Annabelle's Courtship (30 page)

Ian’s face relaxed. “Is this an English dictate?” His teasing tone was like a gentle caress.

“No. It’s my dictate.”

He smiled into her eyes and moved his mouth closer to hers. “Kiss your husband, lass.”

“Is that a Scottish dictate?” she whispered. Annabelle’s lips were a mere breath from Ian’s as she spoke. She imagined that she could feel her breath caress his lips.

“Nay, ’tis my dictate,” he growled before lowering his mouth to hers.

They arrived at Lady Beauford’s townhouse moments later. Annabelle scrambled to get off of her husband’s lap before the coachman opened the door. He laughed at her attempts to straighten her appearance.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll not have everyone privy to you kissing me.”

“Dinna think they will be shocked, we are married.” His words did nothing to settle her mind. Among the
ton,
marriage was hardly license for affection. Annabelle had seen more tolerance shown for the fawning affection of a Cicebo than that of a husband.

As they entered the drawing room to join the wedding guests, Ian leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Wife, your cheeks have the hue of your aunt’s roses.” She felt warmth invade her insides at the word “wife”. No wonder Ian had made her repeat herself. It felt wonderful to know that from this day forward her life was intrinsically linked with his. She shared a relationship with her arrogant Scotsman that no one else ever would.

Robert approached with a smile. “Hello, Annabelle. I would never have thought it, but you fit the blushing bride to perfection.”

Visions of strangling her brother with his cravat floated before her eyes.

Diana came to her rescue in short order. “Robert, you will not annoy your sister or I will be forced to share some well kept secrets from our wedding day.” At the look of very real chagrin on her brother’s face, Annabelle smiled. “Thank you, Diana. You are a paragon.”

Diana acknowledged Annabelle’s compliment with a quick squeeze to her arm. Then she turned to Ian. “It’s too bad that your family could not come for the wedding.” He shrugged. His attitude sparked Annabelle’s curiosity. She wondered if Ian even wanted his family to come. He seemed hesitant to speak of them and had been adamant about not waiting for the marriage to take place in order to give them time to travel to London. Was he ashamed of marrying her? The thought did not sit well with Annabelle.

He’d best not be. It was too late to regret his choice.

After several exhausting hours celebrating her marriage with family and friends, Annabelle sighed in relief as she leaned against the squabs of Ian’s carriage.
Our
carriage
, she amended her thoughts.

“Tired, wife?”

“Yes. I never realized how fatiguing it is to receive happy wishes.” This time when Ian pulled her into his arms, she did not yelp. Sighing in contentment, she snuggled up against him.

He rubbed her back and it felt heavenly. “Poor lass.”

“That feels nice, Ian. Did the married men advise rubbing your wife’s back?” Not waiting for him to answer, she went on. “I think every matron in the room had advice for my wifely duty.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “And will you be taking their advice, wife?” Absently playing with the silky strands of his hair, she thought about her answer.

Would she? Some of it, maybe.

“Is it such a hard question, then?” Annabelle heard his amusement and smiled.

“No, it’s just that I’m not sure.”

“You sound serious, wife. What advice has you wondering?”

“It’s about the marriage bed.”

“Out with it, wife.”

Annabelle smiled in spite of herself at her husband’s demanding tone. So it was a subject that interested him as well. Somehow, she thought it might be.

“I am supposed to lie perfectly still and not cry out, or you will get a disgust of me.” She was unprepared for Ian’s bold laughter. Pulling on his hair she said, “It’s not funny, Ian. I already know I cannot stay still when you kiss me and touch me intimately.

How am I to stay still when you do more?”

Ian lifted her chin with his finger. His eyes mesmerized her. “I dinna want you to lie still, Belle. The fire of your passion is a very good thing and I dinna want you to dampen it. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head. “I understand.” She had expected this response, but a tiny part of her had been afraid that her uninhibited reaction to his touch was wrong. “Thank you.”

“Dinna thank me. Your response to my touch is a gift you give me, lass.”

“What a nice thing to say.” She yawned.

He did not respond, but kissed her softly before tucking her head under his chin. Her eyes grew heavy as his caresses lulled her into a peaceful state of lethargy. It was evening when Ian gently shook her awake. “Come, wife, we have arrived at the inn.” Annabelle rubbed her eyes and stared, blinking up at her husband. He waited patiently for her to come fully awake. Rumbling came from the vicinity of her stomach.

“I believe I am hungry.”

“Aye, you are hungry.” Ian lifted her from the carriage and carried her into the inn.

“I can walk, Ian. Let me down.” Annabelle struggled vainly for Ian to release her.

“I like holding you.” The tender warmth in his voice transfixed her.

“I feel like a child still in leading strings.” Ian pulled her close to his hard frame. Lightly brushing the side of her breast with his fingers, he whispered in her ear, “You dinna feel like a small child to me.” Annabelle laughed breathlessly. He refused to set her down until they had entered the inn and the proprietor had given them directions to their private parlor. Relief flowed through her that Ian did not intend to go straight to their bedchamber.

Sparse but elegant furnishings gave the parlor a welcoming aspect. An elegant table covered with an embroidered linen tablecloth sat between two chairs in front of the fireplace. A cozy fire burned in the grate, warding off the evening chill. Moving closer to

the table, Annabelle saw that it was set with china and crystal more in keeping with the home of a wealthy peer than a small inn.

A box, the size of a book, that matched the one Ian had given her with her betrothal ring, rested next to one of the china plates. She put her hand out and caressed the delicate rose carved into its top. She noticed, then, that the china had been painted with Ian’s crest. How? Overwhelmed, she turned to face her husband.

“Everything is perfect.”

“I am glad it pleases you, Belle.”

“How did you manage all of this?” She swept her arms out to include the table and everything on it.

He shrugged. “’Twas no hard. I had the china painted when I first got to London.”

“Why?” She could not take it in. “Surely you were not concerned about household matters so much as finding a wife and gaining your inheritance.”

“There is no china at Graenfrae.” He ran his finger along the outer edge of a plate.

“’Twas something my grandfather sold to finance his cause. After I chose you to wed, I dinna wish you to be too disappointed in my home. So, I commissioned a few household items. Lady Beauford was a great help.”

“My aunt?”

He nodded. “Aye.” He met her eyes, his intent. “I dinna want you to be deceived.

Graenfrae is a simple home. ’Tis naught by the standards of London. Even with the new dishes and linens, ’tis no like the home you are used to. ’Tis a deep cavernous castle.” He did not sound apologetic, just pragmatic. His tone of voice and stance told her that he found his home acceptable, but was not sure of her reaction. He wanted her to like his home, or he would not have gone to the trouble of buying the lovely china and new linens.

She smiled at him. “I am sure I will love Graenfrae.” He relaxed and nodded. “Aye. You will. ’Tis the loveliest place on earth with the heather blooming purple in the meadows and the grass lush and green.”

“It does indeed sound lovely. Robert’s favorite country estate is near the border. He believes its beauties more than make up for the lack of social amenities.”

“And Lady Hamilton? Does she like it as well?”

“Yes, I believe so. She teases Robert about moldering away on his estate, but she readily agreed to coming late to the season this year.”

The landlord came bustling into the room, followed by a serving wench, her arms laden with choice delicacies. “Everything arrived as Your Lordship said it would. We’ve set the table with your things just as Your Lordship instructed.” As the girl set the food on the table the landlord happily proclaimed that his wife had cooked all day to provide the delicacies Ian had requested. Ian seated Annabelle at the table and the landlord served them himself.

After the man left, Annabelle could not take her eyes off of her husband. She had been starving, but now all she could think of was the effort Ian had made on her behalf.

She waited until the landlord left to speak. “Thank you. Your thoughtfulness has made the end of my wedding day as perfect as I could ever imagine.” Suddenly his eyes darkened. He smiled, but did not look amused. “Nay, lass, your wedding day is not over, but when it is you will indeed think it has been perfect.” At the rich promise in her husband’s voice, her heart beat a wild rhythm. Not daring to answer, Annabelle set to eating the feast Ian had provided. Biting into a succulent pork cutlet, she felt the juices dribble down her chin. Before she could wipe it away, Ian reached across the table and softly tended to her with his napkin. The tender touch felt like a caress. Annabelle’s breath became shorter and she looked at Ian with all of the love that she felt in her heart.

“Dinna look at me that way, wife. Ye’ll be missing your dinner if you do.” Aware that Ian’s more pronounced burr confirmed his emotionally charged state, Annabelle’s heart hammered in her chest. The promise in Ian’s words was both thrilling and frightening. She enjoyed his touch, but could not get the image of his aroused manhood from her mind. Surely he was too big to join with her intimately.

If that was not enough of a worry, he had yet to see her completely unclothed. What if he found her lacking? What if she could not please him making love as she had with their pleasurable touching? It was a worry. Lowering her eyes to the tablecloth, Annabelle tried to concentrate on her dinner.

“Coward.” Ian’s softly spoken taunt could not go unchallenged.

Quickly raising her head to meet his gaze she was momentarily stunned into silence by the warmth she found in his eyes. “I am not a coward.” Rather than sounding certain as she intended, her voice came out a breathless whisper.

“Aye, you are. I’ll wait though. You’ll need your dinner to keep your strength tonight.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Nay, wife, ’tis only a blessed promise.”

“Ah, so this night I will feel blessed, but tired. Is that it?” Annabelle could not help but bait him.

“Aye.” He sounded so arrogant.

“How can you be so sure I’ll like it?”

“You will.” The man was too confident by half.

“Maybe I won’t. What do you think of that?” After all, he had been the one to say that making love was different than their pleasurable touching. What if it was too different?

“I think you are finished eating.”

Her mouth felt dry and Annabelle took a large swallow of her champagne. “I’m not quite finished yet.” She prevaricated, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was simply pushing the food from one side of her plate to the other.

He noticed.

Standing up, he put his hand out to her. “Come, bride, it is time you became a wife.” Searching for something to delay the inevitable, she caught up the box. “I have not yet thanked you for the gift, Ian. It is lovely.” The box was heavy. She opened the lid and stared in amazement. A golden choker of rose blooms nestled on the black velvet. She lifted it out and tears sprang to her eyes.

“It’s beautiful.”

Her words came out in a whisper, but he heard them. “’Tis your wedding gift.” His statement triggered her memory. “I have a gift for you as well. It is in my valise.” His eyes were so intent she almost lost her train of thought. “In our room.” He smiled. “Come, then, Belle. I have an overwhelming desire to see my gift in our room.”

He did not mean the books. His eyes spoke of a much more personal gift he wanted.

Desire and trepidation shuddered through her. Annabelle placed her hand in his and felt his warmth invade her. It was going to be fine. Other brides had made it through this ordeal as well.

“’Tis not an ordeal. Trust me, you will like it even better than what we have done before.”

Mortified, Annabelle realized she had spoken aloud. At least Ian wasn’t angry. He hadn’t taken kindly to her calling the wedding an ordeal, but he seemed to understand her nerves regarding the marriage bed. Gentlemen were funny.

Chapter Nineteen

There was nothing amusing about it, but Ian was laughing all the same. The daft man expected her to change into her night things while he was in the room.

“You cannot be serious. Ian, I am not going to allow you to help me change and you might as well understand that right now.”

Her voice was rising. Soon she’d be yelling like a fishwife. Why had she agreed to leave Purdy behind to pack the remainder of her belongings? Someone else could do it and then she would have another woman to speak to, someone to help her undress and ready herself for the night ahead.

Ian didn’t budge. “I would leave you to dress yourself, but in your current state you’d probably lock the door the minute I was on the other side.” Annabelle couldn’t very well scoff at his words, as the idea had some merit. How did other ladies overcome this horrible fear?

As if he could read her mind, Ian said “Dinna be afraid. We will not do anything you dinna want to do.”

“I do not want to get undressed.”

He shocked her by agreeing. “Fine.”

“It is?” She sounded like a mouse. Clearing her throat she spoke again. “You don’t mind?” That was much better.

“Nay.”

She sighed with relief.

“Come here.”

“Why?” She asked the question even as she started toward Ian. If he could be accommodating, then so could she.