More Than Charming (10 page)

The Earl of Bradford looked up in surprise. “James, whatever are you doing here? I believed you would remain at Leed’s for a fortnight at the very least.”

James patted his father on the shoulder and sat across from him, suddenly at a loss for the right words.

A smile teased the corner of the earl’s mouth. “What happened?”

“I’ve asked her to marry me, Father. And I am pleased to tell you that she has consented.”

His father blinked, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well. Pray, what has changed?”

James shrugged, his own grin matching his father’s. “I realized that fighting our match would be impossible.”

“You love her, then?”

It was James’s turn to be taken aback. He shifted in his chair. “I . . . I’m not certain. I care for her more than I’ve ever cared for another.”

The earl folded his hands in his lap and fixed a curious look on his son. “And who is this fair young lady who has so captivated you?”

James’s grin widened. “Catherine Talbot.”

“What?” his father asked in surprise. “Leed’s little sister? She’s but a child, no?”

James smiled wryly. “She’s nineteen, Father. Hardly a child.”

“Nineteen? Where does the time go? And how long have you had such feelings for her?”

“Nearly two months, I imagine. I admit I was quite drawn to her when I saw her at Chester’s wedding. I hadn’t seen her for nearly a year prior. She’s matured considerably since Waltham’s betrayal of her.”

“What’s this? A betrayal?”

James then told his father of Catherine’s betrothal and the wedding that never took place. Anger at the scoundrel’s ill-use of her caused his fists to clench. “The bloody fool hurt her.”

“Yes, I imagine that would mature the girl,” the earl stated. “Unfortunate business, that.”

“Most fortunate for me, however.”

“I’ve never before seen you so happy, son. Most fortunate, indeed.” The older man studied him for a long moment. “Perhaps some brandy to celebrate?”

James stood and rang for the servant.

*     *     *

It was decided that Catherine would be married at Talbot Hall, her father’s grand estate, in two weeks’ time. Once James procured a special license, there would be no reason to wait any longer. Her aborted wedding to Waltham had been set to take place in the church nearest the hall, but Catherine wanted no reminders of that folly.

The estate was also situated in Yorkshire, farther to the north. After her father had regained his fortune, lost mainly to a bout of gambling two years past, much was spent on reparations to the main house. As a result the estate was well-suited to host as lavish a celebration as the wedding promised to be. Elizabeth threw herself into the wedding preparations and Catherine was only too pleased to permit her and Michelle free rein to plan the event. She herself had done most of the planning for her ill-fated wedding to Waltham and had no desire to do so again. She wished only to marry James. What color flowers and how large the orchestra? Those were details that didn’t interest her.

When James returned to Leed Manor late that evening, Catherine greeted the carriage in the drive.

He stepped down and placed his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing out here, Catherine? It’s far too chilly.”

Catherine clicked her tongue at him. “I wished to give you a proper greeting, groom,” she said sweetly.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly, pulling back to smile up at him.

He flashed a wicked smile. “That isn’t a proper greeting, bride,” he said in a low voice.

He grabbed her to him and kissed her soundly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. “Now, that’s a proper greeting.”

She gasped, but kissed him back, much to his obvious delight. He pulled back and winking, took her hand. “Let us go inside, love.”

In the drawing room, as the guests awaited the dinner bell, they were surrounded by the ladies. As talk of flowers and orchestras and banquets floated about him, James’s eyes settled on her. Catherine shrugged and smiled at him, forcing her attention to the discussion. She was unable to deny the passion in her fiancé’s smoldering gray eyes, however. Oh, she was a lucky bride.

Long after dinner, James stood to accompany Catherine to her chamber. Apparently ignoring her brother’s piercing gaze, he nodded a good evening to all assembled and led her from the room.

When they reached her chamber door, Catherine looked up at him expectantly. He leaned close to her, placing his mouth on hers. Sighing, she opened to him. James took her mouth, tasting his fill as she began to press against him. He finally lifted his head.

“James,” she whispered as his mouth left hers.

James groaned softly and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I must bid you good night here in the hall, Catherine.”

“But why?”

He reluctantly pulled away from her. “Your brother will have me drawn and quartered, Catherine.”

Catherine gazed up at him and smiled a siren’s smile at him. “Good night then, James.”

“Good night, love. I believe I’ll join your brother for a brandy.” He turned away and started down the hall. She could hear his frustrated mutterings and knew he gave voice to everything she was feeling. She entered her chamber with a longing sigh.

The next two weeks passed much too slowly for James’s sanity. He breathed a sigh of relief when, two days before the wedding, Catherine left for Talbot Hall. Being so close to her and unable to touch her was slowly driving him mad. No doubt her brother seemed to find that fact quite amusing.

James took himself off to Bradford Hall to determine if his father would be able to attend the wedding. The weather had turned chilly, it being the start of October, but the ride to Talbot Hall was only a few hours. The earl wouldn’t permit his son to dissuade him from attending the celebration. Acquiescing to his father’s wishes, James spoke with his father’s manservant and made certain that the older gentleman would be comfortable on the journey.

Taking himself into his study, James worked a bit on his ledgers, his mind constantly coming back to Catherine. Lord, how he missed her. How he wanted her. He refused to puzzle through his feelings for her. Catherine hadn’t asked for those words he was so reluctant to give, thank God. If she wasn’t troubled by that pesky emotion, he most certainly wouldn’t bring it to her attention.

He completed his work and closed his ledgers with satisfaction. The year he’d spent with his father, in exile as it were, had given him the opportunity to see his matters straightened. His holdings, not far from Bradford Hall, were well-managed by his steward and quite profitable. The leased properties were on prime farmland and brought in a handsome sum each quarter. He prayed it would be a very long time before he added his father’s properties to his own, and was quite content to share Bradford Hall with the earl.

James suddenly straightened. He’d need to prepare his suite of rooms for his new bride. He strode from the room, intent on speaking with the staff and putting all in order for Catherine’s arrival. He stilled. Lady Roberts. His wife.

He’d known he would marry some day. He never would have guessed Catherine Talbot would be the one. Now he was hard pressed to picture any other woman filling that role.

“Amazing.”

He shook his head and continued toward the back of the house.

*     *     *

It was the evening before their nuptials were to take place and Catherine paced the floor of her room at Talbot Hall. Her wedding dress, a magnificent confection of white satin, hung at the ready in her dressing room. She crossed to it, a small smile on her face. Michelle assisted her in the selection of the gown and assured her that the cut was well suited to her figure. The dress was quite elegant, trimmed with wide piping and graceful bows. Catherine’s heart did a little flip as she imagined James’s face when he saw her in the dress. And wouldn’t he look absolutely splendid in his formal black? Lord, he was a handsome man.

She missed his kisses, his caresses, these past two days. While they had never been alone for any length of time, they’d managed to steal kisses now and again. James had told her in hushed tones of all the wonderful things he wished to do with her, his eyes glittering. Were such deeds possible? She was breathless with anticipation.

A maid knocked on her door and handed a missive to Catherine, leaving with a curtsy. Catherine turned the paper over, a thrill going through her when she once more recognized James’s hand. She closed the chamber door and sat at her vanity, breaking the seal on the letter. She gasped as she read his message, the passionate words affecting her nearly as much as if he stood before her reciting them.

My Dearest Catherine,

I’m counting the hours until you are mine. I picture you at Talbot, tucked cozily in your bed, and my pulse races. Tomorrow, love, we will be one. I promise to make you happy, bride. To the fullest of my ability. Think of me as you drift off to sleep tonight, knowing I lay in the bed we will share as man and wife. Sleep well.

Until tomorrow,

James

Catherine sighed, pressing the paper to her breast. She’d saved his note from Leed Manor, the one in which he asked to meet her in the courtyard. She opened the drawer and placed this note on top of it. Withdrawing a length of violet ribbon from a box atop the vanity, she secured the papers with a pretty bow. How utterly romantic and silly. No matter. Even if James didn’t love her, there was no denying the passion in his letters.

She felt her heart clench as the realization struck her that she might very well be falling in love with her groom. And while James was always sweet and tender, she wouldn’t fool herself into thinking he felt that incredible emotion for her. Sighing once more, she closed the drawer, James’s romantic words still ringing through her mind. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, finding it quite easy to follow James’s instructions. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of her groom.

In her dreams, however, James promised to love her forever.

*     *     *

The next day, their wedding day, dawned crisp and sunny. James left Bradford Hall with his father, the older man dressed for the chill of the morning. They had a thirty-mile ride to Talbot Hall, a manageable feat to be sure as the roads appeared to be dry and relatively smooth in that part of Yorkshire. The gentlemen sat across from each other inside the carriage. The Earl of Bradford settled himself comfortably against the cushioned seat. James fidgeted, his mind on the coming ceremony.

“James, do sit still. You’re fairly rocking the carriage.” The earl smiled broadly at him. “You’ll spook the horses.”

James smiled, losing a bit of his nervousness. He reviewed the plans that had been discussed over the past few days, most pleased with the developments. His father was to remain at Talbot Hall after the celebration, at the happy insistence of Catherine’s father, for nearly a fortnight. James and Catherine would adjourn to Bradford Hall that very evening after the ceremony, affording the newlyweds a bit of solitude. His lips curved into a smile at that thought. Lord, he could scarcely wait to bring her back with him. To make her his. But he had yet to get through the bloody ceremony. He straightened his clothes and sat stiffly in the cozy carriage.

His father chuckled at his obvious agitation. “Relax, boy,” the earl said. “Catherine Talbot is a lovely girl. You’ve made a sound match.”

James felt a rightness, a certainty, seize him as he thought of Catherine as his wife. Her beauty, her sweetness, her passion, pleased him greatly.

“I concur, Father,” James allowed with a grin. “Quite a sound match indeed.”

When they arrived at Talbot Hall, Catherine’s father and brother greeted them. The wedding guests would arrive that afternoon to join in the celebration, but only their close relatives would witness the ceremony itself, much to the groom’s great relief. His nerves were fairly humming. Strange, as social engagements never caused him anything but ease. And yet he stood in the drawing room of the great house, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Paul smiled wryly. “A bit nervous, Roberts?”

James fixed a look of exasperation at his future brother-in-law, not dignifying his jibe with a verbal response. Paul barked out a laugh, but before James could think to reply, he stiffened and turned toward the doorway.

Michelle and Elizabeth entered the drawing room, looking very lovely in gowns of rose. They crossed to join Paul and James’s father and turned to face the doorway. James followed their gaze, drawing in a breath at the sight before him.

There stood the Earl of Talbot with his eldest daughter on his arm. Catherine took James’s breath away, resplendent in white satin. Her hair was upswept, glossy brown tendrils brushing her slight shoulders. Her gown hugged her curves, giving James a provocative glimpse of perfect creamy skin above the bodice. He brought his eyes to her face. Her eyes sparkled; a smile curved her full lips. He could hardly believe she was soon to be his.

Catherine ran her gaze over him. Her eyes darkened and James felt that spark of connection when her father placed her hand in his. He turned to face the minister.

The ceremony was concluded with much haste, almost before he realized it. James kissed her soundly, sealing their union. Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, offering the couple their congratulations. Michelle left to see to the final preparations for the celebration, dragging Elizabeth along with her. She shot a meaningful glance at her husband, who took her cue and invited the older gentlemen to join him in the library. James watched them go, holding tightly to Catherine’s hand.

When they were at last alone, he turned to face her. “God, you look incredible, bride.”

Catherine smiled up at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He bent his head to hers and kissed her tenderly. Catherine opened for him, placing her gloved hands on his chest and rising up on tiptoe. James wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, letting his tongue stroke and tease hers.