To Tempt an Earl (31 page)

Before he lost the only woman who would ever
own his very heartbeat.

As much as he had seen love, experienced
aspects of it from various points of view, nothing could have ever
prepared him for the all-encompassing drive it created within, the
utter sacrifice of self and the complete exaltation of another.

Not that Bethanny was perfect. He wouldn't do
such a disservice to her as to put her on a pedestal she'd only
topple from. No one deserved the pressure of being worshiped.

Even one such as he knew that belonged only
to God.

Besides, it was her imperfections, the
specific ones that set her apart as the perfectly flawed one that
completed him.

That drove him to distraction.

That somehow combined into the most
beautiful, mysterious creation God had fashioned.

And he was to be her husband.

The enormity of the situation hit Graham
hard. It was now his responsibility — no — his
honor
to
protect her, love her selflessly, love her
only.
She would
be his to serve, to stand by, to support.

His.

No one else's.

Closing his eyes, he pictured her face, the
soft curl of her mahogany mane, the dancing light in her bottomless
brown eyes, and the sensual curve of her neck.

Two hours.

One ceremony.

One celebration.

And then there would be nothing left to
separate them.

Literally.

With a rakish grin, Graham turned to the
fire.

Two hours.

And she'd be his.

"She's perfect. Would you
stop
fussing
with her?" Berty's impatient voice clipped.

"I
know
she's perfect," Beatrix ground
out, shooting a glare in Berty's direction. "She's breathtaking.
I'm simply adjusting her dress slightly—"

"No, you're going to wrinkle it," Berty
interrupted.

"I. Will. Not." Beatrix bit the words and
then took a step back. Expelling a frustrated sigh, she relaxed her
shoulders and regarded her sister.

"Bethanny, you truly are a vision. Lord
Graham is going to swallow his tongue."

"Beatrix!" Bethanny cried, though she was
delighted that Beatrix thought her
that
beautiful.

"He won't do such a thing." Berty rolled her
eyes. "It's practically impossible to do."

"He won't take his eyes off of you," Beatrix
asserted.

"That is for certain." Berty nodded.

"Oh, dear Lord, am I too late?" Lady
Southridge rushed into the room, her dress slightly disheveled and
her hat askew, as if she had been running.

"Lady Southridge!" Bethanny cried, her
sisters echoing her words a moment after her. "Where have you been?
We've been worried though Carlotta assured us—"

"Oh, my darlings! I'm perfectly well. Simply
had to rush off. So sorry I didn't pause to say goodbye. It was
rather a pressing matter, however. All is well, though. No need to
fuss." She swatted the air delicately and then pulled Berty — who
was closest in proximity — into an embrace. Beatrix stepped over
and wrapped her arms around the two, laying her head on Lady
Southridge's back.

Bethanny waited, her heart swelling with joy
and relief. When Carlotta had said that Lady Southridge had been
called away upon urgent business, Bethanny had despaired whether
she was well, or injured, and if she'd return in time for the
wedding.

"I'm here, I'm here, my dears," she cooed and
pressed a soft kiss to Berty's cheek.

"Thank heavens. What in creation had you
leaving without so much as saying goodbye?" Beatrix asked,
releasing her.

"All in good time, my loves. Now," she turned
to face Bethanny, "I do believe I'm gaining a sister today." She
beamed delightedly.

"You know," Bethanny tilted her head and
studied Lady Southridge with a grin, "I had never thought of it
that way. It's true, isn't it?" Bethanny grinned widely.

"Indeed, however, since I've already asserted
myself as your grandmother, I'll retain the position. I've always
felt more of a mother to Graham than a sister. He'll tell you I've
been bossy enough to be one as well!" She giggled.

"What matters," Bethanny stepped forward and
grasped her hands, "is that we are family."

"Indeed. And I must say, my brother has
delightful taste. Not only are you stunningly beautiful to behold,
dear one, but…" she leaned forward, a twinkle in her eye, "you are
even more breathtakingly beautiful inside." Softly she reached out
and touched toward Bethanny's heart.

Tears stung Bethanny's eyes at the soft
gesture. "Thank you."

"Girls! Are we ready? It's about time to
depart." Carlotta swept into the room and paused. "Lady Southridge!
Thank Heavens! I got your missive that you were trying to be here,
but when I didn't hear anything further, I began to worry!"
Carlotta rushed forward and embraced her.

"All's well. I'm the least of your worries.
Keep your concerns for these ones and the new little one you'll be
handing over to me shortly to spoil." She winked.

"Between you and the girls…" Carlotta smiled
indulgently, as she placed a hand to her belly, "there's no hope
for this one. He or she will be rotten to the core."

"Spoiled with love." Lady Southridge amended
with a firm nod and a bright smile. She turned and glanced past
Bethanny. "Good heavens! Why didn't anyone tell me I looked such a
fright! 'Take the curricle,' he said… my foot," she mumbled

"Curricle?"

"Long story. I'll explain later… however, I
must say they are indeed fast." A wild light entered her gaze as
she fixed her appearance and nodded as she finished.

"Shall we depart? I believe Bethanny has an
appointment with a priest."

"Indeed I do." Bethanny grinned.

"Indeed you do, sweet one." Carlotta grinned.
"Will you three give us a moment?" she asked.

"Of course. Girls?" Lady Southridge ushered
the girls out of the room and left with a quick wink then closed
the door.

Carlotta took a deep breath.

Bethanny began to feel slightly uneasy.

"Sweet one… let us sit for a moment."
Carlotta led Bethanny to the chairs situated by the fire.

"Bethanny, tonight is a very important night,
and I want to make sure that you are… prepared." Carlotta visibly
swallowed.

"For… er…" Bethanny blushed painfully, unable
to finish the sentence.

Carlotta cleared her throat. "Yes." She
smoothed the already-pressed lines in her skirt.

"I… may I ask you a question?" Bethanny asked
after an awkward moment.

"That is why I'm here. I'm sure you have
quite a few." Carlotta smiled bravely, but it didn't reach her
eyes; she was clearly as uncomfortable as Bethanny.

In fact, the only person she
wouldn't
be uncomfortable with in addressing this topic was her soon-to-be
husband.

Graham.

Immediately the tension that had risen within
her melted away.

"Actually… would you think it incredibly
foolish of me to simply
not
ask any questions and discover
more about this topic… with my husband?" Bethanny felt her cheeks
heat with color in embarrassment.

Carlotta tilted her head, a grin taking root
in her lips and then flourishing in her expression. "Sweet one, I
believe that is brilliant. Not," she tilted her chin down and
speared Bethanny with a glance, "because I'm uncomfortable with
this topic and do not wish to address it with you." She paused,
waiting for her words to sink in. "But because I have no doubt that
your husband will be far and away the best educator. After all, it
is apparent that you trust him deeply."

Bethanny nodded. "With my life… my
heart."

"Then your body will easily follow. Simply
know this. There is no reason to fear, because perfect love casts
out all fear. This includes fear of the unknown, fear of
inadequacy, fear of inability. Physical love can lay bare every
insecurity you possess, yet the perfect love it consummates
destroys that fear, because it's there where love was created to be
its strongest. And that strength comes from the knowledge that it
isn't for the night, it isn't for the next week… it's for a
lifetime."

Bethanny nodded, her heartbeat loud in her
ears as she considered Carlotta's words.

Hid them in her heart to remember at all
times.

"Now." Carlotta stood and held out her hand.
"Shall we go and get you married?"

At last.

Graham struggled to remain still as he waited
at the front of the St. George's chapel. The music had begun; it
would be only seconds until—

Bethanny
.

Resplendent in sky blue silk, she began
toward him, her gate graceful yet slightly stilted — much like the
way she waltzed.

Graham would have smiled at the correlation
had his heart not been beating furiously or his lungs stopped
taking in air at the sight of her. She was beautiful, in every
classical way a woman would surely wish to be beautiful for her
wedding, but it was deeper, a glow that emanated from within that
gave her a heavenly radiance almost too brilliant to behold.

Her hair was loosely tucked into soft curls
that framed her delicate features, the heavy mane simply waiting
for him to explore it thoroughly.

But not yet.

Graham finally took in air, practically
gasping as he felt the burning in his lungs. However, it was the
stinging in his eyes that demanded his attention.

Though he was never one to be overly
emotional, he couldn't help himself and the passionate response her
very presence provoked.

The last few steps toward him were torturous,
till at last, she placed her dainty hand within his, her eyes
alight with tears and joy, with promises and hope.

The rest of the ceremony was simply a blur.
He spoke when prompted, turned when nudged, yet all he saw was the
lovely face of the woman becoming his wife.

As the ceremony came to a close, he couldn't
fight it any longer.

"Before God, let me now present—" the priest
began.

But Graham didn't wait for him to finish his
declaration. Rather, he reached forward and pulled Bethanny into
his embrace, finding the softness of her lips and filling himself
on their flavor. After the initial shock — and slight gasp —
Bethanny met his passionate response with an equal one of her own,
as if she were just as impatient as he!

The priest coughed.

Graham ignored him.

Rather, he teased Bethanny's lower lip with
his tongue, pressing his lean body into her soft one, savoring the
sensation and memorizing the fragrance of rosewater as he inhaled
her sweetness.

The priest cleared his throat.

Twice.

And it was Bethanny who gentled the kiss and
eventually released him, her face blushing a vermillion that only
heightened her beauty.

The cathedral hummed with the amused chuckles
of the guests and a few indignant huffs of disgust.

But Graham didn't care. He already was the
source of gossip with his dramatic proposal; this would only add to
his legend.

And he rather liked to think his actions as
legendary rather than simply hopelessly romantic.

Although
romantically legendary
had a
certain ring to it.

The priest took in a breath as if preparing
to speak, but then he shrugged, an amused grin taking over his
features. With a gesture to the organist, the music began, and
Graham ushered out his bride, squeezing her hand tightly within
his.

And, thank the Lord, he'd never have to let
go.

Damn the man
or
woman who decided wedding breakfasts were necessary.

All Graham could do was pray for mercy as the
seconds ticked away with painful, unhurried method. Yet each time
he'd glanced at his pocket watch, Bethanny's grip had tightened on
his arm. Each time her grip had tightened, he'd glanced back to her
and remembered the moment he'd first seen her walking down the
aisle toward him.