“It’s true,” Athena said. She bit her lip. “But I still feel guilt over what Darlington went through. He was humiliated in front of so many people. I’m sure he still hates me. Wherever he is.”
There was probably little doubt about that, Sarah mused. It had been six years since the incident, and as far as she knew, none of them had seen or heard from Darlington since. It was as if he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.
“Never mind him,” Sarah said. Today was her wedding day and while she knew Athena did not relish going to church, she was determined for her to find some joy in it. “There are far more important matters for you to consider right now, like your lack of a perfectly crafted primrose hairpin.”
Athena gave her a puzzled look while Sarah went to retrieve a small box from her dressing table. She handed it over and watched as Athena pushed open the lid to discover the yellow enamel petals surrounding a golden center.
“This is stunning,” Athena said as she picked the pin up and held it between her fingers for closer inspection. “Thank you, Sarah.”
“I’ve always believed yellow to be your color. It suits your vibrant spirit.”
Athena stood and gave Sarah a hug after which Anna helped place the hairpin. Once this had been accomplished, Sarah gave herself one final look in the mirror before leaving her bedchamber to embark on her life’s greatest journey yet. She hadn’t made any further attempts at getting Matthew to open up about the pain he’d once suffered. He’d told her enough for now, enough to fill her head with bone-chilling images of his younger self being made to look at the lifeless remains of his family, and enough to let her know that he was dealing with far more than grief. It would in all likelihood take a lifetime to undo the damage that had been done to his mind. Along with a great deal of patience and endless amounts of love.
Sarah wasn’t too worried, because after today, she would be able to give him all three.
#
ADEEP SENSE OF RELIEFand rightness filled Matthew’s chest, allowing his heart to beat with greater ease than ever before. He’d done it. Somehow, in spite of her initial aversion toward him, he’d managed to make Sarah Townsbridge his wife.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. Quite the opposite.”
Jittery apprehension had tripped through him while he’d waited for her at the church. His stomach had felt like a maelstrom, spinning around and tumbling over until she’d appeared. And then, from that moment on, every disquiet within him had settled. She’d been stunning and, to his immense satisfaction and detriment, she’d looked overjoyed - radiant - with a beaming smile and sparkling eyes directed solely at him.
I love you.
The words had haunted him every second of every day since she’d said them. Even now, they threatened to reignite the self-loathing he’d struggled with until the vows had been spoken, the deed effectively done with no way back save for a swift annulment. There would be no such thing. Not after the night they were going to share once he got her out of her lovely gown. Already, the thought of what was about to transpire heated his blood and tightened his muscles. He’d dreamt of it countless times since their interlude in the garden.
Setting his empty glass of port aside on the dresser, he removed his jacket and began untying his cravat.
Sarah stared at him while her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. She sipped the remainder of her drink - a bit of fortification he’d offered to calm her nerves. Only she wasn’t really nervous. Was she? He knew her well enough by now to be able to tell, and what he detected was closer to anticipation and curiosity, which only ignited his own desire further.
The cravat came loose and he tossed it aside, then went to work on his waistcoat buttons. Holding her gaze, he shucked the garment, untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head in one fell swoop. She licked her lips, and his stomach clenched.
“You’re stunning,” she said, allowing her gaze free roam to inspect every inch of his naked torso. Moving closer to where he stood, she paused and raised one hand to within an inch of his chest, allowing it to hover there while her eyes snapped back to his. “May I?”
Matthew could only nod.
And then her fingertips brushed the skin above his sternum in a slow downward stroke. He sucked in a breath as they travelled lower, exploring the ridges of his abdominal muscles before smoothing over his arms and shoulders.
“I never imagined a real man could be so sculpted, but you are as well defined as the Greek gods described in the myths I used to read as a child.” Her eyes met his while she placed her palm over his heart. “My very own Hercules brought to life. Forged, I believe, from years of strenuous work.”
Matthew swallowed while doing his best to maintain his carefully held control. Her words were soft, her touch exquisite, and she herself as tempting as a siren. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be his undoing. And yet, he had no choice but to lower his mouth to hers and savor the pleasure he found in her kiss.
She was his, even if he could never fully be hers, and he was about to take advantage.
Denying the crisis of conscience attacking his soul, he swept his arms around her and held her close, drowning himself in the ecstasy she offered - allowing himself to forget. His fingers tugged the bow loose at the back of her gown, then worked the fastenings so the dress could slip from her shoulders without resistance.
When it pooled at her feet, he spun her around, kissing the side of her neck while undoing her stays. The garment fell to the floor, followed soon after by her chemise. Casting a glance at his cheval mirror, Matthew let himself feast on his wife’s incredible beauty. Perfectly curved and proportioned, she was everything he’d dreamed of and more.
Inhaling the sweet scent of roses that clung to her hair, he gave his hands all the freedom they craved to explore. She didn’t resist. Instead, she leaned back against him and sighed in response to his touch.
“Sarah.” He could not stop from whispering her name.
Her gaze met his in the glass and his desire flared. Seeing her like this, dressed in only her stockings and slippers while giving herself up to his ministrations, was without doubt the most alluring thing he’d ever witnessed. It unleashed a possessive streak within him the likes of which he’d never known.
Driven by need, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, then stepped back so he could continue undressing. She watched while he toed off his shoes and kicked them aside, while he pulled off his hose and then straightened. His body was so damn tense it pulsed with energy, causing his fingers to tremble while they worked the buttons that held his placket.
