Not trusting her voice, she took a spoonful of ice. A knot rose in her throat, and she swallowed the sugared sweetness.
“Tell me you’ve thought of it, too,” he said.
“I have.” The thought of acting coy or lying didn’t occur to her. She couldn’t deny the spark of excitement at the prospect. There was something about him that had drawn her from the beginning. He was so different from any other man she’d known.
“God, I want to kiss you again.”
She choked on her ice. “Here?”
She glanced at the crowded shop. He’d lowered his voice and no one could hear, but if anyone glanced in their direction, would the tension between them be obvious?
“If I could,” he said.
Every cell of her body yearned for what he offered. Perhaps he was right. He may not have courted her with flowers and chocolates and rides in the park, but they had spent time together in his home, and the attraction between them was tangible. He believed they had more in common than most engaged couples. She was beginning to believe him.
He leaned forward to whisper close to her ear. “I look forward to our wedding night.”
Heavens, so did she.
Chapter Sixteen
The wedding took place at St. George’s Church in Hanover Square.
Immediately afterward, the guests arrived at the Countess of Wetherby’s home in Piccadilly. Ian had learned that Lady Wetherby had been a like second mother to Grace and had offered to host the wedding breakfast since Ian’s mother was still in mourning over her son’s death. The massive town house had been decorated with lilies, and their French chef had prepared a simple, but sumptuous buffet. Ian had hired Gunter’s to cater the sweets and a had ordered a three-tiered wedding cake that was even more stunning than the one they’d watched being decorated in the shop.
Their closest friends and relatives had turned out for the intimate event. Ian stood in the drawing room, a glass of champagne in hand, as he scanned the room. Brooks, who had been his best man at the ceremony, stood beside him.
Ian sipped his drink, not caring if it was expensive champagne or cheap tavern gin. His attention was solely on Grace. She looked strikingly beautiful in a white gown adorned with Brussel’s lace and seeded pearls. The costly Bond Street dressmaker had been worth every shilling. The dress was skillfully cut to show the creamy swell of her breasts above a heart-shaped bodice. Grace’s hair was parted in the Grecian style and held back with matching pearl combs to curl long and loose down her back in glossy dark waves.
Family and close friends approached her with well wishes, and she greeted each one with a gracious and welcoming smile. Their wedding day was the first time he’d seen her among Society, and he realized she was truly the epitome of a lady.
But he knew beneath the proper facade was a sensual creature with a simmering passion. He anticipated teaching her the delights of the marriage bed night after night. Just thinking about it caused a swift heat to run through his veins.
“Stop staring at Grace like a starved man.”
Ian frowned at Brooks at his side. His friend was dressed in a tailored coat, waistcoat, and snowy cravat. The fine tailoring could not disguise his massive height and breadth of his chest. Ian couldn’t help but chuckle when he’d first seen his friend in fine clothing. He’d grown accustomed to seeing Brooks shirtless in the boxing ring.
“She’s my wife,” Ian said.
“Your sisters like her.”
Ellie and Olivia had embraced Grace like a sister. “They are thrilled and have repeatedly told me so. I want them to live with me in my home. My mother wishes to stay with her sister in Bath.”
“Then you will have three women under your roof.”
“God help me.”
He continued to stare at Grace. She licked her lips, then reached for a flute of champagne from a passing servant’s tray. She was nervous. He knew her well enough now to recognize the signs. Was she thinking of their wedding night? Was she anticipating it like he was, or was she simply anxious at being the center of attention in a room full of their guests?
He watched as she sipped the champagne. He wasn’t worried she’d drink more than she should. Her previous experience of overindulging would not easily be forgotten.
Prudence approached and Grace gave her a genuine smile. Ian had met Prudence, Lady Wetherby’s daughter and Grace’s longtime friend, and found her to be a charming young lady.
“Ian Swift a married man. Who would have thought?” Brooks said.
Ian never took his eyes off Grace. “I told you why I agreed to wed.”
“To protect your sisters, I remember. I can’t help but think there is more to your motivation.”
“Such as?”
“The way you are looking at her suggests you have come to care for your bride, perhaps even grown to love her.”
Love? He didn’t believe in love. It was as reckless as placing a bet on the roulette wheel, and Ian never gambled. His heart was a cold, frozen organ, not capable of such foolish feelings. “Just because I anticipate my wedding night, doesn’t mean I feel something as foolish as love.”
“What do you think will happen when she discovers you still own the Raven?”
“I told her I would sell it. I never said when.”
Brooks stared at him. “She’s intelligent. She will eventually discover the truth. Then what?”
Ian’s lips thinned with irritation. “I’ll try to keep it from her. But if she learns of my involvement, it’s too late. We’re married. She will have to accept it.”
“Have you not learned anything about her at all? You think it will be that easy?” Brooks said.
Ian shoved aside his misgivings. “I think I’ll go fetch my bride now.”
Brooks merely shrugged. “Eager to start the wedding night.”
“Sod off.”
Despite his reflexive dismissal of Brooks’s words, they impacted Ian more than he’d let on. It was his wedding night. His gaze raked over his new bride boldly, hungrily, until a sense of urgency drove him. Brooks was right. They’d entertained their wedding guests long enough. Why wait?
Ian headed into the crowd with Grace in his sights.
…
Grace’s nerves were as tense as tightly wound clock springs. She took a deep breath and her lungs squeezed in her corset.
“I can’t believe you’re really married,” Prudence said.
The day had been a blur. Grace couldn’t believe it herself. Only hours ago, her father had walked her down the aisle, and she’d forced a smile, a show of high spirits for those in attendance. Then she’d spotted Ian waiting by the altar, and her smile had frozen on her face, and her heart had ceased to pump in her chest.
He stood tall and proud, his dark eyes watching her as she approached him. He looked resplendent in a navy swallow-tailed coat, striped waistcoat, and form-fitting trousers. His gaze was riveted on her face, then moved over her body slowly. An intense awareness passed between them, something deeply sensual and possessive. She felt a rush of pink stain her cheeks, and her heartbeat throbbed in her ears.
She remembered little of the rest of the ceremony. She vaguely recalled repeating her vows after the priest’s instructions. She did remember Ian’s hand on hers, the warmth of his body beside her as they kneeled at the altar, and the kiss after they’d been declared man and wife. His lips had brushed across hers once, then twice, then he’d deepened the kiss in a raw act of possession. Her pulse had pounded, but her head was light and she hadn’t the strength to push him away.