Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (35 page)

*

The next two and forty hours had passed more quickly than Gabriel could have imagined. His aunts had rallied around Grace and had taken the last minute details for his nuptials from the countess’s willing hands. The local seamstress had delivered half dozen gowns, along with accessories, for his bride-to-be, and Lady Worthing’s personal maid had brought a sense of style to his betrothed’s appearance. When Grace had stepped into the dining room surrounded by his aunts, Gabriel had belatedly realized how terribly wrong he had been. Grace Nelson was not simply pretty: She was stunning. His groin tightened immediately. Lady Eleanor’s dresser had styled Grace’s hair in an up do that framed her oval countenance and her décolletage revealed the delectable swell of the breasts he had vividly recalled from his fevered dreams. He would enjoy bedding the woman again.

Those had been his thoughts last evening when Grace had surprised him in the Linworth dining room. Now, all he could see was the spectacular glory of the woman as she approached on Lord Worthing’s arm. A soft copper gown with a bronze trim brought radiance to her skin. Gabriel found it difficult to breathe. She robbed him of all reason, but he welcomed the diversion. Worthing placed Grace’s hand in his, and they turned as one to face Doctor Perry.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…” Gabriel expected panic to set in, but somehow this felt right. As if he had found his way home.

Perry continued, “And therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God, duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.” Gabriel suppose his earlier wanton thoughts had no place in a chapel; yet, he desired Grace in a way he could not describe, even to himself.

“First, It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to praise his holy Name.” Gabriel wondered if God would bless his and Grace’s joining with children. Had he tempted the Fates one too many times? In the background, Perry’s voice continued to drone on. “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do confess it.”

Doctor Perry spoke of previous marriages and the like, but Gabriel immediately thought of the lies and deceit that lay between them. Staring deeply into Grace’s eyes he could find no trace of her involvement with his enemies. She displayed no signs of her mind dwelling on her duplicity. He saw only the absolute joy of the moment. Gabriel swore in that instant he would move the heavens in order to keep that expression on her face.

“Gabriel Luis Crowden,” Perry interrupted Gabriel’s thoughts. “Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Gabriel had never removed his eyes from Grace’s countenance. Evenly, he said, “I will.”

The vicar made a similar demand of Grace. Her lip trembled, but his new wife spoke her vows as if it was truly her heart’s desire, and for a moment, Gabriel permitted himself to believe in the dream. There was time enough for reality. For now, he would embrace happiness.

When Doctor Perry pronounced the final vows, Gabriel broke with tradition. He leaned forward and placed a brief kiss on his wife’s lips, marking her as his. The flush of color to her cheeks made her look years younger, and he chuckled to see her look away. “Not so bold,” he whispered into her ear as he placed Grace on his arm to lead her to the registry. Afterwards, he escorted his bride outside, where his family and friends awaited them. Rose petals rained down upon them as he threw coins in salutation to Worthing’s tenants.

Placing Grace beside him on the seat of a borrowed gig, Gabriel drove the short distance to Linton Park. There, the countess and Lady Worthing had arranged a wedding breakfast. For the first time in weeks, Gabriel felt like celebrating.

*

Grace had risen that morning to the exquisite knowledge on this day she would marry the man she dearly loved. Despite reason. Despite circumstance. Despite station, she had stumbled into the arms of one of the handsomest men in England. Even if he never loved her, she would be his wife. The mother of his children. Late last evening, Lady Worthing had come to Grace’s room to explain what Grace should expect from the marriage bed. Grace had not planned to confess she and Lord Godown had anticipated their vows. When she had explained her reasons for accepting the marquis’s attention in Scotland, Lady Worthing had slid her arm about Grace’s shoulder and had pronounced Grace’s decision a “reasonable” one.

She did not believe herself reasonable, but Grace thanked her stars to have found a friend such as Lady Worthing. A person who would accept her flaws without censure. Somehow, she had earned the respect of Lady Worthing and Lady Linworth. Their allegiance would see her through the early days of marriage, and surprisingly, despite her caustic opening speech, Lord Godown’s aunts had made genuine gestures to welcome her to the family. Be it any wonder she could not wipe the smile from her face.

*

“Come, my Dear,” Gabriel said as he extended his hand to his wife. She sat beside his Aunt Bel, and they appeared very cozy. “Lady Linworth has agreed to play a waltz. When we were in Scotland, I believe I promised you a dance.”

Grace’s countenance flushed with color, but her smile widened, and Gabriel felt his world shift. “You remembered?” she said happily.

Gabriel caught her fingertips as she stood. “I would be a poor excuse for a husband if I could recall nothing of our courtship,” he said teasingly.

Grace moved into his arms as Lady Linworth struck up the song’s first chords. “There is little to remember, my Lord. You slept through much of our short courtship,” she taunted.

As Gabriel stepped into the music, he whispered into her hair, “I recall certain aspects of those days more clearly than others.” He tightened his hold on her. Worthing and his guests looked on for they were the only couple spinning about the small open area. Evidently, Grace had not noticed for her countenance displayed nothing but joy. Gabriel leaned closer to keep his words private. “I recall the cream of your skin and the heat of you beside me.”

Grace’s eyes dipped, and she rasped, “I forgot not one moment, my Lord.”

God! He wanted her. Gabriel felt his groin tighten as he spun Grace to a stop. “We must depart if we expect to reach Gossling Hill before dark,” he told her as his friends surrounded them upon the dance floor.

A small smile curved her mouth’s corners. Grace nodded her understanding. “Lady Worthing’s maid has seen to my things.”

“Then we must bid our family farewell,” he announced to the smiling countenances, which crowded about them. “Lady Godown and I mean to reach Staffordshire this evening.”

Lexford slapped him on the back. “You wish to know your own bed tonight,” the viscount teased.

Grace’s averted her eyes, but she did not release Gabriel’s hand, a fact he greatly appreciated. Although she was far from innocent, he realized Miss Haverty would have objected to Lexford’s taunt. Grace took it all in good spirits, and for that, Gabriel was thankful. He kissed each of his aunts. “Lady Godown and I expect you to join us for Christmastide.”

Lyn answered for the trio. “We shall tarry for a few days with the Earl and Lady Linworth. Then we will follow, but more slowly than we arrived.”

Grace said honestly, “I shall anticipate your arrival, Lady Hyatt. I mean to know your secrets for the perfect Christmas feast.”

Lía added, “My sister is the culinary expert in the family. She plans the most magnificent meals.”

Grace enthusiastically hugged each of the Roses and then Lady Worthing and the countess. In less than a week, she had won the loyalty of five powerful women. Despite the nagging warning that said he should beware, Gabriel felt an honest pride in his new bride. “You have all been so kind,” she gushed. “I possess no words to express my gratitude.”

*

They had ridden most of the day and into the early winter darkness. “We will arrive soon,” he told her as he noted the familiar buildings of a neighboring village. Amazingly, they had spoken little throughout the day. He had envisioned holding Grace in his arms. Kissing her. Touching her. Sharing secrets.

Instead, she had sat staunchly in the forward facing seat and had stared out the coach’s window. Occasionally, she had asked something specific regarding the running of his household, but there had been no intimacies, and Gabriel had found the prospect of his mistaken choice quite daunting. Unable to stand the possibility any longer, he asked the darkness. “Grace, have I done something to offend you?”

“No, my Lord,” she said softly.

In frustration, he growled, “Then where did the woman I married go? While at Linton Park, you were carefree and thoroughly delightful. In the last eight hours, you have said less than a dozen sentences without my prompting.”

For several minutes, silence filled the shadowy carriage. Finally, she said, “Do you realize I am a marquise?”

Gabriel felt his irritation rise. “That is the normal standard when one marries a marquis,” he said testily.

Deep in her own thoughts, Grace ignored his tone. “And that I am to be the mistress of a great house?”

“Yes,” he said suspiciously.

“And my children?”

Gabriel finished her sentence, “Will inherit a title and lands.”

In the moon’s reflecting light, he saw her grimace. “I do not know how to be any of those things: a marquise, a lady of the manor, or a mother.”

Gabriel’s impatience lessened. He slid across the coach’s small space to capture her hand. “Is that what all this is about? You fear failing in the new roles you have assumed?” He heard the nearly silent sob, and he pulled her into his embrace. “Listen to me, Grace. Everyone has these moments when he questions his ability to fill his destiny. God only knows that I do so daily, but we have set our feet on this path. I will not leave you to tend to your own devices. We have begun this journey together, and we will end it as such.” He felt the moisture on her cheeks and flicked the tears away with his thumbs.

“I did not marry you for your ability to run a household. I have a very competent housekeeper to run the manor house and a steward to oversee the land. What I do not have is someone to share private moments. To speak to the loneliness. To share my bed.” He brushed her lips with his. The darkness permitted him the liberty to speak honestly. “If you could fill the roles I have described, I would count myself blessed among men.”

Despite her limited interactions with gentlemen of the ton, his wife appeared to accept the intensity of his tone and the look in his eyes as proof of his words. She sniffed loudly, “I would wish to be that person. The one you have defined,” she said with a rasp.

“Then kiss me, Grace.” She tumbled into his arms. They had always possessed a sexual connection, and Gabriel would use that desire to build their relationship. Clinging to his shoulders, she moved closer, and Gabriel deepened the kiss. This was the woman upon whom he had thought for the past two months, and tonight, she would warm his bed.

*

Grace has survived the introductions to Lord Godown’s senior staff and the very intimate meal he had arranged. His Lordship had assigned one of the younger maids to tend her. Elated at having been singled out to attend the house’s new mistress, the girl, known as Avery, chattered on about how ecstatic the staff was over Lord Godown’s wedding. Finally, the girl left Grace alone to wait for him–for her husband.

However, when a light tap came on the interior door, Grace’s heart stilled. This was her wedding night. A night she had never thought to see.

*

Gabriel had downed two glasses of brandy, not because he needed to shore up his resolve, but to deaden the excitement building in his blood. “Not a good idea to go off too soon,” he had told himself as he finished the second glass. Now, as he raised his hand to knock upon the door that would open into Grace’s chambers, he felt his blood warming faster than he had anticipated. With a deep steadying breath, he turned the latch and stepped into the room.

The door clicked as he turned the key for privacy. She stood before him in a thin muslin nightrail, which left very little to his imagination. Her body was more developed than he remembered, but there was definitely nothing amiss about his wife’s figure. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her and tearing away the cloth one strip at a time.

“Grace,” he said hoarsely.

“My Lord.” Her lips formed the words, but the sound was barely perceptible.

He shook his head in the negative. “In this room I am Gabriel.” Flames danced in his eyes.

“Gabriel,” she said with a small smile.

His gaze slid across her form again. The “V” at the apex of her thighs. The dark nub of her nipples. He was so hard his erection hurt.

With a growl, he moved quickly to pull her into his arms. As his lips found hers, Gabriel backed her toward the exterior door. Pining her against the hard surface, he held Grace where he might press his hardness against her soft planes. Warm and firm and intoxicating, her lips met his with the intensity, which always loomed between them. He had taught her to kiss thusly, and Gabriel relished how easily she returned his passion. No prudish innocent for his wedding night. His wife met his desire with hers.

Releasing her mouth, Gabriel nestled her head under his chin while his chest rose and fell in gasping breaths. “I must have you, Grace,” he said as he ran his hands up and down her back.

He felt her nod of agreement. Catching her about the waist and under her knees, Gabriel lifted her to him. He turned and strode to the bed. Unceremoniously, he lowered her to the mattress. Evidently, when his aunts had received notice of his marriage, they had set his staff to the task of preparing his mother’s room for his new wife. The clean linens had been scented with lavender sachets, and the room smelled of fresh beeswax.