Tonight or Never (10 page)
Authors: Dara Joy
He opened the cabinet door and rested against the jamb. Arms folded over his chest, he waited.
A few seconds later Chloe's head poked through the clothes, red hair mussed.
"How did you know I was in here?" she asked seriously.
He quirked his brow.
"Lucky guess," he intoned dryly.
Chloe was still cross from the unexpected arrival of so many demanding guests, several of whom she had never seen before. She did not have time for this! She needed to concentrate on what she was going to do about tonight.
Her wedding night.
How was she going to get around her virgin state? There was no hope that John wouldn't notice. The man had a tendency to pay attention to minute details, especially when those details had to do with women! There wasn't a chance he would overlook the small… inconvenience.
A line furrowed the center of her smooth forehead. She had to come up with a plan and quickly!
Her heart hammered in her chest as she gazed up at him. John was put together like a work of art… what would it be like to touch him as she had always wanted to?
She squelched the image immediately; she didn't have time now to fantasize, either.
Anyway, her fantasies were about to become a reality. She needed a plan!
"What do you want?"
As if he read her libidinous thoughts, he rejoined silkily, "Go and find your grandmother, sweet."
"What for?"
"Tell her not to put too many herbs in the bouquet… we won't be
needing
them." The captivating green eyes sparkled with blatant implication.
All sexual.
Chloe had never seen
that
suggestion on John's face.
Oh, well
. Add it to the growing list of intriguing expressions he had been sending her way lately.
All things considered, she supposed she had asked for it.
More than asked for it.
She had fought for it.
Her palms got moist. She rubbed them on the front of her gown. She needed a plan! Inhaling deeply, she gathered her frayed nerves. It was just a first night—nothing to be alarmed about.
The one positive aspect of her intended's vast experience was that he would make it as enjoyable for her as he could.
In that regard, she had complete confidence in John. His capabilities were legendary.
The other little matter, though, needed some tending.
How do I stop him from discovering it?
Getting him inebriated was out of the question. John had an amazing capacity to hold his drink, and something told her he would not be persuaded to
overimbibe
today.
Finding
Grandmere
might not be such a bad idea; perhaps she could lure her into divulging some boudoir secrets that would allow Chloe to come up with a workable plan.
She would have to be extremely careful;
Grandmere
must not suspect her real reason for seeking such advice. The countess might not readily accept that her granddaughter was trying to hide from her new husband the fact that she was untouched. Chloe had no intentions of explaining the strange business.
Course of action settled, she elected to hide her present nervousness with brashness. She placed her hands on her hips. "You might help with the guests, John, instead of standing there like a stallion on loan to stud!"
His jaw dropped. He couldn't believe his ears.
"
Chloe
."
Chloe squirmed out from under a pile of clothes and pushed past the dumbstruck viscount. "I'm very busy, John; I don't have time for this." She neglected to clarify exactly what "this" was.
"The ceremony is in two hours." She pointed a stern finger at him as she headed out the door. "I expect you to be ready and… and… prepared."
With those cryptic words, she disappeared from view.
John watched her leave with a knowing glint in his eyes. He idly wondered if she had any idea how
prepared
a stallion he could be.
Chloe found her grandmother in the conservatory.
It was a truly beautiful room and Chloe's favorite. No matter the weather outside, plants and flowers bloomed profusely inside the glass walls of this airy space.
Her grandmother was something of an amateur perfumer, having been intrigued from an early age by the stimulating and enticing powers assigned to the efflorescence of plants. The lands around her ancestral estate flourished with these plantings, and the family had sponsored their own perfumery for ages.
Here in
The countess also took great pleasure in concocting fragrant oils for the skin and bath. Scores of the little odd-shaped bottles lined the stone floor of the room.
Chloe was especially fond of a scent
Grandmere
had made just for her, containing jasmine, tuberose, and lilac oil, with a hint of exotic spice. Apparently John was fond of it too, for he had commented on it on more than one occasion.
"
Grandmere
, I need to speak with you."
The countess looked up from the lovely herbal posy she was fashioning for her granddaughter. "What is it,
ma petite
?"
Chloe bit her lip. How to start? "Well… it's about… you see… tonight."
Grandmere
put down the bouquet, smiling gently at her. "You are worried about the wedding night, my angel?"
Chloe started to shake her head no; the countess's arm coming around her shoulders stopped her.
"There is nothing to fear. You will be just fine. I am positive John will know exactly what to do." She winked at her granddaughter.
"Even if he is not French."
"But—"
"Do you think I would entrust you to just anyone?
Non
, you will see; John has always taken care of his Chloe and he will tonight—listen to your
Grandmere
. Of this I am certain."
"I'm not sure what—"
"He will lead you; follow his direction."
She intended to. This was very nice but it was not helping her with her problem. "How shall I… handle him,
Grandmere
? Everyone knows he goes his own way."
"Ah. It is an age-old problem, this." The countess nodded sagely. "The woman must be in control, of course."
Now we are getting somewhere
.
Grandmere
was extremely knowledgeable in the ways of men. "And how do I do that?" she asked candidly.
"You must give him everything," the countess stated with the conviction of the femme fatale.
"
Everything
?"
That sounded dangerous.
"Everything."
The older woman grinned slowly. "But…"
"But what?"
Chloe leaned in to get this priceless bit of advice.
"You must let him
think
you are holding something back."
She considered the wisdom in this. "What good would that do?"
"It will drive him crazy! He will keep wondering what it is you are
not
giving him; and if he is a real man, he will always come back to claim what he believes should be his."
"Even though it does not exist?"
"
Mais
out
The man seeks to conquer the woman—to make her his. By letting him think he hasn't fully done so, you are engaging him in a contest of wills. Men adore challenges—it keeps them lively."
Chloe wasn't convinced. Furthermore, John seemed lively enough as it was. "Are you sure about this?"
"
Oui
!
Very sure."
Hmmm. "Is—is this what you do with Maurice?
"Yes! For years, every time he asks me to marry him, I refuse.
C'est
pa
, he is in the palm of my hand." The countess gestured with her fingers.
Chloe cocked her head to the side as she contemplated the prudence of such an approach. "It could be risky."
"Anything worthwhile is risky."
"I suppose…"
"Don't worry too much, dear; they never seem to catch on. Men often have to be hit over the head simply to see what is in front of them. Such is their nature.
" .
Chloe blinked as the solution became crystal clear.
Of course
! Why hadn't she seen it earlier? It was brilliant. John would never know!
"Oh,
Grandmere
, thank you so much!"
She hugged her grandmother to her,
then
ran excitedly from the room.
The countess smiled fondly after the girl before returning to the posy.
Well hidden and seated behind a dense array of plants, Maurice
Chavaneau
raised his brows.
He had been hiding from the guests in the conservatory.
The soothing lap of the water fountain combined with the lush surroundings had lulled him to sleep long before the countess had even entered the room.
Their conversation had awakened him.
A slow grin spread its way across his still-handsome face.
Ho-ho!
John had to fight his way to the front of the room. The small chapel on the grounds was filled to overflowing. One man had rudely elbowed him in the side, saying,
"
Too bad, old chap! We were here first! Go back and find your own place."
John had pierced the man with a deadly look. "Yes, but
I'm
getting married here… old chap."
The man had turned beet red. "Sorry," he mumbled.
John forged ahead. This was impossible! Perhaps one good thing to come of it would be that Percy wouldn't be able to—
Blast
!
There he was.
Right at the front.
Along with Maurice and the countess and—
He
misstepped
.
Deiter
was wearing John's gold waistcoat with a purple sash. Even Schnapps had a little silver hat tied to his ugly head. The small dog glared at the guests, his one tooth showing.
It was the only time John could recall being in total agreement with the sour-faced pup.
His sights scanned the rest of the area at the front of the chapel. There she was.
His bride.
Something in his chest kicked. She looked beautiful.
Dressed in a simple gown of white batiste, she was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. A floral headdress of tiny yellow rosebuds wreathed her head.
He came abreast of her and took her small hands in his. "You look lovely, sweet." His finger lightly trailed her soft cheek.
"Much too faultless for the likes of me."
Chloe smiled up at him, all the happiness she felt shining in her eyes. "On the contrary, John, it is you who are the picture of elegance."
And he was, from his gray jacket and knee breeches ending in leather top boots to his silver waistcoat and white silk shirt. She had never seen him so handsome. A thin black ribbon tied his golden hair to the back of his neck in a queue.
It seemed he wanted to say something else to her, but at that moment the parson ushered them to their places. Just as John signaled the man to begin, Percy quipped in a loud voice, "
Morituri
te
salutamus
! We who are about to die salute you!"
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Chloe had to suppress a snicker.
John looked over his shoulder at his groomsman, shooting him a fulminating glare.
The service began. Every now and then John gazed down at Chloe out of the corner of his eye. For some reason he wanted to remember the way she looked when she spoke her vows, becoming his wife.
My wife.
That something in his chest kicked again. He valiantly suppressed it.
The ceremony was over before he knew it; he was instructed he may kiss his bride. He bent down and, cognizant of the avid onlookers, chose simply to brush his lips across her forehead.
Chloe gave him a puzzled look. He squeezed her hand, discreetly shaking his head. When he kissed her for the first time he did not want an audience. She seemed to get his silent message, for she lightly squeezed his hand back.
Then they were walking down the aisle to hearty congratulations and some very off-color remarks.
