Rogues Gallery (52 page)

"Is this true, Lucinda?" Julian clutched at his heart. "You have wounded me."

She giggled at his theatrics. In the next instant, Lucinda held her father's face in her hands while she whispered in his ear. Hugh's slow smile was a delicious thing to behold. "Your Grace, we would like to invite you to tea sometime next week, when your schedule permits."

Lucinda kept her head against her father's shoulder, peering at Julian when she thought he might not notice.

"I would be delighted," Julian said. "I shall make myself available whenever it suits you."

"We should begin soon," Great-Aunt Aurore reminded them.

Hugh set Lucinda down, and she took Great-Aunt's hand, chattering as if they were the oldest of friends while they went to be seated.

Julian raised his eyebrows, silently asking if Felicia was intent on proceeding.

In the past, her doubts about the gentlemen she had chosen to elope with had made themselves known just in time for her to change course.

If she wanted to cry off, to escape from her nuptials, that moment was now, before the ceremony commenced.

Felicia felt her pulse slow down, beating with the same purpose as the evening she had fallen instantly in love. The sun shining through the windows appeared suddenly brighter. The scents of the flowers decorating the parlor intensified.

Felicia turned away from her brother to look at Hugh. She had wanted a declaration of love from this handsome, elegant man to whom she was plighting her troth. She knew his feelings might never progress beyond his long-standing affection for her. She also knew that no one had ever caused those wicked and delicious stirrings within her—only Hugh had done that.

He was the only man who ever would.

"Second thoughts?" Hugh asked. His tone was light and teasing, but there was a small crease in his forehead, as if he was not sure she would carry through with the wedding.

His unvoiced concerns actually erased hers. She would spend the entirety of their married life wearing down his resistance to her love, whatever it might prove to be.

She would commence this very evening, on their wedding night. She barely stifled a shiver of excitement.

"Second thoughts? Of course not. I am merely thinking of the wedding breakfast that awaits us."

"Come then." Hugh placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. "We cannot have you fainting from hunger."

She laughed and then pinched his arm, lightly. "For luck."

Hugh pretended to scowl. Julian chuckled and gave Felicia a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving to join the rest of the family members.

Hugh gazed at her for several breathtaking moments, drinking in every detail. "I have never seen a more beautiful bride."

She felt herself heating at the blatant admiration in his eyes. "And you are the most handsome groom in all the land."

He flashed her a grin. "You are quite the expert on that topic, as we know."

"Indeed," she said. "So you can be certain I am not filling your head with simple flattery." She chuckled. "Although you may have noticed your daughter believes Julian is much prettier than you."

"I may have to call him to task for that, stealing her affections. She once thought her Papa was the prettiest man alive."

"He still is," Felicia whispered.

"What is that?"

But she had no time to answer, for the cleric was opening his book, ready to commence the wedding service for which Felicia had waited her entire life.

***

A
phrodite dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I do so adore weddings. And this one was absolute perfection."

"Indeed. It was refreshing that both of them stayed until the vows were completed."

She swatted at Ares playfully. "Did you see how he could not tear his eyes from her throughout the ceremony? That man is completely besotted, whether or not he wants to admit it."

Ares smiled, wiping away a stray tear from Aphrodite's cheek. "I am glad you persuaded me to stay."

"I did worry we might not find a way into this private venue," Aphrodite admitted, "without being exposed as intruders. But that is another benefit to being deities. We can do as we please while the mortals remain completely unaware of our comings and goings."

"Which reminds me—I am still puzzling out why the bride's horse was so averse to us that day in the park. It could have ended in disaster."

Aphrodite clucked her tongue. "Perhaps the animal was merely following my instructions. I must be the one who incites these events or I am nothing more than a Greek chorus, relating what has already transpired."

Ares chuckled. "Your methods this time
are
quite different. I am rather proud of you."

She tried not to preen in the face of his praise, but it was difficult. She opened her mouth to add something flirtatious, but then Ares slowly raised his eyebrow. She knew exactly what he was asking without him even uttering the words.

"Darling, must we go? I wish to see the happy couple as they embark on this new phase in their romance. It would delight me immensely."

"You know I cannot withhold that from you."

"And I would not want to withhold anything from you."

He laughed as he pulled her into his embrace. "You would do so if it accomplished your aims."

"Then you must see to it that you are always my aim."

He lowered his lips to hers for a kiss. "I shall do just that."

Felicia paced the carpet of her bedchamber, relishing the lush fabric against her bare feet. She fussed with the neckline of her nightrail, tugging it down and then after glimpsing it in the mirror, pulling it back up.

When would Hugh arrive? She glanced again at the connecting door. She knew for certain he was in his bedchamber, most likely preparing himself for this evening.

What did men wear for bedclothes anyway?

She had asked Great-Aunt Aurore, but the woman was as uninformed as Felicia was. She did not want to ask Julian, for it might have disconcerted him to think of the realities of this evening involving his sister.

She began pacing again. She knew some of what to expect between a man and a woman, thanks to some books she had discovered tucked away in Julian's library. There would doubtless be a lot more stirrings involved, but beyond that, it remained a mystery.

Which is why she had no idea whether her husband would appear in a robe, or a less formal version of his daily wear, or just what precisely. It began to seem that he might not show at all.

A nearby candle flickered. She looked expectantly at the connecting door, but it remained shut. Apparently the candle had reacted to an errant breeze.

She strode towards the connecting door. If Hugh was not in a hurry to come to her bedchamber, there was nothing to stop her from appearing in his. She had no reason to play the shy miss. It was not her style, not at all.

And Hugh would be wise to remember that about his wife.

She grabbed the latch, ready to yank it open, but then she hesitated. She did not want to startle him. She knew he found her enthusiasm fascinating, but she worried he also found it disconcerting. She took a deep breath, doing her best to slow down her racing heart. Yet how could she remain calm when all she could think of was being in Hugh's arms, at last?

Doubts began to creep in. Maybe he would never see past her flighty nature, and would continue to see what she was, not what she planned to become: the perfect wife for him, the perfect mother for his child.

An even more dreadful thought occurred to her. What if he truly did view this marriage as nothing more than a business transaction?

She leaned her head against the solid wood door and groaned.

***

"F
elicia?" Hugh's heart thudded at the thought of her in distress. "Are you quite all right?"

"Yes, I am," she answered, her voice revealing she was close to the door.

She was waiting for him. Knowing Felicia, she was ready to open the connecting door and insist on being let into his bedchamber. He forced himself to breathe in slowly, to reduce her impact on his unruly body.

"Hugh," she whispered, negating all of his calming efforts with that one word. "I want to open this door."

"I know."

He plastered both hands on the solid door, as if it would keep his passion in check, prevent him from succumbing to her siren voice. He did not speak for several long moments.

"Hugh?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, I wondered if you had fallen asleep."

He chuckled. It was not possible to fall asleep. In truth, he was in such a state because he had lain awake the entire previous evening. He might have slept for a few moments before the sun rose, but it was not likely. All he could do was think of Felicia, his growing feelings for her, and how that would disrupt the future he had plotted out so carefully.

"No," he answered. "I am not asleep. I thought you would be though."

He heard a soft laugh, and his body reacted again. She was a tonic. An elixir that he could not help but crave.

"Are you coming to my bedchamber?" she asked. "Or would you prefer I come to yours?"

"What would you prefer?"

"I would prefer we carry on a conversation without this door serving as a chaperone."

Her annoyance made him grin. It also eased his misgivings. Surely there could be no harm in speaking with his bride in person. So long as he stayed out of reach of her pinching fingers.

She rattled the door latch just as he attempted to open the door.

"Felicia, let me do this. If you please."

"I could hear the sneer in your voice, Hugh."

"You only imagined it," he lied.

"Hah!" She gave the handle another shake.

"Felicia, I cannot unlatch the door when you persist in that fashion."

"Then I shall do it."

"How about this?" he offered. "I shall open it on the count of three."

"Very well," Felicia answered, although the words were followed by a heavy sigh.

"One." Hugh's heart picked up pace.

"Two," she said, her voice a little softer than previously.

He opened his mouth to utter, "Three", but the door nearly crashed into him. He stepped back, shocked and exasperated and ready to scold his bride.

Until he saw her.

He couldn't breathe. His lungs ached with the effort. She was ethereally beautiful, clad in white sheer fabric, her hair falling around her in all the places he ached to touch. His bride—not blushing, no, not one whit—smiled triumphantly. Her eyes sparked with a passion she was clearly impatient to explore.

How could he hope to hold to his original plan? His forte had always been indulging his desires, not resisting them. Now his nerves were completely shot from denying his need for this maddening woman.

He raised a shaky hand and grasped the door, to steady himself while he pondered how to regain control of the situation.

The nearby fire popped, startling him. His hand slipped and the connecting door slammed shut.

"Hugh! Have you lost your wits?"

"Yes, I have," he answered. He re-opened the door and swept his arm out to indicate she should enter. "I can see I shall never have a moment's peace with you as my wife."

She narrowed her eyes as she passed by him, but he could see the mischief shining there. He could not help but laugh. This was nothing like the wedding night he had anticipated.

And he was enjoying every minute of it.

He started to offer her a chair, near the fireplace, but she marched straight to his bed and sat down. To his dismay, she wriggled her bottom until the edge of the mattress met the back of her knees. Her toes peeked out from beneath her nightrail, and she kicked her legs back and forth, as if she was dangling her feet in a stream.

"Would you care for some wine?" he managed, striding towards the bottle across the room.

"Yes, I would."

He splashed a healthy amount in a glass and knocked it back before refilling it. He poured a small measure into another glass, and returned to hand it to Felicia. He kept a tight grip on his own glass.

"Thank you," she said and took a small sip. "Oh, this is delicious." Felicia took another swallow, watching him over the rim of the glass. She focused her attention on his chest, exposed by his half-open shirt, and then briefly glanced lower at his breeches. Her eyebrows raised briefly, and her cheeks pinkened.

Hugh forced himself to savor his wine this time, but only because he did not want to take his eyes off her, not even for the amount of time to down his entire glass in one shot. How could he when she admired him so openly? He was not about to miss a moment of that.

She lowered the glass and then glanced around for someplace to set it. She twisted and somehow managed to stretch out nearly the entire length of the bed before she could set the glass down on the nearby table.

Her calves were completely exposed, displaying such enticing curves and smooth pink skin. The nightrail clung to her bottom, another display of curves that made him grip the chair next to him until his knuckles were white.

Finally she sat back up. "Hugh, you look pale." She smoothed the bed next to her. "Perhaps you should sit down for a moment."

"I believe you are correct." He pretended he had not seen her gesture and plopped down in the nearby wing chair.

Felicia laughed and then climbed down from the bed, making her way towards him. He had to fight to stay seated. She was such an extraordinary beauty, yet it was the fire and determination in her face that nearly unmanned him. How was he going to resist her? She was clearly not amenable to that notion.

Before he could stand up and try to move further away, she plopped down into his lap. The minx was going to kill him. There was no other possible outcome. He grasped her head, warning her with his eyes that he was too weak to resist her, but she did not care.

She placed her mouth on his. He responded with hunger, holding her so tight she could probably not breathe. But her lips were too delicious for him to stop. Everything she did, her moans, her tongue darting into his mouth, stoked his desire to an unbearable level.