Charles spoke of wanting her but little else. What would happen when his lust for her waned? Would he seek out other companionship? Regret the bargain he’d made?
Felicia lifted her chin. “I did not. In that, you are correct.”
Dark brows drew together, the lovely blue of his eyes drifting over Felicia at her tone. A wave of hair fell over his forehead, making Charles far more appealing than any man had a right to be. But that was hardly the point.
“What worries you?” he asked, glancing back at the vicar. “Is it that we are being wed so expediently? I think it prudent under the circumstances.” One side of his mouth lifted. “You might already be carrying my child.”
Felicia did not return his smile. This was what she feared, being reduced to nothing more than a wife. A mother. Not that she didn’t want to be those things, but there was so much more Felicia wished to accomplish. Vanquishing Loxley was the least of it, and though certainly a priority, it was not her only goal. She could do more. Be more. Couldn’t Charles see as much?
“So I’m to step aside and allow you to manage everything? Merely because you conveniently and expediently ruined me in a hayloft?”
He shook his head with a sigh and took hold of her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. “Oh, my love.”
The word pierced Felicia’s heart, probably because she longed for it to be true.
The vicar shot them an exasperated look and started to pace back and forth.
“Ignore him for the moment.” Charles pulled her close. “You were not the only one to be ruined in that bloody hayloft. I have been compromised as well.”
Felicia snorted. “You? A duke?”
“Yes.” A kiss landed on her temple. “Body and soul. Ruined completely, but not the least expediently by Felicia Montclair. I’ve longed to be ruined by you for years, but you weren’t paying attention.”
“You’re only being honorable.”
“Honor is the least of it. I am not wedding you out of duty or for a piece of land. Nor because I despise Loxley as much as you do. Not even out of some need to avenge my family on the dreaded Montclairs.”
“I suppose that much is true. Leaving me compromised and unwed, witnessed by Loxley, would do far more damage.” His words warmed her, forcing away some of her distress. “So this is not merely a convenient marriage for you?”
Charles took gentle hold of her chin, tilting her face upward. “There is nothing whatsoever convenient about you, Felicia Montclair. I have known the truth of that since I was a lad. I would not change it. I prefer you just as you are. I always have. And whatever challenges the future presents, whether it is Loxley, our families, or anything else, we will handle it together.”
“You say that now, Charlie—”
“Do I strike you as a fool, Felicia? Why would I want such a clever woman for my wife if I don’t intend to make excellent use of her intellect? I confess…” His tongue flicked out, touching the curve of Felicia’s ear, sending a delicious quiver down the length of her body. “That I fully intend to make use of your other talents as well.”
“Do you mean that?” Felicia wanted to be treated as an equal, a partner in her marriage with Charlie. But she wanted his heart as well.
In time.
“I do. Now, let us return to Vicar Mason and finish what we’ve begun. We have plans to make. Loxley to expose.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And a marriage to celebrate. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Felicia allowed him to lead her back to the impatient vicar. “I’m ready.”
Epilogue
By Janna MacGregor
“It was supposed to be complicated,” Felicia murmured, trailing her fingers through the silken strands of her husband’s obsidian hair. A sigh of pure contentment slipped past her lips as she melted into the soft blanket beneath them, while the majesticarch of willows kept sentinel overhead. This was her sanctuary—her favorite place to love and be loved by her husband of two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours. Not that she was counting.
Charles nestled closer, his cheek against her breast. “Hmm?” he asked lazily, then turned to capture her nipple in his mouth.
“It was supposed to be complicated,” she repeated, her voice hushed, dreamy. “An intricate dance. Inevitable, yes—but never simple.” His deep pull sent sensation rioting through her body, sparking low and fierce, until she shifted instinctively toward him. “I love when you do that.”
“I know my wife.” His lips wandered toward hers, then detoured to her favorite pulse point, the one beneath her left ear. “What was supposed to be complicated, Duchess? The land purchase?” He grazed her tender skin with his teeth, then soothed it with his tongue. “You were brilliant—maneuvering Loxley into offering precisely what you wished, only to have him exposed when he offered a lower bid so he could line his pockets. I hope he enjoys his stay at Newgate.”
“Thank you, sir.” She had designed the plan, and Charles had declared it flawless. Foolish Loxley, thinking marriage would distract her from the ledgers. She bit her lip. “What I said earlier. I meant marriage.”
Charles leaned away, propping his head on his arm, and studied her. “By the sound of your voice, I might think you regret marrying me.” He traced her cheek with the back of his forefinger. “Granted, I wanted to woo you—but with Loxley circling, I would not allow him to ruin you. Or dare speak against you.”
