Aunt Dorothea’s face was alight with joy. “Oh how wonderful. I do love weddings. Gracie, you look breathtaking in that white silk, I’m so glad we chose it for today. Lord Alexander will be stunned speechless when he sees you.” She fussed about Grace, fiddling with ribbons and flowers and generally getting in Tess’s way as the girl tried to secure Grace’s hair in an elaborate knot.
She didn’t bother to feign excitement. In an hour’s time, she would marry Lord Alexander, a man who didn’t love her. A man who was only marrying her for honor’s sake.
A man she loved desperately.
She should be happy. She would love her husband, she could keep her child, and she would live near her aunt and uncle. She would have a family for the first time since she was a very young girl. A lot of family, for that matter, and a very interesting and entertaining family to boot.
Yet she was miserable.
It might be different if he loved her—if he wanted to marry her and was not forced to do so in order to save her honor.
But she couldn’t change the situation. She would walk down the aisle and marry the man she loved more than anything in the world, and then spend the rest of her life with the knowledge that she was entirely and utterly unlovable.
Grace felt numb.
She allowed Tess and Aunt Dorothea to finish their ministrations. After they completed the task and deemed her beautiful beyond compare, and of course the loveliest bride the ton had ever seen, she boarded the waiting carriage. She sat next to Aunt Dorothea, across from her father and Uncle Laurence as they traveled to the church.
No true guests would be present. Only his family and hers, with the additions of Lord Rotheby, Sir Jonas, and the Earl of Sinclaire would witness the ceremony.
Her father took her hand to help her down from the carriage, then escorted her into the church. She tried not to shrink from his touch, but found it difficult. He couldn’t fool her into thinking he was an entirely changed man overnight, simply from one confrontation with the Dowager Duchess of Somerton, even if the woman was the most imposing and convincing woman Grace had ever laid eyes upon.
Lord Alexander waited for her at the front, next to the vicar. She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the walkway beneath her feet, unable to look anyone in the eyes. Father passed her hand to Lord Alexander, and the vicar started the ceremony. It all passed by her in a fog.
Lord Alexander said, “I do,” and pressed her hand gently.
When prompted, she also said “I do.” She had no choice. Father had commanded her to accept, so she did.
The vicar said a few more words, none of which registered in her mind. They signed the register. Lord Alexander turned her about to face their families and led her along the aisle and from the church to yet another waiting carriage. An open carriage—one that would proclaim to all of London that she was now Lady Alexander Hardwicke.
He assisted her inside and climbed up after her. The driver signaled the horses to leave, and they began the journey to Hardwicke House for a celebratory meal.
“Are you happy, Grace?”
She stared out at the passing city. “Happy, my lord?”
“Alex. Call me Alex. I want to hear my name on your lips.”
She hesitated before whispering, “Alex.”
He took her hand and held it in his. “I like that. I like how you say my name.” A few moments passed and the tension inside her built. “I want to hear it from you more often. But you haven’t answered me. I daresay that’s becoming a habit. Are you happy?”
“I don’t know.” Grace couldn’t remember the last time she had felt happy. What would it feel like? Would she even recognize it when it arrived? Somehow, she doubted it.
He stroked the back of her hand, her fingers. “I’ll make you happy. Give me the opportunity. That’s all I ask.”
She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. The air smelled of recent rain and wildflowers, and the warm, woodsy, masculine scent belonging to her husband.
“I’ll try. I can promise you no more than that I will try.” Was she even capable of happiness?
He pulled her hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on it as the carriage arrived at Hardwicke House. She shuddered at his gentle touch.
Alex wished the celebration would come to an end. He loved his family and friends, but he had other things on his mind. He wanted to show Grace how much he loved her. He couldn’t live with himself if she continued to doubt him, to doubt his affection for her. His love.
They would stay in a suite at Hardwicke House for the night and journey to Somerton in the morning. He didn’t want to overwhelm her on the day of their wedding by beginning with travel and spending the night at an inn along the way. He wanted to make this one night special for her—perfect even.
But the celebration continued. He sat by her side through a round of toasts, from Peter, Derek, Gil, and Sir Laurence. The whole time she wore a fake smile, one that seemed painted on her face. A small orchestra was assembled in the ballroom, and Mama declared dancing would begin immediately.
“Would you care to dance with me, Grace?” he asked as he led her to the ballroom.
With her pasted smile, she nodded and took his hand. The orchestra played a waltz. He swept her into his arms, and they glided across the floor to the music.
The world spun around them, but he saw nothing other than his wife. “I thought this day might never come, Grace.”
“I hoped it wouldn’t, my lord.” She looked away.
A single tear slid down her cheek, and he reached up to smooth it away. It was only her pain. She loved him. He had to remember that she loved him. “Alex. I asked you to call me by my name.”
She only nodded in reply.
Why couldn’t she accept his love? Was he destined to a lifetime of marriage to a woman who couldn’t allow him to love her? A piece of his heart broke at the prospect, and he pulled her closer in his arms, wanting to surround her with his warmth as a symbol of his love.
Alex vowed to himself that tonight he would love Grace so well that she could no longer deny it. He would do whatever it required.
But Grace would know he loved her.
The wedding celebration finally came to an end, much to Grace’s relief. She could think of little she wanted to celebrate less than her marriage. But the deed was done, and now Grace would have to learn her new position as a wife.
She didn’t imagine life as the wife of a gentleman would be much different than life as her father’s daughter had been. She would merely answer to a different master. Life would go on as it always had in the past.
After she said her goodbyes to her aunt, uncle, and Lord Rotheby, who would travel to Somerton together in a few days, her husband took her hand.
“Come with me, Grace.”
So she went. The dutiful wife must obey, after all. She had no right to argue or complain.
He led her through the halls and up the stairs to a separate wing of the house. “Mama had a suite prepared for us, so we could have some privacy.” He opened a large, oak door and ushered her inside.
A huge canopied bed stood against one wall, with matching tables and chairs scattered about the room. Silks draped the bed and windows in rich gold and brown.
Alex closed the door behind them. “You have a dressing room through here. I had a footman bring your trunks up earlier, so you should have everything you need.” He still held one of her hands in his firm grasp. “A second sleeping chamber is on the other side of your dressing room.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. Would she be allowed some reprieve then? And did she even want it?
“I had it prepared for you. But I hope you’ll choose not to use it.” He turned her to face him and placed his hand against her cheek. “I hope you’ll stay with me tonight.”
He tilted her head and placed a soft, teasing kiss upon her lips. She leaned in to him, her body disregarding her mind’s commands.
But then he broke off the kiss. “I believe Tess is waiting to assist you in your dressing room.”
He removed his hands from her and took a step away, granting her a chance to breathe if her lungs would cooperate. The heat in his eyes melted her core and turned her to a liquid pool of heat inside. She hurried away to her dressing room.
Tess bobbed a curtsy when she walked through the door. “My lady, your aunt prepared a trousseau for you ma’am.”
“That was very kind of her, Tess.” Grace stood behind the door and pressed against it while she regained her composure. Her pulse raced and her body ached in her most private areas. But he had hardly even touched her.
“We ought to get you out of your gown, ma’am. You won’t want to keep your husband waiting.” Tess moved to her side and removed pins from her hair. “Lady Kensington put a nightgown in your trousseau and she told me to be sure you wear it tonight. I’ve laid it aside.”
The lady’s maid worked briskly and soon had Grace’s hair freed from its confines so it flowed in soft waves over her shoulders and across her back, nearly reaching to her waist. She moved to the buttons on Grace’s gown next. Before she knew what was happening, she was undressed down to her shift.
Tess moved to the dressing table where a sleeping gown lay ready for Grace to don. It was a diaphanous white fabric that would expose her almost completely to her husband’s gaze.
“I can’t possibly wear that, Tess.” Her eyes bulged and she backed a few steps away, grasping her shift to her chest.
“Why ever not, my lady? His lordship will be taking it off you, I would wager, whatever you wear.” The girl’s eye twinkled in delight.
“What…how do you know of such things?” Grace narrowed her eyes and the young girl.
Tess laughed. “We learn of these things and a good bit more, we house servants do. Never you mind. Off with your shift, and we’ll put this pretty thing on you.”
Grace gawked. “When did you become so bossy?” She had no choice but to lift her arms above her head as her servant pulled the shift from her body.
“Oh, I don’t know, my lady. Maybe when I learned I’d be allowed to stay on as your lady’s maid. Your husband offered me the position, you know. And since you will live in Somerton, I’ll still be near my family. It’s a wonderful situation, I believe. Far better than having you off with Lord Barrow, or in London. I think you and I’ll do quite well with Lord Alexander, don’t you agree?”
Tess settled the nightgown over Grace’s head and smoothed it along her curves. “I think this will do rather well. Your aunt is a right smart lady, ma’am. Lord Alexander will want to eat you alive when he sees you like this.”
Grace was already flushing in embarrassment over Tess seeing her in such a state, but the suggestion of Lord Alexander wanting to eat her alive only served to multiply her discomfort.
“Right then. Off I go, my lady. If you need me, give the bell pull a tug, but otherwise I will be far, far away.” Tess exited through the door to the second bedchamber.
Grace took a few breaths to calm herself. There was no reason to fret. She’d been intimate with Alex before, and it had been a wonderful experience. Once she thought she could go through the door without running in the opposite direction, she returned to the main chamber.
Her husband stood by the hearth, kindling a fire. Candlelight danced about the room, darkened by closed curtains over the windows. He was barefoot and had removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. She didn’t see any of his discarded items of clothing. He must have put them in his dressing room.
He walked toward her with his shirt halfway unbuttoned. Auburn hairs dotted his muscled chest. His eyes glowed in the dim candlelight. Alex stopped short of coming near enough to touch her and devoured her with his eyes. Her body burned everywhere his gaze rested, and she moved to cover herself with her arms.
“No,” he said, the word a choked plea. “Let me see you.” He moved closer, took her hands in his, and held her arms out to her sides.
She felt exposed, ashamed. His wedding night ought to be with a woman in possession of her virtue. And hers should be with a man who could love her.
But neither of those would be.
“You are so beautiful Grace. So perfect.”
She felt anything but beautiful or perfect. But then he moved closer still, so the distance between them pulsed. He slid his hands down her bare arms and across her back, moving until they came to a stop on her behind. His hands were so large that one of them almost covered her derrière by itself. He pulled her closer, pressed her length into him. She gasped at his heat against her stomach.
Lord Alexander looked into her eyes. His were liquid pools of forest green, and the gold flecks in them were danced like flickering flames.
“I need you, Grace.” His mouth came down and enveloped hers. He swept his tongue inside to stroke against hers.
A pull in her center drew her into him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist to hold him close. His scent, that glorious, masculine scent of woods and man was enhanced, musky. It washed over her in waves as they moved together and their heat combined.
He pulled the thin fabric up and touched the bare flesh of her backside with his hands, rubbing, kneading, stroking.
Her courage grew, and she lost her inhibitions. She would give in to her love for him, at least for this one night. Grace became the aggressor in their kiss, thrusting her tongue inside his mouth to taste him. Steady on her feet, she ran her hands over the hair of his chest.
Lord Alexander growled, a low sound deep in his throat. “I need to see you. All of you.” He placed one arm around her waist and pulled the garment free with the other.
Grace instinctively moved her hands to cover her breasts again, but he caught them before she could.
“Please let me see you. Let me touch you, Grace.” He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, beneath her chin, along her neck. He cupped her breasts in his palms and she whimpered. Sensation ruled.
“You like that, do you? Tell me you like it.” He moved his head lower and lapped his tongue over her sensitive nipple.
“Yes, I like that, Lord Alexander.” She couldn’t think.
“Say my name, Grace. Call me Alex.” He completed the order by suckling her entire breast in his mouth.
Grace gripped his shoulders for balance. Her legs turned to jelly beneath her. “Alex. I like that, Alex.” She might enjoy it a bit too much. He was welcome to stop in a few years or so.
He lowered to his knees, where his eyes were directly across from the swell of her stomach. Alex placed a gentle kiss there and held his head against where her child grew, resting for a moment and holding Grace by the hips.
His tenderness overwhelmed her. Her love for him coursed through her body so fast it scared her. She felt like she might break in two if he so much as brushed a finger over her skin.
For just that moment, she felt beautiful. Loved, even.
Grace placed her hands atop his head and ran her fingers through his shaggy hair.
He moved one hand between her legs, shocking her senses when he stroked her tender flesh. Alex slid a finger inside her and she shuddered.
When she thought she would die from the pressure building internally, he stood and picked her up. He carried her to the bed and laid her carefully across the sheets, her hair fanned out over the pillows.
He removed the last of his clothing in the flickers of the candlelight. She had never seen a nude man before, and the size of him scared her. His muscled arms, the definition of his chest, those long, powerful legs. He was glorious. She had a sudden urge to paint him, just as he stood before her, but pushed it aside. That could come later.
She needed him now.
Alex came down on the bed beside her and took her face in his hands. “I will never hurt you, Grace. Don’t be afraid of me.”
It wasn’t fear but awe, but she had no voice to tell him. He kissed her again, deep and full, and his hands stroked her to a passionate peak again. He rose above her and braced his weight on his arms as he spread her legs with a knee. The tip of his manhood rested at her opening. She wanted more.
“Say my name, Grace. Call me by my name.” His voice shook with passion and need, and an edge of fear.
“Alex.” The word was a prayer on her tongue.
And he was inside her, filling her, pulsing with her. She moved her legs up to wrap about his waist and marveled that it brought him closer, deeper.
They moved as one. Her body tightened and tensed, and she would shatter to pieces if she didn’t find release soon. Alex seemed to sense her need and he quickened his pace. She moaned from the most wonderful pain.
And then the world came to a stop. She crashed over the edge and held onto him for dear life. “Alex, Alex, Alex.”
He spilled into her a moment later and collapsed on top of her, burying his head in her hair while he regained his breath.
“Oh, how I love you,” she said on a sob. She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but he didn’t react. She didn’t want to love him. It would be so much easier if she didn’t. Perhaps the pain would be lessened to know she was married to a man who could never love her in return if she felt no love for him.
Alex moved beside her and pulled her in close, her backside pressed firmly against his front. His breathing grew even, and he placed a large, protective hand over her abdomen where her baby grew.
Grace laid still and cried herself to sleep, careful not to alert him to her tears.
Alex brushed Grace’s hair away from her face to watch her sleep. The tears weren’t yet dry on her cheeks, so he brushed them away as well.
“Oh my sweet Grace, I love you.” His words fell on the darkness of night.
She still didn’t believe his love, even after their tender loving that night. What else must he do to convince her?
He pulled his wife closer and breathed in the fragrance of Grace and the scent of their lovemaking. One hand rested against the child growing in her belly. Their child. He already loved the baby as his own.
Alex drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a baby girl with midnight hair and eyes of ice.