The wedding day dawned bright but chilly.
At Alveston House and much to Finch’s disgust, the earl’s valet trimmed and brushed Adam’s hair, before helping him into a new suit of midnight blue brocade, tastefully embroidered in pearl-grey. Then his brothers arrived to banish the slight queasiness in his stomach with a stream of cheerful insults and a good deal of unwanted advice.
In Mount Street, Arabella, Cassie and Frances were unanimous in voting the wedding gown a triumph. Made of silver-green shot silk the exact shade of Camilla’s eyes and trimmed with intricately braided dark green and silver ribbons in places guaranteed to engage masculine attention, the colours of the gown shifted and changed with every movement. Elbow-length sleeves dripped cobweb-fine silver lace; and the décolletage was just low enough to reveal a shadowy hint of cleavage.
‘Adam will be drooling,’ declared Frances, as the three ladies watched Martha carefully setting a delicate pearl tiara in Camilla’s dark hair. ‘And I doubt he’ll be the only one.’
‘He won’t,’ agreed Cassie. ‘That dress is truly evil, Camilla. I think I might hate you. However, to business. Martha – it’s time for you to leave. Between three married ladies and a soon-to-be-bride, the conversation is about to become unsuitable for innocent ears.’
Martha giggled, bobbed a curtsy and fled.
‘You might have told her something useful.’ Arabella perched on the window seat, calmly spreading her dark rose skirts about her. ‘Such as how to recognise when she’s really not wanted, for example.’
‘I think she already knows that,’ muttered Camilla. ‘But if you were planning on giving the kind of talk I had to suffer last night from Grandmama, you need not. I’ve known what goes where – that is to say, how the marital act is performed – for years.’
All three ladies stared at her open-mouthed.
‘No! I don’t mean that,’ she said, belatedly realising what they were thinking and feeling her face get hot. ‘I read a book, for heaven’s sake! On anatomy.’
‘A book,’ said Cassie pityingly. And to the others, ‘She doesn’t know anything, really.’
Camilla kept her lips pressed together and, finding her fan, used it.
All three of them looked at her and then at each other.
‘What do you suppose it is that she’s not telling us?’ asked Arabella.
‘There’s definitely something,’ mused Frances.
‘There isn’t!’ Camilla snapped the fan shut. ‘Will you all please stop?’
‘Very well,’ said Cassie amenably. ‘But just to be clear … you and Adam haven’t …?’
‘No. We haven’t.’ And then not quite under her breath, ‘Not what you mean, anyway.’
For a few moments, three pairs of eyes examined her in thoughtful silence. Then Cassie said gently, ‘How does she know what I mean?’
‘You heard her,’ grinned Arabella. ‘She read a book.’
By the time Adam and Max arrived at St George’s the church was already beginning to fill up with wedding guests and a procession of carriages was bringing others. A small group of gentlemen were chatting on the steps outside, from which Sir Vincent Clive broke away to shake Adam’s hand, saying, ‘So … the hero returns. How is the arm?’
‘As good as new, thank you,’ replied Adam, wishing Vincent had kept his mouth shut.
Two steps inside the door, Max said, ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’
‘Nothing.’ Then, knowing that his brother wouldn’t let it go, ‘I was shot.’
Max’s gaze snapped to his face. ‘What?’
‘It was almost a month ago and the bullet went straight through so --’
‘Oh good,’ said Max sarcastically. ‘And when were you going to mention this?’
‘I wasn’t – and I’m still not.’ Adam continued walking down the aisle, smiling and nodding to people as he went. ‘If you really want to know, ask Rainham. He’ll give you the bare bones. In fact, he’ll enjoy doing so.’
They reached the front and stood to exchange a few words with Louisa, Frances, Leo and Julian in the pew behind. Arabella, of course, was to arrive with Camilla.
As he and Adam took their seats, Max said quietly, ‘One last question. How much of what you were doing on Romney Marsh can you talk about?’
‘Very little. The matter is still under investigation at Whitehall.’
‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Max. ‘Is Camilla involved in it as well?’
‘Yes. And I thought you said one last question?’
Watching Adam lift a hand towards his throat and then restore it to his lap, knuckles glowing white, Max relented and grinned slightly. ‘Cravat too tight, is it?’
Adam cast him a dirty look and declined to answer.
It was some ten minutes later when sounds from the back of the church had heads turning for a first glimpse of the bride. The organ burst into something loud and stately, everyone stood … and Adam swivelled to gaze back down the aisle, aware that his heart was thundering as if he’d run a mile or so. Then Camilla was walking towards him wearing a gown that shimmered in the light, one hand resting on Alveston’s arm and her face lit by a radiant smile. Adam took a half-step towards her only to be checked by a low chuckle and Max’s restraining hand on his shoulder.
Throughout that seemingly endless walk, her eyes never left his. And when she finally reached his side, he was unable to resist taking her fingers in his and bowing to kiss them – which sent quiet laughter rippling through the congregation.
‘Dearly beloved,’ began the reverend reprovingly. ‘We are gathered here together …’
Afterwards, Camilla would wonder why the only things she remembered about the wedding ceremony were Adam’s unconventional greeting at the altar and the expression in his eyes as they exchanged their vows. Everything else was muted, like quiet music played in the background. And almost before she knew it, she was walking back down the aisle between row upon row of smiling faces, her body pressed close against Adam’s side.
Outside, a small crowd had gathered to gawk at the bride and groom. Someone began a ragged chorus of huzzahs and a couple of folk threw handfuls of rice; Adam laughed, kissed her hard on the mouth to a mixture of whistles and clapping, then grabbed her hand to run down the steps and into the safety of the carriage.
Camilla looked at him and, raising a hand to touch his cheek, said simply, ‘I love you.’
‘And I you, sweetheart – more than I can say.’ And careless of their audience outside the windows, he pulled her into his arms for a longer, luxurious kiss … which was cut rudely short when the carriage began moving to the noisy accompaniment of the pots and pans someone had tied to the rear. He grinned and, for the first time, let his gaze stray below her face. One glimpse of the inviting décolletage of her gown caused his lungs to malfunction. He said unevenly, ‘May I observe, Mrs Brandon, that you are looking particularly ravishable today?’
‘The word,’ she tutted, ‘is ravishing.’
‘It can’t be. Clearly, since I’ll be the one doing the ravishing, you must be ravishable,’ he said reasonably. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think, Mr Brandon, that it’s just as well it isn’t far to Alveston House.’
The elaborate wedding breakfast had been laid out in the ballroom amidst huge tubs of flowers and greenery while, behind a latticed screen at the far end of the room, a small chamber orchestra played softly. One delicious dish followed another, glasses were filled and re-filled and the air was full of talk and laughter. But eventually it was time for the speeches. Lord Alveston formally welcomed Adam to the family and proposed a toast to the newly-wedded pair … and Max responded in a similar vein but managed to include several jokes at Adam’s expense.
‘Perhaps I really will kill him one day,’ muttered Adam.
‘Of course you will.’ Camilla patted his hand. ‘And between now and then, God help anyone who raises a hand to him. But if you feel like having your revenge, now is your chance.’ She waved a hand at the room. ‘Everybody is waiting with bated breath.’
Groaning inwardly, he rose, smiled and began by thanking Lord Alveston for his good wishes and for hosting such a magnificent wedding breakfast. Next, he thanked the guests for ‘sharing this happy and very special day with my wife and I,’ … which naturally won him a round of applause.
‘I would thank my brother for standing up with me today if he hadn’t made me want to hide under the table,’ he went on. And when the inevitable laughter died away, voice and expression becoming utterly serious, ‘Most of all, I want to thank this lovely and extraordinary lady for agreeing to be my wife. Quite frankly, I didn’t think I stood a chance … but she said yes and here we are.’ He reached for Camilla’s hand and smiled down at her. ‘Always know that you have made me the happiest man alive – and the luckiest. But since words aren’t exactly my forte … and before my brothers start ribbing me for managing to utter more than two consecutive sentences … I’ve enlisted help. This is for you, my love.’
And as the footmen began silently removing the screens, from behind them poured the sound of a harpsichord … and the shining beauty of Mozart under the magic hands of the Virtuoso Earl.
Some hours later, alone in Mount Street except for the servants, Adam swept his bride up in his arms and carried her into the suite of rooms that had been prepared for them. Lady Martindale, he had been delighted to learn, would be spending the next three nights at Alveston House. Closing the door with his foot, he let Camilla slide slowly down until her feet touched the floor, then captured her mouth with his.
‘At last,’ he breathed gratefully.
‘Yes,’ she replied between kisses. ‘At last.’
‘Please tell me Martha won’t be popping in here at any minute.’
‘She won’t come unless I ring.’
‘Good. You won’t need her.’ He nipped playfully at her jaw, before lifting his head to smile at her. ‘I can help you out of your clothes well enough.’
Disengaging herself, Camilla danced backwards into the room.
‘And into them?’
‘If necessary.’ He took a couple of slow, lazy steps towards her. ‘But it won’t be.’
‘Oh.’ That predatory prowl, coupled with the heat in his eyes caused something deep inside her to coil and sizzle. She retreated a bit further. ‘Why not?’
Adam followed, his gaze locked with hers. ‘I want you all to myself for a time. So the only point of putting clothes on would be to give me the task of taking them off again.’ He paused, watching her back across the sitting-room until she stood in the bedchamber doorway. Then, advancing again, his voice a little deeper and rougher than before, he added, ‘Not that I’d mind. The gown you are wearing is an invitation to sin … one I’m going to enjoy accepting.’
Tiny sparks pulsed in Camilla’s veins and her breath had become light and shallow. She wasn’t sure how he’d managed to make her want him with just a sultry look and a few words … but it tempted her to prolong the moment. Three backward steps took her into the bedroom; three more of his had him leaning against the door jamb, watching her out of hungry dark eyes. Wanting to tease him a little, she said, ‘And do I get an invitation?’
‘No. You get a promise.’ Suddenly he was inside the room with the door closed behind him. ‘Whatever you want. Everything you want. But let’s begin with this.’
And then his arm was about her waist, pulling her to him and his mouth was brushing hers. Camilla grasped his shoulders, wanting him closer … but instead of staying to kiss her, his lips forged a leisurely trail across her cheek and jaw. Her head fell back exposing her throat, so he kissed that as well before taking her mouth again … this time, deeply and with undisguised passion. She surrendered to him, all heat and sweetness and promise; and, distantly aware that his fingers were busy with the fastenings of her gown, she reciprocated by shoving blindly at his coat.
Adam released her for the seconds it took to shrug the coat off and toss it aside. Before it hit the floor, she was already at work on the buttons of his vest. On a shaky laugh, he said, ‘Slow down, sweetheart. If you want me to strip for you --’
‘I do. You promised.’
His heart gave a single heavy thud and his arousal spiralled.
‘And I’ll keep my promise. But all in good time.’
‘You always say that,’ she grumbled, still fumbling with the buttons. ‘I want … I want …’
‘I know. So do I.’ Sweeping her hands aside, he finished the job and sent the vest in the wake of his coat. ‘Now be still for a moment and let me.’
Entirely without haste, between random butterfly kisses and despite the slight unsteadiness of his hands, he finished unfastening and removing both gown and petticoats. Then he set about unlacing her stays.
Throughout all of this, Camilla somehow managed to explore the lines of his torso. He felt wonderful … even more wonderful than she’d expected. But it wasn’t enough so she tugged his shirt free of his breeches and slid her hands beneath it. Yes. This was what she’d wanted. Hot, firm skin over neatly-tailored muscles. She drew a sobbing breath and whispered, ‘Take it off. Now. Please.’
Adam stepped back, shaking his head and simply staring at her, clad in nothing but her shift, stockings and pretty green slippers. All pearly-pink skin and luscious curves … all of it even lovelier than the imaginings which had kept him awake at night. If there was a more erotic sight than this, he couldn’t imagine it. He said unevenly, ‘In a moment. In just a … moment. First … your hair.’
She made a small annoyed sound and nuzzled his throat while her fingers roved up and down his spine, sending a small tremor through him and causing him to send hairpins flying carelessly in all directions. And when her hair fell down around her shoulders, he plunged his hands into its soft, cool mass and possessed her mouth once more. Then, not waiting for her to ask again, he pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall.
‘Satisfied?’ he murmured.
‘For now,’ she replied, palms mapping his chest. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since that day at Audley Court.’
‘And I’ve wanted to do this …’ One hand traced the downward curve of her back while the other cupped her breast over the thin lawn of her shift, both of which turned his last three words into a groan, ‘… for rather longer.’
Camilla pressed closer. Parts of her were melting. She wanted the rest of their clothing gone. She wanted something for which she had no name other than his. ‘Adam …?’
‘Yes, love.’ In one smooth motion, he disposed of her shift and lifted her on to the bed. Then, taking his time about it, he knelt to roll down her stockings.
In some far off corner of Camilla’s brain was the knowledge that she was naked and surprise that she wasn’t embarrassed. But it was a very far off corner … and her body was drowning in powerful new sensations; and Adam … Adam was removing the rest of his own clothes to stand perfectly still for a moment so that she might look if she chose.
If she chose? Of course she did, absorbing lean hips and long, well-muscled legs. And …‘My goodness! Those illustrations weren’t remotely accurate!’
The unwary words were out before she could stop them.
Caught with one knee on the bed, Adam blinked and froze. ‘Illustrations?’
A hand gestured vaguely towards the part of him that held her gaze transfixed.
‘In the anatomy book. The p-proportions were all wrong.’
If Adam hadn’t been aroused to a point very close to pain, he might have laughed. As it was, he moved onwards until his skin met hers and, when she gasped with the pleasure of it, managed to say, ‘To the book’s detriment rather than mine, I hope. But can we please talk about that later?’
She made a strangled sound that he took to mean ‘yes’.
‘Thank God.’
After that, there was no room for thought … no room for anything but the delicious slide of flesh against flesh. His mouth on her … her hands on him; every touch, every kiss … all fuelled by heat and hunger and instinct. His own desire held in an iron grip, Adam slowly unlocked the secrets of her body. He’d tortured himself imagining this in meticulous detail but the reality of it was beyond any dream. Everything felt new … as if he’d never touched a woman before. As if her first time was his, also.
With every new caress, the fires inside Camilla blazed ever higher until it seemed that her bones had been consumed, leaving only sensation behind. She couldn’t stay still.
‘Adam … oh. What … I … oh. D-Don’t stop.’
He had no intention of stopping – wasn’t sure he could have done so if the world had been coming to an end. There was only this; only her. He fed her arousal until every part of her was telling him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Only then did he finally and with infinite care join their bodies … and, summoning the last reserves of his control, ensured her pleasure before taking his own.
Camilla awoke still tangled in Adam’s arms. Wondering if he was still asleep, she cautiously tilted her head to look at him but, before she got to his face, he said huskily, ‘Ah. Awake at last?’
‘Mm.’ She stretched, relishing the feel of his body against her own. ‘Is it very late?’
‘No.’
She yawned and wriggled a little closer. ‘So we needn’t get up yet?’
‘Not unless you’re hungry. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
The hand wandering down his torso suggested that she wasn’t talking about breakfast.
Adam drew in a slow breath and said casually, ‘Looking for something?’
‘Mm,’ she said again. And a few seconds later, ‘I think I’ve found it.’
‘So you have.’ He knew what that teasing hand was telling her. He said, ‘A bit more like those illustrations this morning, perhaps?’
‘Ye-es. Except …’ Except that she could already feel his body changing. Fascinated, she continued her exploration and tried to read his face. ‘Do you like this?’
‘Somewhat. Can’t you tell?’
Really, Adam thought, this wasn’t a conversation he’d imagined having the morning after his wedding. And that clever little hand of hers was learning fast. Soon he’d either have to stop her or do something about it. He said, ‘Tell me about the anatomy book.’
‘Oh – please!’ she groaned. ‘I wish I’d never mentioned the wretched thing.’
‘At that precise moment, so did I.’
With a tiny laugh, she propped herself on one elbow to look into his face. The sheet slipped, providing a view that inevitably went straight to his groin and she said delightedly, ‘Oh! Did I do that?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’ Reluctantly trapping her roving hand in one of his and using the other to do a little teasing of his own, he said, ‘That’s enough for now, unless …’
‘Unless what?’
In one lithe movement, he rolled up on to his knees and sat back on his heels to look down on her. The silver-gilt hair was loose and tousled and his smile held a hint of wickedness. He seemed in no hurry to speak … and Camilla was content to lie against the pillows admiring him and marvelling again how perfectly comfortable he was with his own nudity.
But finally he said slowly, ‘Just before we left Dragon Hall, I described a small fantasy of mine. I’m sure you recall it.’
Her pulse accelerated and that now familiar coil of heat blossomed in her body. You won’t mind me starting at your toes and taking an hour or so to kiss my way up, will you?
‘Yes. But I thought you were joking.’ And when he raised one eyebrow and continued to look at her, ‘Oh. You weren’t?’ He shook his head. ‘Not even about it taking an hour?’
‘Not at all. I’ll need time for the numerous places I plan to linger along the way. And didn’t we agree that one can never be too thorough?’
‘I … yes. I believe we did.’
‘Excellent.’ He slithered down until he could lift one of her feet to his mouth and tease the arch with his tongue. Then, smiling, ‘If you don’t like it, tell me to stop and I will.’
The fires inside her were already spreading. Trying to sound reluctant, she said, ‘Oh. Well, in that case I suppose I might allow you to … to proceed.’
So he did.
It took quite a long time; and some of the places he chose to linger were, to say the least of it, a revelation.
But she didn’t tell him to stop.
In fact, she liked it very much indeed.
As did he.