Not this time. Her hair was pulled up, and he saw for the first time how very elegant she was. Clear skin, raised cheekbones, and dark, exotic eyes that had been accented with kohl.
“I do believe my brother has been struck dumb.”
“I…I have,” he confessed. Yihui was a rare beauty who now flushed dusky red at his words. “You are exquisite.”
“It is the clothes,” she said humbly. “The dress—”
“What dress? It’s you, Yihui. You look…” Ravishing? Beautiful? Words failed him.
His sister laughed. “Wonderful? Stunning?”
“Yes,” he said as he stepped forward. Then he found the word.
“Regal.” He caught her hand and bowed over it.
“Well, she should,” Emma said. “She’s supposed to be a Chinese princess.”
“I am the luckiest of men. It will be my honor to stand beside you tonight.”
Yihui didn’t answer. She seemed tongue-tied until she finally whispered, “Thank you, my lord.”
“But there’s something missing,” he said, and her head shot up.
“Oh no,” she murmured, her eyes wide with horror.
Her hands went to her face as if to hide, but he caught one and gently flipped it over. Then with a grin, he poured the emeralds into her palm.
She gaped at them. And then she gaped at him.
Emmaline straightened up from her place on the bed to see what he had done.
“Ah yes, the emeralds. Very good.”
“But—” Yihui gasped. “But—”
“But nothing,” he said as he gently disentangled the necklace from the pile. “My fiancée must wear these.”
He laid them across her neck and carefully set the clasp. The earbobs came next. He struggled with those. He was not used to putting those on a lady.
“There is not much call for an apothecary to wear finery.” Her words were near whispers, but he heard them nonetheless. So once her earrings were set, he stepped back.
“Tonight, you are my fiancée, soon to be Lady Artanges and then afterwards, my duchess.”
He could hear the echo of his words, unspoken but so loud between them. This was fortonight. Just as he had loved her on other nights, this was for now, and for the rest of the week before she cried off on Friday.
A lump formed in his throat, and he struggled to speak around it.
“One more jewel,” he said as he picked up the ring. It was a heavy thing. A huge square emerald set in gold and encrusted with diamonds. It didn’t fit her hand. It was meant to be worn above a glove. And yet he put it on her finger and then drew it upto his lips. He kissed her ring as if she were a queen. And with his fingers, he stroked her palm in a slow caress.
“It doesn’t fit,” she said.
“It will,” he answered.
He wanted to kiss her. The urge burned in his body. His blood pounded, and his cock thrust forward. He already knew how she tasted, knew how she would feel. In this moment, she was his duchess in heart, in body, and in soul.
But not in fact.
He stepped back.
