Pride and Fire (11 page)

Michelle smiled. “Mother deemed it proper to leave us on our own, Paul.”

Paul recalled the last time they’d been alone in the parlor and a punch of lust struck him low in his belly. “Foolish woman.”

Michelle blushed but her smile widened.

As they drank their tea, her hands caught his attention. “What is on your hands? Ink?”

“It’s nothing.” She tried to hide her ink-stained fingers from him, thrusting between the folds of her skirt.

He clicked his tongue at her and grasped her hands in his. “Love, whatever are you hiding?”

“Mother and I wrote out the wedding invitations today,” she said. “I thought you would find my hands distasteful.”

He placed kisses on her fingers. “I’ll never find anything about you distasteful.”

She lowered her eyes. “Paul, what have you been about today?”

“Why do you ask?”

She turned his hands over in hers. “Your hands have nearly as much ink on them as mine.”

He bristled. He couldn’t tell her about his government work. She’d surely wonder why a titled gentleman would need to toil like a commoner. “I, um, worked on some correspondence this morning. The ink well was a bit unsteady, I’m afraid.”

Michelle’s brows drew together in puzzlement. Before she could press him further her mother finally joined them. A reprieve, he thought with a touch of guilt.

Lady Helen launched into a recitation of the names of the guests invited to the wedding reception, at which Paul simply nodded his approval. He noticed Michelle stiffen at the mention of her cousin Reginald. Her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched as she positively seethed. What did he know about Reginald Thomas? He had a vague recollection of a dandy, someone who spouted opinions not necessarily his own. He’d ask her about him the next time he had her alone.

Any thought of Michelle’s cousin left his mind as she walked him to the front door. She smiled up at him sweetly and stood up on tiptoe, giving him a peck on the cheek. She drew back with a look of satisfaction on her face. Quite pleased with herself, then.

He flashed her a wicked grin. “That was entirely too brief.”

Michelle gasped as he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. She tasted like tea and honey and sweet woman. When he lifted his head, he was pleased to see the bemusement on her face.

“Until this evening, love,” he whispered as he took his leave.

As he stood outside on the steps, he realized he’d forgotten to ask about her cousin. That was no small wonder. Whenever she turned those beautiful golden-brown eyes on him, he could think of little but kissing her breathless. Whistling, he climbed aboard his carriage and went home.

Michelle watched Paul go, leaning against the door jamb for support. She sighed, her heart still racing. Her mother breezed past her.

“Do close the door, Michelle,” she said.

Michelle’s cheeks flamed. She closed the door, shaking her head. Lord, Paul could make her lose her mind with one kiss. Humming to herself, she followed her mother into the parlor.

* * * *

The next few days passed with speed, filled with last minute preparations. The wedding day dawned clear and bright. As was Lady Helen’s very recent custom, she threw open the door to Michelle’s room.

“Up, dear!” she called.

Michelle groaned as she struggled to a sitting position. “Mother, I wish you’d cease this infernal morning ritual of yours.”

“No need to scold me so, dear.” She opened the draperies. “Starting tomorrow, it will be your husband’s duty to wake you in the morning.”

Michelle blinked at the sunlight streaming through her window as her mother’s words settled on her. “Oh! Paul and I are getting married today!”

“Yes, dear.”

As her mother kept up a steady stream of chatter, Michelle rose and attended to her morning toilette. She was washing her face when her mother spoke from the other side of the privacy screen.

“Dear, I ordered a bath for you,” she advised. “And I have some very special soaps, as well.”

“Special soaps, Mother?” Michelle wiped the towel over her face and peered from behind the screen. “What are you about?”

“Tonight is your wedding night, dear,” Lady Helen said. “I thought you’d wish to feel your best.”

Michelle slowly nodded, unsure of the direction this conversation would take.

Her mother took Michelle’s hands and led her back to the bed. “Do you have any questions about what will happen tonight?”

“Happen?” Michelle asked with trepidation.

“Yes, dear,” her mother answered. “What will happen between you and your husband. On your wedding night.”

Michelle blushed hotly at what her mother was intimating. “I can’t talk to you about this, Mother!”

Lady Helen patted her hand. “It’s all right to be nervous, Michelle. Trust your husband to guide you.”

Michelle dropped her gaze. “I trust Paul. Very much.”

“Michelle, has Lord Leed ever…?” Her mother was suddenly agitated. “That is to say…”

“No! We have never been… intimate.”

Her mother’s brow smoothed and she fanned her face. She proceeded to inform Michelle of what to expect. Michelle’s mouth fell open in shock. Paul was a large man. She remembered the hard bulge in his breeches that first night in his carriage. Why, he’d rip her in half!

“But, how can that be, Mother?” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks. “I cannot imagine such a thing.”

Her mother simply smiled. “All will be well, dear.”

“I hope so.”

* * * *

Later that morning, Paul changed into his formal attire. He tried repeatedly to tie his cravat, but the task proved impossible for him. He went downstairs and implored Starks to finish the task.

“But, My Lord,” the man started. “Your valet—”

“My valet,” Paul cut in, “is busy moving my furniture about to make room for my wife’s arrival, Starks. Just tie the bloody thing!”

Starks deftly tied the neck cloth. He stepped back and nodded his approval over his master’s appearance. He glanced down at Paul’s boots, clicking his tongue. “I can take your boots and give them another shine, My Lord.”

“My boots are fine,” Paul snapped. “I’m sorry, Starks. I believe I’m nervous this morning.”

“It’s to be expected,” Starks said. “This is your wedding day, My Lord.”

Paul started to laugh at the man’s jest but checked himself. The butler stood ramrod stiff, ever the proper servant. “Yes, well.” Paul nodded, hiding his grin. “That will be all.”

“Very good, My Lord.” The man bowed, taking his leave.

After going to the kitchens to make sure everything was ready for the late supper he’d planned, he set out for the Thomas townhouse.

He waited in the parlor. The guests would arrive shortly after the ceremony, Lady Helen had advised him, and the reception would take place in the main salon. His father and sisters stood nearby, the twins nearly bursting with excitement. His nervousness increasing tenfold, he began to pace about the room as Lord and Lady Kanewood looked on.

“Leed, do calm down,” Geoffrey teased. “It’s only your wedding day.”

Paul turned to glare at his friend.

Geoffrey opened his mouth again, but Becca’s hand on his arm stilled him. He cleared his throat. “I wonder when Michelle will be ready for my escort?”

Paul shrugged and looked at the minister. Reverend Grey would perform the ceremony, much to Lady Helen’s obvious delight. She’d informed Paul of how pleased she was that he could officiate on such short notice. The elderly man smiled a sweet smile of patience, agitating Paul all the more. Of course he’s calm and patient. He wasn’t the one getting married.

At long last a servant came into the parlor and asked for Geoffrey. Geoffrey grinned and slapped Paul on the back as he strode by and Paul managed a small smile.

Just when Paul thought he’d perish if the damn ceremony didn’t get underway, Geoffrey appeared in the doorway with Michelle on his arm. She took Paul’s breath away. Her gown of ivory, shimmery-smooth and draped in lace, made her look like a goddess. Her glorious hair was pinned up on her head in a shining mass of curls, tendrils allowed to escape to frame her face and trail down to bare shoulders he longed to kiss. She wore pearls, which picked up the glow of her skin. Lord, she was magnificent.

Geoffrey led her over to where Paul stood and placed their hands together. She trembled as she looked up at him and Paul felt it, that spark between their joined hands, and took it as a positive sign. If he’d harbored any doubts, he did no longer. He gave her a wink, and turned her to face the reverend.

The ceremony was over as quickly as it began, or so it seemed, thank God. Paul sucked in a breath, relieved that at last Michelle was his. He swept her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, sealing their union.

Lord and Lady Kanewood were the first to offer their congratulations as Lady Helen cried loud, happy tears. Paul’s sisters squealed happily as his father patted him soundly on the back. Michelle shot him that coy look he’d seen on the balcony with Roberts, but there was heat there she’d never show another man if he had anything to say about it.

They all soon retired to the salon to begin the reception. The newlyweds had a wonderful time, dancing closely as their guests looked on. Paul’s father danced with Michelle as the groom twirled about the floor with first Catherine and then Elizabeth. Paul mentally ticked off the hours before he could make her completely his.

“Ah, you’re back at my side.” He kissed Michelle’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Where you belong.”

Michelle opened her mouth to say something in return, something teasing and outrageous he was certain, when she stiffened.

“Do introduce me to your husband, dear cousin,” a young man said as he stepped in front of them.

“This is my cousin, Paul.” Her luscious lips curled with a distaste he’d never glimpsed before. “Reginald Thomas.”

Paul ran his gaze over Reginald Thomas. He had hair nearly the red of Michelle’s, curled effeminately about his head. The slight man was dressed outlandishly, appearing the fop. Paul dismissed the man as a dandy the very moment he laid eyes on him, knowing his dim memories of the man hadn’t been far from the truth. There was obviously no love lost between his bride and the fop, though.

“Thomas.”

“Congratulations, Lord Leed.” Reggie took Michelle’s free hand in his. “You have plucked England’s fairest flower.”

Paul heard Michelle give a tiny snort. “Michelle, what…?”

“Paul, my boy!” His father pounded him on the back again. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am.”

Paul turned away from Michelle and her cousin to speak with his father.

* * * *

“Lovely affair, cousin,” Reggie said to Michelle.

Michelle pulled her hand from Reggie’s. “Thank you for coming,” she said flatly.

Reggie leered, his eyes roaming over her, and her skin began its customary crawl when in his presence.

“Are you ready for your wedding night, my dear?” He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “Perhaps you should have let me instruct you in the art of love. It would have been my pleasure.”

Michelle could only gasp in answer, at which the man chuckled.

“Do enjoy tonight, my dear.” Again his eyes raked over her. “Leed no doubt will.”

Reggie left her and she clutched Paul’s arm tightly, drawing his attention from his father.

He looked down at her and smiled, bending his head to hers. “Not still nervous are you, wife?” he asked softly.

Looking into his eyes, she forgot all about her disgusting cousin and his lewd comments. “Not at all, husband.” She returned Paul’s smile. “Perhaps anticipation is what you see.”

When his beautiful blue eyes darkened, she knew they shared that thrill of anticipation.

A while later, Paul helped Michelle into his waiting carriage. “Let us leave our guests to enjoy the celebration in our absence, love.”

She agreed wholeheartedly, eager to get to Paul’s townhouse and spend their first night together as husband and wife.

Inside the carriage, Michelle cuddled up against her new husband.

“Ah, Michelle,” Paul breathed, rubbing his hand over her back. “We’ll be so happy. I promise you that.”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “I am happy, Paul.” She smiled. “Aren’t you?”

He grinned in answer and kissed her soundly.

When they arrived at his townhouse he alighted the carriage and held his hand out to her. She placed her hand in his and let him help her down. Suddenly he grabbed her in his arms and swept her up the steps to the front door.

“Paul!”

He pushed open the door and carried her over the threshold, letting loose a booming laugh that echoed in the entryway. As he placed her on her feet, she noticed a young butler standing in the foyer, surprise on his face.

“M-my Lord…?” the servant stammered.

“Hello, Starks!” Paul beamed. “This is the new Lady Leed.”

The butler’s face soon wore a placid expression as he bowed low to Michelle. “Good evening, My Lady,” he said in his most formal tone of voice.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Starks,” she replied.

“I’ve seen to your personal effects, My Lady,” he informed her. “As well as seen your maid settled.”

“Thank you, Starks,” she said with a nod. “I appreciate your attention.”

His chest puffed with obvious pride, he turned on his heel and left them there.

“Very proper, isn’t he?” she asked Paul.

“Very,” Paul said.

Michelle glanced about the townhouse then. It was pleasant and, though sparsely decorated, the furnishings were of a fine quality. She narrowed her eyes. Perhaps with some new curtains, and some decorations from her mother’s home…

“What are you thinking, love?” Paul asked.

“Oh, just that my husband’s home is in dire need of a woman’s touch.”

Paul smiled crookedly. “Why do you think I married you?”

She swatted at him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the house, giving her a quick tour. “This is the parlor, which could no doubt use more of your woman’s touch. The kitchen is in the back belowstairs.”