Page 43 of When He Was Wicked
Verity looked over her shoulder at him, then stepped forward, grabbed James's arms and with a tinkling laugh ran down the steps, tugging him with her. He followed without question, and her brother bellowed in the distance. James assisted her into his carriage and sat opposite her.
“I am not going back into that house,ever,” she said, conviction flowering through her soul.
He knocked on the ceiling, and the coach rumbled away. "You will not?"
“No. It has been unbearable for months, and I shall not bear it a minute more. I only have the clothes I am wearing and my dearest possessions in my pocket, but I do not care. My future husband is quite wealthy, and I daresay he will be able to replenish my wardrobe effortlessly. And when I come into my inheritance at five and twenty, we will be even better situated.”
A dark shadow passed over his face. “Your husband?”
“Why yes, of course. I am three and twenty and do not need my brother’s permission to marry the man I love, a man of my heart’s choosing.” Then she smiled at him. “May my Aunt Imogen live with us, James? I promise you shall love her.”
He stilled, hope, relief, and something more profound darkening his eyes. “Live withus?”
Verity frowned. “Do you mean to say that atrocious poem was aboutfriendship?”
He grinned, and her heart lifted. "No." He tugged at his neckcloth. "I love you," he then said simply. "I do not have the elegant words, Verity, or the flowery flattery, but I promise you, none will love, protect, and cherish you as I do. You fill everycrevice of my being with happiness, and I cannot imagine a life without you."
She flung herself at him, and he caught her and gathered her in his arms. She rained laughing kisses over his nose, his jaw, and his lips. “I love you, James, so very much. I should not be saying this, because it does not bode well for me, but I am no longer a lady of quality. My reputation is damaged and mayneverbe repaired.”
He stared at her. “Verity, your qualities of strength and kindness are more valuable to me than a simpering miss with acceptable tonnish qualities. I love you, and since you have consented to be my wife, I'll not hear this nonsense about you not being…perfect. Marry me, Verity. Be my countess, my lover, and my friend."
She rested her forehead against his. “Yes, I absolutely will.”
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later…
Birchmount Manor
Verity laughed breathlessly against James’s mouth, her head spinning most deliciously from his ravishing kisses. He tasted of wine and his own uniquely arousing flavor. The thick verdant grass beneath her crinkled, and she slid her legs against his trousers, so very tempted to be naughty with him out in the open. They picnicked at the southern side of their estate, near the large and beautiful lake.
James lifted his mouth from hers. The gleam in his gaze contained a most sensuous flame and such burning love. “Have I lately mentioned how much I adore you, Lady Maschelly?”
Her heart jolted with delight. “Only about an hour ago,” she whispered, fitting her lips perfectly to his for another deep kiss.
Desire curled in her veins, and she moaned softly. They broke apart, panting.
“I am still in awe that you are my wife, Verity,” James said, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I love you.”
She grinned. “I love you, my James.”
He sat up, resting his back against the large beech tree they reposed under, tugging Verity into his arms.
“Another letter came from mamma today,” she said, lacing their fingers together.
“She writes to you every day,” James said. “How do you feel?”
“The pain lessens each day, but I am still not ready for more. I cannot explain my reticent; I only know it is there in my heart.”
“Give it more time, my sweet.”
They had married only two days after she had run away with him in his carriage. Verity had scandalously stayed in his townhouse until he procured the special license, knowing her mother or Albert would not dare breathe a word that she was not at home.
Verity had written to inform her mother she was now the Countess Maschelly, and her mother had replied with good felicitations and a heartfelt plea to mend their rift. Her apology had felt sincere, and Verity recalled how her mother cried the morning she had left their townhouse. One day Verity would invite her mother to her new home, but the months and years of pain would not vanish because her mother wished it. Verity would continue to correspond with her through letters until she was comfortable with their relationship.
“So, this is what a love match looks like,” a voice filled with amusement said.
Verity withdrew from her husband’s embrace to face his cousin, Elanor, who stood staring at them with unabashed curiosity and laughter lurking in her dark blue eyes.
