The Shadow Queen (26 page)

“It’s time we were goin’.” The prompt came from Corinne. “Your Uncle Sol is waiting for you downstairs and getting mighty fidgety.”

“You are quite certain about this, honey, aren’t you,” her mother whispered to her as the bridesmaids crowded out of the room and down the stairs. “Because if you’ve any doubts and want to call it off, both Aunt Bessie and I will stand full square behind you—not that we think you should be calling it off,” she added hastily. “We both think Win the most charming man imaginable.”

Wallis kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Mama. I don’t have any doubts. Not a single one.”

Her mother and Aunt Bessie left for the church first, followed by the bridesmaids.

Sol, grim-faced, offered her his arm.

Having determined to let nothing of the bad feeling that now existed between them show publicly and spoil what she was determined was going to be a perfect day, Wallis slid her free hand into the crook of his arm and, holding her lavish bouquet in her other hand, walked with him out of the house to the horse-drawn carriage waiting for them.

Insanely, her last thought as she stepped into the candlelit church wasn’t about whether Win would be standing at the foot of the altar waiting for her, or whether she would be able to make her responses correctly, or whether her voice would be so choked with emotion that she wouldn’t be able to be heard, but of how much she wished Pamela were waiting inside the church to share her big moment with her.

Instead, as the organ struck up the first chords of the wedding march, it was Corinne who led her bridesmaids down the aisle in front of her to where Win was waiting, flanked by Dumaresque, who was acting as his best man.

Before their families and friends and the crème de la crème of Baltimore high society, they exchanged their vows, and Win, his eyes burning hers in a way that made her blush, slipped a plain gold band onto the third finger of her left hand.

Wallis was certain that at that moment, there wasn’t a happier woman in the entire world.

As they walked back down the aisle together, returning joyful smiles every step of the way, she saw the
Baltimore Sun
’s high-society columnist busily taking notes and knew that a lengthy—and very detailed and admiring—account of her wedding would be in one of the forthcoming issues.

“Oh, my! Isn’t this just magnificent!” she heard Corinne say to the world at large as they exited the church to find Win’s fellow officers ceremonially lined up, their swords raised and crossed for them to walk beneath.

After that came a storm of rice and rose petals, and then Wallis stepped into the white satin-lined wedding carriage that was to take her and Win to the Stafford Hotel where, despite her Uncle Sol’s stern disapproval, their lavish wedding reception was to be held.

Win’s hand gripped hers tightly. “How does it feel to be a married lady, Mrs. Earl Winfield Spencer?” he asked as everyone they passed on the sidewalks waved and, whether they knew them or not, shouted out good wishes.

“It feels blissful, Win. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing at all.”

He flashed her a dazzling white smile. “Wait until tonight, Mrs. Spencer. Then you’ll see how blissful things can really be.”

Between her thighs she felt damp heat. She was looking forward to the night with far more eagerness than she knew was proper. However, maidenly modesty had been cast to the winds months ago when Win had first guided her hand below the waistband of his trousers. Pretending to it now would be downright foolishness, and she was quite sure that though Win wanted a virginal bride—and was getting one—he didn’t want a bashful one.
Bashful
was a word not in her vocabulary. What she was, though, was curious—and very, very expectant.

The reception was being held in the Stafford’s magnificent ballroom, and as she and Win entered there was a roar of thunderous applause from their guests and the orchestra struck up with a waltz.

Laughing with happiness, Wallis handed her bouquet to Corinne and allowed Win to lead her out into the middle of the floor. Then, as the applause continued, the two of them circled the ballroom in each other’s arms to the sumptuous strains of a Strauss waltz.

It was the gayest and merriest of wedding receptions. Win’s naval friends lent the occasion extra glamour. Phoebe captured the handsomest of the officers for a beau within minutes of the dancing starting and looked as though she intended to be a very naughty girl before the night was over.

When it came to the cutting of her multitiered wedding cake, she and Win did it with a sword, and when it came to the champagne toasts, there were so many of them Wallis knew that if she wasn’t very careful she would become tipsy.

Win certainly became tipsy and, by the end of the evening, was drunk—though Wallis doubted very much if many other people would be aware of it. Win was skilled at keeping an outwardly steady appearance when heavily under the influence of alcohol. It was a requirement he said was a necessity in a naval air officer.

Finally it was time for her to change out of her wedding gown and into her elegant French blue going-away dress. She threw her wedding bouquet into her sea of guests, where it was caught by one of her old school friends and then, through yet another storm of rose petals, left the Stafford Hotel with Win for the Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C., where they were to spend their wedding night.

Once in the car, Win put a hand immediately on her breast, and then, even before beginning to fondle her, fell against her, eyes closed.

Acutely aware of the chauffeur’s interest, Wallis felt only relief.

There would be enough time for fondling—and much more—once they were in the privacy of their hotel bedroom.

The distance from Baltimore to Washington, D.C., was short, which was why they had chosen it for their first-night destination. In the morning they would start their honeymoon by driving to White Sulphur Springs and its famous Greenbrier Hotel.

As their car drew up at the Shoreham, Wallis gently shook Win’s shoulder to rouse him. “Win, darling. We’ve arrived. We’re at the hotel.”

He came to instantly, and again she knew his ability to do so from a drunken stupor must have come from long practice. Amused, she stepped from the car, slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and, as bellboys took care of their luggage, walked into the hotel lobby to proudly sign her married name in the hotel register.

The room they had been allocated wasn’t the bridal suite. It was the Greenbrier that would be producing that luxury. It was, though, a very tastefully decorated room with an enormously big and high brass-headed double bed.

“At last,” Win, said, unbuttoning his white naval jacket and throwing it carelessly over the nearest chair. He drew her toward him and slowly began unbuttoning the river of buttons on her going-away dress.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment, Wallis.” His eyes were hot, his voice thick with desire. “So very, very long.”

So had Wallis, but she didn’t think it was something a bride should blatantly admit.

“I love you, Win.” Her voice was soft and husky as her dress fell to her waist, leaving her high small breasts covered only by a flimsy lace-edged camisole.

The room was seductively lit by antique oil lamps, and the flickering light cast her body in a soft glow as he slid down first one camisole strap, then the other.

For a long time he looked at her, and then he lowered his head, taking first one pale pink nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and rolling it around with his tongue, then doing the same with the other.

Wallis gasped. Kissing and cuddling had previously always aroused her, but now she felt as if a bolt of electricity had shot through her, traveling straight down to her vagina.

When Win finally raised his head, he said, his voice no longer thick only with desire, but slurred by the liberal amount of champagne and spirits he had drunk, “Take the rest of your clothes off, Wallis. I want you now. Straightaway. I don’t want to waste another moment.”

Neither did Wallis. Without even first taking her honeymoon negligése from her suitcase, she stepped out of her dress and took off the rest of her underclothes. At the other side of the bed Win unsteadily scrambled out of his dress shirt, his trousers, his underwear.

They both tumbled into the flock-mattressed bed at the same time, hurtling into each other’s arms.

Wallis was well aware of what was to happen next, but had no idea of how it would feel. With excitement at boiling point and with an urgent delicious ache between her legs, she returned Win’s passionate kisses and then, as he rolled on top of her and she opened her legs to accommodate him, he did what he had done in the car.

He passed out.

“Win?” His dead weight was so heavy she could hardly breathe. “Win! Wake up, darling. Please!”

A snore was her only reply.

With great difficulty she eased herself from beneath him.

Then, as his snoring became ever more deep and rhythmic, she moved a little away from him, folding her arms behind her head and looking up at the ceiling.

This wasn’t the way she had anticipated spending her wedding night, but she reckoned that after a score of champagne toasts, it was probably the way nine out of ten brides spent it.

She closed her eyes. Tomorrow night would be different.

Tomorrow night they would be at White Sulphur Springs in their bridal suite.

Tomorrow night Win would be romantic and tender and everything would be utterly, utterly perfect.

Chapter Sixteen

T
he train journey to White Sulphur Springs was idyllic. For most of the way they had a compartment entirely to themselves, and Win kissed and cuddled her in a way that set all her senses on fire in anticipation of the coming evening.

The wooded Allegheny Mountains were at their best in the fall, and the higher the train climbed into West Virginia, the more spectacular the scenery became, the late-autumn leaves a constantly shifting panorama of red and orange and gold.

The Greenbrier was a luxurious hotel in a prime position, but the minute they entered it Wallis knew that, because of the time of year, they were going to be among only a handful of guests. November was not a favorite month for vacationing.

She squeezed Win’s hand lovingly. They hadn’t come to the Greenbrier to socialize, and the fewer guests there were, the more privacy they would have.

When the bellboy had deposited their luggage in their room and had closed the door behind him, Win’s handsome tip in his pocket, Wallis let out a deep satisfied sigh. “It’s a splendid room, Win. The bed is even bigger than the one we had last night at the Shoreham.”

Win wasn’t listening to her. He was looking down at a notice that lay beneath the glass top of their dressing table.

“Goddamn it!” he said explosively, “West Virginia is a dry state! The hotel doesn’t sell liquor!”

Although Wallis enjoyed predinner cocktails, they weren’t a necessity to her, and Win’s outraged indignation amused her.

“Then we’re just going to have to manage without, darling,” she said, walking up behind him and sliding her arms lovingly around his waist.

He whipped around, thrusting her away from him so violently that she stumbled, saving herself from falling only by catching hold of the back of a chair.

“We’re like hell going to manage without!” His face was flushed with rage. “Don’t bother unpacking. We’re not staying.”

Wallis’s head reeled as she gripped tight hold of the chair. “But Win, darling … We
have
to stay. You must be able to get a drink of something somewhere.”

He didn’t bother replying to her. Instead he strode to where their suitcases had been deposited and, seizing hold of the one that was his, yanked it up onto the bed, vicious anger in every line of his body.

Wallis had never before been the object of male anger bordering on violence. Uncle Sol had often been angry, but he had never given physical vent to it. As for her late stepfather, she couldn’t remember Mr. Rasin uttering even a cross word.

She ran her tongue across her bottom lip nervously as Win began rifling through his suitcase, tossing clothes left and right onto the bed. Common sense told her that in the mood he was in she should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t afraid.

She was too stunned by shock to be afraid.

It was as if, in the space of half a second, she’d stepped from one world into another, one that was entirely different and horrifyingly unwelcome.

“Ah!” Triumphantly Win retrieved a hip flask from the bottom of his case. Unscrewing the top of it, he took a deep swallow and then turned toward her, his good mood restored. “There’s enough gin here to get up to flying speed till I can find another source of supply.”

Dazedly Wallis eased her grip on the back of the chair. It was as if the ugly scene of a few seconds ago had never taken place. Had it, perhaps, simply been occasioned by honeymoon nerves? Had Win wanted to be shored up by a little alcohol before taking her to bed for the first time? It wasn’t something she had previously thought even slightly likely, but she found the idea of her courageous aviator husband being a little shy on the first night of his honeymoon endearing.