Twisting on the stool, she forced herself to stare hard at her reflection. Her light blue eyes—too light for her hair color, she knew—searched the contours of her face. Why had he chosen her?
She wasn’t worldly. Wasn’t a wit. She guessed she looked enough like her mother and aunt, and they were both great beauties of their time. But she would never label herself thusly. Her cheekbones were a little too high. Bottom lip too swollen. Nose and chin passable. Her dark hair, glossy and strong, was her best asset. That, she had to admit.
Her eyes veered off.
She was uncomfortable with looking at herself for such a spell. Even if her aunt had drummed into her the importance of acknowledging exactly what looked back in the mirror, in order to harness it to the best effect.
Reanna pulled the comb through the last snarl, then forced her eyes to the mirror. She was determined to look her best tomorrow. She needed to. For Killian.
Just saying his name in her mind sent a tingle down her spine. He was a man. A true man. Killian was exciting to be around and people gravitated toward him. So how she had caught his eye, she did not know. There was always laughter where he was. And when her hand was in the crook of his arm, she was always surprised by his muscle. Even through her gloves and his crisp jackets, she could feel strength resonating from him.
Her breath caught at the thought of his body. What would it be like to really kiss Killian? Sure, they had stolen a few all-too-short pecks several times.
And when he told her that he loved her and asked her to marry him, their kiss had lasted a bit longer than a peck. But before Reanna had even realized it had begun, Killian had pulled away. He said he would not succumb to ungentlemanly behavior, no matter the depth of his feelings, at least not until they were properly wed.
A true gentleman.
Reanna pushed her hair atop her head, crooking her neck at all angles, imaging how it would look tomorrow. She needed to be perfect.
“You will look presentable, no need to worry on that.” Her Aunt Maureen entered the room, sans knocking, for it was her home.
She walked to stand behind Reanna, reeking of statuesque elegance. Her aunt gave a quick glance to Reanna’s reflection in the mirror, and then her eyes immediately wandered up to study her own aging face. She tucked a non-existent stray hair back into her perfectly coifed hair.
Aunt Maureen pulled Reanna’s hands from her dark locks. “You will crimp your hair if you keep playing with it. Miss Melby will have a devil of a time getting your thick hair in place as it is. Let us not add to her misery.”
Reanna’s posture stiffened as her hair fell back down past her shoulders. “Thank you for the compliment, Aunt Maureen. I do want to look most presentable for Lord Southfork tomorrow.”
“As you should. That will soon be your only duty, to look presentable for your husband.”
Aunt Maureen walked over to the dresser, straightening the few objects—tin of ribbons, mirror, brush, locket—into an even line. Her characteristic neatening stretched out, almost to the point of stalling, but then she turned back to Reanna. “Child, there is no easy way to say this, so I just will. Your father will not be attending the wedding tomorrow. I just received confirmation.”
A weight fell onto Reanna’s heart. “Are you sure, Aunt Maureen? Are you sure there is no way he can attend? It is just that…well, it is my wedding and I so hoped that he would be able to be there, even though—”
“Do not quiver about it, child. No, there is no question. No change of plans. He will not be attending the wedding. He is still in Suffolk, and after his ruin, he believes he should not be a presence. I agree.”
“But it is my wedding day.”
“Which is precisely what we do not want him to ruin.” Aunt Maureen’s crisp tone told Reanna there would be no swaying of the situation. “It is a wonder we are getting you married off at all, what with the scandal he caused on the way out of London. I was, frankly, surprised when I came back into town and found out his ruin was so complete.”
Reanna’s ears perked. Sure, she had noticed the removal of trinkets and artifacts and furniture and eventually, staff, from their estate in Suffolk. She knew the changes had to be money-related. But her father had downplayed it all, reminding her she didn’t have a mind for numbers, nor should she be questioning his choices. All she needed to know was that everything would be fine, he’d maintained.
“You are extremely lucky to have attracted a man such as Lord Southfork, who could overlook your father’s transgressions. Very few men would. Even that list of men your father provided as suitable was suspect. At this point, if your father were to appear, there is no telling what society’s—or your fiancé’s—reaction would be.”
Reanna’s nose wrinkled at the mention of the list. Her father had sent with her to London a list of possible suitors. Lord Hiplan had been the most interested, and, Reanna had to admit, the least offensive of the bunch. Even though he was near thirty years her senior, he at least had good manners and took a bath on occasion. She had resigned herself to a dutiful marriage only a day before Lord Southfork inquired about an introduction. Thank goodness she had never said yes to Lord Hiplan’s marriage proposal.
“Was my father’s ruin really as bad as that?” Hand wrapping around the gilded arm of the stool, Reanna scooted forward and turned to her aunt. This was the first time her aunt had even mentioned her father’s ruin, of which Reanna knew nothing. She had only heard snippets of whispered conversations in the corners of drawing rooms.
“Yes, it was. Is. As I have said, it is a wonder that you managed to snag the marquess. Far above what I would have expected you could accomplish. Your looks warred a penniless, ruined father, and apparently, you have honored the Vestilun line.” Her face turned soft for a split second as she mentioned her family’s long tradition of beauties.
“I owe you much, Aunt Maureen. This certainly would not have been possible without you.”
“That is true. But my sister’s child deserves better than what your father brought upon his family.” Maureen picked up a locket from the dresser and opened it. The haunting engraving of Reanna’s mother looked up at her. “It was the only proper way to honor your mother’s memory.”
She clicked the locket closed. “But your father is an imbecile. We should be grateful he will not be attending the wedding. It makes the production much easier. It is, after all, no secret that I despise the man.”
“Aunt Maureen, you must not say such things,” Reanna said, her hands fidgeting with the comb. “He is my father.”
“A father who never gave any true regard to your mother. Your defense of him is uncalled for with me. I will continue to loathe the man for my time on earth.”
“Why do you dislike him?”
“It is of no concern to you, especially on the eve before your wedding. Past is past, even if it always informs the present.” She set the locket onto the dresser, edging it into line with the other objects. “I do have one thing that I need to discuss with you before your wedding.”
Resigned she would get no real information from her aunt, Reanna turned the stool fully around to her. “Yes?”
“I have waited to do this until you were married, for I was not about to chance your father’s ethics on the matter. You know after the wedding I will be returning to Spain.”
“Yes. I will miss you.”
“I do not intend to return to London. So it is a good time, now that you will be outside of your father’s greedy grasp, to pass along this home and a tidy sum to you. The marquess is wealthy in his own right, so I have no concerns about him. But things can change. They did with your father. The money and the home are in a trust for you for sole and separate use, should you ever have need of it. There are monthly limits on it, of course, but it will keep you and any children in comfort should the need arise.”
Reanna’s mouth dropped open. Her aunt looked as near to nostalgia and emotion as she had ever seen her. “Aunt Maureen, this is too generous. There
is no need.”
“No, child. Far from it. No woman should ever have to be at the mercy of fate and greed when it comes to food and shelter. Only you will have access to the money and home, and I sincerely hope you will never have need of either.”
“I will not. I trust Lord Southfork will take care of me.”
Her aunt smiled at her, wryness in her wrinkled eyes. “It will be yours to pass along to the next generation, then.” The smile disappeared. “Now continue to prepare for bed. I do not wish to present a haggard-looking Vestilun tomorrow.”
Bluntness aside, Reanna knew her aunt had her best interests at heart. “Thank you for all that you have given and done for me over the past six months, Aunt. This has been a wonderful dream for me.”
Aunt Maureen looked momentarily uncomfortable with the heartfelt words. “You are welcome.” She smoothed the already smooth mix of dark and grey hairs going into her chignon.
Reanna cringed at the discomfort her words seemed to cause her aunt. So she attempted to dispel emotion and changed the subject. “Are you prepared for travel to the continent following tomorrow?”
“Yes, a day or two more, and I will leave. It will do no good to dally here in London, now that my work is done. I will, of course, keep in contact.”
She turned to walk out the door, then paused at the entry. “You will go to sleep soon, I trust. I will not have a tired Vestilun at the altar.”
{ Chapter 2 }
Hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Reanna leaned her temple against the upper arm of her new husband. Strong, immobile, but her cheek somehow managed to find softness in it. And if she kept her head tight to his jacket, the bumps of the carriage couldn’t separate them.
The whole day was a blur, and now the countryside whizzed past as they rode from London to Killian’s nearest country estate, Curplan Hall.
Reanna sighed, sheer joy flooding her. “This is all so wonderful Killian. It was—is a dream for me.”
His hand went over hers and he gave it a squeeze. “Did you think so, Lady Southfork?”
“Yes and yes. It was more than I could have ever hoped for.” She shifted so she could see his brown eyes. “Thank you for making it so perfect.”
“Anything to make my new bride happy. What was your favorite part of the day?”
“It was…it was all so grand…” Reanna faltered, trying to decide which of the thousand details of the day she liked best—impossible, for it had all been beautiful. But then a random moment popped into her mind. “Oh, but there was something peculiar. I had a brief moment alone with the duchess when I was freshening up before the ceremony, and she said something odd.”
Reanna thought she felt Killian tense, but then it disappeared in an instant. It must have been a bump.
“Odd? What was it she said?”
“Now that I think about it, I guess it was not so odd, it was more of her tone, something I could not quite understand in the way she said it.”
“Which was?”
“She mentioned to me that if I were to ever need any help at all, that she would be there for me on a moment’s notice.”
Killian gave an easy shrug. “That does not seem strange. Devin and Aggie have been friends of mine for years. I am sure she was just trying to make you feel welcome into all facets of my life. Aggie knows all too well the pressures put upon a high-standing lady. I am sure she just wanted to let you know you are not alone in your future as my wife.”
Reanna smiled and tightened her hold on his arm. “Yes, I am sure you are right. You know her much better than I. It was a very nice thing for her to say.”
“Yes, Aggie is nothing if not caring.”
Reanna thought she heard sarcasm in his voice, but then dismissed it. She had never heard Killian use sarcasm.
They rode in silence, Reanna reveling in the solidity of her new husband. Warm and hard.
“I do have one regret of the day though.” She interrupted the comfortable silence.
“And that is?”
“That, until we left, I had spent hardly a spec of it with you.” She tentatively laid her free hand on his shoulder, her fingertips touching the short sandy-blond hair whisking the back of his cravat.
It felt so freeing to be able to touch him without plagues of worry about proprieties flooding her mind. Her main goal in London had not been to fetch a husband, as her father had demanded. It had been to not embarrass her aunt after all she had done for Reanna. Her aunt was the stoic sort, but by far the most generous person Reanna had ever met. And getting herself ruined by an over-zealous touch would have accomplished what she least desired.
“We will have plenty of time to spend together tonight, Reanna.” He placed a small kiss on the crown of her forehead.
Reanna glowed at his touch. It was almost too much to believe, that she was now married to this man, and she was quickly finding out that she enjoyed touching him.
“Killian, do not think me wanton.”
He smiled down at her. “I do not think it possible for you to be so, Reanna. What do you want?”
“Would you kiss me?”
A crooked smile touched his mouth. “Have I not done that enough?”
“No, I mean a real kiss. I have been waiting so long to know what it would be like to really be kissed by you. I guess I had hoped it would have happened earlier in the day somehow.”
“You truly have no patience left?”
Terror filled her and she couldn’t help from catching her lip in her teeth, afraid she’d upset him.
Killian laughed. “Do not look so anxious, love. I do not think you the slightest wanton.” He leaned away from her to draw the curtains of the carriage windows closed. “And if that is what my bride would like on her wedding day…”
Killian turned to her and reached out, grabbing her chin and pulling her close, ever so slowly. His eyes locked into hers, the brown smoldering with promised passion as they drew Reanna in.
The intensity hit her, and she drew in a breath that did little to steady her tight chest.
His lips met hers, and his hand slid from her chin to the small cusp in the back of her neck. He tilted her slightly, his lips beginning soft, tender, but she couldn’t help her slight hesitation, even though this was exactly what she had asked for.
Painstakingly slow, his lips turned demanding, hot, as Reanna began to respond to his touch, to his hard body molding hers. She was a novice and had no inclination how to hold anything back from Killian’s onslaught. Nor how to quench the fire in her belly that demanded she get as close to her husband as possible.
Without warning, and without even knowing how it had happened, Reanna had melded completely on top of Killian, her legs straddling him, her knees on the velvet squabs, cream skirts shoved up about her waist. Her hair had fallen, dark curls dancing carelessly down her back.
And still Killian did not stop. Grabbing her lips between his teeth, he sucked on the ripeness of them like they were sweet berries. His hand ran down her spine, and then came around, fully cupping the breasts that were nudging across his chest.
Reanna gasped at the touch, jerking slightly back as her eyes flew open in surprise. But it was only for a second, and she leaned back down toward him, her swollen lips asking for more, but Killian ignored it.
He was done.
He dropped his hands from her body.
“That shall do for now.” His voice was crisp and short.
Her eyes flew open again, this time in foggy confusion, then in embarrassment as she looked down to find herself sitting like a common whore on top of her husband.
She scrambled off him, almost falling to the floor of the carriage in her haste to get her skirts back down and her body properly seated, this time, across from him.
Her cheeks flamed as she tried to calm her panting, and she franticly looked for a place to fixate her eyes that was nowhere near her husband. She found the spot in the corner of the carriage floor farthest from Killian’s shiny black Hessians.
> Reanna’s breathing came under control. “I am so sorry. I did not know what I was doing. Please forgive me.” Her eyes stayed averted.
“It is of no consequence,” he said, straightening his jacket.
~~~
Killian stared at Reanna’s shaking hands smoothing down the folds of her skirt. She was trying to hide it, but he could see her fingertips twitching.
Her eyes remained solidly stuck on the carriage floor.
He knew it was his hands that had pushed her into the spectacle the two of them had just conjured. But she had gone along with him quite enthusiastically.
She had kissed him with a passion he had never felt. Never. From anyone. Not a mistress. Not a lover. He had never felt anything like it. Unbridled passion. Unmasked. He had lost himself in it.
Hell. Maybe Aggie was right. Reanna did love him. So completely she didn’t have the slightest notion of how to curb herself around him.
Aggie’s niggling voice popped into his head. The many times she had told him Reanna was innocent. Naïve. That he couldn’t do this. She didn’t deserve to be used and discarded.
Killian’s fist clenched as he shoved Aggie’s voice out of his head. This had to be done. Consummate the vows. Leave no possible venue—no matter how slight—open to invalidating the marriage. Ruin her father’s last chance to regain all that was lost. And when her father’s ruin was solidified, then, maybe then, he could take more care with Reanna.
But not until his revenge was complete.
Reanna’s hands flew to her head, quickly trying to re-pin the hair that had fallen a few moments ago, stealing the soft curls away from where they wanted to be, which was playing along her long neck and shoulders.
Her head remained slightly bowed. Killian stared at her. Her ivory carriage dress was cut square across the bodice, rising enticingly over softly rounded breasts that were not too big for her slender figure. He had just experienced that firsthand.
He thought he could detect moistness in her eyes, but no tears fell. Her bottom lip was bright pink from his onslaught and was swelled beyond its normal puffiness. Something many would see as a flaw, but Killian had never minded the slight quirk of her face. He was struck at how small she looked sitting across from him.
Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess Page 2
