The Black Diamond (12 page)

She'd probably never know for sure. All she
did
know was that ever since Mr. Scollard's prediction, she'd scarcely managed to stand still, much less sit, a fact that had thoroughly exasperated the poor maids who'd required her overseeing to pack her bags, and infuriated her already peevish modiste who had insisted on measuring
mademoiselle
for a wardrobe of new suitable gowns. Suitable for what? Aurora had wanted to scream. The next months would doubtless be consumed not with attending lavish house parties, but with searching for the black diamond. Madame Gerard, however, didn't know that. Further, the woman was unyielding, claiming that a married woman—and a duchess no less—required an entire line of new dresses, one for every occasion. Rather than argue, Aurora had steeled herself for what turned out to be prolonged hours of taking measurements, choosing colors, and selecting fabrics.

The sole diversions that had gotten her through the endless fortnight were her daily romps about the grounds with Tyrant—prompting a host of frustrated guards to follow in their wake—and her recurrent visits to the lighthouse. Three or four times each day, she'd raced down and burst into Mr. Scollard's domain, interrupting his work to pace about, babble incessantly, then become restless and rush back to the manor. The lighthouse keeper, extraordinary man that he was, had never complained, only listened patiently and silently, an odd smile playing about his lips.

During several sleepless nights, Aurora had contemplated slipping out of the manor and making her way to the far grounds of Pembourne where her great-grandfather's falcon cages stood. No one had disturbed them in years, so they'd be just as James had left them, other than the fact that they were now empty. Or perhaps not empty, perhaps holding a clue that would help her and Julian find the black diamond.

No. She'd dared not give in to that temptation lest the guards report her actions to Slayde, necessitating an explanation she'd promised Julian she would not give—yet.

Julian.

Apart from Aurora's speculations over the black diamond, Julian had been the major source of her sleeplessness. Maddeningly, she'd seen him but once during that interminable waiting period, four days prior to the nuptials when he'd come to flourish their newly acquired marriage license and to tell her privately—during the two minutes he managed to get her alone—that he'd uncovered nothing of consequence at Morland.

He'd also managed during those same two minutes to kiss her senseless—deep, drugging kisses that had left Aurora trembling long after he released her, long after his carriage disappeared around Pembourne's drive.

Between her preoccupation with the mystery hovering at their doorstep and the escalating fire Julian had kindled inside her, Aurora was ready to explode into a million scalding pieces.

The arrival of today, her wedding day, had indeed been a welcome relief.

For the first time since Julian's proposal, Aurora had applauded the deluge of activity that awaited her. From the instant the sun rose, excited servants had darted in and out of her chambers, preparing her bath, fussing over the selection of her undergarments, crooning over her gown.

At last, there she stood, gazing at her own reflection, nearly giddy with anticipation. Reverently she caressed the delicate silver and white creation that billowed at her feet, wondering if the flame-haired apparition staring back through awed turquoise eyes could in fact be she.

"You look beautiful." Courtney hovered in the doorway, a vision in lilac silk, lovely and glowing with impending motherhood and sisterly pride. She beamed her approval as two maids feathered Aurora's filmy lace veil about her shoulders in a shimmering white cascade. "Your bridegroom is going to swoon the instant you enter the chapel."

With a wry grin, Aurora reached up, touched the coronet of wildflowers that crowned her head. "
That
I doubt. Somehow I think there has yet to be a sight overwhelming enough to cause Julian to swoon."

"You underestimate yourself—
and
your effect on the man you're about to wed." Courtney walked over, nodding warmly from one maid to the other. "You've done a splendid job. T
hank
you both. I'll take over from here."

A minute later, Courtney and Aurora were alone.

Aurora cast a speculative glance at her friend. "Is something amiss? You're not feeling ill, are you?"

"Everything is fine. I feel wonderful." Courtney smiled, laying a caressing palm atop her abdomen. "The babe and I both do," she added. "The reason I asked the maids to leave is so you and I could talk—alone. This is the last chance we'll have to do so, at least the last chance before you leave Pembourne as Julian's wife."

Even as Courtney spoke, the sound of horses' hooves reached their ears, confirmation that the Huntley carriage had been brought around front and was now being readied for its drive to the chapel.

"Our last chance to talk alone?" Aurora murmured with her first glimmer of trepidation. "That sounds so final. Courtney, our friendship … our times together…" She chewed her lip, tried again. "You, better than anyone, know Pembourne has been more of a prison to me than a home. Slayde spent most of my life abroad, sequestering me here amid a host of guards. I realize he was only doing it to protect me. Nevertheless, my devotion to the servants notwithstanding, I have no affinity for this estate. But you—that's another matter entirely." Aurora's voice quavered a bit. "I feel as if we're sisters, and I don't mean only through wedlock. You mean the world to me, and marriage or not, I don't want things to change between us."

"Between us?" Courtney shook her head fiercely, seizing her friend's hands and squeezing them tightly. "That's never going to happen. Nor did I mean to imply that it might. As far as you and I are concerned, the only thing that will change is your residence. We'll still see each other constantly, confide our thoughts and our feelings, share our exploits. No, what I wanted to discuss was a different relationship, one you're first entering into; one that definitely
will
change your life." A pause. "Aurora, you're embarking on a whole new path. Along with a whole new set of experiences, different from any you've ever known. Beginning tonight."

Aurora didn't pretend to misunderstand. "You're referring to my wedding night."

"Yes. I am." Courtney's gaze probed Aurora's, her sea green eyes alight with concern rather than embarrassment. "You and I have conversed about everything under the sun—except this. So let me begin by asking, do you know what to expect?"

"Yes—and no," Aurora replied truthfully. "I've read every book in Pembourne's library, some of which become quite detailed on the subject of coupling. I've also been to the barn enough times to see animals mate. So yes, I know what to expect. Or rather, I thought I did. But when Julian holds me, kisses me…" She shook her head in bewilderment. "I feel things I don't understand at all. So do I know what to expect? I think not."

"That's because what you understand are the mechanics," Courtney returned softly. "Unfortunately those are the easiest, perhaps the only, aspects of lovemaking one can truly explain. The rest you have to experience yourself. And you will. The pull between you and Julian is strong, so strong it's palpable. Let that pull guide you, and I suspect that tonight will be the most extraordinary night of your life, followed by countless others in its wake."

Aurora blinked in amazement. "Somehow I know you're right.
How
I know that is beyond my comprehension, given that Julian and I are virtual strangers. Courtney, I've been alone with the man but twice. Yet, both times I became someone else, behaved like a total wanton. I never imagined feeling so … acting so…"

"You needn't explain. Further, you're
not
a wanton. You're a warm, vibrant woman who's only just discovering what it's like to be attracted to an equally vibrant man." Courtney's expression turned impish. "I shall try to restrain myself from reminding you that 'twas I who predicted this very situation would someday occur. Further, I shall avoid mentioning that your response to my prediction was to insist you were never going to marry, never going to find a man interesting enough to spend your life with. Well, it appears I was right, doesn't it?"

"You didn't do a very good job of restraining yourself," Aurora commented, her lips twitching. "Nevertheless, yes, you were right. Tell me, how did you become so clever?"

"Simple. I met your brother. You, better than anyone, know how I feel about Slayde."

"And how he feels about you. Slayde makes you come alive in a way I'm only now beginning to understand."

"Yes. He does. And I have a nagging suspicion that Julian will do the same for you."

"I share that nagging suspicion." Aurora made a helpless gesture. "And to think I'm saying such a thing after sampling no more than the most cursory taste—a taste that nearly made me swoon."

Laughter bubbled up in Courtney's throat. "Then if I were you, I'd prepare to succumb, for the entire feast lies just ahead."

* * *

The trip to the chapel was uneventful, the guards having followed closely behind to ensure that nothing and no one disrupted the morning nuptials. Messengers had been dispatched to London days earlier with strict orders to deliver the wedding announcement in time for tomorrow's newspapers, then to travel to Lady Altec's estate and deliver Courtney's missive just before the ceremony commenced.

Thus the chapel was quiet and peaceful at half after eleven when Slayde escorted Aurora down the aisle to begin her new life.

Aurora's heart was pounding so wildly she could scarcely breathe, her gaze darting about the small pillared chapel, from Mr. Scollard's proud expression to Courtney's loving smile to Vicar Rawlins who stood ready to perform the ceremony.

Coming to rest upon the sinfully handsome man to whom she would soon be joined.

Clad in a formal dark cutaway coat and breeches, Julian turned toward her, his topaz eyes glittering more brilliantly than all the room's candles combined. As promised, he was the essence of protocol, his snow white cravat starched and crisply tied, his double-breasted waistcoat cut just so. Even his black hair had been trimmed, although it still hung longer at the nape than was fashionable, just brushing the collar of his frilled white shirt. Conventionally dressed or not, he still looked dangerous, formidable, like a reckless pirate in gentleman's attire.

He was devastating.

His bold stare met Aurora's, then swept her from head to toe, thorough, possessive, blazing with unmistakable approval and undisguised hunger.

She and Slayde stopped before him, and Aurora felt her brother hesitate, clearly questioning what he was about to do.

Julian sensed it, too, although the only overt sign he gave was the slight tensing of his body, the ever-so-subtle narrowing of his gaze. He stepped forward and held out his hand, addressing Slayde even as he waited for Aurora to place her fingers in his. "She belongs with me, Slayde."

From the corner of her eye, Aurora saw Slayde glance at Courtney, saw her friend's reassuring nod.

Slayde released his sister, stood by as she placed her hand in Julian's. "Be good to her," Slayde commanded quietly. "Make her happy."

"I intend to."

The very words, the fierce promise they contained, made Aurora's mouth go dry. She moved to stand beside her bridegroom, walked the remaining distance with him to the altar, wondering if her nerves—
and
her knees—would hold out to the ceremony's end.

"You're breathtaking,
soleil
," Julian murmured, a whisper of sound that flooded her body with heat. She didn't dare reply, didn't dare so much as look at him. If she did, whatever semblance of control she had left would shatter.

The vicar began speaking the timeless words, asking the age-old questions that would forever transform Aurora's life.

As if in a dream, she heard Julian speak his vows, heard herself utter her own. Julian turned to her, his hand steady as he slid the delicate gold band upon her trembling finger, the metal cool against her overheated skin.

The ring reached its destination and Julian lingered, his thumb caressing her palm in a motion that both soothed and inflamed.