“That is a simple request,” he said softly.
“Is it?”
He bent his head and thought of all the tiny ways people hurt each other in the world. “I suppose it isn’t.”
She sighed. “What about you? What do you need to be happy with this arrangement?”
“I want you, Abigail.” He moved to her now as he said those words, and was pleased that she straightened up, tracking him with interest in those dark eyes. “I want you far more than is rational or prudent. I burn to touch you, and all this waiting only makes it more powerful. I want to be lovers. Enthusiastic lovers. I want to learn everything there is to know about your pleasure and use it.”
She swallowed, her pupils dilating and her breath catching with each wicked word.
“I…I could agree to that. I obviously want you, as well.” She reached out and traced her fingers along the top of his hand. A feather-light touch that soothed more than it enflamed. “Can we agree to that connection and not reach for more? I don’t want us to push for something else or complicate what is already complicated. I might…” She rolled her eyes. “I might actually like you, Your Grace. And I might want you. And that sounds like it could be a happy union. Let’s not get tangled up in the pressure from our friends to call it love or act like this is something either of us would have chosen.”
Being friends and lovers sounded like a good thing. Her proposal should have made him happy and yet, as he stared down into those warm brown eyes, he felt a little…empty at the suggestion. He pushed that reaction away and caught her by the waist. He drew her close and kissed her.
She returned the kiss enthusiastically, her hands coming up to grip his lapels as she let out the prettiest little moan he’d ever heard. When they parted, he smiled down at her without releasing her. “I think friends, however begrudgingly, and lovers, extremely passionately, will be very good.”
She smiled back, a broad and very real expression that softened her face. Made her even more lovely, difficult as that was to imagine.
“I’m not going to see you until the wedding,” she said before she leaned up to kiss him again.
He pulled away. “No? Why?”
“Because I want to find out if you’ll miss me,” she teased as she tugged from his arms and crossed away from him to the door.
But as she unlocked it and flitted her way into the hall with only a cheeky glance over her shoulder, one thing became perfectly clear: he was definitely going to miss her.
And considering what they had just agreed to in their marriage, that could be a very bad thing.
Chapter 16
When the carriage pulled up to the little church near Abigail’s house, her heart leapt. St. Augustine’s was not the biggest or brightest chapel in all of London, but today it was the center of her world. The place where she would become the Duchess of Gilmore. Nathan’s wife. And despite weeks of planning and their conversation about the marriage days before, she didn’t feel ready.
The footman opened the door, and Rhys, who was standing up for her, stepped out first. He helped her down and smiled toward the small crowd that had gathered. The marriage was one with such a stir around it that some had come just to catch a glimpse. Abigail waved weakly and smiled as best she could so that no one would later say she had been forced down the aisle. There was no use in undoing all the good they’d done with the gossips.
She took Rhys’s arm and they stepped into the vestibule of the church. The doors to the main hall were closed, and two men stood by to open them. Once they had, this moment would be truly happening.
Rhys began to guide her in that direction, but she held him back. “Wait,” she said.
She glanced up at him and found him staring down at her with warmth and kindness. Her fears subsided a moment, replaced with gratitude and affection toward this man. He was Erasmus Montgomery’s brother, but he was nothing like him.
“Thank you,” she said softly, so no one else could hear the words. “You have been like a brother to me, and a far kinder one than perhaps I deserved. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate that.”
His expression softened further and he squeezed her hand gently. “I will always be your brother if you need one. And I hope with all my heart that you and Gilmore will be happy together. You both deserve it.”
She thought briefly of the limits she had asked Nathan to put on their union. The ones he had immediately agreed to. She doubted Rhys, who loved Pippa with all his heart, who had sacrificed everything to be with her, would consider what she and Nathan had come to terms about was happiness.
But she nodded. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting,” she said.
He patted her hand before the doors opened, revealing the small church interior. Nathan stood at the altar, and he turned as she entered. Her breath caught. He was dressed in full formal attire, every part of him perfection. He was outrageously handsome, looked every inch the stern duke.
He smiled at her, and something in her relaxed. The fears melted, the worries gone. She moved toward him, toward her future and their life together. For the first time since they’d been caught in his parlor, she didn’t question herself. Whatever happened, it would work itself out.
The party, which had begun in the morning after the wedding was completed and ran far into the afternoon, was at last beginning to wind down. It had been a rousing success. Many influential people with titles had attended, offering congratulations to Nathan and Abigail. The Duke and Duchess of Abernathe had been chief among them, and Nathan had been warmed that the popular duke had also made a point to connect with Rhys and Pippa.
Somehow everything had seemed to work out. But now people were saying their goodbyes, tipsily making their way to their carriages to go home or to the next party. That left only Rhys and Pippa and Celeste and Owen, along with Ophelia. And, of course, Abigail.
It had been marvelous to watch her during this, her first day at his duchess. She had been remarkable. Welcoming and warm, easy with the staff, the center of the room and not just because she was the bride. There was just something about her that made people want to be near her. She saw the essence of those around her, she made them comfortable.
Except for him, of course. She never made him comfortable. Only he liked that. He liked sparring with her, especially when it wasn’t too serious. He liked that she challenged him.
She moved toward him with an expression of confusion. “You are staring at me so intently, I must wonder if I’ve something on my face,” she said as she reached him.
He shook his head. “Nothing at all. I was just thinking how well it went today.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I couldn’t believe it. People were…joyful for us. Your whisper campaign worked. They all believe we have some love story for the ages. It will ease everything.”
He nodded. “Good. I want things to be easy for you, Abigail. I know they haven’t often been.”
She stiffened slightly. He felt her drawing away with that statement. “I suppose I meant more for Ophelia.”
“What about me?”
They turned to find Ophelia had slipped behind them, her expression unreadable. He’d watched his sister throughout the day, as well. She’d been observing Abigail closely and every once in a while he’d seen just a hint that she was impressed with his new wife.