Slade regarded Daegan with mild amusement. “I am capable of finding it all on my own.”
Egan, standing next to Daegan, narrowed his eyes at Slade. “We’ll still be escorting you to make sure you don’t get lost on the way,” Egan said, in a hard tone.
Egan still hadn’t fully forgiven him for the scandal that injured Fifi’s reputation. The Dunbars had all but branded Fifi fast and loose when gossip of her kiss with Slade had been castabout. The rumors had turned to ashes thankfully when word of their wedding had started spreading three days ago.
“How long are you going to hold that one indiscretion against me?” Slade asked Egan.
Egan harrumphed, folding his massive arms glaring at Slade.
Daegan threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t know what happened at the Black Hog’s, but you two need to bury the poleaxe, preferably not in each other’s backs, and move on. This strife betwixt you is starting to give me gray hairs, and I am far too young and attractive to have them.”
Peter chuckled while a smirk broke out on Egan’s face.
Slade sensed an opening and extended his arm in a friendly gesture towards Egan, the proverbial burying of the poleax. Egan’s jaw muscles worked for a split second before he accepted Slade’s hand. “You did the honorable thing in the end. I can’t remain angry at you. We are brothers now by marriage, after all,” Egan said, yanking Slade towards him for a slap back hearty hug. The gesture was warm, and brimmed with brotherly affection.
After Egan released Slade, Peter cleared what suspiciously sounded like emotion from his throat. “It may not seem like it, but we are clogging up your door on your wedding night for a sound reason.”
“And the reason is?” Slade asked, picking up the tray he’d set aside.
Peter’s expression turned earnest. “Your brother is deep in his cups and is telling everyone he intends to put the newlywed couple together in the marital bed in front of numerous witnesses as the bedding ceremony tradition dictates. We came to warn you.”
Slade’s shoulders stiffened, and he pressed his lips together. That was just the gauche type of behavior he’d expect from hisbrother. As it stood, Phoebe was already skittish. He didn’t want anything else to frighten her.
His entire wedding flashed by in a murky medley of images. The tremor in Fifi’s hands as they’d signed the marriage contract this morning. Her nervous coughs during the reading of their vows, as if she’d been short of breath. The flash of panic in her eyes as they’d parted an hour ago, for her to go and prepare for the bedding ceremony. Was she afraid of the marriage bed? Or of him?
Daegan made a rather overdone chivalrous bow. “I humbly offer my services as guard for the night to keep your brother and other guests away from the marriage bedchamber,” Daegan said.
“And I’ll be guarding too,” Egan said to Slade. “While I know you’ll be a good husband and protector for Phoebe, I don’t want anyone upsetting my little sister.”
Slade refrained from telling Egan that Fifi was anything but defenseless. Egan clearly had no clue his sister was more capable than most women, certainly more capable than any women he himself had ever met.
“I’ll join the watch too, Colonel,” Peter said, in an amiable tone.
The rigidness in Slade’s shoulders eased. He took in each of the men standing in front of him as warmth permeated his chest. “Well gentlemen, I accept your offer, and moreover I thank you for the magnanimous gesture. Now let me not keep my bride waiting any longer.”
Slade left his three sentinels heading down the stairs to guard the entrance to the floor from below. He then made his way down the hall to the wedding chamber and knocked. The door cracked open, and Lucia popped her head out, bouncing curls framed her beaming face.
“Oh, Colonel, it’s you. Breena and I were preparing your bride, but as you are now here, we’ll leave.”
She looked back, motioned to someone, then slipped out of the chamber past him, followed by her maid Martha. Breena, Egan’s betrothed, followed them, her countenance pleasant but her gaze on Slade watchful as if trying to determine what sort of man he was.
Slade entered the lofty wedding chamber. Still holding the tray with one hand, he closed the door with the other. He turned around and his eyes landed on Fifi. His pulse hammered, and his desire flared. Good God, he was a fortunate man.
Instead of the modest, creamy silk taffeta wedding gown she been adorned in earlier, she now wore a plush, forest-green velvet dressing gown tied at the waist, accentuating its tiny circumference compared to the shapely swells of her breasts and the luscious curve of her hips. His mouth watered and his nethers stiffened.
He leveled his eyes with hers. “I brought you a present,” he said, indicating the tray in his hand.
Her auburn hair was brushed to a shimmering satin gleam, falling down her upper body in glorious fiery ringlets. He couldn’t wait to sink his fingers into its rich thick silkiness, to touch her, and draw her mouth to his.
CHAPTER 44
Fifi approached him and eyed the covered tray with a stiff, questioning glance as he deposited it on the sideboard next to a vase of fragrant green lady’s mantle and pink cyclamen.
“You brought me food right after our wedding banquet?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
The corner of his mouth lifted lazily. “A five-course banquet, where you shifted food around on your plate without eating anything.”
Slade proceeded to pour her a glass of sherry.
