What the Duke Wants (25 page)

In every possible way.

Which was why he was still awake after that eternal night, and was now pacing the library, trying very hard not to imagine what she looked like with her golden hair resting across her pillow, her eyes softly closed in sweet blissful slumber, or how seductive her expression would be when woken up with a morning kiss.

He groaned in agony. When did a vicar awaken? He glanced outside, noting the increasing light on the horizon. Maybe an hour more? He could survive an hour. One hour.

Sixty minutes.

But not one moment more.

****

Carlotta couldn’t sleep. Every time she tried to close her eyes, his gaze would come into focus, stealing her breath and making her want to pinch herself. Just to make sure it was real.

All of it.

Biting her lip, she remembered his determined stride as he commanded her kiss, not caring for his own reputation but wanting her, needing her so badly that he was willing to do anything to have her.

He was brave enough for the both of them, because a part of her knew that if he showed even the slightest hesitation, it would have ended differently.

But it didn’t.

It was rather like a fairy tale. The idea made her smile wider.

With a small sigh she rose from bed, it was full daylight now and she squealed in excitement knowing that today, this span of daylight would end with her being married…to Charles.

Who also happened to be a duke.

A quite notorious duke.

Wonders never ceased. Ever.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her sweet musings. “Yes,” she called.

Three girls rushed into her room, all speaking at once.

She grinned at her own foolishness at not taking the Duke’s advice and locking her door. A reckless folly, to be sure, but one she was thrilled to indulge in.

“Do you know what you’re going to wear? Bethanny asked, immediately going to her wardrobe.

“Can I do your hair?” Berty asked as she was hugged.

“You’re getting married today!” Beatrix twirled, her face beaming.

“Yes, I am getting married today, girls! And I need your help! Bethanny? What do you think I should wear?”

An hour later, her dress was chosen, her hair braided, quite lopsided by Berty —she hadn’t the heart to tell her she couldn’t help, the braid was precarious enough that it would unwind on its own in a few moments, easily allowing her to seek the aid of a lady’s maid for a proper coiffure— and Beatrix had smiled the entire morning, her face awash with excitement.

“I’m starving, can we please eat now?” Berty whined, even though she had a smile still lighting up her cherub-like countenance.

“Yes, I’m quite famished myself,” Carlotta teased as she lightly touched Beatrix’s nose.

“Carlotta?” Lady Southridge’s voice called through the closed door to her chamber.

“Yes?” Carlotta opened the door.

“You’re a vision… except, well…” Her eyes took in the lopsided braid. But before she could comment, Carlotta glanced meaningfully to Berty, who was beaming. “Your hair is lovely.” She nodded.

Quick woman, that Lady Southridge.

“We have much to do if you’re getting married today. To think! No waiting for the banns, no church! Charles should be ashamed of himself.” It would have sounded like a scolding, had she not been smiling the whole time she said it, or clapping her hands excitedly. “You’ll be gossip of the year… of course I’ll make sure everyone knows it was a love match, an impatient one. Not one out of necessity.” She nodded sternly.

“Er, yes,” Carlotta agreed, her face heating. Of course, that would be easily proven false in year when she didn’t give birth to the duke’s heir after an exceptionally short term.

But it still was nice, knowing she had a force like Lady Southridge in her corner.

Because the woman was, indeed, a force.

“We’ll breakfast and then hopefully Charles will have returned. It seems he’s already left… strange man. You’d think he’d want to be with his future bride.” She clicked her tongue and led them all away towards the dining hall, the girls following behind, giggling and asking a million questions about the special day.

The question of the duke’s whereabouts was answered as they were finishing breakfast, when he arrived with a very disgruntled vicar in tow.

“Are you ready?”

“You can’t be serious!” Lady Southridge stood as she tossed her napkin on the table.

“My question was not aimed at you, madam.” The duke spared her only a glance.

“But it’s… simply not done! She needs to have her hair properly… er…” Lady Southridge glanced to Berty. “It needs to be re-braided,” she finished, which was the truth as it was slowly coming unwound.

“Oh! I can fix that!” Berty took the words as her cue and rushed around the table to re-braid the ends of her hair.

“Perfect! Now, are you ready?” the duke asked again, walking over towards Carlotta and placing a quick kiss on her lips.

“For?” she asked, quite perfectly pleased at his show of affection. She could get used to morning kisses at the breakfast table… dinner kisses, bedtime kisses.
Especially bedtime kisses.

“To get married?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more eager groom. Quite odd,” Lady Southridge commented, her fingers resting on her chin as if deep in thought.

“Eager, dedicated, stubborn, take your pick, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m talking to myself since I’m not getting any answers,” the duke grumbled.

And, because really there was nothing else to say. “Yes,” Carlotta answered. While she would have wished for a few more moments to ready herself, as she dwelled on it, this was quite perfect.

And appropriate.

Her hair was braided, lovingly —if not lopsided— by Berty.

The duke,
Charles
, she reminded herself, was simply being himself. Demanding… all because he loved her that much.

Lady Southridge was meddling, because, that was simply what she
did.

And Bethanny and Beatrix had excused themselves quite silently and were now returning with some flowers they had pilfered from the gardens. The little minxes!

What more could she ask for?

“Delightful! I was beginning to think I needed to cause another scene… but a man can only do so many before he gets a complex.”

“I have all faith your ego will survive.” Lady Southridge shook her head.

He glared at her.

“Shall we?” Carlotta stood and walked towards the vicar who had been watching the exchange with avid interest and found it amusing enough to grin slightly.

At least she thought it was a grin.

It might have been annoyance but she chose to believe it was a grin. This was her day, after all.

“My lady,” the duke offered her his arm, and escorted her to the small prayer chapel within Greenford Waters. It was a cozy room, with wooden hewn crosses and stained glass windows that let in amber colored light. Flowers dotted the altars, and candles flickered in the colored light.

“It’s beautiful,” Carlotta whispered as they walked in.

“I’m thankful you appreciate my efforts,” the duke commented.

“
You
did this?” She glanced over at him, her eyes wide.

“Of course! It’s not as if I have no forethought,” he grumbled, then grinned. “Of course, Tibbs helped.”

“The plot thickens.”

He raised an eyebrow then paused. “I, well. Should I walk you in then? Or would you rather… it seems I didn’t have as much forethought as I believed. Dash it all. You’re walking in with me.” He answered his own question. “Berty? Bethanny? Beatrix, follow Miss Lottie. Lady Southridge? Get Tibbs, I want another witness.”

Lady Southridge nodded and left, returning less than a minute later with a very satisfied looking Butler.

“Now.” The duke glanced around, and finding that all was in order. Turning to Carlotta, he asked. “Shall we?”

He asked, he did not demand, nor push her down the aisle —which she didn’t think he’d hesitate to do, rather endearing, that. Rather, he
asked.

“I love you.” She reached up and caressed his face with her gloved hand, her fingers trailing the line of his jaw.

“This damn wedding cannot happen soon enough,” he cursed, then pulled her in. His hands wound around her back, pulling her flush against his body while his mouth met hers in a hungry passion.

The vicar cleared his throat.

Berty gagged.

And Lady Southridge chuckled. “My, my how the mighty have fallen.”

“You try my patience, Miss Lottie. Are you ready?” he whispered against her lips, the sweet scent of peppermint and desire intoxicating her.

“Yes.”

“Finally,” he replied and led her down the short isle.

Chapter Fifteen

The wedding was long. So long that Berty and Beatrix fell asleep on Lady Southridge, who wasn’t in much better shape if her constant head bobbing was any indication. In hindsight, Charles thought that perhaps it was the vicar’s only way at retribution for being woken up at the break of dawn.

Apparently,
this
vicar wasn’t an early riser.

Therefore, after not one, but t
wo
sermons on the virtue of patience and brotherly love —which he didn’t see the relevance for at a wedding, for heaven’s sake,
brotherly
love?— and an especially long vow process —including vows he had never heard of at any other wedding, ever —since when did a man promise his wife a pig?— Charles was finally convinced the end was in sight.

He should have known better.

After yet another sermon —this one on self-control, which was causing him to quickly lose whatever control he’d
had
— the vicar pronounced them man and wife —and Charles silently swore that the vicar would be finding a new parish to preside over.

It was only eleven in the morning when all was said and done, and Charles was not in any mood to wait till nightfall. So, after being quite patient through a luncheon prepared by the Greenford Water’s staff, he made their excuses and, to the amused grin of Lady Southridge, stole his wife away. Far away. Thankfully he had heard Lady Southridge mention a picnic to the girls.

He knew he loved that woman.

Or at least liked her. He could afford to be charitable since it
was
his wedding day.

And so, without any hesitation, he swept his beautiful wife into his arms, and strode purposefully down the hall.

“I can walk,” Carlotta murmured against his neck, as she buried her head there in a decidedly contented fashion.

“No, not fast enough.”

“Impatient?”

“You have no idea, and I actually think I have been quite patient! Any other woman would have been proposing to me at my first blink in their direction! You, I had to chase across half of England.”

“How trying for you.”

“Indeed. But lucky for you, I find you worth the effort.”

Carlotta laughed, a deeply seductive sound that made him increase his pace, and not a moment too soon, they entered his room. He set her down, kissed her quickly and then turned and locked the door. And for good measure, he put a chair in front too.

Nothing was going to interrupt him.

Nothing was going to interrupt
this
.

****

Slowly, with measured grace he circled her, his eyes roaming every inch, setting her on fire with his gaze alone. Wherever his gaze landed felt like a fiery touch, igniting a passion within her that she didn’t know existed.

And she suspected it was only the beginning.

Mercy.

His eyes, so light and mischievous usually, smoldered with blue fire. With one deliberate step after another, he slowly strode towards her, his gaze never leaving hers, freezing her in place as she waited, breathless for whatever happened next.

Because honestly, she hadn’t much of a clue as to what happened next. She knew it was intimate, she knew a few basic particulars, but beyond that? Nothing. Yet she didn’t feel fear or even embarrassment at her lack of knowledge, rather an anticipation for her very thorough education.

Because the duke,
Charles,
was nothing if not thorough.

She inhaled deeply, letting the moment overcome all other senses. Closing her eyes, she waited. A moment before his lips caressed hers ever so gently, she felt his warmth against her skin, heating her without even a touch. Tenderly, he traced the seam of her lips till she opened them, welcoming his caressing tongue as he began the dance, one she could only follow as he led.

Pressing for more, she leaned into him, demanding more of his kiss, but he didn’t give in to her demands, he backed away.

“No love, the anticipation, it is part of the glory, and possibly the most important part,” he whispered against her lips then nibbled them wickedly.

“Anticipation?”

“Yes…” he murmured then bowed to kiss the curve of her jaw.

Her eyes closed in passion and all she could hear was the sound of her heart, the sound of his breathing.

His very measured breathing against the gasps of her own.

“Why aren’t you as affected?” she lowered her chin to meet his gaze, insecurity slithering into her heart like black ink.

“Not affected?” His eyes widened and he took a step back. “Every inch of me is demanding I take you without even the slightest or smallest precursor to lovemaking. Your name is a litany in my mind, whispered by my heart every time it beats. The fact that I’m wanting to make this the most amazing…” He kissed her neck once more. “…blissful, reverent, and erotic experience you’ll ever have… until the next time… and the time after that till I’m too old to see straight.” He chuckled against her skin, inhaling deeply. “I want to remember every moment, every scent that I inhale off your fragrant and flushed skin. I’m far more affected than I might seem because if I even allow the slightest lapse in my self-control, this will be over before I even have a chance to begin.

“I’ve made my share of mistakes, Carlotta. This will not, be one of them. I’m not simply making love to you, I’m giving you everything I am.” He murmured against her skin, his hands caressing her shoulders and pausing at the ribbons of her dress, unlacing it. A moment later, it pooled at her feet in a heap of lavender silk. The warmth from his hands saturated her soul, melting her into a world where nothing apart from him existed. Kissing her neck his hands wound around her back, deftly undoing each button until none remained. Her skin was feverish, overly warm yet she trembled, never having been so exposed to another person.