well knew those who loved in certain ways could never be open and honest about their loves.
As the service drew to a close, and the cleric pronounced Caleb and Cecy man and wife he beamed. "You may now kiss the bride. Ah I meant the groom may, not the rest of you, not yet."
Cecy with a swift glance at Caleb had turned to Philippe. "We decided, the first kiss is for you," she whispered. Her lips touched his, and heat exploded throughout his body. His cock reacted and hardened, as her tongue slipped into his mouth for one brief moment. Then she moved back and turned to Caleb who had stood and watched, the love in his eyes evident for all to see.
"Ah, well, let's sign the register, make it all official and I'll get back to the vicarage before my lady wife is aware I'm not in my study writing my sermon." Reverend Ashburton produced the marriage registry, and they set to. It took scant minutes before he was on his way.
"He barely let the ink dry." Cecy remarked as she looked at each of them in turn. "So what now?"
"The wedding breakfast, of course." Randall said. "Which I have placed in your kitchen."
"Good, I'm famished." On cue Cecy's stomach rumbled and she giggled. "Let's go." She took one of Philippe's arms and linked it with her own. Caleb took her other side, and Philippe saw Randall and Jason fall in behind.
They walked the short distance to the house. As they reached the threshold, Caleb halted.
"One moment, love, we need to do this properly. He looked at Philippe. "Are you ready?"
Philippe nodded. "Of course." In one swift move they disengaged themselves from Cecy, linked arms and made a seat for her. Randall guided her to sit.
"Now we observe tradition once more," Caleb remarked. "And carry you over the threshold.”
"Tradition is for the groom to do so," Randall said, his voice laced with good humor. "Though as I know to my sister you are both equally her grooms, this is correct." He swung open the door.
As they trod up the steps, the lacy material around Cecy's arms slipped. She went to grasp it and winced.
"Ouch, the damned stuff scratches as you wear it, and slips when to try to secure it. Why we bother is…Gussie." She exclaimed. "Gussie Gravesend. That's where I've seen this before. At her masquerade. She had lace, and said those very words."
They set her on to her feet. " Quick, into the kitchen where we can eat and talk in the warm." Randall trod across the stone flags toward the kitchen and the others followed. The tug of excitement in Philippe's gut told him this was what they'd been waiting for.
"Gussie Gravesend? Mortimer's wife? Are you sure, love?"
Even the air seemed to wait for her answer.
"Oh I'm sure. And she has silks, more than any other woman I know. I had not thought Lord Gravesend so prosperous, to be honest." She walked to the table and took up a chicken leg. "Why?"
"Cecy, love, I do believe you have given us the breakthrough we need." Philippe looked at the other two men. "What say you?"
Randall swore. "All this time, and my sister gives me the answers I need. I'll away with Jason and set things moving. Ah, enjoy your wedding night. Tomorrow will be busy."
"No honeymoon?" Cecy asked. Her eyes twinkled.
Randall laughed. "I'd wager you've already had that."
The End
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Cecilia's Claim Page 10
