“Then focus on that.” Papa took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Focus on the man who’s waiting for you at the end of the aisle and know he will most certainly be just as nervous as you. If not more so.”
Emily followed her father’s advice some ten minutes later, her attention fixed solely on Callum. Dressed in a navy-blue frock coat, cream-colored trousers, and a light blue waistcoat embroidered with silver thread, he looked unbelievably dashing. He also appeared extremely impatient and slightly anxious, just as Papa had suggested he would.
His sigh, when she reached him, seemed to confirm this, as did the hitch to his voice when he whispered, “I truly am the luckiest man in the world.”
Blinking back tears of emotion, Emily croaked out, “I’m lucky too,” while accepting the arm he offered. Together, they stepped up to the altar and faced the priest.
What followed felt like an endless series of prayers and hymns. Emily’s mind wandered more than once. She wondered how their wedding night might proceed. What should she wear? Her trousseau consisted of three appropriate items, but which one would Callum prefer? She chastised herself for considering such things while standing in church and dragged her attention back to the priest and what he was saying.
“…so long as you both shall live?”
“Yes,” Emily nearly shouted when she realized she was the one being addressed.
A soft chuckle beside her suggested that Callum had realized what must have occurred.
“I found it hard to concentrate too,” he told her later as they rode toward Rosemont House. The wedding breakfast would be held there, after which Emily and Callum would continue onward to Stratton House. Peter, it had been decided, would remain with Emily’s parents overnight, allowing the newlyweds time for themselves.
“Is it just me or did it feel as though that particular service took longer than usual?”
“It’s not just you,” he said with a grin right before leaning in to press a hot kiss to her cheek. “As far as I was concerned, it could not end soon enough. Neither can this wedding breakfast, by the way. I find it to be a ghastly tradition.”
Emily smiled even as her cheeks flushed in response to him setting his hand on her thigh. “I think we’d both regret not celebrating with our family and friends.”
“We could easily do so tomorrow.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Would you like to suggest that to our parents?” She’d met his mother a couple of months earlier, and although the lady was slightly peculiar, it was clear that she loved her son enormously. The wedding had become something of a hobby for her. She’d helped Emily’s mother plan the menu and order floral arrangements.
Callum choked. “I’d rather not.”
“Don’t look at me,” Emily told him when his expression turned pleading.
“Fine,” Callum muttered. He knit his brow, then promptly opened the window and leaned out so he could call to the driver. “Take us on a ten-minute detour.”
“What are you doing?” Emily chuckled while pulling him back inside the carriage.
“Giving us something to help tide us over.” He reached for her, his arm winding around her waist as he pulled her into his lap. “There. Much better.”
Emily laughed. “I wasn’t aware you were such a scoundrel.”
His eyes darkened. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
She gasped when his hand crept under her skirts. Holding her gaze, he allowed his fingers to toy with her ankle for a brief moment before sliding them slightly higher.
Emily clutched at his shoulders.
“You’re my wife now, Emily. I no longer need to stop.”
Heat engulfed her as understanding dawned. His mouth met hers and he kissed her with ravenous hunger, turning her body into an inferno of need.
True to his word, her husband continued showing her what she had to look forward to later. And when she eventually sagged against him with euphoric bliss, he whispered a promise right next to her ear. “There’s so much more to come, I can scarcely wait to show you.”
* * *
Standing by the sideboard in his parlor, Callum poured two glasses of port. The wedding breakfast had not been as tedious as he had feared. In fact, he’d rather enjoyed it, though he reckoned his indiscretion with Emily in the carriage had much to do with that. Watching her come apart in his arms had appeased him a little. For weeks, he’d wondered what that would be like, and now he knew. It was glorious.
He crossed to where she sat. Although her eyes were bright with happiness and expectation, she looked like someone attempting to feign confidence when they were truly quite anxious. The port would help. He handed it to her and clinked his glass against hers before taking a seat on the sofa beside her.
“To our future happiness,” he murmured.
