Rose (Flower Trilogy) (40 page)

“Oh, good.” Judith smiled.

Rose’s hair was already dressed with pearls and red ribbons, her lashes darkened, and her eyes lightly outlined with kohl. For want of something to do, she sat at her dressing table and fluffed more powder on her face.

“You’re going to look like a ghost,” Violet said.

“Good God, you’re right.” Staring at her pale self in the mirror, she pulled a little sheet of red Spanish paper from a tiny booklet. “Where is Kit?” she asked, rubbing it on her cheeks.

“Now you look like a harlot.” Lily grabbed a handkerchief to rub some off. “Let me help you.”

Rose sat rigid under her ministrations. “Is it time for me to get dressed?”

“Might as well.” Violet swept the red gown off the bed.

“Shall I call Harriet?”

“No. You three can help me. I cannot stand any more of her chatter. All she ever talks of is Walter and their upcoming marriage. I almost wish they’d chosen to live at Hampton Court instead of with me.”

“That isn’t true,” Lily said.

Of course it wasn’t. Harriet’s chatter hadn’t bothered her before she gave the money to Ellen. She just couldn’t take so much unadulterated happiness right now. It set her teeth on edge.

She slid out of her wrapper and stood in place while Judith slipped the diaphanous chemise over her head, being careful not to ruin her hair or her carefully applied face.

Then her sisters brought over the gown and helped her wiggle into it. Violet smoothed the satin skirts over her hips while Lily stepped close to lace her tightly into the bodice.

“I think I may be with child,” she murmured to Rose’s chest.

Rose blinked and looked down to Lily’s still-flat stomach, her body lithe as ever in her dusky pink gown. “Are you sure?”

She looked up with a dreamy smile. “I’m two weeks late.”

“Oh, Lily!” Violet threw her arms around her.

“Me, too,” Judith said shyly.

Lily froze. “You’re not jesting?”

Judith nodded, and they both let out excited little screams.

Beaming, Lily turned from Violet’s arms into her friend’s.

“Remember when you said we should be newly wedded together? Now we’re going to become mothers together, too!”

Rose watched them embrace, slowly tying her abandoned laces in a bow while her own flat stomach churned.

Lily and Judith and Ellen, all pregnant. And Violet had three children already.

On this day that was supposed to be happy, she felt so left out. She reached for her stomacher and plastered it against her front, beginning to fasten the tabs. Would she ever have children of her own? Not if Kit didn’t show up to marry her—

“Edmund is thrilled,” Judith gushed. “What did Rand say?”

“I’ve not told him yet.” Lily hugged herself round the middle as though she were protecting her child. “I wanted to be sure. We’ve been disappointed before—”

“Oh, heavens,” Judith said. “You’ve been wed only two months. You must tell him. If he’s half as happy as Edmund, you’ll end up spending a night that makes you wonder if you could possibly conceive a second child when you’re already increasing with the first—”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks looking like she had used a whole booklet of Spanish paper.

Lily laughed. “I’ll tell him today.”

“Tell who what?” came a voice from the doorway.

Kit.

Rose’s heart thundered under her laces.

“Never mind,” Lily blurted.

He locked his gaze on Rose, but she couldn’t read his face. “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding,”

she said inanely. “ ’Tis bad luck.”

“I’ll risk it. I need to talk to you.”

He looked so serious. The little breakfast she’d managed to choke down this morning was threatening to come back up.

“We’ll . . . we’ll leave,” Lily said.

“Excellent idea.” He waited by the door while the other three women scurried out, then shut it decisively behind them. “Do you need help with that?” he asked, indicating Rose’s half attached stomacher.

“No.” Her fingers started moving again, albeit shakily.

He was walking closer. “Kit—”

Her sentence was cut off when his mouth crushed down on hers.

This was no gentle caress, but hot and emphatic. His lips coaxed hers open and his tongue swept her mouth in a declaration of possession that made her senses dim and her knees threaten to buckle.

By the time he broke contact, she was gasping for breath, reeling with the sudden reversal of worry to elation.

He kissed her chin, her neck, between her breasts where her stomacher dangled drunkenly. “God, I love you,” he murmured against her skin. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “You smell like sin.”

She threaded her fingers into his hair, pressed her lips to the top of his head. “I was so afraid you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?” He straightened and lifted her chin until her gaze was forced to his. His eyes, green as emeralds now, searched hers. “Why?”

“For meddling in your affairs. I only wanted your happiness . . .”

“Did you think I didn’t know that? Did you think I wouldn’t fall in love with you all over again when I realized you were willing to give up your inheritance to bring me and my sister together? What kind of a man do you think I am?”

She’d known what kind of a man he was—she shouldn’t have let her sisters lead her to doubt. “You didn’t answer my letter.”

“What letter? I never received any letter.” His thumb moved from her chin, skimming tenderly over her cheek.

“I left it propped on your washstand.”

He shrugged. “No one’s ever done anything that touched me the way you have. Lord Almighty, sweetheart, when I went to give Ellen her dowry and she told me—”

“What?” She forgot about the missing letter as her hand flew up to grasp his wrist. “You gave Ellen her dowry?”

“I tried to,” he said with a wry grin. “She told me you already had.” His gaze softened. “However was I lucky enough to win a woman as special as you?”

Rose’s throat tightened. No one had ever called her special. “I should have known you would do the right thing.”

She’d known he was a good man—that was why she had decided to marry him.

He kissed her again, more gently this time, a tender kiss that made tears well in her eyes. No matter what he said, she knew that she was the lucky one—lucky he hadn’t given up when she’d pushed him away for all the wrong reasons.

But if he had given up, he wouldn’t have been Kit.

“No crying on your wedding day,” he said, wiping a rogue tear off her cheek with one warm thumb. “I’m sure that’s worse luck than having me see you before the ceremony.”

She managed a watery chuckle.

His hands went to finish attaching her stomacher. “You look beautiful.”

Her pulse thumped madly under his fingers. “You look better.” He wore a deep green velvet suit with silver braid trimming the long waistcoat and the surcoat that went over it. Just enough lace fell from beneath his cuffs, and a tasteful diamond pin winked from the folds of his cravat.

Perfect. If she’d noticed how he was dressed when he first appeared in her doorway, she would have spared herself a few anguished seconds of worry. No one would take him for anything but a groom.

A heart-stoppingly handsome one.

His fingers traced the pearl scrollwork on her stomacher.

“I have something for you.” He pulled a small wooden box from his pocket. “I wasn’t sure what color you’d be wearing, but I think they will match.”

She opened the lid to find an exquisite pair of earrings, two teardrop pearls swinging from clustered diamond tops.

“They must have cost a fortune,” she gasped. She’d never seen such enormous pearls.

He smiled as he took them from the box and moved closer to fasten them on her ears. “I may not be titled, but I’m hardly a pauper.”

“I’m not wearing any earrings. I didn’t have any I wanted to wear.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, kissing one bare lobe before he decorated it. “I don’t ever want to see you wearing that damned duke’s jewels again. In fact, I think you should pawn them. Permanently.”

She laughed as he attached the second earring. When he was finished, he drew her close, running his hands over her back and down to her bottom. She ached where he brought their bodies together. “I love you,” he said.

She would never tire of hearing those three words. “I love you, too.”

“I love you in red.”

“I’m glad.” His scent was making her senses spin. “My sisters both wore blue.”

“I’d love to see you in blue, too.” He nibbled her neck.

“I’d love to see you in purple,” he said conversationally.

“I’d love to see you in green. I’d love to see you in a rich, metallic gold.”

Each word against her skin made delicious shivers whisper through her. She sighed, tilting her head to give him better access.

His lips settled in the sensitive hollow of her throat, then paused. “But mostly,” he whispered devilishly, “I’d love to see you naked.”

If her sisters hadn’t knocked on the door then, he might have.

Standing at the front of her family’s small, crowded chapel, Rose shifted on her high-heeled shoes and slipped her hand into Kit’s.

“Christopher Martyn, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will.” The confident words boomed through the magnificent oak-paneled chamber, binding Kit to Rose.

But Rose wasn’t listening to the ceremony. Instead she was thinking that Kit was the most handsome, intelligent, loving man she’d ever known, not to mention moral to a fault. She was so glad he’d managed to burst her childish bubble and make her realize what really counted.

Love, clear and true.

Happy tears brightened her mother’s brown eyes. Rose knew she thought Kit was perfect for her—she even suspected she’d had a hand in getting them together. There were too many times she’d left them alone early on, too many times she’d decided to follow the Court when Kit just happened to be working at a particular castle or palace.

But Rose didn’t care.

Her gaze wandered over the assembled guests, landing on Lily. Her younger sister stood beside Rand, her rich sable hair cascading to her shoulders in glossy ringlets, her lips curved in a way that made Rose think she’d just shared her secret. Beside her, Rand beamed a smile, looking like he wanted to shout to the world that he was going to be a father.

The two were so clearly in love, Rose knew they belonged together—and she was thrilled for her sister. She was so glad Lily had ended up with Rand, leaving her to find Kit.

The priest cleared his throat and looked back down at his
Book of Common Prayer.
“Lady Rose Ashcroft, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband . . .”

Standing on Lily’s right, their older sister Violet shifted one of her twin babies on her hip, gazing up at Ford. Sun streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting off her spectacles as she whispered something in his ear.

Holding their other infant, Ford squeezed his wife around the shoulders. Seated cross-legged at their feet, their three-year-old son Nicky traced a finger over the patterns in the colorful glazed tile floor, obliviously happy.

Rose couldn’t wait to have a family of her own. She flashed a quick smile at Ellen standing beside Thomas, one hand in his and the other resting lightly on her middle. The niece or nephew that was growing there, she thought giddily, would someday be cousin to her own child.

“ . . . so long as ye both shall live?” the priest concluded expectantly.

In the hush that followed, Rose’s heart swelled. She’d thought her wedding day would never come.

“I will,” she pledged, squeezing Kit’s hand.

A few more words, a gorgeous ruby ring slipped onto her finger, and Rose and Kit were husband and wife, Mr.

Christopher Martyn and Lady Rose Martyn.

Once upon a time, she’d thought that disparity would bother her. But nothing could be further from the truth.

When Kit lowered his lips to meet hers, Rose threw her arms around him.

She’d finally found someone who could make her feel like a queen.

Rose couldn’t remember ever hating idle chitchat more than she did late that afternoon. Idle chitchat was the very devil.

Especially when it contrived to keep her from her wedding night.

She’d been wanting Kit ever since he’d appeared in her bedchamber earlier today. No, since before that. Since she’d shown up at his house and found him gone. The want was a fire smoldering inside her—a heat that would take little encouragement to flame.

Very little.

“Farewell, Aunt Cecily, Aunt Arabel,” she said with a forced smile, kissing Mum’s sisters on both cheeks. She urged them down the portico’s steps to the lawn. “Thank you for coming.” As they finally walked away with their children, she leaned close to Kit’s ear. “May we leave already?”

He glanced toward the river. “Soon.”

As her curious gaze followed his, Jewel and Rowan stepped onto the portico. “I have something for you,” Jewel said.

Rose looked down to find a box, exquisitely fashioned of colored, leaded glass. “ ’Tis beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“Jewel made it,” Rowan informed them. “Her hands are covered in cuts.” He sounded admiring, as though blood and gore were badges of honor.

Kit took the box. “We’ll treasure it,” he told the girl gravely. He squeezed Rose round her waist. “Won’t we?”

“Absolutely.” She tingled all up and down her side where he’d pulled her against him. “Thank you so very much,”

she told Jewel. “I had no idea you worked with glass.”

Jewel hid her scarred hands behind her back. “Mama and my little brother both make jewelry. I got tired of doing the same thing. I was looking at the windows in a church once, and Papa told me how the lead is soldered like some of Mama’s jewelry. I thought I might like to try it.”

Chrystabel moved around Rose, plucking the last of the love-knots off her gown. She took the glass box from Kit, lifted the lid, and dropped the little red bows inside. “ ’Tis over,” she sighed.