Page 58 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“Whatever you may think of her,” Jeremy said tightly, “she’s my wife now.” He nudged his horse into a sedate walk. His father rode beside him. “The duke isn’t happy with the union.”
“Has she been cut off?” His father looked alarmed.
“She’s packing right now. The duke wouldn’t permit her to stay under his roof for more than a night.”
“But what of her finances?” the earl pressed.
“Those are untouched.” Yet he’d seen the hurt in Sarah’s eyes when her father had made it clear that relations between them from now on would be strained. Curse the man for causing her any pain. But Jeremy would give Sarah a lifetime of happiness, as much as he could possibly bestow, to ameliorate that hurt.
Lord Hutton exhaled. “That’s good.”
“But I am putting my search for the Lady of Dubious Quality on hiatus,” Jeremy went on. “I need to spend time with my new bride.”
His father didn’t look pleased by this announcement, but he must have realized that to insist otherwise would have been contrary to his own trumpeting of morality.
He mulled over this prospect. Then, “It was a small wedding?”
“Yes. It’s better that way.” It hadn’t felt odd that his father hadn’t been there, but his mother would likely be hurt by the suddenness and smallness of the wedding. “Sarah spends the night at her father’s, and then we leave for Devonshire at first light.”
They reached the end of Rotten Row, and in silent agreement, they guided their horses onto one of the other paths.
“Not going to spend your wedding night with your bride?” His father frowned. “Aren’t you impatient to bed the girl?”
Heat crept up Jeremy’s collar. He didn’t like speaking of this with most people, especially his father. His desire for Sarah came from his heart and body. It was something private and personal between him and Sarah alone. Yet the marriage rites were public, in a way, much as he disliked the idea.
“I want to truly make her my wife soon, yes,” Jeremy allowed. He kicked his horse into a lope, riding ahead of his father. “But she needs the night to gather her possessions.”
Despite the discomfort of discussing such matters with the earl, excitement and fear danced through Jeremy. Soon he’d take her to bed. Notions of his vicar’s morality and responsibility to decorum fled. All he wanted was to give her as much pleasure as she could take. But for the first time, he wished he had more experience besides his one night with the Widow Marley, if only to guarantee that Sarah’s first time was good. Better than good. He didn’t want her to regret a moment of her life with him, and if that meant the constant pleasuring of her body, then he’d gladly apply himself to the task.
At the least, he’d been reading the Lady of Dubious Quality. The books were a wellspring of information on the physical act of sex.
His body tightened in response just thinking of Sarah’s soft curves, her untapped sensuality. The kisses they’d had only hinted at what potential they shared. It could be . . . beyond belief.
“You’ve got my blessing and compliments,” his father said brusquely, catching up. “You’ve . . . done well for yourself.”
The joy and burden of his father’s words were like a cloak of iron feathers. Sarah was now Jeremy’s—her safety and happiness were his responsibility. For all her enthusiasm, she knew little of what was required of a vicar’s wife, and he would have to show her. Doubts continued to assail him and he sent prayers up to theheavens, hoping that his status as a man of the cloth gave him some small preference.
Dear Lord, let me care for her as she deserves. Let her know no sorrow under my roof and in my arms. I will do anything you wish, so long as she is happy.
Amen.
Chapter 17
. . . as he looked up from where he nestled between my thighs.
The night wore on. I was relieved that the rain continued, for it meant that I could not leave Jacob. Yet I knew that soon, it would be time for me to go . . .
The Highwayman’s Seduction
The carriage swayed from side to side as it sped down the road. Outside the windows, the countryside unfolded in long, green banners, embroidered with farms and small towns. The sky deepened toward dusk, from pale gray to growing spills of violet, signifying the end of a very long day.
Yesterday had marked the end of Sarah’s spinsterhood. Tonight, she would fully become a wife. Here she was, an entirely different person, bound for eternity to another person.
Jeremy sat opposite her in the carriage. He’d actually fallen asleep soon after they’d started out for his parish in Devonshire—a bridal tour was something neither of them desired—and now his head tippedback and dreams danced beneath his eyelids. He must not have slept well last night, to have drifted off so quickly. She hadn’t, either. But nerves forced her into wakefulness.
She took advantage of his sleeping state to thoroughly study him. Her husband. A faint golden gleam shone on the clean line of his jaw, proof that it had been many hours since his morning shave. Soon she’d have the opportunity to watch that domestic ritual every day. It would become as familiar to her as brushing her own hair, she imagined. Yet it would always be slightly foreign to her. The province of men.
His mouth opened slightly as he breathed in the steady rhythm of slumber. She resisted the urge to trace her fingers over the curves of his lips. Amazing to think that she could now—so long as they were in private. Shyness held her back. Yesterday, she and Jeremy had been separate individuals. Now they were joined together. Forever. Yet he was still in many ways unknown to her. Would he appreciate her touching him as he slept? Or did he hold sleep to be sacrosanct, never to be disturbed?
