The Perfect Bride (37 page)

Cliff indicated that they should stand before him, side by side. “You do know the
Fair Lady
seems destined to bring lovers together,” he said to her. “Amanda and I were married on this ship.”

“I had heard. All of town heard that she stole your ship and you didn't just chase her down, you married her, as well.” Blanche smiled. “I dismissed the tale as gossip. Was it true?”

“It was very true,” he said with a smile, his gold earring glinting in the lanterns' light. Then he looked at Eleanor. “Do you have the rings?”

“Of course I do,” Eleanor exclaimed.

“Then we shall proceed.” He looked at the assembled company. “We gather here tonight in the grace of God to bring this couple together in matrimony.” He smiled at his brother. “Do you, Sir Rex de Warenne, take this woman, Lady Blanche Harrington, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Blanche stared at Sir Rex's beautiful, strong and so classic profile. He turned to her. “I do,” he said softly, his eyes shining.

Blanche smiled at him.

“Do you, Lady Blanche Harrington, take this man, Sir Rex de Warenne, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Blanche wanted nothing more. “I do.”

“Eleanor, the rings, please,” Cliff said.

Eleanor produced the rings; one a plain gold band, the other a pearl set in diamonds, and Sir Rex took the latter and slipped it onto Blanche's finger. The ring was lovely and Blanche knew it had belonged to Eleanor. She smiled at her gratefully, taking the gold band and slipping it onto Sir Rex's blunt finger. She looked up and their eyes met.

Blanche trembled at the warm but very possessive look in his eyes. She loved him so much and she decided she would find the courage to tell him how much he meant to her. He smiled at her, as if he was feeling all that she was—as if he knew her innermost thoughts.

“You may kiss the bride,” Cliff added wryly.

Rex leaned close and Blanche closed her eyes. His mouth feathered hers and her heart raced with happiness, joy and excitement.

“By the power vested in me as captain of this ship,” Cliff said softly, smiling, “I hereby pronounce you man and wife.”

 

B
LANCHE SMILED AT
J
EM
as they stepped into the foyer. The carriage ride from the docks had been a half an hour at most and she was still holding Sir Rex's hand. She felt like a blushing bride, all nerves and smiles. She was almost dizzy from the madcap wedding. It remained unbelievable—like a fairy tale. Blanche wondered what to do now.

They hadn't spoken during the carriage ride, but Sir Rex had stepped into her coach as if it was his right—which it was. Would he stay with her now? And what would they do about sleeping arrangements? She was fairly certain he had no intention of consummating their marriage that night or any time soon. But shamelessly, she wished for just such a union. She knew her cheeks were hot. “Jem, I am Lady de Warenne now. Sir Rex and I have just wed.”

Jem's eyes widened briefly and then he bowed, but he was smiling and trying to hide it. “Welcome to Harrington Hall, my lord. And congratulations, my lady, sir.”

Blanche bit her lip, glancing at Sir Rex. He seemed terribly at ease. If he was concerned or anxious about what would happen next, she could not tell.

“Thank you,” Sir Rex said. “Tomorrow at eight precisely, I will meet the entire staff.”

Jem inclined his head.

Sir Rex turned to Blanche. “Shall we have a celebratory glass of champagne? Or are you too tired to do so? I realize this has been a long and surprising day.”

Her heart skipped. She was too overcome to give in to her fatigue, and too giddy with bridal excitement. She wanted to linger with Sir Rex—her husband.

They were man and wife.

She had to be the most fortunate woman in town.

“Of course I will take champagne with you.”

He sent her a warm smile, one so warm she believed, in that moment, that he desired her still, in spite of everything. He turned. “Jem, if you please, a bottle of your finest.”

“Shall I serve caviar, sir? Lord Harrington has quite the stock from the Caspian Sea.”

“If Lady Harrington desires it,” Sir Rex said, smiling at her.

Blanche somehow nodded. Sir Rex was stepping into his role as master of Harrington Hall as if born to it. But then, he was Adare's son and he had been born to enjoy power, privilege and wealth. It was his right.

But Meg hovered uncertainly behind them as Jem left. “My lady?” she whispered, as if she did not want Sir Rex to overhear.

Blanche faced her nervously. She knew what Meg wished to know and she hesitated, daring a glance at her husband. He was industriously studying the marble floors.

Blanche asked softly, “Sir Rex? What shall we do about tonight's sleeping arrangements? I realize we have married in a flash, and there has been no time to prepare a master suite, and your family is certainly expecting your return—”

He took her hand. “I wish only to please you,” he said, lifting her hand to his mouth. “And my family, by now, knows every detail of our wedding. No one is expecting me and I prefer to stay here.”

She wanted him to stay. She could not get the words out. She could not remind him that it would take a few hours at least to prepare a honeymoon suite for fear of a rejection. It would take longer to prepare a new master suite if they ever decided to share one.

“I will take any guest chamber,” he said softly.

Blanche smiled but jerked her gaze away, dismayed by his preference. “Prepare the Emerald Suite, Meg.”

Meg nodded and rushed off.

“It won't take long. Guests often stay there and it is always ready,” she said swiftly, smiling very brightly.

He clasped her hand. “What is wrong?”

She tensed, her gaze rushing to his. “How can anything be wrong when you have just rescued me from a terrible fate?”

He dimpled. “With Dashwood?”

“I do not know what I was thinking!”

“I know what I was thinking,” he said, his voice low and swift.

She looked into his bold stare. Such a masculine look made her knees weaken.

“Are you ready to collapse?” he asked softly, taking her elbow.

“I don't know how I feel,” she said truthfully. “I am a jumble of giddy emotions! Except I am relieved, of course, I am so relieved. It has been a nightmare…but that nightmare seems to be ending.”

“That nightmare is over,” he said firmly. Then, “I want you to be happy.”

“I am,” she managed. “I am so very happy, but I realize you are merely doing your duty.”

His gaze briefly widened. “Let's sit down.”

Blanche nodded and when they were seated in the Blue Room, he said, “Blanche, I do have a duty to you and our child, but I have not been forthright if you believe I have only done my
duty
in marrying you.”

Blanche couldn't smile. “Even if I recover, I am not the same woman who enjoyed your hospitality at Land's End.”

He stiffened. “I beg to differ! You are the same woman—a woman I am terribly fond of—and there is no ‘if.' You will recover. I thought we had cleared that up.”

“At Land's End, I was the perfect bride.”

“You are the perfect bride now,” he said firmly.

“Are you ever unkind?” she gasped.

“It is not my nature,” he said, somewhat perplexed.

Suddenly Blanche realized she hadn't thought about the riot and her mother's murder since her conversation early that afternoon with Sir Rex. There had not been one single memory, but now, perversely, the bloody images loomed. She saw the dead horse and her mangled mother. The mob hovered. She tensed.

“Blanche?”

She stiffened with dread, wishing she hadn't thought about that terrible day, waiting for that knife to pierce her temples. It did not.

Sir Rex clasped her face. “Stay with me,” he said softly.

Still, she expected to hear her mother's screams; she expected to be thrust into the midst of that riot, all of six years old again.

“It is such a beautiful night,” Sir Rex commented. At first, Blanche did not quite hear him. “Can you hear the crickets?” he asked.

She met his gaze, suddenly aware of the chirping in the gardens outside, the images vanishing as she looked into his brown-and-gold eyes. She trembled with uncertainty. “They were only memories, I think.” Dear God, she hadn't been jerked into the past.

He smiled as if they were discussing a picnic or the races. “Did you enjoy the ceremony—as brief as it was?”

She smiled back. “It was lovely.”

He laughed. “I don't think my brother had a clue as to what he was doing, my dear.”

Blanche became still. His laughter washed through her like a warm, sensual wave and her heart sped while her skin heated, everywhere. And he had called her “dear.” She wanted to be in Sir Rex's arms. She wanted far more than a feathery kiss. And she wanted him to call her “my dear” again.

His eyes darkened. His hand drifted across her cheek. “I do not know if I can be a proper gentleman when you look at me with such invitation,” he said softly.

Her heart thudded. “We are married,” she whispered. “I know I am hardly attractive now, but you need not be gentlemanly, not at all.”

His eyes widened fractionally. And his regard turned to smoke. “Blanche, you appear as fragile as the newest bud on a rose. I don't want to hurt you, discomfit you or distress you in any way. You have been through enough.”

She was so surprised, but she should have known Sir Rex would think of her welfare before anything else. “I won't break, Sir Rex,” she said tremulously. “I am certain of that.” But she wasn't certain, because the last time they had made love, she had broken mentally and emotionally and maybe in spirit, as well. This time, though, she would take the risk.

He hesitated and then he clasped her shoulders. “I have never desired anyone more. Blanche, I will
always
desire you.” His gaze was searching. “I will always love you.”

She went still on the outside while her heart exploded in joy on the inside. Then she breathed, throwing all caution to the wind, “Please.”

His eyes turned to black flames. He bent over her as his lips claimed hers. And suddenly she was crushed in his arms, weeping silently with joy and need, as he kissed her deeply, again and again.

Blanche felt every inch of her body flame. Wet heat gathered. She wanted to explode and she wanted his touch and his invasion so urgently that she trembled in his arms, moaning. His kisses changed, veering down the soft column of her throat.

Blanche heard the door close.

She tensed, as did Sir Rex, glancing at the door, which was now solidly closed. They had left it open. Sir Rex turned to her, his gaze brilliant, and Blanche cupped his cheek, relieved to realize he still wanted her as he had at Land's End. “Don't stop. Take me upstairs, please,” she cried.

He pulled her close. “Are you certain I will not hurt you? Blanche, we are husband and wife now. We have our entire lives ahead.”

“I am certain. I need you so.”

 

I
T WAS HARD
to exercise control. But he had meant his every word, and no matter how he had missed her and how urgently he wished to move inside her now, he did not want to hurt her or cause more strain. Rex unbuttoned the back of Blanche's pale gray silk gown, aware that his fingers were clumsy and his hands were shaking and inept.

She was breathing in a rapid, shallow manner. As her gown parted, revealing her chemise and corset, he could not resist. Inhaling, he bent and kissed her skin on the ridge of her spine, between her shoulder blades. Instantly her skin prickled with goose bumps.

Blanche gasped in pleasure.

He was already painfully aroused and he fought it; he turned her as the dress fell in a pool at their feet. Blanche's eyes became blue-green smoke. She was so beautiful and so feminine, he thought. He cupped her face and kissed her, long and deep, rising up high and hard against her hip. She moaned.

He became frantic; all he wanted to do was bring her pleasure now.

And he crushed her against his chest, his torso, his hips and loins. She gasped again and he pulled her up even more tightly against the firm ridge of his manhood, briefly resting his mouth against her cheek when he wanted to invade her body and plunder, sweetly and savagely, now. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she cried, clinging to his shoulders.

A flurry followed—the rest of her clothes and all of his vanished. They crashed onto the bed and he moved over her, kneeing her pale thighs apart. Rex knew he had no control left. But he somehow paused. “I am so pleased to be your husband,” he murmured.