Courting Susannah (32 page)

He smiled, and there were memories in his eyes. “Oh, yes. Long ago and far away, I had a wife. Her name was Laura. She died of a cancer.”

“I'm sorry.”

He patted her hand again. “Don't be. We had more happiness in our time together than many people enjoy in all their lives, and I know she's waiting for me in heaven.”

Susannah sighed. “Did you have children together, you and Laura?”

“Four sturdy sons.”

She braced herself, thinking the reverend would tell her of more tragedy, but he didn't. “Matthew is an attorney in Boston. Mark is vice president of a shipping concern and lives in London. Luke preaches the gospel
back in Kansas, and John is still at school, being the youngest. He plans to be a doctor.”

“That's wonderful,” Susannah said, imagining the minister's sons, far away and busy with their constructive lives. “You must be very proud.”

“I am indeed. There were times when I thought they'd all wind up in prison.” The old man paused to laugh fondly. “They're good boys, but they were full of the dickens when they were young. Preacher's kids, you know. Always something to prove.”

“Don't you miss them?”

“I suppose,” he replied gently. “But they are men now, busy with their own pursuits, and all of them have families, except for John, of course. That's as it should be—we train our children not to need us, if we're wise.”

Susannah thought of Victoria, imagined her as a woman, and wanted to weep for the sorrow of losing the baby she was, the little girl she would become. Time passed too quickly; lives changed, children grew up, lovers got old, only to be parted by death. She sniffled.

“Here, now,” the reverend said, offering a neatly pressed handkerchief. “What's the matter?”

Susannah blew her nose as delicately as she could, wadded the kerchief, and dabbed at her eyes. She'd been doing entirely too much crying lately, for someone who was basically happy. “Life is so precious,” she said, and sniffled again.

The minister smiled, and after that they talked of the quiet wedding that was to take place the following afternoon in the main parlor. Although Susannah would have preferred to be married in the church, she knew Aubrey wasn't up to traveling even that small distance.

When Reverend Johnstone took his leave, Susannah made the rounds of the house, turning off gas lanterns, securing doors. At the windows of her own bedroom,
where Victoria slept peacefully in the cradle, she stood watching snowflakes dance golden in the light of the street lamps.

It seemed perfectly practical, just then, if not ideal, to marry a man who did not love her.

Ethan adjusted his brother's string tie. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, but he was grinning. “Marriage is a serious undertaking.”

“Don't remind me,” Aubrey said. He couldn't help thinking of the day he married Julia; how stupidly happy he'd been, how he'd believed in love in much the same way a child might believe in fairies or leprechauns. Now, here he was, making the same leap all over again, except for a few minor changes.

He'd learned the hard way that love was for dreamers and fools. He and Susannah would be partners, in and out of bed, and build a life together on a sound foundation of intelligence, good will, and common interests. All very well, but he was
still
stupidly happy.

“What kind of honeymoon will you have?” Ethan fretted. “Here you are, with your ribs wrapped—”

“I don't expect to use my ribs,” Aubrey replied. Ethan was still fiddling with the tie, and he knocked his brother's hands away, impatient. “As for the honeymoon—not that it's any of your damn business—we'll take a trip to Europe next spring.”

Ethan whistled through his teeth, obviously impressed. “Does Susannah know about this?”

“Not yet,” Aubrey answered, inspecting himself in the mirror over his bureau. He was stiff from the bindings, but most of the bruises were gone, and he looked decent in his best suit. With Ethan's help, he'd shaved, and though he'd tried to slick his hair down with water, it was on the springy side. He frowned. “Have you got the ring?”

“For the fifth time,” Ethan answered with a mirthful sigh, “yes.” He produced the wide gold band with its large, emerald-cut diamond, having plucked it from his vest pocket with a deft motion of two fingers. “See?”

“Just don't lose the damn thing,” Aubrey grumbled.

Ethan laughed. “Listen,” he teased, “if you're too fainthearted to go through with this wedding, I'll be glad to step in and marry Susannah for you. She's about as fine-looking a woman as I've ever seen, and smart, too.”

“Too smart to hitch herself to the likes of you,” Aubrey retorted, but he couldn't help smiling. Although his brother hadn't confided in him yet, Hawkins had brought the excellent news that there was a romance brewing between Ethan and Ruby Hollister, the young sister of his lawyer.

“You ready?” Ethan asked when several ominous chords thundered up from the piano belowstairs.

Aubrey sighed. “I'm ready,” he said. He sure as hell hoped it was the truth.

Susannah wore a dress she and Maisie had selected together at the general store just that morning. For all that it was hastily purchased and even more hastily altered, the gown was like something out of a maiden's dream, with yards of ivory silk in the skirts, Irish lace on the bodice and the wide, puffy sleeves. The buttons resembled tiny pearls.

Besides the bride, the nervous groom, and the minister, Ethan, Maisie, and Ellie were present, along with Mr. Zacharias, Mr. Hawkins, and several of Aubrey's other associates. Mr. Hollister and his lovely sister Ruby were also among the guests. One or two wives had joined the party as well, prominent members of the Benevolence Society, and they were watchful, as though they expected either Susannah or Aubrey to bolt before
the Lord's will could be done and a sinful situation made right.

Susannah bent her head, lest they see her smile.

“If you'll both take your places here, in front of me,” the Reverend Johnstone said, standing with his back to the large fireplace.

Susannah and Aubrey looked at each other, and Aubrey hooked a finger under the front of his collar before stepping forward. Susannah stood next to him, her heart pounding with exhilaration and fear.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister began in his rolling voice.

Susannah felt the floor buckle beneath her and stood a little straighter. Catching the motion out of the side of his eye, Aubrey took her elbow in a strong grasp, as if worried that she would faint dead away. She wasn't sure she wouldn't, until the vows had been exchanged and Reverend Johnstone pronounced them man and wife.

Man and wife.

Susannah felt giddy and so was caught by surprise when Aubrey pulled her close for the marriage kiss. Cheers were raised, it went on so long, and when he finally released her, Susannah was pink to the hairline and more than a little disoriented.

“Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey Fairgrieve,” the minister said in proud introduction, indicating the newlyweds with a rather grand gesture of one hand.

There followed more hurrahs, a few whistles, and some foot stomping, all of a celebratory nature. The ladies of the Benevolence Society looked at once appalled and morally vindicated. Doubtless, they would report to their cohorts the fact that Aubrey Fairgrieve had taken the unattached female living under his roof to wife, as was only decent and proper.

Maisie had made a white cake with coconut frosting, and she sniffled happily as she served slices of the confection to the wedding guests. Ellie, red-nosed and teary-eyed, poured tea and coffee. Outside, snow fell like a benediction from heaven, turning a gray November vista into a magical place mantled in pristine white and littered with diamonds.

Ethan was the first to offer congratulations, shaking Aubrey's hand and kissing Susannah soundly on the forehead. She watched with interest as he introduced Ruby Hollister, the young woman who had come to the ceremony as his guest. Unless she was sorely mistaken, Susannah thought, there would be another wedding before very long.

After the cake, Mr. Zacharias insisted on taking the place of the church organist at the piano and demonstrating what he'd learned since beginning his lessons. He labored through “Clementine” and was rewarded with a round of exuberant applause, though Susannah wasn't sure whether the audience was genuinely impressed or simply glad that he'd finished.

The wedding supper was served in the dining room. This was a grand meal of baked ham as well as roast turkey, with all the accompanying side dishes. Maisie and Ellie had labored the whole of the day preparing it all, and, as Aubrey stood handsome and tall at the head of the table to raise his champagne glass in a toast to his bride, it seemed to Susannah that she would surely awaken at any moment and find that it was all a mere dream.

It wasn't, though. After they'd eaten and had still more cake, the guests began departing, two and three at a time. Soon there was only Susannah, seated at one end of the long table, and Aubrey, at the other.

He smiled through the candlelight—by then, darkness
pressed against the windows—and raised another glass to her.

“To the loveliest bride in the world,” he said. He took a sip from the crystal flute and then set it aside.

Susannah felt like dancing around the room, such was her joy, but she was nervous, too. They were alone now, and there were no more barriers between them, honorable or otherwise. She inclined her head, suddenly shy. “Remember your promise,” she said, and surprised herself, for the words had not been in her mind a moment before. Her body was still thrumming from his thorough attentions the day before, and she'd lain awake half the night, yearning for him, and here she was trying to put some sort of distance between them.

His eyes burned in the flickering candlelight, but not with anger. “I promised to persuade you,” he said. “And I will. Do you remember how you begged me yesterday, Susannah? Shall I repeat what you said?”

Heat surged into her face. “Don't you dare!” she cried in an anguished whisper.

He laughed, though not unkindly, and stood.

Susannah remained in her seat. “You have been injured,” she pointed out. “You are certainly not capable—”

He was beside her chair in a matter of moments, holding out one hand, palm up, for hers. “That, my darling wife, is your misapprehension.”

She looked up into his face. “I'm afraid,” she confessed.

He brought her gently to her feet. “Don't be,” he said.

Susannah trembled; as Aubrey held her hand, so he held her heart, too, and all her hopes for the future. He led her out of the dining room, through the entryway, and up the main staircase, and it seemed to her that he moved with his old confidence and strength.

Outside the door of his bedroom, now hers as well, he paused to bend his head and kiss her. “I can't carry you across the threshold, Susannah,” he said on a harsh breath when he drew back, “but I think you'll find me more than fit for the duties of a husband.”

Chapter 16

A
ubrey bolted the door and took Susannah into his arms without bothering to turn up the gaslights. When he lowered his head to kiss her, tentatively at first and then with a demanding thoroughness, all her nervousness slipped away, was replaced by something new, something conjured from fire and fury. For all Aubrey had taught Susannah to feel, during their earlier, unfinished encounters, she had never known needs and sensations like the ones he ignited within her then.

She could not have guessed how long he held and kissed and caressed her, there in their bedchamber, would not have cared in any case. She was transported, utterly naked, and could not remember shedding her clothes; his bare flesh was hard and warm beneath her exploring palms and fingertips, her mouth—when had he undressed? It didn't matter.

He found his way to a chair near the bed and sat in it; her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but still he was little more than a moving shadow, sitting down, grasping her lightly by the waist, lowering her to straddle his lap. She groaned in exultation, while a niggling voice in the back of her mind pointed out that she had needed no seducing. Where this man was concerned, she was a shameless wanton, and, worse, she had no aspirations to be otherwise.

He cupped her face in his hands. “Susannah,” he said gruffly, “listen to me.”

She whimpered; his erection was pressed between them, branding her middle with promises. He had loosed her hair, and it fell down her back, heavy against her skin, like a cloak. She raised her arms to lift its weight off her neck with both arms

“Listen,” Aubrey pleaded, a man in agony She felt his breath against one of her nipples, squirmed when he circled it with the tip of his tongue. “Damn it, Susannah.”

“What?” she asked, without any real interest in the reply. Her hands were still clasped at the back of her head, beneath her hair.