‘I cannot take it any more,’ he said, striding to the centre of the room and pushing his hands through his hair. ‘I will do whatever you want, call the wedding off, dance naked in the rain, become a monk, anything, but please, I am begging you, please tell me what it will take to get you to smile again.’
‘I…’
‘Will marrying me really be that bad? No, do not answer. Your misery over the last few weeks has made it abundantly clear that it will. I thought I was doing the right thing, but that cannot be true if the idea of being bound to me for life is slowly killing everything inside you that makes you truly special. So, please, tell me what I can do to make it better?’
Christopher, her always smiling, always joking betrothed, looked on the verge of tears and all because of her. It was unthinkable, unfathomable. ‘It is not you…’
‘Of course it is me.’ He ran his fingers through his hair again, the long strands standing on end. ‘You do not want to be tied to a man who races pigs or is foolhardy enough to rush harum-scarum down to Brighton to win some ridiculous competition because he is bored and thinks it will be a great lark. I do not blame you. I was a… a… deuced… fool.’
‘No.’ She strode up to him and placed her hands on his chest. He looked wretched and she couldn’t stand that she was responsible. ‘I am sorry if I have made you feel in any way like this is about you.’
‘It must be a little about me,’ he said, softer now that she was standing close to him, touching him. Beneath her fingers, his chest was firm, his ribs rising and falling quickly.
‘I suppose, in a way. But it is not because I think you will be a bad husband, or that I do not like all that you are. I do. Like you, that is. You are kind and friendly and warm and everyone who knows you loves spending time with you. I am one of them and if I have made you feel differently about that, then I am sorry.’ She bit her bottom lip, wondering whether to keep going, but then, if they did not have the truth between them, what was the point? ‘Only, I am going to be such a disappointing wife for you and I cannot stand it.’
His eyes widened. ‘What the devil do you mean by that?’
‘You deserve someone different from me, someone who matches you for fun and is not the least bit boring. One day, you will turn around and realise what a poor bargain you have made, and that will be hard for me to live with.’
His large hands settled on her waist, the warmth of him seeping through her dress. ‘Sophia, you do not see yourself properly, but that is fine. We have a lifetime for me to show you just how special you are. There has not been a single moment of our acquaintance that I have been bored. I have been intrigued, baffled, delighted, frustrated and, until a few moments ago, wretchedly upset, but I have not once, at any point, been bored. I have witnessed enough of you interacting with your family to understand where you have gained this ridiculous notion that you are dull, but quite frankly it is nonsense. Your sisters, if you will forgive me for saying so, need to grow up a little. Perhaps then they will value you for the wonderful person you are. In the meantime, it is their loss and my gain that I get to understand the true you.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart was taking flight in her chest, trying to burst free of her ribs. Nobody had ever said anything so wonderful to her before.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a goodohor a bad one?’
‘It was a surprised one.’
‘It should not be. But during our marriage, I am going to make you see just how magnificent you truly are.’
Somehow, without moving, the gap between them was getting smaller. His hands slipped around her until they were on the base of her spine. Her fingers slid up his chest and around his neck, the soft strands of his hair falling over her skin.
‘None of this changes the fact that you are being forced into marrying me when you would rather not.’ This aspect of their relationship would always be hard for her to bear.
His eyes were softening, small crinkles appearing in the corners. ‘I will admit that, had I been left to my own devices, I would not have looked to marry anyone. But…’ His fingers tightened on her back as she went to pull away. ‘But… I would have missed getting to know you, which would have been a tragedy.’ Her whole body was flush against his now. Beneath his tailored clothes his body was firm; right below his jaw seemed like the perfect place to rest her head, but that was for later. Now she wanted to look into his eyes. ‘Did you know I have as many invitations recently as I usually get?’ he asked, as his fingers began to trace the length of her spine. ‘They have been to engage in activities which would have delighted me last year.’
She shook her head; she couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to.
‘I have turned them all down because I have realised that not one of those pastimes is as enjoyable as spending time with you.’ Her heart expanded until it felt twice its normal size, three times, four maybe. ‘Icannot see into the future, but I believe our marriage will be a happy one, if we let it be.’
‘I want that more than anything,’ she said, her smile bubbling up inside her. ‘I think we could be happy. I think we will be particularly so if we make playing pall-mall part of our week, or at least I will. Beating you was great fun.’
‘There you are. You have come back to me,’ said Christopher, his own wide grin breaking across his face. ‘I have mourned the loss of that smile these last weeks.’
He lightly captured it with his lips, pressing a kiss against her. For long, luxurious minutes, his mouth moved over hers, the soft whisper of his touch stealing her thoughts. For a while, there was nothing but his hands brushing over her back, his fingers tracing the curve of her shoulder, stealing into her hair. Happiness began to trickle through her, making her lighter, airy almost.
‘Do you know whatIthink?’ he murmured against the skin of her neck. ‘I think that these dresses you wear have been specifically designed to send me out of my mind.’ His mouth skimmed along her collarbone, stopping at the base of her neck. ‘These bows.’ He straightened, catching one of the ribbons on his thumb and forefinger. ‘Some days, they are all I can think about. Are they for show or do they hold the dress together?’
She swallowed. Maybe Christopher was toning down his wild ways, but maybe he was changing her too. The old her would have stopped this, but why deny him when it was what she wanted? ‘You could find out.’
His eyelids flickered, the only outward sign of surprise. His grip on the ribbon tightened and slowly, achingly slowly, he began to tug. The two of them watched his progress intently, their breathing harsh in the quiet room. As the ribbon loosened, so did the binding of herdress. His muffled groan as he saw the effect sent a bolt of desire through her. Moving to the next one, he pulled again, more quickly this time, and again, until the last ribbon came undone, the dress loose around her frame. For a moment, she held herself completely still, her whole body on the cusp of something delightfully new. She shimmied and her dress fell to the ground, leaving her in her stays and petticoat. He stepped back, his gaze raking over her body until his eyes found hers. His pupils were blown wide, his look glazed. The noise he made in the back of his throat made her feel as magnificent as he said she was.
‘You are perfection,’ he breathed. ‘Utter perfection.’
He wasn’t touching her, but her skin tingled all over her body, desperate to feel him against her. He reached out, his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist, the underneath of her arm all the way to her elbow, her shoulder and around the back of her neck. Her breasts ached, craving the same attention.
‘May I?’ His fingers brushed the bindings of her stays. She knew if she told him to stop, he would, but that was not what she wanted. After the agony of the last few weeks, this coming together was bliss, her whole body sighing in relief and joy at his touch.
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice hoarse, barely sounding like her own.
