Much Ado About Kissing (Howertys #4)

Chapter 7: Wedding Night

Winterbourne Hall, England
July 21, 1816

The Wedding Night

It was far later than he would have liked before Marcus could excuse himself to the remaining guests in his garden. With so many staying the night at Winterbourne Hall, the festivities never seemed to end. His new wife had retired for the night quite some time ago, and while he wanted to allow her plenty of time to get settled in her new bedchamber—his bedchamber—he was also eager to begin their life as husband and wife.

When he had set out to win the hand of the Season's most popular young lady, he had done so with determination and the knowledge that whether or not he liked her didn't matter. Her dowry and the large sum of money he was about to gain were what mattered. He wasn't proud of it, but it was the truth. He had too many responsibilities to allow his estate to fail. People depended on him. The farmers and other families who lived on his land relied on him. And he refused to fail them.

It had been a stroke of luck that his new wife wasn't only the most beautiful woman to grace this world, but also someone he truly enjoyed speaking to. He, who didn't particularly enjoy conversing with anyone. But he enjoyed spending time with Rain. She made it seem easy. Speaking, and even laughing. She was always close to a smile, and it was such a contagious one he'd probably smiled more in the last few weeks while courting her than he had in his lifetime.

He hurried his steps down the long hallways of Winterbourne Hall. It was an old country seat that had been in his family for many generations. Grand and beautiful, but without soul. It was more akin to a museum than a home. He hoped that with Rain as his wife, they could turn the cold halls of his ancestral house into a warm home. Completely unlike how it had been for him growing up. His father had focused more on his education and making sure he knew to fulfil his obligations as a peer of the realm, and little on anything else. Had it not been for his mother, he would not have known what love was, but his father had kept her away from him as much as possible. Claiming she made him soft.

Not wanting to dwell on his bitter past, he turned a corner and soon came to a stop outside the door to his bedchamber. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Beneath his controlled demeanour, he was a passionate man, and he had not been with a woman for months. Wanting to act like a true gentleman, he had kept his interactions with Rain chaste and proper, even as he'd wanted to taste every inch of her. Tonight, he could finally loosen his restraints—at least somewhat. She was still an innocent. But he was oddly nervous.

Knocking on the door, he waited for Rain's call before entering. She sat on his large, four-poster bed with a kitten in her lap. The one she had been talking to the evening they first met. He had asked their hosts about the animal and found out it was a stray. They had only been too happy for him to take him off their hands, and he'd gifted it to her the day after she accepted his proposal. Sir Claws. Apparently, his new wife had a fondness for silly names.

He smiled as she gently nudged the cat off her lap and slid off the bed. As her feet touched the floor, his smile faded, the dryness in his mouth returning. Closing the door behind him, he rested his back against it for a moment, needing a moment to steady himself.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice thick. She was more than that. She was extraordinary. Everything he could ever have wished for in a wife, and more. But her exterior beauty was only the shell. She was the only person he ever felt fully comfortable around, and he didn't even know why. Didn't want to question it.

The servants had lit the fire in the grate despite the warm summer evening, and together with at least two dozen candles spread throughout the room, it cast a warm glow over her as she stood by the bed, perhaps as nervous as he was. The light and shadows played over her body, sheathed in a thin nightdress that showed off her curves to their best advantage. Her long, dark hair fell around her shoulders and down her back in a thick mass, reaching her waist. He wanted to bury his hands in that silken hair so desperately.