Tonight or Never (11 page)

The countess was sniffling, and
Deiter
appeared almost
nonthreatening
.

"It is romantic, is it not?" Maurice sighed.

"Sink me!" Percy exclaimed. "It's just occurred to me that heart, as in Miss Chloe
Heart
, has just wed sex, as in
Sexton
! What do you make of that?
How apropos!"

Maurice chuckled.

"One can only wonder what will come of it." Sir Percy planted the question that would soon be in everyone's mind.

Heart and "Sex."
What
would
come of it?

The frenzied wagering began before the guests had even left the chapel.

The meal following the wedding, often referred to as the
dejeuner
, or breakfast, despite the midday hour, commenced. The hall was full to overflowing, and Chloe marveled that the staff had been able to prepare such a lavish feast for so many in such a short time. She made a mental note to mention to John that they should reward their service with something special.

She watched her husband seated next her from beneath her lashes. Chloe could hardly believe it was a fait accompli. Lord John was finally hers.

Well, not hers completely, but soon enough.

Her cheeks deepened in color. How on earth was she to pretend she wanted lessons from him?

Best not to dwell on that just yet.
She was going to need every ounce of courage she possessed to proceed with her plan. One last hurdle to get over today…

Sir Percival Cecil-Basil
clinked
the side of his crystal glass with a spoon, garnering everyone's attention.
"A toast to the newlyweds!"

"Hear! Hear!" chorused the assemblage.

John pasted a stoic expression on his face. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"To the Lord of Sex"—several guffaws erupted in the room—"and his sweet bride; may they find happiness in the simple joy life has given them, a shared commitment." Percy captured John in his penetrating stare.

Surprised, John searched the man obliquely. How much did he know? With Percy one could never be sure.

Percy saluted them with his glass before bringing it to his lips, the other diners following suit.

"Thank you, Percy," John responded diplomatically. "That was very noble of you."

Percy waved John's words away. "No need to thank me, good fellow!" A shrewd grin spread over his lips. "The thing speaks for itself."

"Really," John intoned softly.

"Quite." Percy's attention was captured by Lady Moresby.

As the meal progressed a curious phenomenon seemed to descend upon John. The strangest thing happened.
A sheen
of sweat broke out across his brow. His palms became moist. A feeling of queasiness rose up from within him.

In fact, the more the knowledge came home to him that Chloe was now his
wife
, the stronger these symptoms became.

This was Chloe.
His Chloe.
He had never even kissed her before!
At least not on the mouth—in that way.

What if he disappointed her?

Impossible.

He would never disappoint her.

But… what if she didn't like the way he… the things he… Could he do that with her?

This was Chloe. It mattered…

He was going to be sick.

His hand trembled slightly as he snatched a goblet of wine off the table and downed it in one swallow. He needed time—time to get used to this.

John settled in for the longest, most prolonged meal of his life.

By
midafternoon
Chloe began giving her husband curious looks. It was customary for the bride and
groom
to have a "going away." While they hadn't had time to arrange one—indeed, with all the visitors it was more like a "coming in"—it was expected that the couple would take themselves
off
at the earliest opportunity.

At the very least they would retire to their chamber to celebrate their nuptials in private.

In disbelief, she watched her husband consume yet another piece of Portuguese cake.
His fourth.
He didn't seem at all inclined to leave the party. It was beginning to get embarrassing. Already she could see several people whispering to each other.

Whatever was the matter with him?

"John," she whispered to him.

"
Mmm
, yes, Chloe?"
He snagged a passing footman, motioning the man to fill his plate with another serving of berry pie.

"Don't you think we should…
"
She wasn't sure how to finish.

He turned to her, jade eyes rounded. "What?" He swallowed. "What shouldn't we do? I mean, should we?" He closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. He sounded like a callow youth, for God's sake!

He took a deep breath.
"Yes, Chloe, of course."
Chloe smiled at him in a way she never had. His stomach flipped. "That is… after I have some of this interesting-looking"—
What
is that stuff
?—"stuff," he finished lamely.

Chloe slumped in her chair.

She had never seen John eat so much. Perhaps he thought he needed strength to—
She
wouldn't even think it.

By the time they had finally wound their way upstairs it was almost evening.

At the top of the stairs, John suddenly announced his desire for an early evening bath and took off in the direction of his old rooms.

Chloe entered the master suite and sagged onto the enormous four-poster Elizabethan bed. Earlier in the day, she had prepared the room for the plan. Her sights took in the pitcher and basin strategically placed on the stand next to the bed.

Everything was in place.

All she had to do was
wait
for her errant husband to return.

John was behaving a bit peculiarly. She shrugged her shoulders and headed for the dressing room.
Grandmere
had given her an especially pretty
nightrail
for her wedding night.

Pity she had no intention of wearing it for very long.

Chapter Five

Chloe Gets More than Bargained For

He puked his guts up.

Half sprawled across the floor, clutching a chamber pot, John rested his damp forehead against the side of the bed. Closing his eyes, he waited to see if this latest bout of nausea was the last or if his stomach was going to do another roll and flip on him.

Taking deep, even breaths, he attempted to regain his usual state of well-being. What was the matter with him?

Ordinarily he'd point to the food as his source of discomfort, but Chef
LaFaint
was an extremely fastidious cook, and the feeling in the pit of his belly had come on before he had eaten. In fact, it had begun at the beginning of the meal.
Right after Percy's toast.

Yes, the initial complaint had begun simultaneously with the words
shared commitment
and the realization that Chloe was, in fact, his wife.

From then on, the odd malady seemed to gather strength.

He took another deep breath.
This very minute, Chloe was waiting for him down the hall in their bedroom.
Waiting for him to perform.

For the first time in his life, John was apprehensive about the act of sex.

He rolled his shoulders to loosen some tension. It wasn't that he didn't want to… And it wasn't that he couldn't. It was that—John banged his forehead against the edge of the mattress—this meant something to him, damn it!

Chloe was the only person to whom he had ever revealed himself. He trusted her; he took care of her. What would happen after they
… ?
Would the advent of a physical relationship affect their intimacy?

John snorted. That had to be the most bizarre question a man had ever asked himself!
Leave it to Chloe to put the thought in my mind
.

He rubbed his temples with two fingers. This was insanity. He was going to take his bath, put on his robe, and go to his wife. They would enjoy each other immensely, and
nothing
was going to change.

That decided
,
he stood up, making a resolute stride to his bureau. Grabbing his brush and tin of tooth powder, he yanked open the tin with a determined pull. Powder flew all over him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

In typical male fashion, he dabbed the moistened brush into the powder gathered in the well of his collarbone and commenced brushing his teeth.

That accomplished, he rinsed his mouth out with rose water and headed for the tub set before the fire. This was his second bath of the day. The servants had given him the oddest looks when he requested more hot water.

Well, now that they had done all that work, it was only right that he use it. He sank down into the water.

Grabbing a bar of soap, he began washing himself, his plan of action formulating. As soon as he finished his bath, he would go to her.

Right away.
Immediately.

Perhaps he should rewash his hair first?

Yes, as long as he was in the bath, he might as well. He dunked his head under the water and began to scrub his head vigorously. That he had just washed his hair a few hours ago did not seem to register in his fogged brain.

It was an exceedingly long and thorough washing.

If the House of Lords could have been privy to the scene, they might have had a rousing debate regarding what Viscount Sexton actually thought he was cleansing.

Mission
accomplished, John thought it might not be a bad idea to let the hot water relax some of his muscles, which suddenly seemed a little stiff and could surely do with a soak.

Stretching his tall frame out as best he could in the cramped confines, he leaned back and closed his eyes. The gold chain with its small charm nestled into place.

The draining aftereffects of his recent bout of sickness combined with the soothing warm water surrounding him caused him unwittingly to drop off to sleep.

When next he opened his eyes, the water was ice cold and the clock on the mantel said it was two hours later. At least his hair was dry.

He couldn't put it off any longer.

He was going to have to go to Chloe.

And he was going to have to tell her that they needed some more time. He wanted them to get used to the idea of being married to each other before they had intimate relations.

Mind made up, he donned his dark green brocade robe and made his way down the hall.

It never once occurred to him how strangely he was behaving, how at odds with his persona. He was one of the most notorious rakes in
England; yet of the scores of women he had slept with, of the countless liaisons he had had, it was only the woman he had chosen to marry that he was hesitant to be intimate with.

All John knew was that he did not want to test Chloe's friendship. She was the one person in his life he had always protected.
Lose Chloe
? Nausea churned up his throat.

It was too much of a risk.

Where was he?

Chloe paced the length of the room in the frothy lace night rail, her long hair trailing down her back.

She had been walking back and forth for hours, her anxiety increasing with every step. Why hadn't he come? What was he doing? She wrung her hands with worry and indecision.

Perhaps she should go to his room to see what was keeping him. She bit her lip, thinking it over. Everything was prepared here, in this room. What if she went to check on him and he decided to… to
do
it right then? What would she say?
Excuse me, John, could you stop right there and move this down the hall
? She couldn't very well—

The door opened and closed softly.

Chloe held her breath and turned.

John stood by the entrance of the room, an enigmatic expression on his face.

He was wearing a green robe, and by the look of him, she supposed nothing else. His hair hung loose about his shoulders; firelight gilded the gleaming, silken mass. The slight
vee
in the front of the robe revealed a glimpse of taut golden skin and the flash of a gold chain beneath the garment.

Chloe's heart skipped a beat. She had never seen him look more handsome.
Or more desirable.

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity.