It was all her fault.
Before she even knew what she was about, Daphne found herself at Hero’s chamber door and reaching for the handle, determined to face her rival, to let her know that she would not win after all, that Daphne would not let her win again.
“Whoa, there.” A masculine hand covered hers as she reached for the handle. “What are you doing, Daph?”
With a start, she looked up at her brother. He must have seen the fury in her gaze because his brows rose inquiringly. “We’ve been dismissed from the castle, Cam.”
“Dismissed?”
“Aye, dismissed! We must pack our bags and leave within the hour and it’s allherfault.”
Kennedy chuckled sardonically and pulled his sister away from Lady Ayr’s door before anyone saw them there. “What were you going to do? Charge into her room and drown Lady Ayr in her bath?”
“Now there’s an idea.”
“So you drown her and then what?” Kennedy asked, then scoffed. “Ayr falls neatly into your arms and plans? He’s so hot for her he’ll not turn to another until he’s had her. Men are like that, you know.”
“He’s already had her.” She nodded at his surprised look. “And now he says he’s going to marry her and I’ll never have Cuilean.”
“Did you ever consider that it was never destined to be yours?”
“Never,” she said matter-of-factly. “I can only hope that their bed grows cold before the wedding ever takes place. It would take a lot more work to win Cuilean if I have a marriage to contend with.”
“How far are you willing to go to get it, Daphne?” Kennedy asked. “Are you willing to damn yourself for it?”
“No, but I’m willing to damn them for it.”
Chapter Thirty
There were a half dozen guards stationed around the gazebo, each one charged to secure the area for the wedding and to do so discreetly while protecting Hero at all costs. Ian nodded to one of the men and received a grim nod in return. He wouldn’t have this day ruined by any more attempts on his life. He’d be damned if he’d let Daphne win or take malicious glee in having him hide like a coward.
Protecting home and hearth was what he’d been trained to do, and Ian knew well how to defend Cuilean from an outside threat. She could hire the best henchmen in all of Britain to do her evil works but they’d not find a way into Cuilean again.
A violin drew a long note to capture the small gathering’s attention, and his starchy butler, Boyle, began to play with surprising emotion as an open carriage came to a halt across the bridge and a footman stepped forward to assist in Hero’s descent.
Plots and conspiracies forgotten, with a single smile, she took Ian’s breath away as she walked across the little bridge on her father’s arm to marry him on the very spot where Ian had proposed to her. He’d thought that the expediency of his decision might at some point prick at his nerves or waver his resolution, but as a becoming blush graced his bride’s cheeks, he felt only pride and anticipation.
Never had there been a lovelier bride. Hero wore a white day dress in the fashion Queen Victoria had made popular, but the sheer white voile overskirt and bodice were embroidered with blue, green, and yellow florals that seemed to grow from the bottom of the belled skirt, creating a bountiful garden around it. Over the rest of the gown, the flowers and leaves were more sparse. Aqua blue ribbon trimmed the cuffs of the long sleeves and neckline at the base of her throat, but with the linen underlayment of the dress stopping just above the peaks of her breasts, he could see the ivory flesh of her chest, shoulders, and arms as easily as if she were bare.
He knew she’d most likely chosen the gown as a compliment to the location of the ceremony but couldn’t help but wonder if she was aware of just how provocative it was to a man when a woman covered herself from head to toe in a manner that still revealed so much. Like a gift wrapped in nothing but the air.
And she’d soon be his to unwrap.
He couldn’t help but smile at the possessive thought. He’d first woken in the early grey of dawn that morning to the pleasure of Hero’s warm body pressed against his, her bottom against his groin. Her arm over his as he hugged her even in his sleep, her hand curled trustingly in his. He’d been struck with wonder, astonished by her beauty even at rest.
Life had been good thus far. Privilege, achievement, and bloody good luck had graced him, yet never had he felt so fortunate as he had in that moment. It was astonishing how rapidly it had all happened, yet Ian knew that if he hadn’t denied the intensity of their attraction straight away, it would have progressed even more quickly. His male pride had fought against succumbing to her. Fought against the sentimental nonsense that he saw as an affront to his manhood. A sign of weakness.
But there was nothing weak in this. Nothing shameful in love that filled his heart. Indeed, he’d never felt more powerful than he did now. He’d wed this woman who was witty and intelligent, a shy yet passionate lover. And she loved him.
Hero reached him at last with a quizzical look, but he just shook his head and held out his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his with such trust he couldn’t imagine what he’d done to win such a boon. Regardless of the reason, Ian would never regret the reward. He would embrace the gift for as long as he lived.
“Are we ready to begin?” The bishop of Ayr cleared his throat when they both nodded. “We are gathered here today in the presence of God and these witnesses to join together this man and this woman…”
Hero stared into Ian’s chocolaty eyes, fighting to keep her focus on the words that the bishop spoke. Words that she’d heard before but never really cared to understand until now. She didn’t spare her attention for the servants gathered around them or for her father, who was swaying and humming at her side. She paid no mind to the hanging branches of the willow that danced in the warm breeze or the ducks paddling on the water.
All she cared about in that moment was Ian and the words that would bind them together. It was the culmination of any girl’s dreams to have this moment. This one perfect moment.
“Ian Alexander Conagham, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together according to God’s law in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?” the bishop somberly intoned the vow.
