by Jenna Jaxon
A cold chill sent a shiver through Violet, like a goose stepping on her grave. This duel suddenly seemed very real and menacing.
“Come, miss. I shall have the satisfaction of seeing you turned out a treat before you wed his lordship.” Smiling, Susan put an arm around her shoulders and drew her toward Tris’s carriage.
At the reassuring touch, Violet found her fluttering stomach calming. Stokes handed them into the carriage then leaped onto the seat and started the swift trip to The Black Horse.
Once there, Susan’s fussing over her clothes and hair proved more soothing to her than she would have imagined. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe they were back at Lammas House, preparing for dinner with Tris. After tonight, she would always prepare for dinner with him, for he would be hers alone.
Her husband.
She could scarcely take it in. A strange feeling of unreality assailed her, as though she stood outside herself, watching as Susan twisted her hair, pinning it into an elegant coil. It was actually her, however. Her wedding day.
“You’re going to need to hire a real lady’s maid, Miss,” Susan said, sliding another pin into the back of her coiffure.
“I have a lady’s maid, Susan.” The woman looking back from the mirror seemed scared and unsure, eyes wide, brows drooping, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “You.”
“Me!” So startled she almost dropped the pin she clutched, Susan stared back at Violet in the mirror, her hand still poised over the already exquisite arrangement. “I can’t be maid to you once you marry Lord Trevor. I was maid to every one of his mistresses for the past seven years.”
“Including me.” Violet smiled grimly at her reflection. “Nothing has changed, save I will be true mistress of his house. I see no reason why you cannot continue.”
“But it wouldn’t be proper, Miss Carlton.” Susan stepped back, hands on hips, glaring.
Fortunately, Violet had seen that look before. She twisted in her chair until she faced the woman she would not do without. “To the devil with propriety. I’ve never been a titled lady before, yet in an hour I will be Lady Trevor. You may have been a maid to women who were not accepted in polite society, but that counts for nothing. You have done nothing of which to be ashamed. I know you will be splendid as my lady’s maid, and I dare anyone to try and dissuade me from that, including you.”
“But miss—”
“Either you accept my proposal or I will take down my hair, remove this gown and put on the gray one you hate so much and be married in that with a thick braid down my back.” Head held high to feign an assurance she didn’t quite feel, Violet rose and faced Susan. She wouldn’t lose her friend or her best chance at presenting herself flawlessly before society.
“That’s what you call blackmail, miss.” Susan’s pouting lips sang a song of victory to Violet.
“Shall I change then?” Mischievously, Violet let her hand drop to the bodice of the blue changeable silk, shot through with darker stripes of blue and now embellished with crystals over bodice and sleeves. Cut low at the breast, it was a truly elegant garment that could be used for any formal occasion. Violet grasped the stomacher, tugging it from its pouch at the front.
“No, miss!” Darting forward, Susan stayed her hand. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you until you get a proper maid.”
“Not good enough.” Violet jerked the stiffened fabric upward, almost dislodging it.
“Stop! You’ll ruin it.” She clenched her hands and swore under her breath. “All right. I will remain as your lady’s maid until you no longer require my services.”
Violet threw her arms around her friend, hugging her fiercely. “Now, come, let me be married.”
By the time she and Susan stood beside Tristan and the marquess at the entrance to St. Anne’s, the shadows were lengthening on the churchyard grass. Where had the day gone?
“What are we waiting for?”
“Matthews has not returned.” The marquess cocked his head. “Although I believe that is about to be remedied.” He nodded toward his carriage as it rounded the corner and swept up to the door. Matthews jumped out, then extended his hand to someone in the interior.
Violet drew closer to Tris. Who on earth—
“Dora!” Two steps and she hugged her friend, unable to fully take in her presence. “But…how?” Further speech failed her.
“I saw the carriage drive up and had to take my chance.” Dora’s blue eyes sparkled. “It has been horrible since yesterday. Father has cursed both me and Simon morning and night. Mother took to her bed with smelling salts and my aunt has enjoyed the whole spectacle.” Dora grasped Violet’s hands, squeezing them so tight she winced. “Father confined me to my room, but I stole down and listened to Simon berate Mr. Matthews when he asked for the names and direction for his seconds. Simon said he could perform the formalities tomorrow in the woods, as there was no way he’d miss the pleasure of running Lord Trevor through.” With a laugh, Dora rolled her eyes. “Simon is worse than a fool.”
“He sounds it,” Susan mumbled.
Dora cut her gaze at the young woman, then shrugged. “He is one, make no mistake. It will be his downfall, rather sooner than later I believe.” Clutching Violet’s hands, she beamed at her friend. “Anyway, when Mr. Matthews left the library, I accosted him and asked after you. He told me the situation and I insisted on accompanying him here to see you married.”
“Alone?” Violet raised an eyebrow at that revelation. Matthews certainly looked harmless, but society dictated Dora must be chaperoned.
“Larkin is with me.” Dora nodded toward the carriage where the almost invisible, painfully shy maid crouched in the seat. “Your coachman will return us and perhaps with no one the wiser.” She smiled brilliantly and urged Violet toward the church. “Come, let us all see you married.”
Chapter 33
“The gentlemen have gone ahead, but if you will allow me, ladies.” Mr. Matthews opened the door and Violet, Dora, and Susan passed inside.
“Thank you, Mr. Matthews,” Violet said.
He followed them, remarking, “At least five degrees cooler in here without the sunlight.”
The smallest of the churches in the town of Devizes, St. Mary’s had seemed the more discreet choice of location for the wedding. Violet and Tris had discussed it at length and decided they wanted as few people as possible to know of their marriage, certainly not Lord and Lady Downing. After the duel they could return to London and announce it in grand style. Dora’s presence in the wedding party with Susan, therefore, was an unexpected boon.
Violet blinked, her eyes adjusting quickly to the church’s dim interior. The gray stone walls reflected what light still filtered through the stained-glass windows on either side of the nave. They depicted scenes from the life of Christ with St. Mary a prominent figure in each. Violet spied Tris with the marquess and the vicar standing in front of the altar. Tris smiled so broadly, his eyes so full of love, she trembled, scarcely able to continue down the aisle. The longest walk of her life, perhaps, but what a glorious prize awaited her at the journey’s end.
“Here, my lady. Let me take your cloak.” Susan drew the dark wool cape off her, revealing her pale blue satin brocade gown, pearl trim and glittering crystal embroidery on the bodice, neck, and cuffs catching the light of the candles.
Tris’s eyes grew enormous, an appreciatory gleam in them. He shook his head, frowning. “Where did you get that gown? I recall one similar—”
“She left this one behind at Lammas House, your lordship,” Susan volunteered. “I occupied my time with it on the journey here. I suspected she didn’t have a gown grand enough for her wedding day and made sure to provide for it.” She smoothed the fabric over Violet’s waist and twitched the fit at the shoulders. “My wedding gift to you both.”
“Thank you once more, Susan,” Violet said, blinking back tears. She would be bubbling like a fountain soon if she didn’t keep control. “But I am
not ‘my lady’ yet.”
“Wait ten minutes and you will be, my lady.” Smile broadening, Susan glanced at Tris. “You had best take care of her or you answer to me, my lord.”
“You have my oath on it, Susan. I vow to love and protect her until my dying breath.” His words sent a trickle of fear down Violet’s back, but she shook it off and took Tris’s hand. A wave of joy washed over her. She’d think of this only, of them being joined together forever. Happiness poured through her, and fear faded.
Tris’s gaze gentled as he drew her to stand beside him. He stared at her, brows arched, lips parted as though about to speak, his love on his face for all to see. As he continued to stare at her, the vicar began the service.
“Dearly beloved…”
Violet wanted to listen, to remember each word, every detail of this perfect moment. Instead, she heard nothing save the blood pulsing in her ears, her voice rasping as she gasped for breath, the low scraping of his thumb as he stroked the back of her hand. Not the memory of her wedding she’d planned. Still, it would be enough. She would remember these things for the rest of her life.
“Bless, O Lord, this ring to be a sign of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” The vicar looked expectantly at Tris.
“Oh, d—” Tris clamped his lips shut and clutched her hand. “Can we do it without the ring, Mr. Curry?” he implored the vicar.
“Here, my lord.” Dora darted forward, pulling a ring from her pocket. “I never got the chance to return it to you.” Smiling, she dropped the gold and sapphire Trevor betrothal ring onto Tris’s palm.
Speechless, Tris nodded, cleared his throat, and slid the ancestral ring onto her finger. “Violet, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow…”
Time stood still as Violet stared at him, love for him pouring through her so fiercely tears of joy spilled down her cheeks. She belonged to Tris now. Forever.
“Amen.” The vicar intoned the final word and closed his prayer book with a snap.
Before the echo could fade, Tris grasped her face and drew her to him. “I love you and you are mine, Lady Trevor.” Then he crushed his lips against her with a force that stole her breath. Not a kiss of passion, but of possession, of two souls melding.
She never wanted it to end.
At last, he broke from her, grinning ear-to-ear.
Applause shook the empty church, thunderous despite the intimate congregation. The vicar produced the register and first Dora, then the marquess signed as witnesses. Violet and Tris signed as well before she found herself in the arms of first Susan, then Dora, tears of joy still spilling down her face. “Thank you. Thank you all so much.” She turned from one dear friend to the other. “I cannot believe it is true. Like a fairy story.”
“And you will live happily ever after,” Dora pronounced, squeezing her hand. “I wish you all the joy and happiness you deserve, Violet. But I must say goodbye. If I am missed, it will be yet another row.” She sighed. “I promise to pray very hard tomorrow morning for Lord Trevor.” A slow shake of her head. “And perhaps a small prayer he doesn’t actually kill Simon, deserve it though he might.” Throwing her arms around Violet, she hugged her close. “Goodbye, Lady Trevor. I truly hope we meet again.”
Violet nodded and let her go. “On the happiest of occasions, your wedding day. Farewell, my friend.”
Dora turned to Tris, her face calm, though small worry lines showed around her eyes. “My lord, may I borrow your carriage to return to the Grange?”
“I think you need more protection than a mere coachman—no offense to Stokes, of course.” With a deep bow, the Marquess of Dalbury presented himself before Dora. “Allow me and Mr. Matthews to accompany you and your maid home, with the chaperonage of Miss Douglas as well.” He gestured to Susan, then winked at Dora. “If need be, I’ll have a word with your father.”
Tris snorted. “He’ll die of an apoplexy if you show up, Duncan. But then he’d see you tomorrow morning in any case.” He grabbed Violet’s cloak from the pew and draped it securely around her shoulders. “I wish you good luck with your endeavor. Meanwhile, I shall accompany my wife—” he lingered over the word, then squeezed her shoulders “—back to The Black Horse and prepare a celebration for us all.” Solicitously, he drew her arm through his. It fit perfectly, as though made for the crook of his elbow.
They strode down the church aisle and out into the stunning pinks and purples of the winter’s sunset. What a beautiful world.
Violet clutched his arm as he handed her into the carriage and climbed in beside her, not letting go of his hand for a second.
He kissed their linked hands and rapped on the carriage roof. “To the inn, Stokes.”
The intense blue of his eyes seemed magnified somehow. She would enjoy diving into those luscious pools and never returning.
“My lady and I are ready for a celebration.”
* * * *
Tris moved the candle close to the edge of the nightstand so it threw his beloved’s features into sharp relief. She lay on her stomach beside him, her face toward him, her luxurious hair in disarray over her shoulders and back. Never would he tire of the sight.
They’d made love twice since retiring from the celebration in the taproom, but seeing her beauty, knowing he’d be the only man ever to see her thus, made his cock rise like Lazarus. He could watch her like this for hours, if only he had some self-restraint.
Brushing her hair from her shoulder, he ran his hand over her warm skin, satiny smooth and creamy. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Might as well tell a horse not to graze in a field full of sweet clover. All the while they’d had their health toasted downstairs, he’d held her hand, patted her thigh, kissed her, but couldn’t get enough, never enough. Biding his time until they could steal away up here.
“Mmm.” She stretched and relaxed with a little sigh. She opened one amber eye. “You need to sleep, my love. I would have your wits about you in the morning.”
“I will. I promise.” He slid his hand across her back, curving his fingers around her breast where it met the mattress. “I need to touch you is all.”
A sleepy smile and she rolled onto her back, her breasts rising like twin mountains with small, brown peaks. “I am here for your pleasure, my lord. Do with me what you will.”
“God, I love you.” His heart strained in his chest, emotion threatening to spill over into his voice. For once, he didn’t care. “I love everything about you. Not only your body, but your wit, your talent, your stubbornness that wouldn’t let you stop, no matter what.” He explored her nipple with his fingertips, its curve, the pebbly texture. His attentions made them tighten further, like a flower closed against the night’s cold.
Rather than watch his hand, she met his eyes, the unfaltering golden gaze making him groan with need.
Even her look made him want her more than the air he breathed. He rubbed the tip of the nipple, scraping his fingernail lightly across the flat top.
She closed her eyes and moaned, her brows furrowing as she stretched and arched toward him.
Slowly, he slid his hand down her warm flesh, spreading his fingers wide across her flat stomach, eliciting a wiggle and a laugh when he hit a ticklish spot.
Her face changed moment by moment, her brow now lifted, now furrowed in concentration, her lips curved up in a smile or open in a silent moan.
When he reached the curls over her mound, she drew a sharp breath and licked her lips. His shaft stiffened, bending back until it touched his stomach. Not yet. Not for a long time yet. Determined, he used his forefinger to circle her nub.
“Ahh.” She arched and panted.
Her sounds drove him mad with wanting to sink himself into her. Still, the beauty of her face as pleasure built inside her intrigued him. He’d seen her at different times during the throes of passion, but never at the ultimate moment. Always he’d wait for her to reach the penul
timate moment, then close his eyes and lose himself in her as passion took them. While almost heart-stopping, his actions had robbed him of the pleasure of seeing her face at the moment of completion. He’d promised himself he would see that beauty tonight.
“Oh, Tris.” Gasping, she writhed on the bed, raising her hips to meet his finger, still stroking her round and round. “Lower. Inside me.”
“Your wish, my love.” His heart hammered and his cock strained as he slid his digit inside her warm, wet channel.
“Ahh.” Her moan began as a guttural sound, then rose to high pitched squeaks. Her face flushed, a lovely pink staining her cheeks and forehead, where fine beads of sweat glistened. She tried to reach his very ready member, but he stayed her hand, all the while stroking in and out. “Now, Tris. Put yourself inside me now.”
“I want to watch you, love, as the passion takes you.” He kissed the damp forehead and added a second finger. “Then I will join with you.”
“Ahh. Ahh.” She closed her eyes, her ragged breath timed with his thrusts. The slow, sure rhythm pushed her toward the edge, each stroke met with an increasingly louder moan.
He sped up his thrusts, intent on the flushed face.
Fisting her hands in the sheets, she opened her blazing eyes, and shrieked, “Oh, God,” as her body clutched at his fingers. “Tris, oh, Tris,” she cried as her face took on a glow, a radiance of beauty he’d never glimpsed before.
Scarcely missing a beat, he climbed on top of her and thrust home. She gripped him now and he closed his eyes, her face still before him, gave two thrusts and spent himself deep inside her. The memory of her face at that moment in time would remain with him always.
She continued to moan as her body clasped him and he remained inside her until she stopped, both of them completely spent, now eternally knit together as one.
Chapter 34
Warm lips pressed against hers. Violet reached the edges of consciousness and cracked an eyelid to see Tris bending over her, tucking the rumpled covers more securely around her.
