Page 76 of To Pleasure a Prince
For the past nine years, Marcus had assumed that weddings were for other people. The farmer’s daughter marrying the brash young tenant. The aging schoolmistress marrying the local apothecary. The lady in the society column marrying her society gentleman, whose cheekwasn’tscored by a hideous scar.
Yet now he stood before a bishop, scar and all. He clasped the delicate hand of the most beautiful woman in England, nay, the world. And he was making her his wife.
Astonishing.
Yes, the wedding was a hurried affair, done by special license. Yes, it was small and private, without all the fuss Regina was probably used to. But it was still a wedding, and she was willing. Or mostly willing. The few times he’d seen her in the past week of wedding preparations she’d been rather formal with him. Still, she spoke her vows without hesitation.
But without eagerness either. Who could blame her? Stunning dukes’ daughters did not marry ungainly and reclusive louts like him, then settle happily into boring lives in the country away from fine society.
I must have the freedom to come and go to town as I please.
He scowled. Confound it all, he wouldmakeher be happy with him. He would keep her so satisfied at Castlemaine, in bed and out, that she would forget about town. He’d already leased the town house she’d demanded, but he’d be damned if he’d let her spend any time in it alone. He refused to follow his parents’ path, even if that meant keeping her by his side every waking hour.
The bishop pronounced them man and wife, but when Marcus went to kiss her, she dropped her lashes demurely. His gut tightened. Regina was never demure. Cool, yes. Reserved, sometimes. But not demure. Did she already regret their marriage?
Not if he could help it.
Instead of giving her the polite peck on the lips that their guests probably expected, he tugged her into his arms and kissed her soundly, determined to lay his claim to her as publicly as possible.
When he drew back, amid polite titters among the guests, her breath came in quick gasps, and the spark was back in her eyes. Even if itwasa spark of anger, it was better than her sudden modesty. He wouldn’t let her be modest, not with him and not today.
After a week craving the sweet taste of her mouth, he was ravenous for her. And he meant to make her ravenous for him, too. Tonight he would make her his, totally and irrevocably.Hiswife. And God help her if she denied him.
They faced the guests, then made their quick way down the aisle of St. James’s Church.
“I suppose you’re quite pleased with yourself,” she grumbled under her breath. “I swear, sometimes you make me—”
“—wish that you hadn’t come after me that night at Almack’s?”
She cast him a startled glance. “No.” Then she added, “But did you have to remindeveryonewhy we’re marrying so hastily?”
A grim smile touched his lips. “I’ll do whatever it takes to show your sniveling suitors that you’re no longer available.”
“Surely the wedding did that,” she shot back.
But the sharpness had left her voice, and she wore a ghost of a smile.
Outside, a lavishly decorated open landau waited to take them to the wedding breakfast at Foxmoor’s mansion. As they waved at guests and bystanders, he said under his breath, “Can’t we skip the breakfast and head straight to the honeymoon?”
She avoided his gaze. “Do men of your size ever skip meals?”
He lifted her hand to press a quick kiss into her palm. “Depends on what they’re hungry for. The sort of meal I want right now is best eaten in private.”
Her blush brought his every muscle to attention. “Behave,” she said, in a throaty whisper.
“I’ll try. For now, anyway.”
Unfortunately, the wedding breakfast was designed to ensure good behavior. They had no privacy from the moment they arrived at Foxmoor’s. There were an ungodly number of guests for a small wedding. Besides Miss Tremaine, the Iversleys, and Byrne, several lords and ladies from Regina’s usual set had attended, half of whom he’d never even met.
Whitmore and his brothers were in attendance, too, although that didn’t bother Marcus. During the endless congratulations in the receiving line, he found it immensely entertaining to gloat over the sullen Whitmore. He made sure the man was watching every time he bent to whisper in Regina’s ear or took her arm or touched her hand. By the time Whitmore finally left—earlier than his brothers—Marcus was actually beginning to enjoy himself.
Except for one other annoyance. Even if Foxmoor was on his best behavior, even if having him at the wedding couldn’t have been avoided, Marcus didn’t like having him anywhere near Louisa.
As he and Regina left the receiving line, Marcus looked for Louisa and frowned when he saw her in close conversation with Miss Tremaine. “When did my sister and your cousin become such fast friends?”
Regina’s smile looked forced. “Why shouldn’t they be friends? Cicely is now a guest at the Iversleys’, so they’ll be in each other’s pockets a great deal.”
“I still don’t understand why Miss Tremaine couldn’t stay at Castlemaine or our new town house.”
